Chapter One
Midnight Run
5PM, Had I known how my day would end, I might of have run away…
It was Friday, October 10, 1980. My sister Karrie, Brother Samuel & I were waiting at my mother’s apartment for my father to pick us up for our weekend with him. It was always so much fun with my daddy. He had been living with his friend Bill Shaw since my parents filed for divorce. Unlike my mother’s small three bedroom apartment, he had a whole three bedroom house where we could play.
Bill Shaw was like a big bear. An architect by profession, he would always sit around in shorts, shirt and lumberjack boots, the kind with red shoe strings. He was like a mountain man born in the wrong period of time. A Grizzly Adams without the bear or a John Denver song. On Saturday mornings, he would make us rice for breakfast covered in sugar and butter. My father and Bill were friends from back in the 60’s.
My mother was not home when we returned from school that day. She left a note to tell us that she would not be there when my father came to pick us up. My brother Sam had been left at the babysitter’s next door. The babysitter was very nice. She was an older woman who had seen better days in the sun. Her grandson lived with her. I would walk with him every morning to school. He was a real pain in my seven-year-old neck. My mother, however, enjoyed having her watch Sam and me when Karrie was not available.
My Sister Karrie and I had packed the clothes we would need for our routine trip to our father’s home. Play clothes, Sunday church clothes and most importantly my swimming suite for the beach. Ah, the Pacific Ocean, Long Beach, oh how I loved to play and surf it. Karrie was not my mother’s daughter. She was my father’s child from a previous marriage. She did not want to live with him after my parents were separated. She lived with us instead. She never quite felt secure enough to leave her younger brothers alone with her stepmother. Mom and dad both would tell us that there was a chance they might get back together. Dad believed it more than her.
As it got closer to the time for my dad’s arrival, I began to get that nervousness every child has the day before their birthday. I loved spending time with my father. In him, there was always a sense of security that no one could replace. I sat on the couch staring at my Snoopy “The Red Baron” watch trying to make the time go by quicker. I had learned to tell time two days before my seventh birthday and convinced my parents that I just had to have a Timex “Snoopy” watch.
The door knocked and I crossed the living room in what seemed to be one giant step. Opening it; surprised to see my father standing there with a new and strange look in his eyes. I would see it often in the future. Before I could tell him “hello” and give him a hug, he stepped in yelling for my sister. “The two of you, grab as many clothes as you can. Put them in the van and don’t bring anything else” my Father said. “Where’s your brother Sammy?” Dad barked. I was frightened by the tone in his voice. My sister spoke up cowering, “Sammy is next door at the babysitter’s house”. “I c-c-can g-go get him” she spoke softly. He did not answer just stared in silence. He did not need to answer; we understood him completely.
My father looked around at what my mother had packed in necessities for Sammy. “Grab all of Sam’s diapers and baby stuff, HURRY, I’ll meet you two at the van”, Father said. Quickly packing everything I could find. I was so afraid. I tried to hold back the tears. What had happened? What was going on? Where is my mother, is she okay? Where had she gone, why did she leave the note?
My sister and I were heading down the sidewalk between the apartment buildings to my father’s 1977 red and white Dodge Tradesman van. My father was rushing out of the babysitter’s apartment with Sam in one hand, and fighting the old woman off with his other arm. He had obviously forced his way into her home and grabbed my brother. I was terrified; anyone would have been. It did not take long for him to free himself of his parasite.
He passed Sam to Karrie, “Get your brother into the van and hurry”, he yelled. Karrie dropped the bags and fearfully complied with his orders. Like Hansel and Gretel’s bread crumbs, my father was behind us picking up what we had dropped on the way to the van. I climbed onto the back seat over the mound of clothes and belongings we had been able to gather. My father closed the side doors and tried to make a smile at me. His eyes bright and large with a smile that made his face look more like a mad man from my cartoons. “I love you Son”, my father said just barely above a whisper. Karrie tried to fight and run for it but he grabbed her and forced her into the van’s passenger seat. Sam climbed over and onto her lap. She held onto him like a human seatbelt. Dad slid in behind the steering wheel. At that moment I realized he had never turned the engine off. Dad put the red beast into “drive” and away we went.
I sat in the back of the van trying so very hard not to make a sound. I was shaking inside. I knew that whatever was going on with my father it was not and would not be good for me. For the next thirty minutes no one said anything not even dad. Years later I would realize just how awkward those thirty minutes truly were. My baby brother Sam had not even made a sound. He could have been a toy doll my sister was holding.
