BITTER MEMORIES: A Memoir of Heartache & Survival (27 page)

He fried the fish while Olivia cooked the other stuff, and I chased lizards until she called me for dinner. We sat at the picnic table and had fried catfish, fried and boiled okra, fresh green beans, cucumbers, and the tomatoes I picked.

I cleaned my plate, then asked for seconds on the fried okra. Olivia looked pleased I ate so much. I learned I liked okra both ways, but my favorite had to be boiled. That was Uncle Henry’s favorite, too!

He left for work after dinner, and Olivia helped me clean the kitchen since she didn’t like
driving
at night. It had been a good day and I went to bed feeling content, but wondered when they planned to talk to me about living with them.

Uncle Henry came in late and went straight to bed. Moments later, Olivia came and got in my bed. I didn’t understand why she didn’t sleep with him, but I wouldn’t ask.

By the time I woke up and crawled out of bed my uncle had already gone to work. Wandering out and into the living room, I found Olivia sitting on the couch reading her Bible. She glanced up for a brief moment when I entered the room, then asked, “Do you want to go to church, Sarah?”

“I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Yes, you do. Your uncle got your clothes last night.”

“He did! Why?”

“We’ll talk about that tonight when he gets home. Your clothes are in your closet. I suggest you get in there and get ready to go to church.”

I’m confused
. She
asked
if I wanted to go, then
suggested
I get ready.

“Sarah! Don’t stand there like a moron! Get ready for church!”

“Yes, ma’am.” I went to my room and just like she’d said, my clothes hung in the closet. “Damn! I can’t believe I didn’t hear a sound while she did this!”

I put on my nicest dress and had just gone back into the living room when Olivia came out of Uncle Henry’s room dressed in a dark blue dress past her calves. It looked like a sack, and it made her look much bigger than she already was.

Three times she went back to check that the back door had been locked while I waited on the porch. When she checked the door for the fourth, and last time, I headed for the car. I hadn’t been to church since the funeral.

“Where are you going, Sarah?” she barked. “We’re walking to church.”

“But, that’s a long walk!” I exclaimed.

“You’re younger than I am, and I can walk, so get your butt up here. Don’t dawdle!”

I ran to catch up with her. “Aren’t we going to Brother Joe’s church?”

“No!” she snapped. “We’re going to the Baptist church around the corner.”

Seeing her alien mouth twitch, I followed beside her, doing my best to keep up with her. I didn’t say anything else. After church, we walked home in silence until we reached the porch.

“Sunday’s the only day your uncle comes home for lunch. Hurry up and get your good dress off, then set the table. He’ll be here in half an hour.”

I went to my room while she went into the kitchen to finish getting lunch ready. I couldn’t tell what was cooking, but it smelled good. Uncle Henry walked in just as she sat the last dish on the table.

“Lunch is ready. Sarah, go wash your hands, then get back in here.”

She’d filled my plate while I washed up, and when I asked for seconds she looked at me like I had two heads, stating, “I don’t think you’ll eat any more, Sarah, and it’s a sin to waste food!”

Damn
!
When I wasn’t hungry she got on my case, and now that I am...

“Maybe she’s still hungry, Olivia,” Henry said in my defense.

“If I give you more, you’d better eat every bite. Do you hear me?”

“I just want a little bit more. It’s good, and it’s my favorite.”

“Fine! But, you’d better eat every bite. What do you want?”

“Meatloaf and potatoes, please.”

She put the food on my plate, more than what I’d wanted, then sat and watched me eat. I think she hoped I couldn’t finish it, but I wasn’t gonna give her the opportunity to say
I told you so
, or the satisfaction of saying it!

Totally stuffed, I shoved in the last bite and I looked at Olivia. Her alien mouth twisted around! I didn’t say anything, but figured I got that look because she didn’t get to yell at me for
wasting
food. 

I’d cleared the table and had just started washing dishes when Uncle Henry stuck his head in the kitchen door. “Sarah, when I get home tonight I want to talk to you. We have something very important to talk about. I’ll be home around seven.”

