My Story, Part One

Morning light came through the curtain and fell across the bunk bed, waking Laura. Giggles came from the full-size bed on the other side of the room where her youngest sister slept with their mother. On the bed above her head, Erin rolled over, climbing down the metal bars at the foot of the bed, bleary eyed and yawning. Laura smiled, climbing out of her cocoon of blankets to join the giggly brigade on the queen ship.
“Good morning!” Mom said, tickling her stomach as she climbed up on the bed, Erin on her heels, Diana scooting over to make way for her older sisters. Most mornings were like this, smiles and tickles, just the four of them in one, large bed. They had to share this one room because the other three rooms were for their three teenage siblings. Someday, Laura would have her own room, but for now, she enjoyed waking up with sunshine and laughter.
“I love you!” They said, so many times just to be sure the others knew how much. You could never say those words enough. At least, Laura didn’t think you could.
After a half hour of laziness, of lying in the bed smiling, cuddling, Mom abruptly got to her feet, heading for the door. Laura sat up, sad that the morning silliness was gone, but ready to start her day.
“Breakfast?”
Downstairs, Mom poured cereal into bowls, setting them on the table with the milk.
“Can we swim today?” Laura asked. The only good thing about warm weather, was the wadding pool they had in the backyard. Swimming was her favorite thing to do, she might as well have been born a fish. The first one in the water, and the last one out, her dad called her a water baby, though she’d been born in winter.
“Maybe later.”

The doorbell rang. Mom got to her feet to answer. Laura knew it was probably her Aunt Cheryl, dropping off her kids so she could go to work. Excited, Laura followed.
“Morning,” Cheryl said, handing Mom a diaper bag. Priscilla ran through the door, Minnie Mouse shoes lighting up pink. Cheryl set the car seat on the floor in the living room, baby Ryan sleeping peacefully. She’d fix that.
Laura went to the baby, ran her hand over his tiny head, anxious to get him in her arms. There was nothing she liked better than babies, except maybe swimming.
“Can I hold him, Cheryl? Can I hold him?”
“Me first,” Erin argued. Erin loved nothing more than arguing. Starting fights, pouting, being plain-old-difficult. With a capital D.
“I’m going to hold him first,” Laura insisted. “I’m older.”
“Shhh, guys, let him sleep,” Mom whispered. She didn’t want to wake him. Mom would rather he sleep as long as his little heart desired.
“I’m running late. Thanks again, Judy.” She hugged Mom, then was out the door. Priscilla was already in the toy closet, digging through the mess of broken dolls and empty boxes.
“Chickey, you hungry?”
Priscilla’s nickname was Chickey. Laura had no earthly idea why, but that’s what it was. Chickey.

“Mom, I’m going to help you baby-sit today,” Laura told her. It always made her feel all grown up to help her mom with the littler ones. She was nine, practically ready to watch Erin and Diana, should Mom decide she had to run across the street for instant mashed potatoes.
“Come finish your breakfast.” Mom pulled another bowl from the cupboard. “Chickey, come eat something.”
Ryan chose that moment to start crying, sending Laura’s heart into an excited rhythm. Quickly sitting down on the couch, she held out her arms, more than ready to hold her cousin. Resigned, Mom sighed, unbuckling the straps that kept Ryan in his seat.
“No, I wanna hold him,” Erin whined, hopping onto the sofa next to Laura. Diana, sweet at age four, waited patiently for her turn.
“One at a time.” Mom handed Ryan to Laura, who went completely still, a smile lighting her blue eyes.
“Hold his head, Laura.” Mom kept her hand under Laura’s, just in case.
“Mom, I’m going to Troy’s for breakfast,” Carrie entered the room, dressed in very holey jeans and a sluttish, red top. Her hair was true to the latest styles, and her make-up was overdone.
“Okay. Don’t be gone all day.”
Carrie rolled her eyes and was gone.

