After they had been dating for nearly two years, Wes got orders to go to Turkey for a few months. My mom was broken-hearted. I knew I would miss him and our horseback riding adventures. I would also miss the way Wes encouraged me and the way he had made the family laugh. But none of us would miss his screaming and yelling. Most importantly we would not miss Wes hitting our mom.
I saved all the letters Wes wrote to me. Once he sent me a newspaper article about entering a drawing contest. I never did submit my pirate picture but I worked on it until I discovered something much better--boys!
After Wes came home it wasn’t long before he lost interest in my mom. He had met a much-younger, Hawaiian lady. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to go back to his ex-wife and his young son, stay with his new girlfriend, who my mom angrily referred to as “Pineapple,” or resume things again with my mom. Eventually, he moved in with his new Hawaiian girlfriend.
Our mother was filled with sadness and depression. She entered a downward spiral in her life and made a major decision that would ultimately change our lives forever.
Seven years later I heard from Wes, after my mom had tracked him down. I don’t know if she ever got over him. He sent me a nice letter and inquired about my life. I wrote him back but I never heard from him again.
14
Changes! What Now?
“Seek good, not evil, that you may live. Then the Lord God Almighty will be with you.” Amos 5:14
Mom started spending more time in her room demanding her pills. When she did come out, she was usually withdrawn or angry. Being the good girl, I continued to take care of the family. I wanted everything peaceful so she wouldn’t have any reason to get mad, but it didn’t matter what I did because she was still unhappy and she still continued to take out her frustration on us. Although I tried to do what I could to make her happy, I realized it was sometimes better to stay away from home as much as possible. I hung out with the kids in the neighborhood and with my best friend Garrison who lived a few blocks away as often as I could.
I was never tempted to do things like drink or take drugs like my friend, Pam did.
One time when I was bored, I dropped in on Pam. She and several of her friends were practicing a new trick.
“Hey Deb have you ever made yourself pass out?” Pam asked.
“No, why would I do that?”
“It’s fun. Try it, you’ll like it.”
I watched as she held her breath and fell to the floor. After she came to she acted as if she didn’t know where she was. It seemed like a silly thing to do, so I walked out and vowed for the last time to cut ties with my mixed-up friend.
A girl named Celia lived down the street from us. She was a bully and a couple years older than me. I always tried to avoid her. She occasionally teased me, made fun of me and told lies about me. I was afraid of getting beat up by her. One time she came up behind me when I was stopped on my bicycle. Viciously, she slugged me in the back.
“That’s for wearing a dress while you’re riding a bike. You’re so stupid!”
After she punched me, I took off before she could hit me again. Berating myself I thought, I’m a coward, just like my dad. I hate myself, I’m turning out just like him.
Celia was too old and too big for my sister to intervene this time.
One night I prepared a unique dish for Celia. I had just poured some urine in a rectangle cake pan and placed it in the oven to bake. A timer went off. Immediately, I woke up from my crazy dream and I could smell a disgusting odor. In my dream, I remembered the urine was burning.
“What’s that smell?” I yelled to my sister who was sleeping next to me and then I bolted out of bed. Suddenly, I realized it was a fire I smelled. Flinging open Mom’s bedroom door, I looked towards her bed, I could barely see her as thick, black smoke billowed in front of me. Flames were shooting out of her pillow with her head still upon it. Mike was in her room trying to put out the fire.
“Mom, Mom, wake up. Your pillow is on fire,” we screamed!
My brother and I continued pounding the fire with towels. Mom finally sat up and Mike grabbed a towel and wrapped the smoldering pillow around it, he then threw it in the bathtub.
Thankfully, after much coughing our mom was okay. We figured Mom had fallen asleep smoking. We found out later she also had consumed too many sleeping pills. She was remorseful and swore she’d never smoke in her room again. Our mother was lucky, this time. The incident could have turned out so different.
Gino and Virginia Picarillo were friends of our parents and we grew up playing with their five kids. Lynn was a year older than me, her little sister Tammy was Monica’s age and we always looked forward to excursions with their family. They had a large above ground Doughboy pool we’d go swimming in, while the parents’ grilled hamburgers and hot dogs. There were many late-night games of Hide and Seek, Mother May I, and Red Light, Green Light.
We continued to see the Picarillos sporadically after Mom’s divorce. The summer after I turned thirteen I got a phone call from Lynn. “Debbie, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen you. Do you want to come over and stay the night with me?”
“I would love to.”
Spending the afternoon swimming in the pool was lots of fun but I immediately began to feel uncomfortable when her older brother made a weird comment to me.
“I’d sure like to cut the grass with you.” Sixteen-year-old Steve said with a grin and a wink.
I giggled, although I felt embarrassed, and walked away confused. Later I asked Lynn about it. “What does cut the grass mean?”
“Oh, you’re so lucky. That means my brother wants to have sex with you,” Lynn laughed.