I knew it would be a long day waiting for him, so when I’d finished in the kitchen I sat down in the living room floor with a big sigh. Olivia read her Bible, and I watched TV until I got bored. Then, I went outside and sat on the porch swing until bored. Next, I went to the garage and got interested in finding pretty little rocks in the driveway. That entertained me until dinner.

After cleaning the kitchen, I sat on the floor to watch TV again, and waited. At seven o’clock sharp I heard his car pull in the driveway. Instantly, my heart leaped into my throat. He came in, said a quick hello, then went to his bedroom to hang up his coat and put his hat on the shelf like he always did.

My racing heart pounded inside my chest. I didn’t know if I felt excited or frightened about living with them, but either way, I suspected I wouldn’t have a choice. I’d have to live with their decision and try to make the best of it.

When Uncle Henry returned and sat in his recliner behind me, I turned to face him, and waited. It seemed like an hour before he looked at me, then began.

“Sarah, Olivia and I have discussed this for several weeks. We had a decision to make and your grandparents already know that decision. It’s time for you to hear it.”

I held my breath.

I must’ve looked frightened, or maybe I turned blue because he said, “It’s okay, Sarah, breathe! It’s a good decision.” He laughed, looked at Olivia, then back at me. “Olivia and I want you to be our little girl and live here all the time.” He sat back in his chair, and took a deep breath.

Granddad hadn’t told him I’d been inside the shed when they talked, but hearing the words come from his mouth, in person, sounded scary.

“Sarah, did you understand what your uncle said?” 

“Give her time, Olivia. Let it soak in. This is a total surprise to the child.”

That’s what you think! I knew about it four months ago
! But, I had to be very careful what I said next. He’d understand I wasn’t hiding in the shed to listen on purpose, but Olivia wouldn’t understand—or believe me.

“Are you sure, Uncle Henry?” Then, looking straight at Olivia, “
Both
of you want me to live here?” 

“Of course we do! We’ve talked about this since the funeral, and we think it would be best.”

“Can I still visit Grandmother and Granddad?”

“Sarah! We’re offering you a stable home,” Olivia snapped, and her alien mouth formed. “I’d think you’d be more appreciative!” 

Oh shit! Now I’ve gone and done it
!

“I’m sure she appreciates it, Olivia. It’s all new to her. She hasn’t had a home, a permanent home, in a very long time.”

“Well, she doesn’t act like she appreciates anything we do for her, Henry!”

Her alien mouth tightened and her eyes turned black as an oil slick as she glared down at me. My stomach tied in knots.

I had to swallow several times before I could speak. I felt on the verge of tears when I looked into her scowling face. “I do appreciate what you do for me, Aunt Olivia. Please don’t be mad. I just want to see Grandmother and Granddad. I love them.”

“Sarah, we visit them often. You’ll see them anytime you want. We aren’t taking you away from your grandparents. We just want you to be our daughter.” He smiled. “Wouldn’t you like that?”

I’d overheard Olivia talking on the phone earlier that day, so I already knew no one else in my family wanted me. I saw no other alternative until Auntie Bitch moved and I could return
home
to Granddad’s house. I’d already decided I didn’t want to live with Olivia full time, but I didn’t know where I’d go if I didn’t agree to what my uncle had asked. 

“I guess so…if you’re sure you want me.”

“We love you, Sarah, and you’re my sister’s daughter. We want to adopt you.”

“Adopt me!?” I screeched. “What about Grandmother and Granddad? They love me, too! Who’s gonna live with them? Auntie’s going back to Dallas! They won’t have anyone!”

“They have each other, Sarah. My parents are getting up in years and they’re too old to raise you. That’s why I brought your clothes last night. You’ll be living here from now on.”

Just as I thought! They didn’t give a damn what I might’ve wanted!

Like I’d already assumed, I’d just have to make the best of it, and hoped I could get along with Olivia. Still, I didn’t believe for one second that
she
really wanted me, and I felt
very
sure she didn’t want me on a full time, permanent basis anymore that I wanted to be with her. 

