So I have always wanted to write a book. I thought I could be a wonderful writer.
But every time I have started one, or got something written, someone has looked at it and I have discouraged. But I guess to be honest I have low self-esteem, so discouragement is something that has always come easy to me.
Anyway, I have so much to say, and I have a story that needs to be told, so I figured what better way to start it than blog it. Right?
So here is the start to the story…
Once upon a time, isn’t that how all great romances start? I have read enough kids bed time stories to know that is, in fact, how they start. They all seem to end the same way too…happily ever after. Who lives happily ever after? Anyways I am already off track.
Once upon a time there was a troll. Let’s call him Charlie. Well he thought he was a troll. Those that new him said he was wonderful person. He was good looking, kind, strong, clever, and wise. But none of this matters, because every time Charlie looked in the mirror he saw a fat (not heavy set or over weight, fat), ugly failure. He saw all the flaws in his life. He would look in the mirror and see a daily reminder of every mistake he ever made, and even some mistakes that were not his bare. He bore them just the same.
One reminder was the scar over his right eye. Charlie’s parents divorced when he was two, but those to years were filled with fighting and anger. One day his parents were in the kitchen fighting and his dad through a pan at his mom. The pan never did hit her, it was stopped my Charlie’s head. A few weeks later his mom left his dad. It has been upwards of thirty years, and they still have not been in the same room since. That is enough about his past for now, his story line fades in and out from past to present, so for now…
Charlie was married. He married her to make an honest woman of her, call it a shotgun wedding; I really hope you are getting the point here. But he had spent the last twelve years as a yes husband. Whatever she wanted, which nine times out of ten was to sit around the house, he did. She wanted him to change and this perfect little New England Christian couple. They go to the church picnic and all those other functions where ever one is so fake it makes you want to shove a spoon in your ear just to make the pain seem interesting.
But this was not him. His dad, whom he had run away to live with at the age of 14, was a Vietnam era motorcycle riding hippy. His mom was a German Jew who had found Jesus through Christian Science. So none of what is his wife wanted was in him.
I told you that Charlie’s story weaves in and out through time, as does everyone’s really, and this like a good as a point to tell you about the night he ran away.
Charlie wanted to go to a party as a friends house, yes it was a girl, at fourteen, when was is not about a girl. That night a the dinner table when he asked his mom, whom he lived with…I think the courts call it full custody… he asked his mom, and she said no. When he pressed for a reason he was given that reason of “I said so.” This always seemed more like an excuse than a reason to him. What was the logic behind her saying no? What were the dangers that he had not thought of?
When he pressed for a reason, his German Grandmother jumped in and yelled “He is an unruly child, call the police and have him taken away right now!” Sadly, his Grandmother had some sort of power of his mother. So she proceed to get up from the table walk across the room to the big red phone and dial the local police.
He spent the next few hours in the station being printed and waiting for Child Protection Agency to show up. He was questioned for hours, but they could not find anything. He had never been in trouble before, he had never even gotten detention in school. They found no reason to place in a Juvenile Rehab center. He was returned home.
When he got home he found his mother and uncle waiting on him. The asked him to sit in a chair and they took turns tag team insulting and degrading him. When he asked if he could get up and use the rest room he was told no. He asked for water, and was told no. He begged for it to end, and was told no.
After about thirteen hours of this he was allowed to go to him room. He was angry. He was hurt. He felt every violated. He had frustration to let out but he had no idea how. So he turned on some loud music and started doing push ups. His mother burst into the room and yelled “Turn that off, and stop it”
He looked at her, frustrated, hurt, and violated. His breathing got deeper and he felt his muscles tighten. He looked at his mother and said “Where were you?”
“Where was I for what?” She barked back.
“Where were you when Erin forced me to have sex?” The tears started to roll down his face.
His mother stood there in shock. After all the years and all the lies, and after all the events of the night, this is what it came to. She turned and walked to her room across the hall and closed the door.
He was hot on her heels. Yelling at this point, “You were here. You slept. While I had things done to me that should never be done to anyone, you slept here in your bed; just like you are about to do now.”
She looked at him. Turned out the light and acted like she was going to bed. He stood there baring his soul, one of his most painful moments, and her sleep was more important.
The next day he called his dad, wrote his mom a note. And that was that, for the next seven years.