I wanted to go home after that but instead I tried to avoid Steve for the rest of the evening. Lynn and I got up early the next day on Saturday morning and we walked a few blocks to her friend’s house. When we arrived, she informed me of her plans. “We always play Strip poker on the weekends. Are you going to play with us?”
My mouth must have fallen to my knees. “I don’t want to play Strip poker. Can I just go back to your house?”
“No, then my mom will wonder why we’re not together,” she said, motioning to the bedroom. “You hang out in there and read those comic books and wait for us to get done playing. Whatever you do, don’t walk back to my house!”
I wasn’t happy with her plans for me and was shocked that my old friend was playing disgusting games. I sat and stewed about my predicament while listening to hysterical laughter from the other room.
“Debbie, come here, Joey is taking off his underwear. Come and see him. Hurry, open the door, he’s coming into the bedroom.”
I had never seen a boy naked and I wasn’t interested. My heart began beating wildly. Slamming the door shut I turned the lock and I stood against it. “No, no don’t come in, please don’t come in.”
I could hear loud roars of laughter outside the bedroom door. What seemed like hours later, they were finally done with the game and Lynn came to retrieve me. As we walked to another friend’s house, she and her friend, Wendy who also played, discussed the game. “It was so fun watching Joey undress.”
Lynn said, “Yea, the first time I had to take my clothes off, I was so embarrassed but now I sometimes lose on purpose just so I can strip.”
“I think that’s disgusting. How can you take your clothes off in front of boys?” I said.
They tried to convince me what I had been missing out on. “We felt the same way as you. We finally let our friends talk us into trying it and we love it. You will, too. Maybe next time you stay over you’ll change your mind,” Lynn giggled.
I silently vowed that would be the last time I slept over at my old friend’s house.
A few weeks later, my mom told me the sad news, “Lynn and three other girls were walking down the street and a drunk driver hit them. Lynn went into a coma and never came o
ut and died.”
“I can’t believe it,” was all I could say.
The funeral came and went and I could not bring myself to go. The thought of coffins, and graveyards frightened me. We had never known anyone close to us who had died. Sure, my grandmother and my grandfather had died on my dad’s side, but I hardly saw them and they lived in a different state. I didn’t go to either one of their funerals. This was different; this was something I had never experienced before. I felt sad for Lynn’s family.
After Wes and Mom broke up, she began staying out late with her girlfriends. They would travel to Cucamonga. It was only about thirty minutes away. I thought it was just a made-up name. Years later I realized there really was a town called Cucamonga nearby. Mom was often gone for days at a time. She made sure to let us know it was none of our business what she did, so we never questioned her. I did overhear her talk about how much she loved going dancing, though.
Mike and I took care of the family. I made dinners, cleaned, got the little ones’ ready for school, making sure they had clean clothes and a sandwich for lunch. If Mom didn’t come home we’d lock up, turn out the lights, and wonder when we would hear from our mother. I always hated her being gone. Even though I was older, I still worried that something awful would happen to her. I never forgot her prophecy and was still afraid that it would come true.
One weekend Mom ran off to Tijuana. Two days later she returned and with her was handsome, young Mexican man. “This is my new husband,” she proudly announced. “We just got married in Mexico!”
Mike stared at me with a look of horror on his face. What had our mother done this time?
A few hours later there was a loud pounding at our front door. There stood an angry, dark skinned woman. “Get out here right now, Jose.” She ordered her husband in broken English. “Get out of that house and come home with me this instant.”
Our mother had married someone else’s husband. Thankfully, he left with his wife. That was the first and last time we ever saw him. Were we ever relieved!
15
My Boyfriends
“And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” Micah 6:8
I had just started Junior high and many of my friends had boyfriends. When a boy asked a girl to go steady in 1967 he usually sealed the deal by giving her a St. Christopher medal to wear around her neck. Doug caught my eye we were both twelve and in several classes together. Although he was short, freckled faced and had stringy blond hair, I thought he was cute. We had a crush on each other and I eagerly awaited my medal.
Pam, my neighbor was the go-between. She caught up with me after school and presented me with a handmade necklace of shiny, colorful beads that were popular during that era.
“These are from Doug, he wants you to go steady with him.”
“What! Where’s my St. Christopher?” I was so disappointed.
The next day Doug wanted to carry my books home from school. We walked together the few blocks to my house.
Later that night Pam said, “Doug sure wants to kiss you and he wants to take you to the movies and make out with you. First he is going to French kiss you and teach you all different ways to kiss.”
Feeling scared, I realized I didn’t want him to kiss me. I just wanted to wear a St. Christopher medal like all the other girls that were going steady, and I didn’t even get one.
The next afternoon, sure enough, after school Doug again walked me home from school and carried my books. Stopping at the corner from my house he handed me my books back, reached over and planted a wet, juicy kiss on my lips. I was shaken up and I didn’t like it at all.