“Uncle Henry? Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“At the funeral, I saw this man, and I felt I should know him. His name’s John. Who is he?”

“I don’t believe this child!” Olivia shouted, then stood up with her hands on her hips, glaring. “We’re giving her a home, food, clothing, an education,
your
name, and all she wants to know is, ‘
who’s John
!’”

“Olivia, that’s enough! She has a right to know.”

“Fine! I’m going to bed!” She looked at me with her alien mouth and black monster eyes, then stomped out of the room.

She’s pissed, but I can’t worry about her right now
.

“Who is he, Uncle Henry? Should I know him? Please, tell me.”

“Sarah, you met John years ago, but only briefly. He married and had already left home before you were born. Your mama talked every night about him, until your daddy, being the bastard he is, said he didn’t want that name mentioned in his house again.”

“I don’t remember Mama talking about him. Who is he?”

“John is your big brother, Sarah. Your mother’s son from a previous marriage.”

My jaw dropped, and I swear, if I hadn’t been sitting on the floor, I would’ve fallen flat on my face!

We talked a few more minutes, then I went to bed, feeling exhausted but very happy. I
finally
knew why I’d had that connection to the tall, good-looking stranger, and nothing else mattered, at the moment. 

Lying in bed, I whispered into the darkness, “John is my brother. Uncle Henry wants me, and I have a big brother!”

I had the biggest grin on my face as I fell asleep thinking about my brother and the new life ahead of me.

Epilogue

Tying Up Loose Ends

After Mama and I returned to Texas, even though I didn’t remember her, my grandparents, the house, or anything else, I felt so lucky, and somewhat happy, to be home with people who seemed to want and love me.

I looked forward to getting to know my mother again, and maybe, in time, even remembering her. Of course, I didn’t get that chance. I’d only been home six months when she died, and that wasn’t even close to being enough time to get to really know her, or anything else.

Mama died still being nothing more to me than a nice lady who came and brought me back to a place she called
home
; a nice lady who had promised never to leave me—never to let me out of her sight again.

Thankfully, I do still have a few pictures of her, and Mama was a beautiful woman. I look at her pictures today and wish I could remember something about her before the abduction, but all those memories are gone, forever. 

Did I love Mama? Damned right I did! And, I still do.

I love the memory of the nice lady who rescued me. I love the memory I put into my head of a woman who gave birth to me, looked for me, found me, and brought me home to be with her. 

I love what could’ve been if she’d lived.

I love the
dream
that my life would’ve been as close to
normal
as possible being with a woman who, I believe, would’ve loved me with all her heart. A woman who would’ve been my best friend and helped me to grow into a decent, loving, worthwhile adult. 

That
dream
will live on forever—in my heart.

But, in the
real
world, I don’t know if Mama’s death was an accident, suicide, or murder. I always wanted to believe it was an accident like Henry had said, but deep down I never believed that.

If only Mama had lived…would I know what a normal life was supposed to be like, or was it already too late for me? Would I be a better person than I am today? I’m sure Mama would’ve been someone I could’ve talked to. She would’ve been my best friend and, I’m positive, same as I loved her, she would’ve loved me just as any
normal
mother loves her child.

Yes, that
dream
will
definitely live forever in my heart.

So, here I was in a new home with strangers, and for once in my life, I had hope for my future. I knew I wouldn’t have to worry about going hungry or being left alone in a car, but Olivia had me scared. I’d already survived life with an evil stepmother, and since Olivia didn’t like me, I didn’t know what to expect from her.

Soon after I came to live with them, I had my first exposure to bigotry. Henry and Olivia were extremely prejudiced, mainly against anyone African American or Hispanic, but that, I figured, I could deal with. I’d just have to be very careful that Olivia, especially, never found out I made friends with people I knew she wouldn’t approve of. People she believed, because of skin color, were “scum of the earth”.

