The Third Memory

So this one basically backs right up to the last one.  The diary entry dates July 17, 1997 so only three days after I find out my mom is pregnant.  I was home after school folding clothes.  I called mom to ask if my best friend's (who was also my neighbor) sister could come over.  She was older than me significantly I guess.  She was 20.  I was 11.  Anyway, we had also become friends through circumstance.  Our two families lived similiar lifestyles.  Our parents were out a lot, or at least mostly non-participatory in our lives.  We spent a ton of time together that summer.  Staying up late, sneaking wine coolers, vandalizing the neighborhood.  I know it's pretty surprising to know that I used to do that stuff.  But life was different then, and I was younger and clearly more stupid.  I spent most of my summer with them.  They were my family.  Danielle was my best friend, Dylan was my "boyfriend", and Stephanie was my sister.  The four of us (being the oldest) always helped each other out with Sonnie, Caleb, and Travis.  We played house, but for real.  We'd cook the meals for the kids, we'd entertain them, play with them, then put them to bed.  Then we'd stay up and talk late into the night.  Danielle and I were inseparable.  We did everything together.  I still think of it as the best and worst summer of my life.

Anyway--on this particular day, Steph was over helping me fold clothes when she got to a pair of boxers that were Larry's.  She looked at me and said "these are the boxers Larry was wearing when we did it."  I looked back and her and told her I didn't believe her.  She insisted and gave me a few other details to prove she was telling the truth.  She begged me not to tell, and not to be mad at her.  I wasn't.  I was mad at Larry.  How could he do this to my pregnant mother??  She wanted me to prove I wasn't mad, so I wrote this entry in my diary, in front of her.

07/16/1997
Dear Diary,


Stephanie said she had sex with Larry 3 times.  I hate Larry, I don't hate Stephanie.


Love, Cassie


Shortly after this revelation.  I went on vacation with my aunt to California.  On the last day there my mom called me and told me that were having a HUGE talk when I got back.  I was sick with fear.  I didn't know what it was about, but I knew it wasn't good.  She told me that she had went into my room to find a spiral notebook, and saw my diary laying facedown on the floor.  On the back of my diary I hate written "I HATE LARRY" in big bold letters.  Apparently this inspired her to read it.  And of course, the last entry was the one in which I gave away Stephanie's secret.

Now it may seem unfair that I didn't tell my mom when I found out.  But you have to remember, I was only 11 years old.  I couldn't even begin to come up with the words to tell my mother something that I knew would hurt her.  Not to mention that I loved Stephanie and her family like my own.  So I kept my promise, and I didn't tell.  But she found out anyway.  Immediately I was forbidden from talking to, or spending time with anyone in Dani's family.  I was devastated.  They were my escape from this hell that Larry and Mom had created in our home.  They loved me and I loved them and we stuck together no matter what.  We ran the neighborhood.  And now all I could do was sit on my porch and gaze down the road wishing I was there instead.

Now of course Stephanie thought I told, and I can't blame her for thinking that.  But I wrote letter after letter and snuck it on their doorstep promising that I would never do that to her.  When I'd walk by and she'd be outside she'd yell "slut" or "bitch" at me.  And I'd run past as fast as I could and go home and cry.  She was like the big sister I never had and now she hated me.  They all did.  To this day, I don't think I've ever felt worse than I did then.  I felt utterly and completely alone.

The Second Memory

So after my parents divorced there was the typical "every other weekend" visitation.  As time went by it was more like "every other weekend at grandma's" or "one weekend a month if you're lucky."  Sonnie & my Fridays had a 50/50 chance of either us sitting on our front porch with our bags packed waiting for my dad until it was dark OR mom driving us to dad's and making us sit in the car only to come out and tell us "maybe next weekend."  Eventually, we got used to it.

Mom dates a few guys here and there.  I disliked them all for various reasons.  I remember one night catching one digging through my hard earned Halloween candy, after that he was doomed.  I don't really remember the first time I met my future step-dad, I more remember the car ride there.  My mom was obviously giddy and excited.  Sonnie and I, significantly less so.  All she really said was, "His name is Larry, and don't be freaked out but he is very affectionate so he may kiss me and hug me a lot."  I immediately did not like this "Larry" person who felt he could just be all over my mom even in front of us.  Honestly the only other thing I remember about that night is that it was the first time I ever visited a house on the dreaded McNeil St.  A street I would come to loathe in my very core.

