One of my buddy’s grabbed his mother’s Polaroid camera and took a picture of me holding the legendary catfish. Everyone made a big deal out of it, which made me feel really special.
This had been one great day.
The next morning was not so great. I woke to my Grandpa Bob yelling.
“What the hell is that smell?” he screamed.
I ran down the stairs into the kitchen that reeked of dead fish. In fact, the stench was so bad I could smell it upstairs.
When I told my story, Grandpa Bob Bob settled down. He told me that in all his days, he had never seen a catfish that big. I could tell by the way he looked at me with his crooked smile that said despite being annoyed by the nasty fish smell, he was actually very impressed. He spent the morning skinning my prize. Wrapping it in tinfoil to put in the freezer. I wanted to have it mounted and hung on my wall, but I knew better than to push my luck with Grandpa Bob.
As usual, my mother, who had stumbled home late, was hungover and sleeping upstairs. She didn’t smell a thing. I was so anxious to tell Jim all about how much fuss everyone made over the catfish that I lit out of the house like I was on fire. I raced to the canal.
My adrenaline started pumping when I heard the sound of a train coming. I pulled out a penny from my pocket and placed it on the rail. Then I jumped into the ditch just below the tracks as the train passed.
Woooh! Wooooh! The train whistle blew, the ground vibrating like a 6.0 earthquake.
When the ground stopped shaking I made sure the train was gone, climbed out of the ditch, then went to find my penny. It took me a while, but I located the smashed penny with Abraham Lincoln’s head smeared like an alien. It was perfect! It would make a great addition to my collection of other smashed coins. Collecting these coins was something all the kids in the village did. Every Saturday we would all meet to show them off and make trades. I am proud to say I had one of the finest collections in town.
Running to the canal, I was surprised to see an ambulance, a fire truck, and several police cars parked in the area. I slowed down when I saw a big crowd of people gathered by the bridge.
As I was walking toward the scene to find out what was going on, someone grabbed me by the arm. I spun around to see Mr. Swindle from the drugstore. There was a look of concern on his face that he quickly masked with a smile.
“Hey, Jack! I want to show you something.”
Naturally, I asked what was going on down at the canal.
“Oh that. There was a car crash or something. Don’t worry! They have to send all these people out here as an extra precaution,” Mr. Swindle explained. “Come with me, I’ve got a new candy I want you to try!”
I looked back at the canal, but candy was candy. I followed him into the drugstore to get his treat. Mr. Swindle was a very thin man of average height who wore circle-rimmed spectacles that defined his narrow face, which made him look very sophisticated. Behind his glasses were a set of blue eyes, the kind that were comforting to look at.
I met him one day when I was looking for odd jobs to support my growing addiction to candy. Mr. Swindle was so impressed he gave me a part-time job. Our friendship blossomed from there.
Pointing at the new candy he said, “You can have as many as you want, however, you have to eat them here.”
I supposed it was some kind of test to find out which version of the candy would be the best seller. There was a huge array of sugary treats surrounding the counter which were enough to get my mind off of the ruckus at the canal. I saw Mr. Swindle keeping one eye on my candy testing, and the other on the commotion outside. Something was going on that he didn’t want me to know about.
When the last police car finally cleared out Mr. Swindle said, “Hey, you know what? I’ve got some cleaning to do. Why don’t you grab yourself a handful of candy and go play?”
“Okay, Mr. Swindle! Thanks!” I replied stuffing my pockets with candy.
I ran out of the store looking for Jim. I didn’t find him that day, or the next. More than a week had gone by since we landed the world’s biggest catfish, and I was really concerned. I visited the canal every day looking for Jim, but he was nowhere to be found. I started asking around town to see if anyone had seen him.
I even asked my mom if she would help me look for Jim. She told me in no uncertain terms to stay away from the men who lived under the bridge. I found this ironic because she never cared where I went or when I came home. I think she just said it to make herself feel like she wasn’t a horrible mother.
