by Cindy Bokma
If I could peer into the future this is what I would see: Taffy with a screaming infant that she would hand over to me. I saw myself changing diapers and taking care of a needy little baby swaddled in dirty blankets that stank of stale cigarette smoke and sour milk. As it was, my jobs around the house included changing the litter boxes, taking the trash out, doing laundry, and cooking when I was home.
I knew I would be picking up the slack for both Aunt Priscilla and Taffy and a life of indentured labor was not what I wanted for myself. If I stayed in Florida, which really wasn’t an option, my life would never get better. I worked every afternoon now, earning $4.75 an hour. Gail, the manager, loved that I was punctual, friendly, and dependable. I enjoyed my work, which involved re-stocking cosmetics, ringing up sales, and straightening up the store. Success at my part-time job was the way to get out of Florida. I worked as many hours as I could and covered for other employees when they called in sick. I wasn’t trying to work my way up at Eckerd’s; I was trying to make as much money as I could so I could start a new life. Gail praised my hard work and offered me a full-time job when school ended in June.
Graduation was bittersweet. I’d graduate with no family or friends at the ceremony to cheer me on, no parties or dinners to celebrate. My classmates buzzed with excitement over graduation parties and summer vacations, going away to college, living away from home. Not me.
When I reminded Aunt Priscilla about my graduation, she gave me a blank stare. Finally, she asked, “Am I supposed to go? I will if I don’t have to work.” She ending up working and didn’t make it.
Nancy was accepted to Florida State; Irene was going to the University of Pennsylvania. Both families planned graduation parties at fancy restaurants with cakes and balloons; I was invited but chose not to go.
“Thanks,” I said, faking a bright smile. “I have other plans.”
David sent me a card that read “Congratulations Graduate!” Enclosed in the card was cash, which I quickly deposited in the bank before Taffy or my aunt could see. When I showed Aunt Priscilla the card her beady eyes grew round. “Does he have hot buddies? I’m a sucker for a man in uniform.” She slurred her speech while sprawled on the bed in a dirty housecoat and flip flops. To her credit though, she did give me a card that congratulated my accomplishment along with a small bunch of flowers from the grocery store. The gesture made me realize she wasn’t a bad person and I felt a wash of gratitude for the fact she took me in when no one else would. That didn’t mean I wanted to stay.
Taffy threw up on a daily basis, groaning like she was dying instead of pregnant. I had to step around her body when I needed the bathroom as she parked herself in the hallway outside the door. “I can’t move!” she moaned. The cats tiptoed over her, their tails swishing back and forth.
“Stop your whining. You think you’re the first person to ever get pregnant in the history of the world?” Aunt Priscilla called from her bedroom as Taffy closed her eyes, arm over her forehead.
“Stop talking, ma!” she yelled back, her voice husky from smoking.
I was designated as the chauffeur, driving Taffy to and from the doctor’s office, navigating Aunt Priscilla’s huge Crown Victoria through the streets of Orlando. I never took driving lessons, but Aunt Priscilla didn’t care. I didn’t even have a driver’s license.
“Just don’t get pulled over,” she said with a shrug.
She let me use her car if I filled up the gas tank, which I always did, the needle pointing to FULL every time I pulled into the carport.
Meanwhile, I read everything I could about Los Angeles, Hollywood, Beverly Hills, and Malibu. I spent hours in the public library, sitting in the cool air-conditioned room with the big chairs, reading books and travel guides, studying Fodor’s and Frommer’s with intensity. I knew major highways, shopping malls, places to eat, clothing stores, and music shops. I found out where movies were filmed and where actors ate. I began to toy with the idea of trying to pursue an acting career.
Aunt Priscilla suggested that I do a little topless dancing now that I had breasts. “Think of the money you could make,” she said, eyeing my chest. I crossed my arms in front of myself and scowled. I never stopped making comparisons to my own mother who would not imagine saying the things Aunt Priscilla did.
