Shadows and Lies (2 page)

Nancy sputtered and Dad tried to say something ineffectual, but I just kept going. For once in my life I was so angry that instead of bursting into outraged tears or staying meekly quiet, I was fighting back. It felt great, especially since Nancy always made fun when I or my sisters began to cry in front of her.

“You’re right, Nancy, I am escaping. I’m leaving this crappy house and all its misery far behind. Most importantly, I’m leaving you!” I declared, feeling good to be able to say the truth out loud.

“Well, fine – Go!” Nancy retorted, her face a mottled red. “But you won’t be welcome in this house, and if you do try to come back here, I’ll throw you off the property at the point of your father’s shotgun!”

And that was that. End of discussion.

Nancy stormed off into her bedroom to fume or pout or cry or kick something, and I got up from the couch slowly, my body shaking with barely contained rage and now, tears. Dad followed Nancy without a word to me.

Lindsay, my oldest sister, muttered sourly as she walked away in the opposite direction, “That’s why I don’t talk to them anymore,” as if I was stupid for opening my mouth in the first place.

Perhaps she was right. Lindsay herself had been temporarily disowned before. Nancy had accused her of being bulimic and eating too much because she was selfish and liked to throw her father’s hard earned cash down the toilet. Lindsay, who kept herself in almost too perfect shape by running for miles everyday, and therefore ate a lot to replenish her energy, had left the house in tears, taking her car and driving off. She didn’t come back till after dark. Nancy had been furious that she’d dared to leave, that she’d had the gumption to walk out, and Nancy hadn’t talked to her for a full week. That had been one horrible week, for all of us.

I went back to my bedroom then and cried silently as I began to pack my things up. I vowed with shaking hands and silent sobs that I would move out tomorrow no matter what, even if I had to crash at Judy’s house till I could move into an apartment. Ever since I was sixteen, Judy had given me a standing offer: when I turned 18, if I needed to, I could move in with her. That was exactly what I did, too. The next day I went down to the rental office of White Pine Village, filled out an application, and I moved all of my things to her house for two weeks till the first of the month rolled around and my promised apartment would be open for rent.

I sighed as I continued to look up at my apartment on the second floor and shoved my hands into the pockets of my jeans. I had freedom from tears, too, I decided, and from gut clenching uncertainty and anger. I took a deep breath and blinked away new tears. Freedom felt good, but it came with a price. Nancy hadn’t even said goodbye to me the next day after our argument, the day that I had moved out. She had hid in her room all morning as I removed my stuff from the house. Dad wasn’t home at all, even though it was a Saturday; I think he was avoiding the whole situation. I had to knock on their bedroom door to give her my house keys. She stared at a spot somewhere above my head, took the keys, and closed the door in my face. And that was that.

A few days into my stay at Judy’s house, Vanessa, my second oldest sister, somehow managed to guilt me into apologizing to Nancy. That’s right; I broke down and apologized to my stepmother for moving out of the house, for hurting her feelings and for making her upset. God, I look back and I just want to shake myself and Vanessa. I had done nothing wrong. But I did go and I did apologize, evening getting on my knees, literally, to beg Nancy for forgiveness as she sat in front of her computer and mindlessly played solitaire.

Without looking at me, Nancy told me that she felt like I’d stabbed her in the back, especially since I was now living with Judy, and that I had taken her love and stomped all over it. After that she refused to speak to me anymore. Luckily, my dad’s shotgun remained locked in the cabinet, but I still left feeling gut-shot. I was a failure in her eyes – and in my own at that moment. I fought tears all the way back to Judy’s house. It felt like I had a rock lodged in my throat, but I refused to cry. Nancy wasn’t worth crying over.

But that was then. I sniffed and wiped the tears from my eyes before they could fall and I vowed No More. No more would I let Nancy pull my strings and play mind games with me. I had done nothing wrong, I told myself. Nancy simply didn’t like change, and I had thrown a monkey wrench into the works. It wasn’t the first time she’d acted like this, I knew. When Vanessa had brought home her first boyfriend at the age of nineteen, Nancy had gone berserk and browbeat her into breaking up with him. After awhile, when things had settled back into a predictable pattern, Nancy had settled too, and all was supposedly forgotten.