Finally, I found someone who did answer, a miserable old man named Rudd who was homeless like Jim. Jim didn’t like Rudd at all. When he would fish at one of our spots, we would move to the other side of the canal to avoid him. Rudd was a big guy with a chubby round face that looked like he was always blushing.
When I asked him about Jim, he removed a pint of whiskey from his back pocket and took a giant pull.
“Jim killed hisself. He jumped off the dam and drowned right here where I cast my line. They have been searching for his body for weeks. With all the rain we’ve been having and the current being so strong, who knows if they will ever find him,” Rudd explained.
“You’re lying!” I screamed. “Jim would never do that!”
“Believe what you want! Now get away from me!” Rudd shouted.
I hate to admit it all these years later, but tears ran down my face that day. I yelled, calling him things I had heard my mother say, not even knowing what they meant.
About that same time, I heard someone behind me. It was Mr. Swindle. I ran up to him, pointing back at Rudd.
“He said Jim drowned! That Jim killed himself! Is that true?” I yelled.
Mr. Swindle looked at me with broken eyes. “I’m sorry, Jack. I am sorry you found out this way. Jim was sick. He just couldn’t take Vietnam sneaking up on him in the night anymore.”
I knew Mr. Swindle wouldn’t lie. He liked Jim, and he knew how much I liked Jim as well. Mr. Swindle used to give Jim food and money when he needed it. I knew his puffy red eyes held the truth. I didn’t even thank him for telling me what really happened; I just tore off for home. When I was halfway there I got such a stitch in my side that I had to stop running. I couldn’t catch my breath. I kicked rocks, throwing them at the tall maple trees that lined the railroad tracks.
Why would Jim kill himself? To a 7 year old kid it made no sense. I was angry with God for taking Jim away from me. Angry that I had a mother that didn't want me, angry that I didn't know who my father was. I felt like an old toy that was no longer desirable, left in the toy box and forgotten about.
Losing Jim made me feeling a deep loneliness I had never experienced before. I swore never to go back to the canal, ever. There was no reason to return, Jim wouldn’t be there. I went to my tree house. I started drawing a picture to capture the scene of Jim and I on the canal. I thought maybe if I put us together on paper, then he wouldn’t really be gone.
Cindy
CHAPTER SIX
“Many a man in love with a dimple makes the mistake of marrying the whole girl.”
~Brooken Leacock
Cindy Napier’s Diary
July 26, 1978
Two weeks ago, Sam and I tied the knot. It wasn't the fairytale wedding I’ve always dreamed of, but it was nice. Everyone seemed to have a great time. Over three hundred people attended the wedding, which was held at Christ the King Catholic Church. It was a quaint little church where Sam and his family were parishioners. They attended service every Sunday.
All seven of Sam's brothers and sisters had been baptized there. So, Sam's parents were adamant about us getting married there. To them, this was non-negotiable. They were becoming a little too controlling for my taste.
Sam’s family filled the pews on the right side of the church. The left side was for mine, which numbered far less than his. The church was a sea of blue. Police blue ran in the veins of the O’Malley family. Sam will be the fourth generation O’Malley to serve on the Indianapo
lis Police Department.
When I was walking down the aisle of lopsided wedding attendees, I felt a little annoyed that more of my family didn't attend. It was embarrassing to see the inequity of people representing my side of the aisle. Focusing on the moment I noticed all eyes were on me. I felt like I was floating in my gorgeous wedding dress as my father walked me to the altar.
One of the few things my mother helped out with was finding and paying for my dress. She surprised me by suggested that we stop at Abigail's and look for a wedding dress one Saturday morning. I was shocked! Up until this point she had not seemed to show much interest in me or my wedding. I think she was still angry about my pregnancy. The dress I chose was ivory and satin with an empire waist and A-line skirt. The scalloped neckline brought all eyes to my face. There was lace around the hem. It was an elegant dress with delicate frills all around that covered my body quite well.