My father was a hippy of sorts. He had done just about everything during the 60’s and 70’s. His van was a museum to his very soul. He had covered the entire van interior in chocolate brown shag carpet. He had a miniature refrigerator against the driver’s side wall. I sat on a foldout couch that became a bed. It had more colors in the fabric than a circus big top tent. The captain’s chairs matched. He had even built a shelf above the windshield where there once were window visors. The shelf did not escape his chocolate shag-carpet fashion statement. There in his shelf he kept his bible, C.B. radio, 8 tracks and cassette tapes. He had just pulled his red and cream rimmed-silver mirrored sunglasses down from that shelf and placed them on his face. I didn’t need to his eyes. I could already see in his soul. Terrified, terrified, don’t cry don’t you let your self cry. Hold it in, remember, he is your daddy. He will not hurt you.
We pulled into his home where Bill Shaw was waiting in the drive way. “Stay here, in the van”, my father ordered us; “I’ll be right back”. Bill was yelling at my father but about what I could not hear. I remembered I had to go to the bathroom so I went inside the house against verbal complaints and concern from my sister.
“I thought I told you to stay in the van”, my father said. He was now once again in his frightened, frantic state. Bill assured him that it was okay. “He probably had to go the bathroom, Ken” Bill told my father. “He is only seven and it will be a long drive where ever you go”. They continued to talk but I was too afraid to stay and listen.
My father dumped what seemed to be four houses worth of clothes and his personal belongings into the van. By the time he was finished, the mini fridge and half of the shag was covered in what was turning out to be a not so well planned “kidnapping”. Bill came around to the side doors and hugged all of us goodbye. Bill and my dad had a few more words, and then he pulled out and onto Interstate ten. Running away from sunny California, a prisoner not of my own choice; daddy had become a different man.
Slowly over the next two hours the three of us started to talk. I kept track of time looking at my Snoopy, the Red Baron watch. My father kept summer sausage and string cheese in his mini refrigerator. I was hungry and we had not eaten dinner. After passing the cheese out I slipped two cheese sticks in my pocket and opened a third. He turned on the radio and popped in a Beach Boys cassette. After a while my sister or I finally asked the question, “Where we going and what has happened?”
My Father kept looking through the rear view mirror. I could see his wheels turning in his head. Dad needed to explain his actions. “Your mother does not want you anymore”, he said. “She has run off with another man. They are secretly getting married this weekend in Nevada”, Father protested proudly. “She is a whore and will burn in hell one day”. Seething as he said this to us, “I will not let the three of you live in another man’s home and God is behind me!” Dad seemed to become very proud of what he had done now. Dad began to preach to us about sin and adultery.
My momma turned out to be everything from a whore to a witch. My father had been told by God himself to take us to a better life. It had been ordained. He was protecting my father. How could my momma be a witch and a whore? What is a whore? She didn’t have a wart on her nose or black pointy hat. I didn’t understand. Just the past week daddy had been over at our house after church. He was sitting next to my mom on the couch, praising her every word. They were supposed to get back together; he had told us that back then. Confused, I did not understand all that had happened. My momma was not a bad person. His words stung me deep inside. My nose and eyes started to tingle. I will not cry I will not!
Sam started to cry and I was not sure what to do or think either. Something had changed. Something would never be the same but I wasn’t sure what. I felt as if part of me had disappeared, forever. I could remember what my Mother looked like and see her face. I felt alone for the first time in my life. I was seven, soon-to-be eight in six weeks. Something had definitely changed…
For the rest of the trip not much else was really talked about. As we neared Phoenix, AZ my sister finally started to speak. There was fear in her voice, but this was her father and he had sole custody of her. He wasn’t kidnapping her. She had chosen to live with his ex-wife. She had a mother, her name was Janet. She lived in Southern California and she visited her on weekends.
My Father played his version of child psychology with me and asked me what kind of toys I wanted when we got to our destination. “Kenny, would you like a pocket knife?” Dad said, “I know your mother would not let you have one but I will get you one.” My father was good at bribing me, “You could learn to carve wood with it”. Like any selfish seven-year-old boy I gave in and my frown temporarily turned to a smile. I could almost see and feel it; my own knife. Like father had said, “I was big now, almost eight”.
______________________________________________
Father had driven what seemed to be all evening late into the night. We pulled into the little Arizona town of Globe so he could make a phone call. He was calling his cousin Larry Hall who lived there. Soon I would be calling him “Uncle Larry” and his wife, “Aunt Katy”. Soon I would learn that this little town would be home for the next year. Who we were and what we were was erased by sunrise.
Everything that mattered to me was gone. I had no voice to cry in protest. I was an unwilling passenger on an unforgiving rollercoaster ride. What of my friends? My Nana and Papa would be worried. I did not want to be here. “Help me; help me”, I cried inside. What good would it do? No one listens to children. Tears welled up in my eyes and I started to shake. If I didn’t get control of my feelings now what would he do to me? Hiding in the darkness of the van I wiped my eyes and nose clean with the back of my shirt sleeve. He’ll never know, no one ever will.