By noon, they had the swimming pool up and running, everyone in their bathing suits. As they played in the sunshine, Brian, their only brother, finally rolled out of bed to sit in front of the TV and watch reruns of Bevis and Butthead.
“Don’t put that doll in the pool, Laura.” Mom hollered through the open sliding glass door.
“But, mom, she wants to swim.”
Mom shook her head, but let it go. She had six kids, nine younger siblings of her own she helped her mother with growing up, her sister’s kids to watch during the day, she found it easier to give in most of the time. Strength was a fleeting thing, there in the morning, but by the middle of the day, she couldn’t muster enough to care.
“Laura, it’s my turn with the doll,” Erin cried.
“It’s not yours,” Laura said stubbornly, hiding the doll behind her back.
“It’s not yours, either,” Erin, eight, said smartly. “It’s Carrie’s.”
“She don’t play dolls anymore.”
“Give her to me!” Erin lunged for the rag doll, soaked through with pool water. Priscilla joined in the game and tackled Laura. Diana, cold from being in the water too long, tried climbing out of the pool, but wasn’t tall enough to simply step over the low wall.
“Laura, help Diana out,” Mom said. She sat at the kitchen table, phone to her ear, talking to someone Laura didn’t know. She talked on the phone a lot lately. Laura never thought to ask who, she was too busy living in her own world. The games they invented, her, Erin, and Diana, were the best parts of her days. They could spend all day playing make believe, having tea parties with hot water and toast. Play with their large collection of Barbie’s, make the girls get drunk and act like fools in front of Ken. That was one of Laura’s favorites. Or when they played roller skating rink. They put on their skates and went back and forth, up and down the hallway, pretending to be at a skating arena with their boyfriends.

“Laura,” Mom shouted, pulling her back to the present.
Laura sighed, helping Diana to get out of the pool. She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her.
“Here you go, Bubbles,” Laura whispered. Another nickname. Diana was Tiny Bubbles. Like the song. Probably because she was the littlest, the cutest, with her tiny blond curls and bluer than blue eyes. They all had blue eyes, but Diana’s were somehow prettier.
Diana shivered, and went inside for Mom to help her put on warm clothes. Diana was always the first one out of the pool. She got cold easy.
Laura got back into the water to discover Erin had their favorite doll and was dragging her around in circles, creating a whirlpool.
“She’s my doll,” Laura insisted, yanking her from Erin’s hands. Erin shrieked bloody murder, sinking her teeth into Laura’s arm. Laura would have none of that, and grabbed Erin by the hair, pulling with all her might.
“Fukerassholebitchslut!” Erin scratched Laura, yelling the famous curse words. Always those words, in that order, real fast.
“Erin! Laura!” Mom ran out the door, a sweater in one hand, a shirtless Diana on her hip. Ryan started crying from his car seat. Angry, Mom set Diana down, tugged the shirt over her head, and grabbed Laura by the arm, pulling her from the pool. “Out, now. All of you.”
Erin climbed out, helping Priscilla. Dripping, they followed Mom into the house, where she picked up the phone from the table.

“I’m going to have to call you back.” She disconnected. Brian glanced over, a book in his hands. He wasn’t even paying attention to the TV anymore. He got to his feet, heading for his room where it was quieter, to read his book. There was rarely peace and quiet to be found in their household.
“Why do you always have to fight? Can’t you two ever get along?” Mom was practically screaming. Obviously she’d had enough for one day. “No more swimming. I’m going to put on Barney for Froggy, Chickey, and Ryan. Find something else to do.”
Froggy was Diana’s other nickname. One of their favorite movies of all time was The Frog Prince, starring Kermit. They loved the part where the Ogre said his “Stay asleep and let frog go” lines. They found it hysterical, and it had become a famous thing to say at bedtime, a nighttime ritual. Diana did it the best, and since she was small like Sir Robin the Brave-- as a frog, of course-- she got that nickname as well.
Laura quickly put on dry clothes, Erin did the same.
“I’m going to ride my bike.”
Mom waved them away.
“Me, too.” Erin followed.
“Copy cat,” Laura said.
“You’re a copy cat,” Erin countered.

Seattle, Washington wasn’t the safest place in the world...