So I think mom and Larry dated about 4 months when he moved into our tiny two bedroom apartment at Lakeside.  It was cramped enough having to share a tiny room with my brother, but to have some big, strange, loud man in there was even worse.  Especially one that immediately felt he was in charge.  We spent a lot of time outside that summer, the beginning of many summers to come spent outside.  We moved a lot that year, I think I counted 8 times once, but I can't say for sure.  Most of the places were less than appealing.  Trailers with gas leaks, houses with rats, I can barely even remember all the places we stayed.  Finally my mom bought a brand new mobile home and placed it on a little lot out in Mountain Home.  I was ecstatic.  I would finally have my own room that I could do whatever I wanted with.  Looking back now I realize what a tiny place it was, but it was so much nicer and better than the other places we had stayed, I loved it.  Little did I know this house on the hill would be the place where the majority of my bad memories are.  Occasionally I will still drive up there when I'm in town and look at the cement porch, which is the only thing still standing where our home used to be.  At first, things were great there.  Larry was so fun.  We went to the River every day, even school days.  We played in the rain, he wrestled with us, made jokes, we all watched movies.  We were a family.  But I can't imagine that lasted more than a few months.  Then the reality of the situation set in.  I can't even remember how it started, but there was lots of fighting.  Larry would get more mad than I'd ever seen anyone get.  He'd slam doors, throw things, stomp around yelling.  It took a while before I realized that it wasn't all just talk.  He'd leave for weekends at a time and I'd be so relieved.  I would actually come out of my room and watch TV.  The only problem was, Mom wasn't relieved.  If she came out of her room at all she was in tears.  Frantically calling anyone and everyone she knew to find where he was.  Eventually she'd pack us all in the car and we'd drive around Ingram for hours looking for him.  All the places we stopped were scary and shady.  I hated it.  I didn't want him to come back.  But Mom could think of nothing else.  Once Larry would finally show back up he would've spent every cent we had.  He'd be nice for about a week or two after that though, and then the cycle began again.  Eventually Mom started giving me the money she made and having me hide it in my room.  Nowhere was off limits to Larry, so all this would do was get my mom good and beat up and my room tore up.  His moods were totally unpredictable.  I remember going to the river once and having so much fun, and then something happened right as we were leaving that set him off.  I think that was one of the scariest rides of my life.  We were in a jeep and he was driving through the river.  Obviously it was a deep part, but he was going fast and we were being jerked in every direction, we'd hit our heads, bite our tongues, and I'm pretty sure mom got some pretty good bruises from that day.  At least when we were at home I could hide in my room.  And if he wouldn't leave me alone in there, I'd lock myself in the bathroom.

Mom changed too.  They partied all the time.  Stayed out late.  I know she probably mostly did it just to be with him, but it was miserable.  Trailer walls are really thin, and there were so many nights I laid in bed staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling waiting for them to finally pass out.  I'd ask my mom to come to my room and beg her to turn it down, and I could hear her go back in there and tell them that I was complaining about the music.  Then they'd all laugh and turn it up.  I hated it.  But I couldn't be mad at my mom.  I saw her as the victim.


06-22-1997
Dear Diary,
I hate Larry, I never want to see him again he is abusing my mother with words.  I've been sick since Sunday.  I hope he leaves and never comes back.  I hate him.  I wish he would stay away.


Love, Cassie


Not even a month after this came the following entry:


07-14-1997
Dear Diary,
Big news, Mom's pregnant.  I don't know what to think.


Love, Cassie


I remember this day a little better.  Or rather, I remember the emotions attached to it.  I was scared, devastated really.  I knew that this meant that Larry was going to be a part of our lives forever.  If I thought he was easy to get rid of before, it would be impossible now.  I remember going to the "big tree" and crying.  Not just for me, but for that poor baby that would have to suffer it's entire life like this.  At least I had some semblance of a "normal" childhood at the beginning.  What was this new baby going to have?  That's when I knew that I would do whatever I could to make sure he knew that this way of life, wasn't the only way of life. 

First Memory

Ok so originally I didn't want to write this in order, BUT I think it will read better that way, so I've changed my mind. I'm gonna start with when my parents told me they were getting a divorce. Mainly because that's when all the insanity started....or right before it started rather. So here we go........

So my brother and I were sitting in the car. I knew things were bad, I was 8. I had a sense for these things. My brother was oblivious, he was only 6. A few days before Mom had us frantically pack our suitcases and we went to stay with her parents, my grandparents. They never really were our favorites because they were more strict, with less toys. But it almost seemed like a vacation still. I wasn't worried either because my mom had promised me that divorce wasn't an option. She had promised me that as long as I can remember. Since the first argument I remember, when she would come crawl in bed between me and my brother, I would ask her if they were getting divorced. She always promised me "no." To be honest at this point a divorce would've been a relief to me. I was sick of the arguing. It wasn't fun and it made my daddy cranky and my mom distracted and sad. As much as I loved my mom I did wonder why she didn't just iron the clothes and clean the house the way Dad wanted. I didn't see what was so hard about that if it would make the arguing come to a halt. Their fights were always after we "went to bed" even though we lay awake speaking hushed whispers wondering what was going on. My dad would always say "I'm going to work" and put on his jeans and work shirt. I always wondered how he could do construction in the dark, but I never asked.