Vanessa, however, hadn’t been out on another date since.

Yes, I told myself, turning away from the view of my apartment to face my car that was parked right behind me. After a while, things would settle and Nancy would forgive me, and life would go back to normal, at least until I managed to find myself a boyfriend. I just had to wait her out, but in the mean time, I refused to give in.

I unlocked the trunk of my car. It was full of boxes of books, my one true weakness, while the inside of my car was filled to bursting with three suitcases of clothes, a sleeping bag, a couple of boxes filled with things like my alarm clock, an umbrella, shoes, knickknacks and other things that generally go in a bedroom, and another box of full of random household items that I had managed to pick up at garage sales over the last two weekends living at Judy’s. I had nothing else, no furniture, no pots or dishes or silverware, no towels and no groceries to cook for my supper that night. I hadn’t taken anything with me from my parent’s house but the things that I had paid for myself, and that hadn’t applied to the rickety old bed my parents had bought for me in high school, or the set of ugly yellow dresser drawers that had passed from both of my sisters to me. I didn’t want Nancy to accuse me of stealing from her, which I honestly wouldn’t put past her, especially since she’d done it to me before.

I carried all my clothes upstairs first, set my suitcases down along one wall of my empty studio and looked around. The carpet was brown and cheap, the walls had been painted so many times you could hardly see the texture anymore, and the kitchen appliances looked like they were on their last legs. It was clean though, and there was a decent sized back patio where I immediately planned to start a potted vegetable garden. I knew that to most people it didn’t look like much, but to me, the apartment was perfect and it was mine, and it contained no bitter memories.

I went downstairs, planning to unload my car and then go on a shopping spree to Target for a few necessities, but a sight in the parking lot stopped me in my tracks. There was Judy, her silver Buick parked next to my Chevy, and there was her son Greg backing his truck up to the curb, his wife Tiffany sitting next to him in the cab. Judy came up to me with a big grin on her face as I stared in confusion.

“What’s going on?” I asked as Judy hugged me hello.

I hugged her back. There was a time not so long ago that I had hated hugging and other types of physical contact. Judy had helped break my aversion to affectionate gestures with a little bit of kindness and a lot of love.

“I went shopping,” Judy said brightly as Greg and Tiffany got out and let the tailgate of the truck down. In its bed was a brand new twin mattress and box spring, along with a simple bed frame. There were a few boxes stacked up next to it.

“What do you mean you went shopping?” I asked suspiciously. When I had first moved out of my parent’s home, Judy had offered to help me buy the things I would need to get started, like a bed and dishes, but I had refused her. She was on a fixed income, I told her, and I didn’t want her spending money on me. Truthfully, though, the real reason I didn’t want her help was because I had something to prove. Nancy was convinced that I would fail and come crawling back in need of shelter and money.

I was going to prove her wrong. I was going to do it on my own, I was going to make it work, and I was never going back, on my knees or otherwise.

Judy beamed happily as Greg and Tiffany, after saying hello to me, began carrying the twin mattress and box spring upstairs. “There was a sale down at Mattress World, so I bought you a bed – they threw in a pair of sheets for free – and the boxes are full of some dishes and other kitchen things. It’s mostly all used things, donated by Tiffany and some of your other friends. We got you new pots though and even some towels so you can take a proper shower tonight and not worry about a thing. Oh, and I’ve got a few bags of groceries in my car too.”

I watched Greg and Tiffany enter my apartment and come back out empty handed. I shook my head in disbelief. “But-”

Judy cut off my protestations. “Now, don’t even think about sending us packing, Carrie. And shame on you for sneaking out of the house and not letting us help you at all. You need these things, and you deserve them.”

“But-”

She touched my arm, which shut me up. “You’re like a daughter to me, Carrie, and right now you need some family to make sure you have what you need to get started.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but my throat was tight with emotion. “I’ll pay you back,” I whispered.

Judy shook her head. “Not necessary, Carrie, and you know it. This is a gift.”

