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.