It was during these years that Chris began to change from a happy-go-lucky little prankster with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes and a charm about him that was undeniable to a rather high-strung, fairly excitable young boy. If you had looked only at the way mother treated Chris you would have thought that she really must have hated him and men in general. And I think some of that is true, I think she did hate most men.
But if my brother Chris was having his problems, mine seemed double. By the end of these weekends I was worn out. Not so much by the work which was always considerable but by the constant strain. I was on the verge of tears half of the time and the other half I was sullen and quiet, withdrawing into myself as the only means of self protection.
Mother had several long talks with Mrs. Chadwick after which it was decided that because I was a “bad influence” on my brother and sisters, it would be better if I didn’t come home for awhile. How all the turmoil she created home turned into my being a bad influence I couldn’t figure out. The only thing I did realize is that mother knew that I took my brother’s side, if silently, and that infuriated her. My sisters were still at the stage of trying to win her love and affection and totally innocent of anything more than being occasional tattle-tales.
I didn’t particularly want to stay at school every weekend of my life, but in a way it was a relief. At least I knew what to expect both at Chadwick House and at school and, therefore, things went fairly smoothly.
What I didn’t anticipate was that since I was no longer going home, mother would call Mrs. Chadwick at least once a week in the evening to check up on me. I always dreaded those phone calls. No matter how calmly the week at school had gone, there would always be something that mother found to magnify out of proportion. Then I’d have to sit there and take a verbal beating while she bawled me out for whatever trumped up charge it happened to be this week.
After the phone calls, I’d usually be in tears and go upstairs to talk to Mrs. Chadwick. To her great credit, she spent hours and hours talking to me about whatever the problem happened to be. It took me months to figure out that mother was usually drinking when she’d call. She’d badger Mrs. Chadwick to relate every minor detail of my behavior until she’d find something to get angry with me about.
What I couldn’t ever seem to explain adequately to anyone was the change that came over mother when she was drinking. It was very deceptive. She didn’t sound drunk. By that I mean she didn’t slur her words or wander off in her train of thought. If anything she seemed to become sharper and quicker than normal. But the two consistent clues were her anger and that she was totally irrational. She made up stories that had never happened and she became fanatic about rules and regulations. She made her charges with such authority and conviction that no one would dream of challenging the truth of them. It would be her word against mine as to what the truth was, and you can well imagine who won. Even Mrs. Chadwick, who believed in the intrinsic good of every human being, began to sense that I couldn’t always be lying, particularly when she lived with me day after day and I didn’t lie about anything else. The truth was that I was doing well in my classes, getting good grades, and managing to struggle through the difficulties of making friends. The truth was that I was working very hard to regain the faith and trust of the faculty and the friendship of my peers. But the truth was not good enough for mother.
She insisted in perpetuating the image of me as a bad girl who lied and was not to be trusted for an instant. She insisted on finding ways to punish me even if she had to make up things I’d done to deserve punishment.
At first I did get punished and had normal privileges at the school denied, in addition to not being allowed to go home. Because I was always under fire, I was sort of set apart from the other kids. The faculty had been told to watch me carefully and I felt it. It was uncomfortable being under constant surveillance and there were times when I was tempted to do something wrong just to warrant the suspicion.
Christmas vacation at home was a total disaster. I spent the most time in my room either being punished or writing those never ending thank-you notes. The little time remaining I spent with the fans on the assembly line turning out stacks of photomailers because mother was short one secretary and the photos to the fans all over the world had gotten backlogged for months.
I was so glad to get back to school I couldn’t believe it. Of course mother told Mrs. Chadwick that I didn’t deserve to go home because of my insolent attitude and that I made the entire household unhappy. Mrs. Chadwick sighed and shook her head. I had the awful feeling I’d disappointed her after our long talk just before vacation when I’d promised to be good and try to get along with mother.
I was always having to promise to be good. It never quite worked out though because when I got home mother would start screaming and then there’d be a fight or a spanking and the result would be blamed on me. I rarely talked back to mother. It was the look on my face that got me into most of the trouble. When she was drinking I’d try to stay out of her way but I was never completely successful.
When I was at school I had already learned not to call her after five o’clock in the afternoon. Right around five was all right, but any later than that and some unpleasantness was ensured.
However, I had no control over what time she called Mrs. Chadwick and it was always later on in the evening around nine o’clock. One night in February just such a call occurred. Mrs. Chadwick was on the phone with her for some time and then came downstairs to my room to tell me to get on the extension, that mother wanted to talk to both of us. She looked more tired than usual and I knew instantly that something had gone wrong. I picked up the phone with trepidation, but though my mind was racing through the past few days, I could find nothing in them that might have caused the trouble.
Mother’s voice had that icy edge to it and I knew that whatever it was going to be, she was already off and running with it. She asked me why I insisted on wearing my coat to classes.
I couldn’t believe that this was the issue. One day during the past week, I’d kept my coat on during one class because it was colder than usual. Mrs. Chadwick had told me to bring a sweater that morning but I didn’t think I’d really need it and hadn’t brought one. That evening she told me not to be so shortsighted again and as far as everyone was concerned that was the end of it. At the most it was a miscalculation on my part and no one had considered it particularly important in the overall scheme of our mutual existence.
