"You are poison! You brought your sickness into our home and infecting my boys! I want you out of here!"
She picked up the phone and started dialing.
“Never again! Never, ever again! No more. I can’t do this anymore!” she cried.
Mr. Howard rushed back into the room with my toothbrush. He was rubbing soap all over the bristles.
“You want to cuss in my house? You want to bring cuss words into my home? I’ll show what we do to kids who cuss in my home!”
I thought my mother was nuts, but these people were fucking crazy. Mr. Howard handed me the toothbrush.
“Brush your teeth with it. Brush out your dirty mouth!”
I looked at the brush then up at Mr. Howard. “What?”
“You heard me! Brush out your mouth, boy!”
Putting the toothbrush in my mouth I started brushing. It tasted awful! I kept brushing though. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of breaking me.
When Elise got off the phone, she started to lecture me.
“I will pray for you, Jack. I will. You’re a troubled little boy. I can’t have you in my home anymore. I can’t do it. Alex, go outside and play. I have to deal with this situation.”
Alex quickly left the room, not bothering to look back. Letting out a gigantic swoosh of air, Elise explained that she had called Child Protective Services to come get me. She then walked out of the room. I never saw or heard from her ever again.
Yet I would hear her hurtful words in my head for the rest of my life.
Cindy
Chapter twelve
"These are the stories that we tell ourselves and only ourselves, and they are better left unshared."
~ Jim Crace
Cindy Napier’s Diary
September 11, 1989
I am so ashamed of myself. When I woke this morning I was naked, lying in the shower next to a pile of my own feces. I turned off the water and wrapped myself in a towel then went looking for my clothes.
Nothing looked familiar. I was scared. I walked through the unfamiliar, its walls covered with family portraits. I knew no one in the pictures.
My head was pounding. I was feeling sick to my stomach. Stumbling into a bedroom I looked through one of its dressers. I found a pair of girl sized sweat pants and a tee shirt. I put them on. They were about three sizes too small, but I worked my way into them anyway.
I searched and found my purse which had my keys inside. When I reached for the door to leave, it opened by itself. In walked a short, fat man with a chest hairs showing through his half unbuttoned shirt.
“Hey, Cindy! How you feeling? I got you some coffee,” he said. I literally had to gulp back my own vomit. I didn’t say a word. He started to laugh.
“You don’t remember me, do you?”
“I don’t remember much. How did we meet?”
“We met at the bar last night then we came back to my place to snort a little coke. The next thing I knew you were all over me,” he explained, winking at me like I was a little kid.
I then realized the he was the father in all the portraits. I wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of there. When he noticed me looking at the portraits he told me there was nothing to worry about. No one would ever know what happened. How it would be our little secret.
I didn’t see my car when I walked outside. So, I asked the stranger where it was. I don't even know his name. Smirking at me ,he answered, “Where the party began. Don’t worry I will give you a ride back to your car.”
Every mile was more terrible than the one before. I was disgusted with myself. I literally wanted to kill myself.
How had I fallen so far, waking up in a stranger’s house with his wife and children’s pictures plastered over all the walls?
I’m hoping that journaling about this will help me cope with what I did. I need to make a change. Maybe, it’s time to let God into my life. My father has stopped drinking and is getting it together. Maybe I need to do the same…..
Chapter thirteen
“Man is born broken. He lives by mending. The grace of God is glue.”
~ Eugene O'Neill
Jack Napier- Day 24
I have come to the realization that my family is gone. That I will never see them again. All I want is to not be awake. But, sleep is like a cat; it only comes to you if you ignore it.
DREAM:
I’m at the beach house in Florida that Brooke and I rented back when our kids were young. It was a beautiful three-story home with a wraparound porch on each level except the third, which was just a tiny room that led to a deck overlooking the ocean. The view was gorgeous. The kind that leaves a permanent image in your memory bank of beautiful things.
I am on the deck. I can hear the ocean mixed with the wheezy sound of the summer wind. The sky is perfectly blue. I have never felt so calm and relaxed in my entire life. In the distance I see my boys playing on the beach. They remind me of how innocent we are as children, unbroken and pure. Then I hear the gentle sound of wind chimes.
Dylan notices me standing on the porch and yells, "Daddy, come play with us!" He motions with his hand as he runs, signaling me to come play.
I stand there admiring my children. Nothing has ever felt so perfect. The only word I could use to describe the moment is "complete". I think to myself, If there is a heaven this would be it.
I wake to the indescribable pain of true loss. If there is a hell, this would be it.
All I want is to stay forever present in my dream, to never wake to the nightmare that has become of my life.
Like my dream, I once saw the world through hopeful eyes, only to have my heart shattered into a million pieces.
After my stay at the Legacy farm, Child Protective Services sent me back with my mother and grandfather. I never thought I would ever say this but what I thought was hell now felt like heaven.
While I was gone, Grandpa Bob had hit a low point in his life. His drinking was so out of control it caused him to lose the business he worked so hard to build. He was at the bottom, holding onto the very last rung of the ladder that descended into ruin. So he did the only thing he thought might save him.
