“I’m not pushing him! He’s your son. You push him!”
“I’m pushing your sister and Larry’s in charge of pictures. You have to push him. You kids can take turns but you’re in charge.”
Larry had brought his big, fancy Olympus 35mm camera because he thought he missed his real calling as a photographer. He was always bragging about how good he was at taking pictures but I didn’t think anything he shot was that great, though he could have won a Pulitzer and I still would have thought it was shit.
Mom knew I’d never suggest sweet little Punky push our brother around for any length of time, though Punky would have if I asked her to. She was only nine and he was kind of a chunk and I wanted her to enjoy the park. I didn’t mind if Katie pushed but Mikey teased her and made her cry and I didn’t see her being able to tolerate it for long. There was no way out of this for me.
I put my sunglasses on and took solace in the fact that no one would recognize me. Of course no boys would be checking me out pushing a wheelchair but that was my own fault. How did I not see this coming? How could I let myself believe this would actually be a vacation for me too? I decided to suck it up and just push the little turd biscuit.
Things were fine at first, and when I say fine I really mean soul-crushing but that wasn’t a foreign experience for me so I was able to deal relatively well. I pushed Mikey to each ride and sometimes he got on sooner because of the whole wheelchair bit. I tried to spend some time with my sisters but he’d start in on his whine routine so that was impossible.
“I wanna go this way!” he cried when he didn’t get his way. Sometimes I stopped so I could take a picture with my own camera and he would start his whining again. “Mom, she’s not pushing me!”
“Push your brother, Sparrow,” she said between drags of her cigarette. Mom smoked her way through Disney, saying that crowds made her anxious and smoking was the only thing that calmed her. I thought maybe there was some rule against smoking in the park but she couldn’t care less and no one said anything to her.
When we got to Cinderella’s castle I could barely contain my excitement. I never got that Disney trip with Grandpa Johnny so it was great fun to relive those lost moments with Doodie. She and I had watched the movie over and over and I was really hoping she’d get to meet Cinderella in the flesh. I had to push Mikey all through the castle and if I left the wheelchair for an instant he was yelling for Mom. I was missing out and the rage bubbled up from the soles of my feet. I tried to quell it, knowing that if it reached my chest I was in big trouble. Mom got to smoke her calm sticks, but I had none. I tried my best to remain human.
Cinderella was nowhere to be found. It must have been her lunch hour, or perhaps she was taking a smoke break. I couldn’t imagine having to work around kids all day in the sweltering heat in that heavy dress. I had seen pictures of her in the pamphlet and had instantly thought I would never want her job.
When we came out the other side of the castle the path was downhill. I realized I needed to be safe so I tried to slow my pushing so I didn’t lose control of Mikey’s wheelchair. “Push faster!” he demanded in that whiny voice that made me want to crawl under a rock but not before completely knocking his block off. I’m not sure what happened next, but the rage swelled like a tidal wave and I couldn’t contain the power or force of it.
“Okay, you want fast?” I asked as I gave the chair a giant push and sent him careening down the hill for the best ride so far that day. Well, at least for me.
Mikey wailed like he was being attacked by zombies. He did his best to slow his speed by trying to grab the wheels but he wasn’t successful and I could tell the wheels were hurting his dainty little hands. People stopped what they were doing and stared. Mom left the stroller and made a weak attempt at running after Mikey, all the while screaming, “My son! My son!” like a good Italian madre. I stood there, completely shocked at what I had done. My reason and wit then returned and I decided I needed to make it look like an accident, though I failed miserably because shock turned into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.
I was lucky that Mikey didn’t crash hard or injure more body parts. He was able to slow himself down enough to plow into a trash can. The only thing hurt was his little ego.
“Sparrow!” Mom screamed from the bottom of the hill. “Come down here!”
I made my way down and there was a crowd gawking and sticking around, waiting to see my fate.
“Mom, it was a total accident.”
“He could have really hurt himself! You’re grounded! Larry, take her back to the hotel.”