Road Trip Weekend and Snow

Finally we have snow. Lots of snow. It took me an hour and a half to drive home from work in it. I left a half hour before close, which is an hour and a half before I normally would have left- the slow manager was on duty tonight. I left early because my mom kept calling my cell, calling the store, finally she called and just asked for the manager to tell him to let me go home because I kept telling her it would be fine, and I can't just leave work, there was no one to cover for me. "You'll end up in a ditch. You can't drive on ice, it's snowing and sleet." No matter how much I told her it wasnt too bad, she kept calling. Even had my friend call the store. She finally stopped calling when the manager promised I could leave sometime between eight and eight-thirty. It was really annoying. Anyway, I'm going to have to call in tomorrow. Way too much snow, no way am I driving in it again.
My sister, Erin, and her bf, Shane, are here. I went down to Arkansas Saturday to get them. I took my friend/sister Samantha or Sami James as I nicknamed her. We all stayed over at my mom's house. It felt odd being there, in the tiny town I spent more than half my life. Even more weird since mom and my stepdad, Monty, moved from the trailer they'd lived in for about ten years to go live in the house they lived in before the trailer. I hadn't been inside that house in so many years. I lived there briefly when I was nine. That was when my life fell apart, so being back in that house wasn't easy. The rooms were all smaller than I remember, but the memories flooded in, nearly drowning me. Especially when I looked into the room I had shared with my two younger sisters. And the room across the hall that had been my stepbrother's. I let Erin and Shane have our old room, choosing to sleep on one of the two couches in the front room. Sami took the other couch, and we stayed up late watching a show about hauntings. Something encounters...I think. Ghostly Encounters? She fell asleep and I watched psychic kids then went to sleep.
The next morning we had a big breakfast, then mom practically shoved us out the door, freaked because "It's going to snow and sleet and get really bad. You need to go before it gets bad. You don't need to be driving in it." We drove to Harrison, made a qucik stop at Uncommon Grounds, the coffee shop that hadn't been there when I lived there. It was very cute, and I wished I still lived in the area so I could make it a frequent hang out. Good coffee, too. Cheesecake White Chocolate Mocha. Yum, Yum. When we pulled into the parking space, I glance out my window cause a car had pulled into the space next to me.
"Guys, is it just me, or is that mom next to us?" I ask everyone.
It was mom. Erin had left her purse in mom's car, and she'd driven eighty the whole way to Harrison to try and catch us. She's too funny. So we had coffee, said our good byes again, and hit the road. I love road trips. Me and my sister, Carrie, drove here- Missouri- from Washington state when I moved here a year and a half ago. Lots of fun.
Anyway, it was really strange to be in Pyatt again. Tiny town, 253 population. It felt like a ghost town as I stood outside the house on the corner that held memories I'd tried so hard to forget. It was almost eerie, trees without leaves, breath fogging the air, complete silence as I stared across the street at the old buildings that were no longer in use. Except I believe one was turned into an apartment. I had glanced around at my surroundings, shuddered, then went inside the house.

If I Were You- Colin Raye

This is a great song. It's beautiful. I'm a huge fan of Colin Raye's. Grew up on his music. My mom is a huge country fan, so, naturally, I am as well. This song just entered my head this morning and wont leave. I love that someone put it to CSI clips of Greg. Great show.

Anyway, I'm not sure if I am driving down to Ark. or not. I tried calling my Da to see if my sister and her bf can stay there because she can't stay here with me yet. We are having a few issues with the park manager here, she's a real bitch...so, until dad answers his phone, I can't take off. It's going to be a long day. Almost noon and it's a six hour drive...Why isn't he answering his phone??!!! He doesn't go anywhere or do anything. He is usually up by nine or ten...I hope he's okay...

Suicide and Pedophiles

Sometimes it feels too late...I'm having a particularly bad day. I don't know why. Work was no fun tonight. I don't think I like the new store hours. We used to close at eleven on friday nights, now it's nine. Between ten and eleven it was always slow, so I could get everything done. Now that we close earlier, the store is still busy, and I haven't the time to do everything that needs to be done. I'm still making espresso drinks five minutes before we close and wondering if I'm ever going to get to change the trash- something that should have been done a few hours before close...between a busy night at work, stress and depression, and the hunger pangs in my stomach because I forgot to eat lunch, it was a bad night. And I got a call from my sister who lives in Arkansas. Her bf's stepdad is an evil ass! They're living there with her bf's mom and stepdad, and it can go on no longer. It was hard to make out what she was saying on the phone on my drive home tonight, but he tried something with her, and I want to kill him. No way is somebody going to mess with my little sister. Thank God I have the whole weekend off work, I'm going to go down to Ark and get her. Don't know where I'm getting the gas money for this, but I'm bringing her home. Men! God, I hate them. Are they all like this? My dad, my dad's friend, my step-grandpa, my step-brother...it goes on and on. I know too many girls who were molested as children, and it's sick. My stomach hurts and I could vomit whenever I think about it. What the hell is wrong with this world?