Approaching the altar I looked at Sam. I was thinking how I was grateful that my father was able to walk me down the aisle—sober. After we exchanged our vows, we had our first kiss as Mr. and Mrs. Samuel O'Malley. The audience clapped and cheered. When we walked out of the church and down the steps to Sam's car, our family and friends threw the ceremonial rice. I found this to be quite annoying. I was not pleased when I got to the car and realized that my hair was covered in wedding rice. Sam laughed it off, which annoyed me even more.
When we arrived at the Scottish Rite Cathedral we entered the ballroom located on the second floor. The DJ introduced as Mr. and Mrs. O’Malley, and the party began. Well, it began for everyone but me. While it was wonderful being the center of attention and receiving so many compliments, what I really wanted was a drink. Many were well on their way to getting drunk and I wanted to join them. I snuck a glass of wine. It instantly calmed my nerves, so I had another. When Sam's mother saw what I was doing she went over to him to say something. Mary Alice was acting like a total bitch. She was ruining my special day!
Like her puppet, Sam came over and told me to slow down with the drinking. I asked him if he had any idea what it was like to be pregnant. He just gave me a blank stare. I told him to back off, that if he ruined my wedding day I would never forgive him. Like a good boy he left me alone, but his mother was another story.
Later that night Mary Alice found me smoking with some friends in the parking lot. She pulled me aside and said she couldn’t believe how careless I was being with the child growing inside of me. I had been holding back for way too long, so I unleashed on her. Seeing this Sam grabbed me by the arm. He dragged me to his car kicking and screaming.
“It's my body, I can do whatever I want.” I shouted.
Then I slipped, telling Sam how my mother was forcing me to have this baby. How I wanted an abortion, how it was my body, my decision. How my mother guilted me into having the baby. Sam was in shock.
While it had been a nice evening up to that point it wasn't what I had dreamed about. Maybe that's why I drank so much. I didn’t feel like a princess. Was it because deep down in my heart I knew Sam wasn't really my prince? I’m not sure why, but I am grateful of one thing... No one questioned our marriage. They seemed to believe Sam and I were two young kids in love who wanted to spend the rest of our lives together. I know this made my mother happy.
August 22, 1978
It’s been about a month since the wedding. Thank God my morning sickness has subsided! I spend most days in our little apartment sleeping. My visits to the Riviera Club are much less frequent due to the fact that my belly is showing. The only people that know I am pregnant are a few close friends and our families. I’m sure when I can no longer hide my baby bump the gossip start and the calculations will begin.
“When did they get married?”
“She looks much farther along than just a couple of months. Sam must have knocked her up. That’s why he married her.”
“I wonder when she is due?”
“I wonder if she is going back to school in September to finish her senior year?”
I can just hear all the rumors now. I don't care that much, but my mother will. She is always thinking about how this has affected her… and oh, the poor baby. I know she is worried about what kind of mother I will be. She continually reminds me that my partying ways will be over. That life will no longer be about me, but rather my baby and my family life with Sam. Oh how I resent these comments. I want her, Sam, and everyone else to know that I will get my life back! I will be a good mother to this baby. I it will not stop me from doing things for me, like getting my body back and looking for a modeling agent.
I desperately want a modeling career. I will not let this baby will not stop me!
November 14, 1978
I gave birth to John Michael O’Malley at 1:30 pm yesterday. He is 8 pounds 1 ounce and 20 ½ inches long with no hair! Sam and I named him Jack after his paternal grandfather. Labor was far worse than I expected. The last several weeks have been miserable since sleeping was so difficult. It started with cramping in my back, which crept around to my stomach. I woke Sam at 2 in the morning and we headed down to Methodist Hospital. After almost 10 hours of labor and two whole hours of pushing, Jack finally arrived.
When he was placed in my arms I didn’t know what to feel. It was almost like the nurse handed me a doll. I didn’t FEEL anything but tired and sore. All I could think about was having Sam get me a milkshake from Steak-n-Shake. Is this bad? Should I be feeling like I am madly in love with this little being? He is awfully cute, but he looks just like him, “him” not being Sam.