I could tell Larry was torn. On one hand, he hated me and typically jumped on any excuse to ground me. On the other, he hated Mikey more, and I had seen the glimmer in his eye as Mikey’s wheelchair was careening down the hill. He must have had to bite back hard on his own laughter.
“Come on, Sparrow,” he said as he motioned me to the path that led to the gate. “You gotta go back.”
Neither parent realized that sending me back to the hotel to sit at the pool and smoke Newport Lights was the best thing that happened to me that day. I spent the afternoon in total peace reading Cosmo and praying the freak show family stayed away as long as possible.
* * *
My first sexual experience in high school was at a party at Jessica’s house in freshman year. We were all drinking and I made out with Brian McMurty, a kid I had met in sixth grade. We were in Jessica’s room, lying on the bed. He was on top of me but we still had our clothes on. The room was dark and one minute we were kissing and the next he had somehow undone his pants and jammed his penis in my face.
“Come on, put it in your mouth,” he begged.
I was a little drunk and the room was spinning. I had a quick flashback to my former crush, Bryan Sweeney. He sat in front of me in algebra and I loved him instantly. He was the cutest guy I had ever seen and he wore the best-smelling cologne, which I later found out was Brut by Fabergé. He used to pick me up at night when I sneaked out and we drove around for hours making out in the back of his friend Mark’s Jeep. Bryan always tried to put his hand up my shirt and I always swatted it away. He broke up with me to go out with Janey Smith because it was rumored she gave great hand jobs.
I was feeling a twinge of guilt mixed with bewilderment. Why would I put this Brian’s penis in my mouth when he wasn’t my boyfriend and I wouldn’t even let the boy I wanted to marry touch my blueberries? Before I could answer he was poking my face with his very hard dick which was alarming because he couldn’t see what he was doing and I was afraid he’d put one of my eyes out. I reached up, opened wide and guided it through my lips and making sure that my teeth didn’t get in the way. I didn’t have to do much work because he was doing the in and out part. I just needed to make sure I didn’t throw up. I’m pretty sure this was his first blow job because (thank you, Jesus) it didn’t last long. His stickiness went everywhere but I didn’t care because I’d much rather have it in my hair than down my throat. I’d heard that experienced girls swallowed but I was new at this and didn’t want to take my chances, especially after an evening of Southern Comfort and wine coolers.
When it was over we lay there for a minute, then he said he was going back to the party. He pulled his pants up and left, leaving the light off, which was the nicest part of that evening as I didn’t have to look at myself in the full-length mirrored closet doors right in front of Jessica’s bed.
After freshman year I went to stay with Dad for the summer, like always. This particular year he was living in Birmingham, Alabama in an upscale townhouse complex. He had gotten a new sales job there though I never heard about what happened with his last job. Dad changed jobs a lot and I wasn’t sure why though I figured it had something to do with his being opinionated and assertive when it came to speaking his mind. Dad didn’t have much respect for authority, which probably didn’t go over well in the workplace.
I was bored as usual, cooped up in the apartment with Mikey. I didn’t have friends but
there was a pool so I spent most days there reading and working on my tan. Sometimes I made myself a drink with Dad’s liquor and sipped on it all afternoon. Sometimes I chose the vodka, other times the rum and every once in a while I got into the whiskey. I tried to vary it up so it wasn’t obvious that I was drinking all of his booze, though Dad didn’t much mind if I drank. A few years back when he had a sailboat he let me have wine coolers here and there on the water and it was no big deal. I developed a liking for having a drink or two while sunbathing and reading. I never got drunk, but it was nice to have a buzz that took the edge off and eased the loneliness. I still hated leaving my friends each summer knowing they were all having fun without me. The year before several of them wrote me letters and cards but this year there were none.