Kenni, Jensen, and Work

I'm sitting at the kitchen table working on a sketch of Jensen Ackles, but my puppy is very distracting. She keeps jumping up on her hind paws to stick her face in my view, slobbering all over my face in the process. So, I told her to go get her rat- a black, squeaky, plastic rat- a halloween decoration I bought her last October. It's now missing an ear, one paw, and the tip of it's tail, but it still squeaks, and it's her favorite. That, and the squeaking, rubber chicken. So she brought it to me and we play keep-the-rat-away-from-Kenni, our favorite game, second only to throw-the-tennis-ball-and-watch-Kenni-chase-it-bring-it-back-and-pry-it-from-her-death-grip game. I held the rat to my right, she jumped for it. I moved it to the left. She raced around my chair and jumped for it. I moved it to my right, back to the left, right, left,right, repeat...I love sitting here and letting her tire herself out by running around and around my chair. She loves it too. Then I tossed it down the hall and she went after it. Back to the drawing... Kenni brings the rat back.
"Later, Kenni," I told her. Grabbing my pencil, I prepare to shade Jensen's jaw and cheek. Kenni pressed her head against my arm. I couldn't ignore her cute face. I reached down to pet her, but petting was not nearly enough for my hyper pup. She literally jumped off the floor and into my lap, like my cat would. Like she's a chihuahua instead of the huge mutt she is. Well, she's not huge, huge, but she's too big to be jumping on people. Does that ever stop her?
Absolutely not.
Of course, I am the one who taught her this. Not on purpose. She likes to stand on her hind legs with her front legs on my lap so I can hug her and pet her, and occasionally I pick her up under her arms like a toddler and set her in my lap, I just can't resist. It's kinda funny. She puts one paw on each of my shoulders and starts licking my face with ferver, completely ecstatic to be so close to me. She's a cuddler. She plops right down on top of you and sticks her face against your cheek, pressing her body as close as she can possibly get. There is no such thing as personal space for this puppy. Most of the time she's like a second skin.
She doesn't sit still long enough to be a pillow, though. The other night I was watching a horror movie in my room. It's late, dark, I am the only one home until Feb. 6th, and a very hair-raising scene begins. I thumped my hand against the mattress in front of me.
"Come on, Kenni! Up!" She's thrilled, and followed my instructions. I was under a cocoon of blankets, Billy- my sister's dog- was behind my head, sharing my pillow, and Kenni was under my left cheek. Twin size bed, I was surrounded in case any paranormal being decided to choose that moment to reach out and gently stroke an icy finger along my back. But Kenni wouldn't sit still. She wanted to play. It didn't work out too well. Billy, on the other hand, stayed statue-like, so I rested my head on her belly during the more frightening scenes.
Anyway, I just got a phone call from a fellow Barista. I should have been expecting this. I'm supposed to work 2 pm to close tomorrow. Sarah, a barista and friend, has class in the morning and has to open cafe. She couldn't find anyone to cover. Megan called Kori who called me. Kori is opening, and I'm now working 10 a.m. to close. 10-9. Yay. Least the store hours changed last sunday so now we close an hour early. Two hours early on fridays. Oh, well. I am desperate for the money anyway. Guess I'm not staying up insanely late tonight.