So anyway, back to this particular day. My brother and I were sitting in the car while my mom was inside talking to my dad. All I could think about was the Blizzard I had gotten at Dairy Queen the day before and how delicious that would taste right about then. I decided I would sneak inside, grab it out of the freezer, and run back to the car without either Mom or Dad noticing. I figured it would be fairly simple as I knew they were distracted. I asked Sonnie if he wanted his and once he decided he didn't, I set out on my mission. I shut the car door as slowly and quietly as I could. And then I slipped in the front door in almost total silence. (This was a real feat as the door had these glass window panes on it that made it quite creaky). As I snuck into the kitchen to get my beloved Blizzard, my ears unwillingly tuned in on my parents conversation. I hear my dad ask in a really sad voice "Well what's it gonna be Ronna?" and as I stood with the freezer door open and my cold Blizzard in one hand I held my breath for the answer. Somehow I knew what he was talking about and I was anxious to hear my mom's reply. Suddenly, in a voice barely above a whisper, I heard it. "I want a divorce." With that I quietly shut the freezer door and got out of there as fast as I could. As I settled into my seat with the Blizzard that I really didn't want anymore, my brother asked "When's Mom coming? I'm ready to go." I just stared at him for a minute. I didn't know what to do. I needed to confide in someone badly, but I didn't really know if my 6 year old brother was the person I should do this to. Being 8 though, I couldn't keep it in and it rushed out before I could spend another second thinking about it. "Mom and Dad are getting a divorce!" I'm not sure what kind of reaction I expected beings that my brother had the comprehension of a 6 year old, but his blank stare was not what I had bargained for. "What's divorce?" he asked me. I looked at him incredulously. "Divorce Sonnie, like they won't live together anymore. Like we have to live with one of them and not the other." Still the blank uncomprehending stare. "Oh." At that point I gave up on trying to make him understand. I began a whole slew of thoughts in my head. (Come to think of it maybe this is where that began.) I told myself I was glad, which I was in some ways, and that the fighting would stop now. I also told myself that under NO circumstances would I cry when this information was officially divulged to my brother and I. I would accept it right now, so that when that time came I was already over it and could just shrug it off. Well apparently 10 minutes was not enough time to successfully accomplish this. Soon, my mom was back at the car telling us to get out and come inside, but NOT to bring our suitcases. As we sat down on the couch I wondered again what Sonnie was thinking. If he understood the magnitude of this news. I prepared myself for what was coming and busied myself with the stupid Blizzard that I only appreciated now because it gave me something to distract myself with. My dad began, "Your mom and I have something to tell you." I didn't look up. I knew that if I looked at the expression on my dad's face that went with sadness in his voice, I wouldn't be able to stand it. My dad was always one of those people you felt bad for. Something about him evoked a sympathy regardless of whether or not he was the true victim. I could feel him glance at my mom. I could tell he expected her to tell us this news since she was the one who had made the decision. I still didn't look up. "It has nothing to do with you, but we are getting a divorce." She said it very slow. I assumed it was because she was watching to see our reactions. I sat still. Shrugged my shoulders and let Sonnie ask the questions. I tuned them all out and listened to the calm chant I had going on in my head about how I was not going to cry. I slowly put my Blizzard on the table and decided to make a run for it before I let that first tear fall. I would not let them see me cry about this. I went straight for the bathroom and locked myself in. Once I was in the safety of that room I really let it go. I always felt safe in bathrooms, weird as it may sound. There's usually just one tiny little window and such a small space that no one can bother you. I remember many times throughout my childhood I would take my blanket and lay on the floor in the bathroom with the faucet running so I couldn't hear what was going on in the rest of the house. It was some kind of a sanctuary for me at times.

Once I let it all out both my parents were on their feet and at the door begging me to open it. But I couldn't. I didn't know who I was more angry with. They were spouting the typical "we both love you very much" bullshit and honestly it never crossed my mind that it was because they didn't love me. I knew the reasons, I knew they fought. But I didn't want either of them to comfort me or hold me because somehow both of them had just completely turned my world upside down. Little did I know that it would be much more than just the inevitable childhood disappointment at my parents splitting up. That day was to be the day that turned my childhood from good to bad. That day sealed all of our fates, and changed all of our lives forever. We all knew it was bad, but we didn't know how much worse it could get.

Why I'm doing this....and other information

Okay---so I've been reading a lot of memoirs lately and I find myself inspired. I think I had a pretty interesting, albeit crappy, childhood and I think I could make some pretty damn good stories about it. I know you have to be famous for someone to want to read your memoirs, but I have plenty of time to accomplish that. I guess the selfish part of me also hopes that this will serve as a catharsis to some healing process that I don't think I have completely accomplished yet. I'm definitely on the final steps of it, but hopefully this will finish it out.

So I'll go ahead a write a disclaimer now. I'm not changing names and I'm sorry if anything I write in here offends anyone. But honestly, this was my life and I had to live it, and I find that offensive in a lot of ways too. Also, mom if you read this, don't argue with it. I saw things differently than you. I was the kid. I couldn't make this stuff up. So I love you and maybe this will help you too.

Lastly, I'll probably take a semi-comedic approach to this whole thing because I fear it would be a little bit too heavy if I don't.

And very lastly, if this sounds like I'm trying to just buy sympathy blah, blah.  That's not it.  Ultimately this is a way to keep my memories forever.  And to work them out in an adult frame of mind.  Petty or not. :)

If I were you I'd take a deep breath before I begin.....