My grandfather went to his first AA meeting.
When I got back from the Legacy Farm he was well on his way to sobriety. I sometimes even went to the AA meetings with him. I would play in the lobby while everyone told their crazy stories.
It seemed to work. When my grandfather got his six-month token - the one with the Unity, Service, and Recovery triangle on it - he took me go to the meeting with him. My grandfather was so proud of his accomplishment. Once he accepted his coin, he stood in front of his metal folding chair. Behind him were five matching rows that made up a total of fifty chairs. There was not an empty seat in the large recreation room of the small church where my grandfather was telling his story to a sober group of men and women.
“When I was a kid,” he said to the group, “my brother, who was two years older than me, became very ill. I was only five at the time, but I remember all of the doctors and hospital visits."
My grandfather cleared his throat and continued.
"He eventually died of leukemia and I lost my best friend."
Looking down Grandpa Bob closed his eyes as if he was watching a movie on the back of his eyelids.
“It was very hard on my mother. Her response to losing Jimmy was to control every move I made. She never allowed me to do anything that was even remotely dangerous. Yes, I sort of understood why, but I loved to play sports. I loved to take risks!" He said pounding his fist on the podium.
“I wanted to play football in high school, so I snuck around my mother’s back and went to tryouts. I made the team! My mother was furious when she found out. She told me I was selfish, that I didn’t care about how much I hurt her."
Grandpa stopped to take a breath and wipe the sweat that was starting to form along the top of his forehead.
“When I was picked to be quarterback there was a showdown
. I’m sure the neighbors heard that one. I threatened to run away if my mother didn’t let me play. So she conceded out of fear of losing me.
My father worked a lot. If he was home he took no part in arguments that centered on me. After all, he had lost his firstborn, the one with all the potential. He had little interest in anything I did. I always felt like he resented me simply because I was alive. I was pretty much invisible to him."
My grandfather again wiped the sweat from his forehead that quickly returned. His face was gradually turning red like he was sun burnt.
"This made me want to show him I was someone. That I was alive, visible. I worked my way up to starting quarterback for my high school football team, I wanted more than anything to get my father’s attention. But he thought football was a waste of time. Still, I always looked in the stands during the games in hope of seeing him. It never happened."
Grandpa Bob's eyes fulling with sadness and his voice started to crack. Quickly recovering he continued.
“I lead my team to a state championship, which was the first in Owen Valley High School history. You would think my father would be impressed but he wasn’t. This led me to my first shot of whiskey. I loved how it made me feel despite its taste. I really began drinking heavily after the war. I wanted to forget everything; my brother’s death, my father’s utter dismissal of me, and what I saw in the war. I am here today to pick up the broken pieces. I want to get my life back together and stay away from the bottle. I am scared as hell because now, sober, I have to face the demons that have haunted me since my brother’s death.”
The 12-step program worked for my grandfather. After sobering up, he was able to get a job as a used car salesman. Morris, one of his old drinking buddies, was the sales manager at Bud Wolf Chevrolet and got him the job. It turned out, my grandfather was a natural.
While he was attending his AA meetings he met a very charismatic man named Adam. Adam was a local minster who was a frequent speaker at my grandfather’s meetings. Grandpa Bob was so impressed with Adam he thought he was exactly what my mother needed in her life. So, he brought Adam home to meet her. My mother fell for him instantly.
Seeing her father get his life together for the first time, my mother decided it was time for her to do the same. She started going to the small church groups and bible studies that Adam would organize. Within weeks she was fully integrated into his small church.
I had no idea what brought it on, but both my mother and grandfather were acting differently. I even overheard my grandfather talking about the steps he was taking to live a sober life. My mother was talking about Christ and forgiveness. This was definitely a new experience for me. I was unsure if this was just a temporary phase they were in or if it was going to stick.
Grandpa Bob wasn’t hanging out at the Alley Cat anymore. He was putting in long days at the used car lot and he was going to his AA meetings every day at lunch. My mother, on the other hand, was talking a foreign language as far as I was concerned. I picked up on a few expressions like “Praise the Lord” from what I had heard Grandma say when she had taken me to her church.
Grandma Daisy’s church was disciplined, organized, and everything was perfectly orchestrated. When I went with her, we stood, sat down, kneeled, stood up again, sang, sat down again, and waited in line for communion.
As usual, my mother had gone out of her way to find the most wacko church possible. She couldn’t just find a normal church. No. My mother found the door to a religion that was the exact opposite of what I experienced with Grandma Daisy. Extreme was an understatement! People jumped up and down, waved their arms in the air, and shouted, “Praise the Lord!”
They yelled out words I wasn’t even sure were words. Some of them ran up and down the aisles then fell to the ground, shaking like they were having seizures.
Compared to grandma Daisy’s church, this new religious experience was quite peculiar. They quoted scripture every time they made a point then shouted, “Praise the Lord! Something about the whole thing didn’t seem genuine to me.