Dad was pretty busy with his new job but occasionally he would come home after work and teach Mikey and me how to play tennis. I wasn’t at all coordinated but I loved it nonetheless. I had no idea Dad even knew how to play, but I was always learning things like that about him. Mikey picked up the game much faster than I did, so he and Dad played more often, though somehow it would turn into a yelling match and giant competition. I didn’t want to be a part of that drama so I quit going to the courts with them.
One evening about halfway through my summer vacation I was walking back from the pool when a car pulled up and asked me for directions. Not just any car, but a shiny new black Ford Mustang GT.
“Excuse me, do you know where apartment 312 is?” asked the driver. I didn’t know exactly but I had a vague idea and I tried to point him in the right direction. “How about you hop in and show me where you think it is.” He reached over and opened the passenger-side door.
I quickly assessed the situation. The driver was delivering pizzas and was probably only a few years older than me. He looked like a young Tom Cruise with lighter hair, and eyes so blue he could have been part husky. I hopped in the car and my heart beat a little faster. I liked taking risks and this one seemed fairly safe. After a very boring month I needed some excitement and I was hoping this was it.
We drove around the complex until we found 312. During that time Mustang told me he had just graduated high school and was off to college in the fall. The car was his graduation present. I couldn’t believe I was sitting in a beautiful car with a Tom Cruise look-alike college boy. I told him the truth—that I had just finished my freshman year, that I was only fourteen, and that I was bored to tears living in that apartment complex with no friends.
“You’re only fourteen? Wow, I have a brother your age,” he said, looking confused. I was convinced I came across a bit more mature than his little brother, with my large sunglasses, my mostly empty mug of Jack and Coke and the latest copy of Vogue in hand.
“Can I get your number?” Mustang asked, grinning as we pulled up close to where I lived.
“Sure.” I jotted it down for him on a pizza box. “Nice meeting you,” I said as I walked away, feeling his eyes on me. I decided not to turn around as I let myself in the front door.
It didn’t take Mustang long to call and make plans.
“Hey, I’m off at eight, how about we meet at the pool?”
I said yes not knowing exactly how I’d pull it off. Dad wasn’t keen on letting me date. I didn’t even bother asking because if he found out I was talking with a college boy he’d come unglued and I wasn’t risking it. I figured I could make something up to at least get out for a little while. It wouldn’t be that hard, especially since Dad was usually asleep in his chair by eight anyway.
Luckily Dad was asleep, remote in hand, when I decided to go out for an “evening swim.” I was sure to tell Samantha who said it was fine and my heart raced as I walked down to the pool. When I got there Mustang was hanging out in the hot tub. “Come on in,” he said as I put my stuff down on a nearby table. I stepped in and sat across from him so I could look him in the eye and read his intentions. We were the only two people in the pool area which relaxed me a bit. We talked about school, friends and college. He asked me what New England was like because he had never been that far north. It didn’t take long, however, for him to inch over close to me and start a full-on make out fest. And to tell the truth, I was hoping for it. I had deemed him “safe” and decided he would be the perfect summer fling, though I had not yet decided how far I wanted to be flung.
Mustang and I met up a few nights a week either by the pool or in the clubhouse and we spent most of our time in complete make-out mode. He was aggressive which I liked, but it also made me not fall for him. He wasn’t sweet enough to be any sort of boyfriend material but I did like the primitive nature of his groping and feeling me up. I had only kissed a few boys and I had never experienced anything like that. It was intense. Urgent. I kept meeting up with him because it was much better than sitting inside watching TV or writing in my dear diary about how bored I was. At least with Mustang I was experiencing life and learning about the birds and the bees at the same time.
Mustang was the first boy I let touch my vagina. There was a certain safety in knowing I’d be going back home soon and no one would ever know about it. I figured he could break it in somehow, kind of like a new glove. He delighted in the fact that no one had ever touched it before, which was mostly true. I certainly wasn’t going to tell him about Dr. Wexler, which was completely different on every level.
