"Concequences" of Growing Up

Amanda Reid

2-15-11

Consequences

Careless, no responsibilities live day to day; never think of consequences or what tomorrow will bring. The future never crossed my mind really, as long as I could have fun today. That was my perspective on life at age 16. As I think of it now--all I can do is smile, remembering the day I was let free.

Some would say I had it rough as a child, I wholeheartedly concur. My little sister and I grew up being oscillated between our mother and father. Never lived anywhere for longer than 8 months, we changed schools more times than we changed our underwear. As soon as one parent got sick of taking care of us, the other one would come collect us, as if we were the water and sewer bills and it simply recapitulated over and over. I'd sit in my room and ask myself, "What do I need to do to make my dad want me to stay? Why do they get so mad at me? What did I do? Doesn't my mommy love me?" These questions replayed in my head for years.

As my mind matured, I didn't care much anymore. As my body matured, my father's wife became notably dissatisfied with every bill collection. First collection--I started developing boobs; therefore, she wasn't happy. Second collection--I advanced to a B cup and had my period; so I wasn't allowed to hug my dad anymore. It wasn't a big deal, I didn't want to hug him anyway. And as the months went by, I think he stopped looking at me entirely. Third collection--was never picked up. That's right, he was gone. Hasta Luego Papi.

This left my sister and I with our mom and her soon to be husband, Gerald. Mother Dear worked 3^rd shift; therefore, she was never around, and when she was, she isolated herself to her bedroom. The only one allowed in there was Gerald. I felt nothing but animosity towards him, and still do. Tall, brown, pear shaped body with his cowboy hat and colossal cowboy boots. He was so manipulating and intimidating, twisting everything into my fault. I knew in my mind that everything I did had a consequence, whether it was me walking in front of the TV. or going to the bathroom at the wrong time. "Who was he to tell us what to do, when to do it, and how?" It's crazy--I still think of it today; he didn't know that I knew about his drug addiction. I wasn't stupid; I knew why Amber and I were never allowed in our mom's room. I could smell it. It would linger through the entire first floor as if someone was cooking dinner. I don't know how to describe the smell of crack cocaine, a smell like no other--I guess. Gerald would leave for days and come home with no explanations on what he was doing or where he was. This only made the rage inside of me grow towards my mother even more. "Leave your girls in the hands of a crack head, you degenerate monster!"

Gerald pulled one of his disappearing acts on Saturday, June 6, 2000. Needless to say I loved it when he did that, it gave Amber and I a break from being barked at every second, yet the fear of him coming home was always in my head, not knowing what kind of a mood he would be in upon his return. If he would walk in the door with a sick, pale, guilt-ridden look on his face with a bag of Culver's or if he would be on a rampage about how the chores weren't done correctly. So to take the fear away and have some fun for once, we decided to have some friends over, my best friend Katie knew how to through a party. Beer, smoke, pills, you name it--we could care less at this point, anything to take us out of our misery. MUSIC!, Oh, how I loved to dance, BOYS, that I could only talk to in school, here at my house! As I stood in the middle of my room looking at all the happy, high faces, I realized that I was having so much fun that I had completely disregarded the thought of punishment; which made it much easier to fall asleep that night.

"BOOM! POW!" Gerald's home, "BOOM, BOOM", his huge feet flapped on each step. All though it only takes five seconds to climb the stairs, time seemed to have frozen. Amber and I looked at each other, looked at the TV, then each other again with consternation. I can see the image perfectly, still after ten years, him stepping in the doorway with his orange muscle shirt, pale skin and shrunken in cheeks . I didn't know what to say, my mouth was jarred shut. I literally had to push the words "good morning" out of my mouth. His face went from blank and emotionless to angry and violent within seconds. "It smells funny in here!" He charged at me, grabbed my legs, yanked me off the couch, slamming my tail bone on the hardwood floor, sliding me across the room. I'm grabbing everything within reach, a thigh master straight for his face, got one foot free, kicked him straight in his testicles. It didn't seem to faze him much. He grabbed me by my neck and carried me down the stairs. I didn't have a thought in my head, it was happening so fast. I do remember the pain I felt as he threw me outside on the concrete though. "I don't want to see you around here anymore!" were the last words I ever heard out of his mouth, as he slammed the door behind him.

All I could think of was Amber. What is he going to do to her while I'm stuck out here, helpless, unable to protect her. The next thing I know, my mother pulls up. I'm sitting on the front steps crying. She walks past as if she didn't even see me--unbelievable. I stare in the window, looking up at my sister, knowing my mom wouldn't even stick up for her if her life depended on it. The door opens, my mom pops her head out and says, "Gerald says you're kicked out." A sense of anger/happiness rushed through me like a volcano, as if I was waiting for this moment my whole life, I was being let free. For I knew where I would stay, and as I walked away from that house, the words "I'll be back for you Amber" repeated numerous times at the top of my lungs.

From that day forward, I held my head up high. Lived carefree, with no responsibilities, just lived day to day, never thought of consequences or what tomorrow would bring. The future never crossed my mind really, as long as I could have fun today.