I thought about how I might be deceiving Sam when I filled out the birth certificate. I know deep down that Jack is not his baby. I have started to believe my own lie. The last time we slept together before our break up was Valentine’s Day. He had taken me to Hollyhock Hill. After dinner we decided to head to Holliday Park for a hike. Having sex in the car was not ideal, but both of our parents were home for the night and there were no other options. After we finished, Sam asked about my plans for the upcoming weekend. I told him I was going to a movie with Julie, Scott, and Greg. He said it sounded like a double date. I assured him that we were all just friends. (Sometimes Greg and I were friends with benefits. Greg wasn't boyfriend material, but he was so cute.)
This led to a huge argument that ended with Sam dropping me off at the Peaches Record Store on the Broad Ripple strip. That was the end. Until the day I arrived on his porch step to tell him I was pregnant.
A part of me feels guilty for harboring this secret. I know exactly who the father is. The thought of it makes me sick!
My plan has worked. So, I have to move past these guilty thoughts. I need to focus on my life with Sam and Jack.
The birth certificate reads……
Mother: Cynthia Ann Napier
Father: Samuel Paul O’Malley
Child: John Michael O’Malley
Birthdate: November 14, 1978
December 1978
It’s Christmas time! The Broad Ripple villagers are out and about getting ready for all the festivities, while I’m stuck in this little house on Crestview with a baby who won’t stop crying. I’m alone almost all the time. Sam works nights then picks up extra shifts on his days off. My only outlet is to take Jack to my mother’s or to Mary Alice’s so I can go out with my friends. I have been doing this more often and I think Sam is starting to resent the fact that I am spending so much money. He gives me an allowance which I seem to go through faster and faster each week.
I tell my mom I am going to the grocery or a movie then I meetup with my old drinking buddies at the Monkey’s Tail. Part of me feels bad about this, but I am just so bored. I feel so cooped up at home. I find myself constantly thinking about the life I had planned before I got pregnant.
My dream of modeling is now a broken reality. My plan was to move to New York City after high school and get signed with the Ford Modeling Agency. I am only ten pounds away from my pre-baby weight. I know in my heart this will never happen. I am stuck in thi
s little house, with this little baby, and with little love for the man I am married to.
March 16, 1978
I can’t believe I haven’t written in so long. So much is still the same, yet so much has changed. My double life has doubled back on me. It all started when I was pulled over for drinking and driving. Of course, my father-in-law tried to help as best he could, getting the charges dropped. But a few weeks later I was busted with marijuana. Greg and I had decided to get high before a 4 pm movie at Glendale. We stopped by Broad Ripple Park for a quick smoke down by the river. On our way back to the car a police officer stopped us. He started asking questions, like why we weren’t in school. We were so stoned we couldn’t stop laughing. Then the officer noticed a pipe sticking out of Greg's blue jeans. Now he had probable cause to search my handbag, where he found an ounce of pot. I was arrested for possession of an illegal substance.
I was numb. I just didn’t care anymore. This time my father-in-law was furious. He couldn’t even look at me, let alone speak to me. He did his best to keep the arrest from Sam, but eventually he told him. As usual, Sam was silently angry. I begged him to talk to me. I thought he would yell, but his silence was far worse. I grew up in a home where we argued and got our feelings out. The silent treatment was a new experience for me. I didn’t like it at all. When Sam did speak, all he could say was that he was extremely hurt and disappointed with me. That was it!
My next “offense was the final straw for Sam. Drunk and high one evening with my friends I left the bar with this cute guy who had been buying me drinks all night. Though he was a stranger, there was a confidence about him that turned me on. Sam was a cop, but he wasn’t very manly at all. I felt like the man in our relationship, which made sex with Sam a very undesirable thing. The guy from the bar was all man. There was something about a bad boy that got me hot. Plus, they know how to fuck the way I like it, hard and rough. We had nowhere to go so we ended up fooling around in his car.
While I was going down on him we got busted by a cop. The next thing I knew we were charged with public indecency, performing a lewd act in public. Looking back now, I think I wanted to get caught so I could get out of the miserable existence I was living.
Breaking Brooklyn Page 5