Gothic Lolita by Emilie Autumn

A Few Demons

Some days I don't want to go on. I wish it all would end. Eternal sleep sounds so wonderful sometimes, but I'm a coward. And just when I think it can't get worse, it always does. I was fine until 2008 began, then things slowly started to fall apart. With 2009 beginning, I tried to be optimistic with thoughts that a new year will make things better. Optimism doesn't come as easily as it once did for me. I used to be the person I am in public all the time. But now it's my facade. When I'm alone I can't make my demons go away. The hurt is there. The depression, the lonliness, the holes and gaps. I used to be happy. My aunt Rosie once told me that even bright and early in the morning I woke up with a smile that lights my eyes...My smiles are saved for when I'm around people now, so they can't see what I have become. I don't know me anymore. When I look in the mirror I don't like the person staring back at me. Her eyes are no longer twinkling with smiles. Her mouth is forever frowning. There is a cloud over her, a darkness she can't shake. Tears live on the surface of her irisis....
I've always kept people at a distance, pretend I'm blending in when I'm really not. I guard my heart with every ounce of my being, so sure that everyone is out to break it if I let them in. But, with lots of prying from a friend, I allowed him to penetrate my walls, knock a few holes in them, get too close. And, just as I suspected, I got hurt. Not really badly, but enough to try to rebuild my walls. It is my fault I fell in love with this person, my fault he hurt me. I knew better, but he had pretty words that I fell for. He stopped calling. Stopped caring. My fault my depression escalated to a point I can barely contain. This time when I rebuild the walls around my heart, I'm installing a dragon as well. A large, ferocious beast that no one will ever get past.
Why do I feel I need to guard my heart? How many times has it been betrayed? First, there was mom. I'm not going into details. She just didn't protect me like a mom is supposed to. Didn't protect any of us. Sure she's flawed, everyone is, I still love her. But I guard myself from her as well. Second, dad. I was daddy's girl when I was a kid, he was my hero. Then my image of him was shattered when a few things about him were revealed. Another broken piece of my heart. Third, the man I grew up calling grandpa. Same boat as dad. Fourth, my oldest sister. I put her up on a pedestal, but she really is just a b****. Sorry, but she is. I guess my brother can be fourth with my sister as well. And my other sister. Fifth, and the thing that has haunted me for thirteen years of my life, my stepbrother. He never had my heart, but I should have been able to trust him. It's because of him I am who I am today. Him, and mom's lack of protection. I blame myself, too. Though, according to what "they" say, it's not my fault. But I feel some of the blame should be on me. I never spoke up. Well, once, a couple years ago...
My youngest sister, the only one who I've ever given my heart to without regret, was having a huge fight with mom. Up until that year I always took every ounce of blame for our childhood, never placing any on my mother, who could do no wrong in my eyes. But my beautiful baby sister opened my eyes and made me realize mom should shoulder some of my blame. Diana, my baby sister, was more than willing to place fault where it belonged: on mom. She said what should have been said many years ago, let it all out and told mom exactly how she felt about it. I had never been that brave, and I was proud of Diana. Then mom, playing martyr, turned to me, not understanding Diana's pain and hurt. I yelled at mom too, for the first time in my entire life, I yelled at her. And I told her what my stepbrother had done. Shock was on her face, and I felt a weight leave me, I started to cry. "Really? He did that?" she asked, like she couldn't believe it. Yeah, he did. More than once. I had only told three people before that day: Diana, my friend Maria, and my cousin Nancy. I told mom, yelled it at mom, then got in my car and drove away. I stopped a few miles down the road at a McDonalds and cried there in my car in the parking lot for almost an hour. Until I had no more tears left in me. Then I went to my brother's apartment where I was living at the time, pretended I was fine, and went to bed. Mom, never once since that night, ever mentioned what I told her about my stepbrother. Never brought it up. That kind of hurts me, like she doesn't care what he did to me. Like I matter so little to her. I refused to talk to her for about three months after that fight. My sister who I live with now would tell me after talking to mom on the phone, "Mom says she loves you." I'd shrugged, chosing not to say anything in return. But I knew mom was hurting because I stopped talking to her. I knew my silence was killing her. She stressed about it, cried all the time, left me messages on my phone because I wouldn't answer. I heard the tears in her voice. It killed me that I was causing my mother pain. Then she got a heart murmur. Scared me to death, I broke my silence, slowly let her back in my life. Even though she has caused me much pain for many reasons, I couldn't bear knowing that I was causing her pain. So I took most of the blame I had put on her shoulders, and I put it back in place on mine. I carry it with me everywhere, it hurts. But I don't know what else to do...

Music, Work, Shopping List...

I really love music. My head is like a radio when I'm at work. While I'm steaming milk and pouring espresso you can probably hear me humming, throwing in a few lyrics now and then. Today my mental station was stuck on a loop of "Love Story" by Taylor Swift, "The Light In Your Eyes" by Leanne Rimes, "Fall For You" by Secondhand Serenade, "Whatever It Takes" by Lifehouse, "The Motions" by Matthew West, and, kind of comical, "Going Through The Motions" by Buffy- The musical episode. I suggest everyone youtube these. They're really all great songs.
I was introduced to a magazine today, and I like it so much I bought it. I might subscribe to it. It's Bust magazine "For women with something to get off their chests." It's absolutely wonderful. Independent women speaking out, sharing with the world. I love it. Sometimes I wish I had been around when women couldn't vote just so I could have been a part of it all. I guess I just like to defiy authority where I can, as often as I can. Be liberated!
Anywho, it was really busy at work today, from the second the doors opened, and still going strong when I left poor Devin by himself. Hey, I was alone all morning in Cafe, it was time to go home.
Now I get the awesomely fun job of going to Wal-mart for dog food. Yippy. And a ruler. And Skim milk...cheese...I'm forgetting something, I just know it.