I knew I needed to be in good shape if I was going to live in Hollywood and be a successful actress. From the magazines sold at the store, I got a few ideas on how best to lose the excess weight. No more of the white bread and junk food Aunt Priscilla bought at Winn-Dixie every week.
“So what, it’s cheap. You’re too good for generic?” she scoffed when I refused to eat the processed food.
Each week I bought myself a bag of apples and some bananas for my snacks, which I kept in my closet, wrapped in a plastic bag. I didn’t want Aunt Priscilla or Taffy digging into my stash. And I knew there were mice, I had seen them skating across the floor at night. The cats took care of most of the rodents, but I heard them at night, their little nails scratching in the walls.
I ate only half of what I served for dinner. I used Nancy’s old bike to ride around town for hours at a time. In my room I did sit-ups and push-ups, trying get in shape. I had this grand idea if I lost weight and arrived in Hollywood all my problems would be left in the past. I would have money and find a boyfriend and people would love me. Because right now, no one did.
I made diet shakes to keep me going during the day and ate baby carrots as a snack. My dinner was a small plate of food. Aunt Priscilla and Taffy laughed and demanded to know why I cared about losing weight.
“It’s not like you have a man.” Aunt Priscilla laughed, high-fiving Taffy across the kitchen table. They cracked up, but the joke would be on them when I wasn’t around to cook and clean and drive Taffy around.
In a cloak-and-dagger operation known only to me, I bought my plane ticket, one way to Los Angeles. Excitement swelled in my chest as I saw the words in black and white in front of me: Los Angeles International Airport. I would be there soon, and Florida would be a bad memory.
After graduation, I celebrated alone, treating myself to a hamburger and few sips of a vanilla shake. I got home and was relieved to find it empty, except for the felines who arched their backs and swirled their tails, glaring at me through their narrowed eyes.
I packed up the same little suitcases I arrived with two years earlier. Looking around, I took a mental picture of the gloomy house with the mildew, stains, and matted carpet. Looking at my watch, I counted down the minutes until I left for the airport.
I called for a cab to pick me up when my aunt and Taffy were out delivering makeup. The old white cab eased up alongside the curb and gave a short honk. I smiled to myself as I remembered Gail, sad to see me leave. She wished me luck in California and then handed me a crisp one hundred dollar bill, which I folded up and put in my shoe. Nancy and Irene sent me off with a gift card to go shopping at Macy’s. “For your California wardrobe,” Irene said, as they both hugged me and promised to write.
I wrote a short note to Aunt Priscilla and Taffy, and then enclosed twenty dollars and left it on the table. I knew the money would be spent on cigarettes, but I did it as a gesture of goodwill.
My birthday came and went with no recognition, but I was eighteen now and soon I would be free.
Chapter 6
Present
I rubbed Will’s small back, his tee shirt soft and cottony under the weight of my damp hand. The trolley was bumping and chugging along; we would be in Mexico soon. Will fell asleep, but nervous energy coursed through my body, my chest was tight and a headache threatened behind my eyes. Thoughts raced through my brain.
Glancing around, I was hyper conscious of my surroundings. Bland faces swirled in front of me. Did anyone recognize us? People of all ages and sizes were on the trolley. Not one person so much as breathed in our direction. They were busy resting their eyes or reading books or gazing out the window. Despite this, I wondered if anyone knew who I was. At any moment I
expected someone to call out my name. I bit my nails while my eyes darted back and forth.
Will rubbed his eyes with a fist and asked, “Are we there?”
“Almost. One more little trip. You’re being such a good boy.” I smiled with quivering lips. He closed his eyes and made a face.
When we reached Tijuana, I grabbed our bags and scanned the crowd for a driver. He was to be holding a sign with a specific name that was not mine. I asked Camille to please make up a name. We decided on “Gina Ramone.” I begged my friend not to make me tell her why I was being so secretive and why I kept asking her not to tell anyone about my coming to see her. I wanted to keep my problems under wraps and I didn’t want to say too much over the phone. The less people knew the better. But I had to depend on her to help hide me for a little while. The first few days it was imperative that no one knew our location.