I knew next to nothing about my vagina and Mustang was happy to educate me. I had never even used a tampon so I was nervous. I had gotten my period the summer before, when Dad and Samantha were living in Dallas. They happened to be out of town that weekend, at a party in New England that Dad’s sister Catherine was throwing, something related to work. They left Mikey and me alone with our older stepsister, Carla. She was fifteen and in her own world, and wanted little to do with us. She had no desire to sit down and discuss periods with me, or anything else for that matter. I didn’t find out until much later that she was pregnant that summer. Perhaps no one had discussed periods with her, either.
The morning I got it I woke up with the worst stomach cramps ever. I was nauseous and dizzy and it felt like someone had kicked me in between my legs. I crawled out of bed and headed down the hall to the bathroom. As soon as I sat down I realized what had happened. My underwear was blood-soaked and more blood was pouring into the toilet like a faucet that’s ninety-percent turned off but still running. I had learned about periods in school but I wasn’t paying close attention, perhaps because the thought of blood coming out of me anywhere was a real turn-off. I had gotten several bloody noses in my life and thought they were the worst thing on the planet, so I was emotionally unprepared for this rite of passage.
“Carla, I just got my period, what do I do?” I asked, as she was eating her breakfast and watching TV.
“I don’t know, is there anything in the bathroom?”
“No, there’s nothing.” Samantha had gotten a hysterectomy several years before and had no need for feminine products and, as I later found out, neither did Carla.
“Tell Mikey to go to the store,” she suggested. I knew that was a long shot but I decided to bribe him. Just as I was about to go find him he came walking into the living room, curious.
“Who bled on the carpet? Is the dog injured?”
Great. I bled on Samantha’s white carpet.
“Hey, I got my period and I need you to go to the store for me. I need pads,” I said as sweetly as I could, which was hard seeing as I was in some intense pain.
“You got your period on the carpet? That’s disgusting!” Mikey replied as he started in with his relentless teasing. “Sparrow got her period. I can’t wait until Dad sees that you ruined his carpet.” And on and on he went. I just let him do his thing, hoping if he got it all out he would be more inclined to go to the 7-Eleven.
“Dude, I have five bucks for you if you go get me pads. Think of how much candy that will buy.” Surprisingly he agreed, and I felt a surge of relief. No one had thought to give me a period starter kit but if Mike
y could come through for me I was golden.
It took him forever to go down to the store and back, even though he rode his bike. When he returned he had a huge bag of candy and threw a box of Tampax at me.
“I can’t use these, they’re tampons,” I said, exasperated. “You need to go back.”
“I’m not going back! The guy behind the counter asked if they were for me,” he said, embarrassed.
“Mikey, please!” I was getting desperate. I would have gone myself but I was bleeding like crazy and I didn’t trust the wad of toilet paper I had stuck in my underwear to hold me to the store and back. And I was in so much pain from the cramps I could barely stand up straight. I asked Carla who laughed like I was nuts to even think she would go out of her way for me. I had no choice but to harass Mikey until he relented.
He was back within five minutes this time and threw a paper bag at me. Inside were several industrial-strength pads which was a relief, but they weren’t in a box.
“Where did you get these?” I asked.
“From Brett. He said his sister just got her period too and he put the pads in a bag for you. He said to tell you congratulations.”
“You went to Brett’s?” Brett was the slightly older boy who lived next door and I had a total crush on him. “I’m going to kill you!”
I forgot all about my cramps and chased Mikey around the house. He ran into his room and held the door shut as I tried to push my way in. I gave up out of necessity and went to retrieve the paper bag. My first pad, I thought, as I stuck it into a fresh pair of underwear. It was uncomfortable and scraped the sides of my legs when I walked, well, waddled. I was convinced people would be able to tell I was wearing a small pillow between my legs. I would need to figure out this tampon stuff eventually, but in that moment I was content doing what girls on their period did—read magazines, watch TV and eat a pint of Ben and Jerry’s. Later I found out both Ben and Jerry happened to be at the party my parents went to in Vermont.
Riding Standing Up Page 10