Running around in Broad Ripple, I had met my share of characters, but this church seemed to be the epicenter of crazies. The congregation was comprised of former drug users, hookers, and convicted felons.
My mother started taking me on Sundays. I would go to Sunday school, which was something else I hadn’t ever experienced. When I went with my grandma Daisy, I sat with her and worshipped with the adults. This was a non-traditional church that was located in a strip mall. The sign above the front door said “THE NEW CHURCH OF CHRIST” in big black letters. As soon as you stepped through the glass double doors in front, your attention fell on a crucifix on the far wall. Underneath it was an old wooden podium for the minister.
It wasn’t long before my mother had me attending church on Saturday nights as well. It seemed every time the church was open, she wanted to be there. Everyone carried Bibles, quoted scriptures, and talked about salvation. There was an air of arrogance as they pontificated to one another.
I thought it was all pretty much “out there.” However, I liked a good adventure and this looked very interesting. After all, they did play fun games on Saturday nights. Plus, something felt pleasantly different about my mother and I liked it. Wonder of wonders, she stopped cussing! She actually began acting a little bit like a mom.
Unlike at home, the church felt safe. There were no drunken boyfriends smacking me around or telling me to go away. On the contrary, I was treated with respect. I was actually welcomed when I walked in the door.
Despite the churches peculiarity, it was getting easier and easier for me to accept the situation. Plus, Adam was a hard guy not to like. He had a gift for saying the perfect thing at the right time. He even handled the hard questions with flair.
I remember asking him so many questions. “In school we were learning about the big bang theory, but in Sunday school we were learning about Adam and Eve. I’m really confused. I didn’t know what to believe,” I pointed out to him.
Adam explained that the big bang theory supposed that two molecules found each other in this vast universe. When they collided, it caused a reaction that spawned another reaction. The entire phenomena created what we call the universe.
He said that it takes a large leap of faith to believe that two molecules found each other in such a vast open space rather than to believe God created it all by design. He told me to imagine two people standing on either end of a football field, each armed with a BB gun. He challenged me to consider the odds that they could point those BB guns at an angle that intersects, and then when they fire, the BBs would actually hit in midair. That made a lot of sense to me.
Later that week Adam took me to one of the parishioner’s farms to witness the birth of a colt. I was blown away! There was no doubt in my mind that God had created the universe after seeing that.
I understood what Adam was saying. Seeing that baby colt start walking within an hour of being born was an overwhelming experience. There was no way that was random. There had to be something behind all of this.
Adam had the answers I was looking for and I was starting to like him. He was unlike anyone I had ever met before. I was starting to look up to him as a role model, something I’d always been missing in my life.
Although Adam’s church was a little strange, my mother was treating me very differently. She was actually showing me some attention. She was actually listening to what I had to say. For the first time in my life, I had a mother. This change made me like pretty much everything about the church.
After few months of Sunday school and Bible studies Adam invited my mother and I to go on a church campout. I was so excited! I had never been camping before. We were going to fish, swim, and hike, then at night we would have a campfire and cook S'mores.
When the time finally came, everyone met in the church’s parking lot that was adjacent to the Dollar General. We then loaded up the black and yellow bus that Adam borrowed from the Boys & Girls Club of Indianapolis.
“Diane has been doing real well. She gets her oldest son back later this month. She’s so excited. Oh, and there’s Betty, she had a bout with Satan again. Every time she gets herself together, Satan comes along to take it all away. We have to remember to pray for her tonight. Okay, Jack?”
It certainly was weird to hear my mother talk like that, but she was showing me attention and that’s all that mattered to me at the time.
It wasn’t long before we arrived. Turkey Run State Park was only a few hours from Indianapolis and well known for its beautiful sandstone gorges. Exiting the bus, Adam and a few of the other males directed the adults to set up their tents. Then sent the kids to collect wood for the campfire.
After the camp site was all setup, Adam took me and a few of the other boys fishing. Walking up the river, we found a nice spot where Adam taught us how to hook a worm and cast our line. Of course, I had already learned about fishing from Jim. I didn’t want to ruin the moment so I sat in silence listening to Adam’s every instruction.
Later that evening, everyone sat around the campfire while Adam said a prayer. Then we sang Christian camp songs. I looked around with my mother by my side taking it all in. This was the happiest moment in my life. For the first time in my life, I felt like I had a family.
After a long evening by the campfire, people began drifting off to their tents. My mother and I snuggled deep in our sleeping bags and talked about how much fun we were having. It wasn’t long before my eyes grew heavy and started to close. I was asleep within minutes.
When I awoke a short time later I had an eerie feeling in my stomach. Looking around the tent I noticed my mother was not in her sleeping bag. I unzipped the front and looked outside. It was still night.
In the distance, I could hear voices but couldn’t make out what they were saying. Following the sounds led me to Adam’s tent. I hesitated before I unzipped the front of the tent. When I did I found my mother, bare naked, on top of Adam. I felt my heart stop, then it started to race.
Breaking Brooklyn Page 9