“You shouldn’t have done this,” I said forcefully, trying to hold back tears of gratitude. I hated crying in front of people. “Nancy’s going to find out and-”

“And I don’t give a damn, Carrie,” Judy said just as forcefully. “Whether you believe it or not, you are not on your own. Everybody needs help once and a while. Let me do this for you, and then I promise I’ll let you sink or swim on your own. But it’s alright to accept help.” She embraced me in a mother’s hug, warm and caring, and my throat tightened up even more, making it impossible for me to speak.

“It’s alright to be a little vulnerable,” she said. “You don’t have anything to prove to me, Carrie. I’m proud of you just the way you are.”

I fought back my tears and nodded. She was right. I did need a little help, and I was grateful for it. To show my thanks, I began to swiftly help Greg and Tiffany carry boxes full of treasure up to my new home.

Dear Dad,

How could you ever think that it was okay for Nancy to scream at us, to tell us that we were “worthless little shits”, ugly, lazy, fat, stupid bitches? Did you think that just because Nancy didn’t beat us that we weren’t being abused? I don’t remember Nancy ever hitting Lindsay and Vanessa; they were older, in high school, and I’m sure they would have spoken up about that, but there were times when Nancy did come very close to crossing the line with me, a little girl. Do you remember how, when you were dating her, that I called her mommy right away? I was only four and I wanted a mommy so badly. It had pleased Nancy that I called her that, but sometime after you married her, everything stopped pleasing Nancy. Nothing we did was right, and everything was wrong, and I feared her.

I remember telling her that too, after one particular outburst of temper. She was yelling at me, and asked me why I was just standing there stupidly. I told her that I was afraid of her, that we, my sisters and I, were all afraid of her. That just made her angrier, and she exploded at me, but you just sat by and did nothing.

When I was in high school, I stopped fearing Nancy and instead she became afraid of me. Do you remember all that wood I used to chop for camping trips? I didn’t chop wood just because I enjoyed the physical release it gave for my own temper against Nancy’s unreasonableness, but because it made me strong. I dug all those holes and lugged all that dirt to fill up that goddamn, ugly, eyesore of a pool in our backyard for the same reason, to become physically strong, stronger than Nancy, so that on the off chance she did one day blow a gasket and attack me, I would be able to take her out. Nancy knew it too. She could see it in my eyes, and she told me that if I ever did attack her she’d call the cops on me.

I was pretty proud of the fact that she was afraid of me back then, that the tables had been partially flipped, but now, looking back, I just think that’s sad. A home is supposed to be a haven, not the place where your wife and daughter prepare themselves for possible violence from each other. I lay responsibility for this on your shoulders. You were the head of our household, and you are my father. What the hell was going on in your head when I told Nancy that I was afraid of her? What the hell went on in your head when she screamed obscenities at us, your daughters, when she belittled us, threw things, controlled us, and tried to take away anything that we, your flesh and blood, loved?

Why did you never stop her?

With much confusion,

Your Daughter

I mentioned earlier that I’ve always been something of a loner. I like to observe and listen. I now know that it was something of a survival skill which allowed me to escape from Nancy’s wrath from time to time, but it is also a handy trait to have under normal circumstances too. I was shy about communicating with my neighbors on either side of me, but I did learn quite a bit about them from just observing them over my first few weeks living there. I learned that the neighbor on my left was a homosexual biker by the name of Charles. He had a boyfriend named Glen who looked like the guy who played Wedge Antilles in the Star Wars movies, which I thought was very cool because Wedge was my own personal hero.

Charles did his laundry every Monday morning at 9 am sharp, which I thought was very odd and rather OCD of him, and he and his boyfriend went grocery shopping for the week together on Sundays in this old 1950’s Ford truck he was fixing up himself, and he always bought lots and lots of brown eggs. He liked to grill their dinners on a little hibachi out on his patio, and he always played mix CD’s with interesting band combinations while he cooked. Imagine a CD with Green Day, Beethoven, Toto and Brooks and Dunn on it, and you would have imagined Charles’s favorite CD. He had a pretty good singing voice, too, and I liked to open my own patio door and listen in; interestingly enough, we liked a lot of the same music.