Will dragged his feet, sliding the toe of his sneaker along the ground. He was typically a quiet, mellow child, but right now he took it to a new level. Maybe he was exhausted and confused. I bit my tongue and didn’t tell him to speed up.
For the millionth time, I questioned my plan. Leo’s angry face flashed in my mind. His eyes, black with rage, the vein in his forehead pulsing with pure hatred took my breath away and I knew taking Will from such a monster was the right thing to do.
I could have gone to the police, but I also knew how complicit some of them were in Hollywood crimes, everyone covering up for each other. It was no secret that terrible things happened all over Los Angeles. In a police department overrun with corrupt officers, it was impossible to know who I could and couldn’t trust, so making a report was too much of a gamble. I witnessed this when I first came to LA and an acquaintance was raped by a big name director; no one believed her and the police brushed it under the carpet. This happened over and over again and I prayed I never needed help because there was nowhere to turn.
“Come on, Will,” I said nudging him along. I held all of our bags and I couldn’t move quickly but was trying get where we needed to go. Once we got to Camille’s place I could relax. My heart had not stopped pounding since we left the house; my chest was as tight as a corset. A stream of sweat rolled down my back. There were people everywhere making it easier for us to blend in and I kept telling myself no one knew us, no one cared. Yet.
My eyes rested on a short, walnut skinned man with a fat, black mustache holding a sign that said, “Gina Ramone” in heavy lettering.
“Hello,” I said, dropping my bags at his feet. He nodded to me, stubbing out his cigarette with the toe of his well-worn cowboy boot. He opened the trunk of his car, a navy blue Lincoln with dents and gashes, and placed our bags inside, slamming the trunk down on top of the suitcases. He didn’t say much. I don’t think he looked at us. Thank goodness.
I pushed Will into the car, which smelled like stale cigarettes. He started to whimper about the smell and the heat and that he was hungry, but I promised him we would eat soon. I took his hand in mine and gave it a squeeze.
“Another adventure,” I said, giving my voice energy that I did not feel, “in a new place! Isn’t this so exciting?”
“I want to go home. Home! Who is that man? Where is daddy? Can I have my iPad?” He asked rapid questions without giving me time to answer. “This car smells funny.” He pinched his nose with his fingers.
I bit my lip and closed my eyes. It took all of my energy to stay calm though anxiety cursed through my body like electricity.
“You’re being so good. Just wait a little bit and we will be someplace new and you can explore all you want like on Planet Earth.”
He sighed and shrugged his little shoulders.
The street bustled with people. The scene was overwhelming. I saw poverty everywhere I looked—women and children begging in the streets, men trying to sell handmade leather goods, and skinny malnourished dogs roaming the sidewalks looking for crumbs. What a sharp contrast to Beverly Hills. I bit the inside of my cheek and closed my eyes. Were we going to be okay? Was I running a fool’s errand by coming down here? I tried to imagine Leo, what was he doing? There were many days when we hardly saw each other and I hoped he didn’t think anything was out of the ordinary when he got home. He didn’t spend much time with Will, preferring to buy our son the latest electronics or toys rather than read him a book or cuddle.
I thought of my own father, so dependable and reliable. He always asked about school and my friends, and he showed up at school events. I never questioned if he or my mother would be there, they just would. He coached a year of soccer and volunteered at my school. He would have been a great grandfather. My mother would have been an amazing grandmother. Gritting my teeth, I blinked back tears. No sense in thinking about what could never be.
The driver started up the car and it roared to life with a shudder. The air conditioning came on with a gust, blowing my hair, smelling musty. I longed for a hot shower to wash away the filth from the journey here followed by the comfort of a soft bed.
Will stared out the window in deep concentration. I wanted to know what he was thinking. Many times he kept his opinions locked and private. I wished he talked more, but my son preferred to observe rather than speak. His big eyes took in the landscape in front of us, but he did not comment except to ask if Leo was going to be there.
“It’s just you and me buddy,” I said, carefully watching for any reaction, but he kept his face neutral.