The thought of him kissing me made me feel anxious and afraid, luckily that night my necklace broke. Salvaging a few colored beads, I put them in a white Styrofoam cup. Taking it to school with me the next morning, I handed my cup to Pam, “Tell Doug, I broke up with him. Will you give him his beads back?”
It would be another two years before I would experience my first French kiss, which much to my surprise, I would thoroughly enjoy.
By this time, I was enjoying life at school. My best friend, Garrisann, and I spent our days dreaming about the boys we had crushes on. We spent the night at each other’s houses on the weekends. Every month we went to the school dances and hoped the boys we liked would ask us to dance, but they never did. We attended every basketball game that our crushes played in. Al and Bill became our obsessions. Her older sister kindly drove us to the away games. Garrisann’s mom even planned a Halloween party and we were excited that the two boys would be coming. However, nothing ever came of it, and we were severely disappointed. They began and ended just as crushes.
When I turned fourteen and was in the 9th grade, I met an older boy and I was immediately infatuated. My old babysitter, Debbie, was nearly 20 and married to Bill. Bill had an eighteen-year-old brother named Jerry. He started coming to our house when Bill and Debbie came over. From the moment, I laid eyes on him I thought he looked like the actor, Robert Mitchum.
While babysitting one night for some friends, Jerry showed up at the house. “How did you know I was here?”
“I have my ways,” Jerry said smugly.
I stood at the front door, blocking him from coming inside the house.
“I’ve only been babysitting for Linda for a few weeks and she really likes me. She and her husband even took me to the horse races. I don’t think you should be here.”
I was thinking back on my conversation I had the first time Linda asked me to watch the kids. “Do you like moon pies and cupcakes? We also have chips and Coke. Help yourself to anything, and eat as much as you want.”
I thought I had died and gone to heaven. I had never had so many tasty treats at my disposal. I loved everything about my new babysitting job.
Jerry stuck his foot in the door. “Come on, you know you want me here.”
Fortunately, the kids were sound asleep and I finally relented. My heart did a flip-flop when he entered the house and looked at me in a way that took my breath away.
“Have you ever been French kissed?”
“No, I’m afraid, and I don’t want you to kiss me.”
He persisted. “Come on, I’ll stop anytime you want me to. There is nothing to be afraid of. I promise you will like it.”
He followed me into the kitchen and pinned me against the refrigerator. The next thing I knew he had his tongue in my mouth and he was right: I liked it.
Now I knew what all the excitement was about when the girls at school talked about it.
I told you, you would like it,” he said as he headed out the door. “Do you want to go out next Friday night?”
“Yes, but I have to ask my mom first.”
I convinced my mother it would be a good idea. On our first date, we went to the drive-in movies. Jerry bought a six-pack of beer and drank it all, while we both watched the movie.
Afterwards we went parking and did a little kissing.
Jerry had had numerous girlfriends before me and he was very experienced. Since I had never dated before I was very innocent and naïve, insecure and gullible and my maturity level was closer to a twelve-year-old, while Jerry’s maturity level and experience with girls was closer to a twenty-year-old. Of course, I didn’t realize it at the time. I had high morals and wanted to remain a good girl. I knew I was expected to be a virgin; after all I was a good Catholic girl. And I also wanted to make my mother proud. It was my desire to remain pure.
Jerry and I went to the drive-in almost every weekend after that. Each time he would borrow his grandmother’s car and he always had a six-pack of beer with him. I never drank, I wasn’t even interested and he never offered me even a sip. Each week we would make-out and he would drive me home after the movies were over. My mom was usually up when I got home. Jerry always walked me inside. I said goodnight and we
nt to bed. He stayed and drank with my mother.
Jerry drove a motorcycle and he enjoyed taking me for rides. He taught me how to hold on tight and lean to the right or to the left when he turned a corner. I felt honored that this older boy showed such interest in me. I wore his favorite, fringed buckskin jacket (that was popular in l970) and looked forward to our next date.
One day he bragged to me. “I collect Chiquita banana stickers and stick them on my wallet every time I’ve been with a girl.”
I honestly did not know what he meant.
Each weekend, Jerry did more things to me and each weekend, I felt guilty for letting him. I tried to tell him no, but he kept persuading me, until I gave in. I never told my mother or my sister or anybody else about our intimate dates.
Unfortunately, my Mom was still depressed about her break up with Wes. I thought it was weird that she and Jerry hung out with each other and drank after I went to bed. I suspected things later when I was older but I never knew if anything happened between them.
One day, Jerry and I were sitting in the back seat of Mom’s car listening to the radio. Mom and Monica got in the front.
“I’m going to the liquor store do you two want to drive along?” Mom asked.
“Sure, we aren’t doing anything anyways.”
Mom bought some beer, and before she got home, she started drinking. After guzzling a few cans, Mom’s mood suddenly changed. Gunning the engine, she sped home. Pulling up to the house, Mom slammed on the brakes and screamed, “Get out! Get out now of the car now!”
My sister obediently opened the passenger side door and stepped out.
Something About Those Eyes Page 10