A Fucked-Up Memory (part one)

For some reason this following memory came to me. Not sure why. Maybe all the drama with my teenage daughter, who seems to think her life is so freaking bad.

When I was 14, I was living with my mom and her boyfriend, who later became my step-dad. They were together a long time.

Anyway, it was one of the times after they had a big fight and were homeless. They were living with his mom. Now this normally would not have been too bad, but she did not live alone. Her daughter, her grandson and his girlfriend and their two sons also were living there. In a two bedroom house.

My mom had Stan* slept in the living room. In one bedroom Mac*, Lena* and their two sons slept. They had 2 full size beds and a TV in there.

In the other bedroom was the one and only bathroom used by everyone. In that room is where Granny* slept. She shared her bed with her daughter... and me. A full size bed.

Now, I could stop here. This all sounds kinda fucked-up. In actuality, for my life, that was not all that fucked-up.

Back to Mac* and Lena*. The reason they were living there is they were broke and homeless as well. Thing is there had been an accident. Lena* had been shot. There were two stories going around about what could have happened and a third story they told the police. Everyone said she tried to kill herself. The real story may have been he shot her to try and stop her from leaving him. The story the cops heard was it was an accident.

She was in pretty bad shape and bed-ridden for a while. She gained quite a bit of weight and never much left that room. She would have meals brought into her.

Being 14, and not allowed to use the phone and no friends around there and only one TV in the rest of the house, I spent time with Lena*. She had a TV at the foot of her bed and a VCR. I would sit in there with her and watch movies. I would walk to the store and get us munchies. She was wonderful at crocheting. She taught me how to crochet and we would talk. I loved her.

Every once in a while she would go out for a ride in the truck. Back then, there were no seat-belt laws. It would be their family of 4 and myself all riding in the truck. A couple of times we went out to eat. She had a cousin and her family would also go sometimes.

I use to help with their boys, who both were under the age of six. I would take them to the park a couple of blocks over. It gave me something to do and I loved being with them.

I would go with Mac* to take them out to eat and to parks with a pool.

Mom and Stan* had one of their big fights. When my mom fought, she was merciless. She would say the most horrible things, and did not care about the outcome.

I was in the room with Lena* watching TV and my mom stormed in there and informed her that her Mac* was out running around on her. That if she did not believe her, to just ask me. She then stormed BACK out of the room.

Lena* looked at me and then asked me if it were true. What could I say? I was 14 and had no one to talk to. I felt so alone and cornered. So I told her.

Sometimes when I went with Mac* and the boys to some of the other parks and for rides her cousin would meet him there. I did not go into seeing them kiss, or when he would drive by her house, leave the boys and myself in the truck and go in by himself for a while.

She did not say anything. She was sad and upset, I could tell. She never mentioned it to him.

The next day she did something out of the norm for her, she came into the living room and sat in the chair. She was in there all afternoon. She finally took a nap. She was having trouble waking up, so an ambulance was called. She was taken off to the hospital, where it was discovered she had over-dosed on her medication.

She had tried to kill herself.

It was all my fault.

Everyone said so.

Even my mom.

"Well, I didn't tell her WHO he was cheating with! You did that."

* names were changed to protect the identity in this fucked-up family.