The sun was going down and, as we drove, I could barely make out the dry, dusty land and occasional palm tree. By the time we pulled up to Camille’s hacienda, I had fallen asleep. When the car came to a stop, I woke abruptly.
“We’re here,” I mumbled, blinking my eyes, adjusting to the darkness.
“Where is this? What is this place?” Will asked, placing his hands flat on the window and peering out. Almost as if he remembered Leo yelling at him for getting prints on the windows of his car, Will quickly removed his hands and glanced at me nervously.
“Isn’t it fun? It’s an adventure. A vacation for you and me,” I said brightly, stifling a yawn.
“What about dad? Is he coming?” Will’s blue eyes searched mine. He knew something was up. I hadn’t told him the truth and wondered if I should. For now, I avoided it. He pursed his lips and gazed beyond where I sat. I could practically see the wheels turning in his brain.
“This is a mom and son adventure, no dads allowed.” I opened my door to humid air and fragrant flowers. “I thought it would be cool for us to visit someplace new! We are going to have so much fun!” My voice sounded artificial, too happy.
Of course Will loved his father; didn’t all kids love their parents? It was natural for him to ask about Leo. I wasn’t sure if he wanted his dad though.
Leading up to this very moment, Will had been plagued with occasional bed wetting, night terrors, and a couple of incidents at school that concerned his teacher enough to call me in for a meeting.
“Is there something going on at home?” Mrs. Jaffe had asked, her eyes combing over my body for physical signs. She was an older teacher and had been with the school since it opened in the 1970s. Surely she had seen it all. Her gaze was kind but direct.
I rubbed my arms and shook my head. The bruises were hidden by long sleeves even though the temperature outside climbed into the nineties.
“Everything at home is totally fine,” I answered, swallowing hard and looking away from her prying eyes. I pressed my lips together.
She sighed. “I’m going to be blunt, Mrs. Kubias. Will has been acting out. He can be aggressive and yells at his classmates. Then he lies when I ask him why he yelled. He seems anxious when he gets in trouble, then he goes out of his way to be extra nice and is eager to help me with classroom tasks.”
I chewed on my lip. My body was suddenly flooded with adrenaline and my heart began to pound hard; Mrs. Jaffe could probably see my blouse move with my heartbeat. This nervous feeling was too familiar. I kept my hands knit together so she didn’t see them sha
king.
“He hasn’t said anything about getting in trouble,” I said. Whenever I asked Will about his day at school, he regaled me with stories of his classmates but didn’t indicate anything was wrong. I told her this.
“I thought it was wise for you to come in and have this discussion since it’s becoming a pattern. Acting out, denying his actions, and then trying to make up for what he did. The other day, he was outside during recess and I heard him telling one of his classmates that his father hit his mother.” She paused, eyes searching my face. I looked down at the floor.
“That was an accident . . .” I began to say something, but my voice trailed off. How many times did Will witness something? Leo was always careful that Will wasn’t around. Wasn’t he?
She passed me a box of tissues. I hadn’t realized I was even crying. With a quivering hand, I grabbed a tissue and blotted my eyes.
“Will said his parents argue all the time.”
“That’s not true . . .” My voice sounded flimsy.
“I want to pass this along just in case.” She handed me a brochure. I glanced at it. When Dad Hurts Mom: Healing the Wounds of Witnessing Abuse. “Maybe look into therapy for Will,” she suggested.
“It’s not what you think . . . Will has a good imagination . . .” If Leo knew what Mrs. Jaffe said, what would he do? I shuddered to imagine his reaction. “I’ll talk to Will. I’m sorry.”
Mrs. Jaffe reached to pat my hand, but I was already standing. We said goodbye and I walked to the car on legs that felt like jello. I don’t remember the drive home. I must have paid the babysitter and when she left, I curled up on the couch with Will, my arms around him as we watched Planet Earth. I noticed he had begun to suck his thumb when he watched television and he did it now. Ignoring the screen, my attention was on Will. Thoughts churned through my brain. Clearly things could not go on as they were. I needed to implement my plan sooner than expected.