But here it was, blown all out of proportion and into an issue. I really couldn’t believe it. As I listened to mother spew her anger over the phone I wondered what in the world had possessed Mrs. Chadwick to tell her this infinitesimal incident in the first place. It didn’t matter what the reason was initially, because now it was just an excuse for another of mother’s rampages against me. She was screaming on the other end of the phone and I had to hold the receiver away from my ear. She was going on about why the hell I always had to disobey everybody and who the hell I thought I was to know it all. I never had a chance to explain that it hadn’t really been anything serious, I just shook my head and kept my mouth closed hoping that if I didn’t add anything to the discussion she’d calm down after a while. I didn’t have any such luck. Instead, my silence just infuriated her more. I couldn’t win in these situations. If I said anything she said I was being insolent. If I didn’t say anything she became enraged. I knew from experience that this particular conversation was getting progressively worse. I hadn’t done anything wrong. Things at school had been going smoothly ever since Christmas. She had gotten herself into such a state that she believed I was bad and if she didn’t get bad reports about me then it could only mean that someone was covering up for me, that somehow I’d conned them into thinking that I was someone she knew I wasn’t. It was as though she considered herself the only real keeper of the truth. Again and again she glued herself to her own imaginings and refused to hear any opinion to the contrary, even if it was obviously the truth.
Then she said that if I was so determined to wear my goddamned coat to class I could wear it and nothing else! She would have all my clothes picked up the next day. “Mother”, I interrupted, “the coat only has one button. I can’t wear just that to school!” “You should have thought of that before you disobeyed”, she snapped and without another word she slammed the phone down, hanging up on us.
I couldn’t move. I heard Mrs. Chadwick coming down the stairs and I couldn’t move a muscle. Now it was my turn to be in a rage. What the hell was going on around here that no one seemed to have the guts or the nerve to tell that insane bitch to knock it off? Everyone turned to jello the minute she started raising her voice, which was also her favorite tactic. She bullied everybody into subservience.
Mrs. Chadwick was ashen. She put her arms around me and I burst into tears.
“Mrs. Chadwick … what am I going to do? That coat only has one button.”
Mrs. Chadwick sat me down and we started to talk. She thought that maybe in the light of day mother would reconsider. I told her she was wrong, that mother would send someone to pick up all the clothes. Mrs. Chadwick looked ill and every bit of her sixty some years.
“Mrs. Chadwick … why did you tell mother that?”
Mrs. Chadwick looked down at the floor and then straight at me. “She simply wouldn’t accept the fact that you were doing well. She insisted that I go over each day until I came to the business about the coat …,” her voice trailed off and the two of us sat in silence.
“Mrs. Chadwick … I am not going to school in my underwear and a coat! I don’t care what mother said or didn’t say, I am not going out of this house in my underwear and a coat. Someone will have to forcibly drag me out and I’ll fight every inch of the way. I will not do it.” I was surprised at the forcefulness with which I’d told Mrs. Chadwick how I felt. It was the first time I’d ever done that. I now sat and waited for her reaction.
To my relief, she was in complete agreement with me. It was absolutely unthinkable to send me to school like that … she might as well be considering sending me naked.
The next day, sure enough, mother sent someone to get all my clothes while I was at school. They cleaned me out. Took my shoes, sweaters, jeans, shorts, blouses, skirts, jackets … everything but one short sleeved cotton dress.
Since it was only February, that left me with two dresses to wear for the next four months! I was so mad, I couldn’t talk. I was mad at Mrs. Chadwick for telling mother anything. By now she knew when mother was drinking that she became totally irrational. I’d told Mrs. Chadwick about mother’s drinking, but I really don’t think she believed me. I guess, some things you have to learn first hand no matter how smart you are.
Some of the girls offered to lend me clothes because they felt so badly about what had happened. Unfortunately, Mrs. Chadwick wouldn’t let me wear anything except those two dresses to school. She was afraid mother would find out that her orders weren’t being followed and the situation would get worse.
That made me madder still. How was mother going to find out if Mrs. Chadwick didn’t tell her? Was everyone in the whole world afraid of mother? Wouldn’t anyone tell her she was full of shit?
My anger sank slowly into depression as the days turned into weeks of having to wear just those two dresses. Chadwick was a country school and the kids didn’t get dressed up to go to class, but since most of them were from wealthy families their clothes were more than adequate. Some kids, of course, were very clothes conscious and a number of my girlfriends even had special clothing allowances. Then there was me … looking like a goddammed orphan. After a month of this idiocy, my one pair of shoes that had been new in September wore out. At first it was just the stitching around the top and a hole in the sole. Then the entire sole of the right shoe began flapping. I’d told Mrs. Chadwick to tell mother I needed another pair of shoes weeks before, but nothing happened. Finally, one morning I was so mad I threw the shoes in the trash and appeared barefoot. That did it. Mrs. Chadwick took me downtown that afternoon and bought me another pair of shoes with her own money.