I guess she didn’t know there are good and bad in all races.

When I started to school I found it very difficult to find anyone who lived up to Olivia’s standards. Because of my uncle being a cop, it was difficult to meet anyone who
wanted
to be friends with me. The majority of kids were afraid I’d run home and tell “the cop” they drank beer or smoked pot, or any other unlawful things they did, and he’d arrest them. 

Of course they were totally wrong, but needless to say, I didn’t have many friends growing up. Actually, I could count on one hand, and still have three or more digits left over, the number of friends I had each school year from grade school through high school.

It was a rather lonely existence, but I figured, so what? I wasn’t allowed to leave my yard to play with the few kids in my own neighborhood, and I couldn’t invite anyone over to my house, or go to anyone else’s house, so I could live without friends.

Besides, nothing could
ever
be worse than what I’d already been through, and definitely, nothing could compare to the torture Janet, the stepmother from hell, had dished out. So, not having friends—that was a piece of cake!

After Henry and Olivia adopted me, the time I spent
alone
with Henry was great, but in a short amount of time I found out words could hurt just as much—if not more than—Janet’s torture tactics. 

Over and over again I heard from Olivia that I was a ‘
pathetic, good-for-nothing, useless kid’
, and that I’d ‘
never amount to anything’
. After hearing these words enough, I began to believe I really was no-good just like Daddy.

I grew up believing I was a disgrace; never should’ve been born. I was unlovable, and that was the reason, even if she’d wanted to, Olivia couldn’t love me. 

Whoever said ‘
sticks and stones can break your bones, but words can never hurt you
’ didn’t live with a person like Olivia. Her words cut deeply. They hurt like hell! 

Still, my life had started out as crap, so the only way I could go was up. Right? But I had no self-confidence whatsoever to make it
up
. How could I? Most of my life I’d been told how
bad
I was, and then to hear over and over again the words: ‘
pathetic, useless, no-good, stupid, worthless’
,
to name a few, I didn’t think I had a snowball’s chance in hell of growing up to be a decent human being. 

With Daddy, and then again with Janet, I’d learned how to stay alive. With Daddy, I had to steal just to eat, and with Janet every single day was a struggle to survive. Thank God, I had a means of escape! I had
the others
to protect me.

But with Olivia, I needed to learn a whole new set of rules. Not to stay alive, but to live day by day without getting a ‘
whipping’
, as she called it. I was scared to death of her!

At ten years old, worthless and unlovable, I wanted to die.

Somehow, I still clung on to a minuscule amount of hope that
someday
Olivia would like me, and my life would get better. And in some ways it did improve greatly, but I remained insecure, extremely timid, and most of the time somewhat withdrawn.

A pain—an aching loss—a feeling I couldn’t identify—radiated through me constantly. I’d lost so much in a short amount of time. I didn’t know whether that feeling of loss was from losing my daddy
and
my mother, or having to leave my grandparents, or what, but I quickly found out I didn’t have anyone I could talk to about what I felt.

I couldn’t talk to Olivia! Sex was a forbidden subject, and
love
—well, if I had to ask—then I wasn’t capable of loving, or being loved. She truly believed I was just like my daddy, and to this day, I believe Olivia took her hate for me to her grave.

And, no, I did not go to her funeral. She hadn’t talked to me in over twenty years and I didn’t want to be a hypocrite.

I knew she never wanted me, but since Uncle Henry wanted to take me in, Olivia had agreed to do so, only as her
duty
, to do as her husband wanted because she’d married him for better or for worse. And, since I was just like
him
, Olivia reminded me
often
how
worse
things had been
for her
since I came to live with them.

She believed I was sneaky and manipulative, and with every breath I was trying to break up her marriage. However, from what I know today
maybe
my body language made her believe that about me.

I didn’t feel wanted in the first place, and being terrified of her, then adding into the equation her accusing tone of voice—none of which helped when asked a question—I stuttered and stammered, my eyes darted back and forth, I blinked a lot, or I’d look at the floor and fidget. All definite signs of trying to hide something.