I didn’t go to most of the school dances because I was too embarrassed to go in either one of the two dresses when all the other girls would have planned special outfits. Anyway, none of the boys asked me because they didn’t want to be embarrassed either.
As the months until the end of school progressed my punishment had some unexpected side effects.
Everyone in the school knew what had happened to me. Some people felt sorry for me and would look at me with pity which I didn’t like at all. Some of the students avoided me and others couldn’t resist an occasional snide remark. But having to wear my punishment week after week in full view like that began to make other people mad too. I began to sense an invisible turning of the tide of public opinion in my favor. I was too proud to ever complain about my dresses and continued to do good work in my classes. The faculty members began going out of their way to give me something extra in the area of encouragement, extra credit, little additional privileges. Whatever was within their direct responsibility and didn’t break any of the rules, was stretched a little in my case. My friend Hoagy was great. He always dressed in something funny and then made jokes at his own expense which made me laugh. He was already emotionally tougher and wiser than I was. He had a heart of gold for his friends. We’d sit and talk for hours and he’d always tell me things about his own family. Afterwards I’d feel better, knowing that someone understood and also that I wasn’t the only one with troubles.
When the heat of summer began, I cut the sleeves off one of the two dresses for variety. The trouble was the two dresses were exactly alike, only one blue plaid and the other was green. I was so sick of looking at those two dresses! They’d been washed and ironed twice a week for nearly four months now and they’d begun to fade. The only change of clothes I had were my bathing suit and gym shorts. Four months seems like an eternity when you’re twelve and indeed it seemed like I’d been wearing those two dresses half my life at this point.
When school was finally over I went home for a few weeks. It was the first time I’d been home in a while and it felt odd leaving the Chadwicks house which had become much more like a real home to me. I no longer knew exactly where things were kept in my own house. I’d go to look for something to set the table properly and it wouldn’t be there. I was constantly having to ask someone questions and it seemed ridiculous.
I was more aware of the rules now that I’d been away from them for a while and learned to live quite differently. Not that Commander and Mrs. Chadwick weren’t strict, because they certainly were. It was just that you could talk to them and the rules they set were more reasonable, more workable and a lot easier to live with, even if you didn’t like them.
At home it appeared to me that a lot of the rules existed for their own sake and the timetables set primarily to keep everyone under control.
I tried to get to know my two sisters again. They were about five and cute little girls. Cindy was an outdoor girl and loved to play ball with Chris. Cathy was more sedate and we’d play “make-believe” games together, dressing up the dolls or the dog and taking them for strolls in the baby carriage. Cindy and Cathy were learning to be good swimmers and we all played water games together in the pool. I realized that they were growing up without knowing me very well because I’d been away at school a lot of the time during the past couple of years.
Mother took us to Alisal Ranch in the Santa Ynez valley for a week. We all liked Alisal because it was a casual atmosphere and we were free to go riding and swimming all day. When we arrived I had to laugh. There, by total coincidence of course, was one of the current “uncles”. I thought to myself that I should have known this would be the case, just like all the other trips we’d taken. The “uncles” did have an uncanny habit of turning up in the most unlikely places, but I was kind of used to it by now. It didn’t really matter this time because Uncle David was very nice and I genuinely liked him. He
was married and had brought his kids with him while his wife visited relatives, or some such story. Well, mother had a right to companionship and we were away most of the day anyway. In the dining room we all ate at the same table just like one big happy family.
There was not one word about the dresses or my coat or the months of humiliation I’d just been through. It was just like it had never happened at all. I was just as glad to have it forgotten forever, but it was weird how quickly mother changed. I suppose it was a case of out of sight, out of mind because she certainly hadn’t had to look at me for four months in the same two dresses. The only thing I could figure was that she’d just forgotten about the whole thing. The dresses were totally unusable by the time I’d come home and they’d been thrown away, much to my relief.
After Alisal I was only home a couple of weeks before summer school started and it was back to Chadwick for Chris and me.
There was a new student in my summer school class that I soon realized was going to be my first real challenge in the race for top marks. His name was Jim Fadiman and he was undeniably brilliant. At first I didn’t like him because he was a “know it all”. Then I found out that he really did know most of it and decided that if we didn’t become friends we were going to be enemies. That was the beginning of one of the best friendships I ever had. It was because of my fierce competition with Jim that I began to really zero in on my school work. I knew he was smarter than I was but I made up the majority of the difference with hard work. He questioned every answer I gave, every reason I could think up. He got straight “A’s” but I was always right behind forcing him to stay on his toes. We had a great time with our fledgling intellectual rivalry and enjoyed the game immensely. He was the first really brilliant person my age I’d met and I admired him enormously even though I also teased him and badgered him constantly. He helped me set standards for myself that were way beyond what was required even by an excellent school like Chadwick. I couldn’t touch him in math, but in every other subject I used his criteria and not the teacher’s as my goal. It was exciting to compete with him and I used to hold my breath as papers were returned. He usually got an A and I’d get an A- but once in a while the tables turned and inside I’d be jumping up and down with sheer happiness. He knew all of this of course and we became friends on the basis of mutual admiration.
Mommie Dearest Page 16