I tried to hide my insecurities knowing she hated me, and therefore, she wouldn’t believe me no matter what I said. I tried to hide my fear of what would happen next.

Like any “normal” kid, I didn’t always tell the truth, but the majority of the time I did. But even telling the truth,
if
she read my body language, I know it read just the opposite. But, who was the idiot here? Me—by sending false signals out of fear? Or, her—giving signs of pure hate? 

Underneath all that, I think she was jealous from the start of the relationship I had with my uncle. I do know she tried her best to destroy his love for me. With every chance available, she couldn’t wait to tell him if I’d done something she considered wrong or if I got a bad grade on a test or anything else she thought would make him not love me.

But even that wasn’t enough satisfaction for her! She had to make me a laughing stock by telling her women friends in the entire neighborhood everything I’d done
wrong
! Of course, these women told their kids who told other kids at school…so, I guess Olivia did accomplish one of her goals—she had all the kids laughing at me.

However, she didn’t destroy my uncle’s love!

None of the neighborhood women
ever
told Olivia about things their kids had done wrong, so Olivia believed them to be little angels who never did anything
bad
. She constantly threw this in my face saying, that if I wasn’t my father’s daughter I could be decent and good like other kids. She couldn’t be
proud
like the other mothers. She couldn’t be proud of ‘
her daughter’
because she’d been stuck with a hellion—a useless, no-account hellion that she, come hell or high water, would change. 

Olivia, in charge of all the discipline, swore to
beat the meanness
out of me on a
daily
basis for as long as it took while still living under her roof, even if I was forty years old.

Her type of
control
, these days is known as child abuse.

She strongly believed in belts and paddles and switches. She believed that old saying, “spare the rod, spoil the child,” and she lived up to that belief to its fullest extent, never sparing the rod! 

I lived in a world of fear. Extreme fear of Olivia’s belts and paddles with holes, and afraid of being
bad
. She left bruises and/or open cuts on my legs, butt and lower back every time she picked up her weapon of choice.

On several occasions, after she’d
whipped
me, she found out it was undeserved. But did she ever say she was sorry for the mistake, or sorry she hadn’t believed in me? Hell no! Olivia said, “This whipping
is
deserved! It makes up for a time you got away with something I didn’t find out about.”

I couldn’t win no matter what I did—or didn’t do!

Uncle Henry wasn’t home much. He always came in very late at night, and left early in the morning. He stayed at his lake cabin most every weekend. I figured he didn’t want to come home, and of course, I didn’t blame him.

I didn’t want to be there either! 

Did I like Olivia? Not very much. Did I love her? I don’t know. I tried to. I tried my damnedest to please her so she wouldn’t think I was like Daddy. I wanted so much for her to be proud of me and to love me, but nothing I ever did was good enough for
her.

Since Olivia had been best friends with my mother (until Mama started drinking), I wanted to be—I
tried
to be—like Mama, but still, Olivia could only see my daddy when she looked at me.

Olivia told me she didn’t blame Mama for the way she’d turned out. Nope! She blamed my daddy for driving Mama to drink. It was Daddy’s fault Mama turned to alcohol as a means of escape. It was Daddy’s fault Mama drank until she ended up dead.

She blamed
me
for being his daughter!

At fourteen, I no longer hoped Olivia would someday love me. I no longer hoped that I could be different from Daddy. I knew no one would ever love me, and I’d never amount to anything. But,
finally
, although the feeling had gotten stronger, I could identify that gut wrenching, never-ending ‘loss’ I’d felt for so many lonely years: HOPE…

I’d lost all hope.

At sixteen, I started hearing stories from neighbors, and from kids at school who heard their folks talking, that Mama’s death wasn’t an accident, but a suicide. I was told she didn’t accidentally fall, but purposely jumped over the banister.

At first I became angry at them for telling
lies
, but then I remembered Mama telling me that she’d die before being locked away again, and it made me wonder if the stories could possibly be true.