Globe was a mining town. The little gas station where Dad had stopped to call Uncle Larry and Aunt Katy was far from anything I had ever seen in Los Angeles, California. Across the street from the gas station was a giant hill that looked like a mountain of creamy gray whipped cream, piled on top of each other. There was a white Toyota truck for sale that seemed to have wheels as tall as me. I had never seen such a thing before. There was the smell of mesquite smoke and meat cooking; the kind of smell you get when you eat at a real authentic Mexican restaurant.
The roads were in disrepair and black tar ran the street like a bad scar. It was cold and damp, not like Los Angeles weather. It was all so new to me. I was completely overwhelmed with all the different things I had never seen. The excitement of all the newness shielded me from the reality of what had taken place in my life just a few hours ago. I found myself finally calm and strangely happy… for the moment.
After making his call, my father emerged from the broken down superman style telephone booth on the street corner side of the gas station. He walked closer muttering something under his breath. It was not audible to my sister and me. Did it really matter what he was thinking? I was never asked how I felt about all of this. He leaned into the side doors of the van and tried to give a father’s smile of reassurance. Always one to dress in the newest fashions; he had never looked so old. I had never seen so many lines in his face before. The brownish red tan that only his Irish-Indian blood could weather in Southern California’s dry summer heat, cracked in lines of stress around his face. He held his right hand on the roof of the old van. Using it to brace himself, he leaned in to comfort us with his words.
“Your Uncle Larry has given us directions to their house.” Father said. “It is not far from here”. “Maybe fifteen minutes up the road.” Father smiled lightly as he spoke. “Are the three of you okay?” My sister Karrie became the leader of our little pack. She had always been the “Den Mother” over us. Karrie spoke up and assured him we were ALL JUST FINE. Karrie had been sitting in the passenger captain’s chair, facing the back of the van. She wore black old fashioned glasses. Together with her black hair, they made her face that much more like a porcelain doll. Like her mother, she was a very petite girl. Years later I would think about how much she kept inside. She was very strong for her young age of twelve.
Dad climbed into the driver side of his van and fired it up. The white steel magnum wheels roared down the cold scarred streets of Globe, AZ. Globe certainly had its own style. The tallest building I remember was the grey limestone covered Roman Catholic Church. I am not quite sure when it was built, but to this day it still reminds me of a medieval European Abbey. Our van followed the black tar road out of town. It was dark. The road was illuminated only by the headlights of our van. The cool air formed an icy mist that blanketed the ground. Tall dark trees filled the corridor. As our red and white fugitive magic carpet flew down the dark path, I climbed over my father’s belongings and kneeled down to rest my knees on dark shaggy carpet. I leaned over the round black casket that encased the inner workings of the engine. Living in the city I could not imagine such a site. Somehow, against my will, I traded concrete and steel for mountains and trees.
As my Father promised, fifteen minutes or so later’ we were slowing down to turn left off the main road and up a steep dirt driveway. There was an old barn on the left, and an old house to the right. Muffled lights tried to escape the curtains that blocked their glassy exit. Everything around me was cloaked in darkness. Ghostly figures moved against the windows. I could not make them out. It was so quiet. The engine had even seemed to whisper in anticipation.
My father brought the van to a halt and turned the engine off. “Stay here until I come back and get you.” he said in a stern voice. A dark figure moved out of the shadows cast by the house. It was a tall man. He wore blue jeans and a white sleeveless undershirt. His hair was whipped back in a long forgotten 1950’s hair style. He and my father hugged one another and began to laugh. Dad was barely visible in the light. His silhouette had its own unique form. My father was notorious for leaning on one leg while talking. When he was being serious, he would talk from one side of his mouth.
After what seemed an eternity, he walked back and opened the side of the van smiling. “We’re home!” Dad announced smiling to himself. It was like a bomb had gone off in my heart. Something just did not feel right about all of this no matter what my father spit out of his mouth. Lies, all lies! I want my Momma. My sister looked over at me; darkness covering half her face. She said nothing there was no need. Her porcelain face held hate in it. No words were needed between the two of us. I know what you feel, and I understand. Shhhh…
_______________________________________________________________
Karrie climbed out first, holding Sam. She would not let him go. Once she was firmly planted on the ground, I made my way out to stand on new earth. Someplace I had never been before. The air was cool, crisp and inviting. It was different from the road up to their house. From what I could tell, we were high above the road. In the distance, the sound of running water could be heard. Maybe a river or creek was close by? Larry led the way. Like a human train, Dad walked behind him, Karrie followed, and I was the caboose.
As we walked beside the house to the entrance, we passed beneath what had been a converted carport. Caught in the moment, wearing my horse blinders; I almost tripped not seeing the wooden step at the base of the door. Walking through the front door, the smell of cinnamon hit me right in the face. The house was warm, a great contrast from my last few hours in that Metal Beast! I should have been happy to be out of the van, and to our destination. I wasn’t. I had a bedroom, I had my school friends. Why did Dad have to take us here? Why, why, why? Don’t cry Kenny; hold it in. Making a forced smile; I moved close to him.
My father ushered the three of us over to the couch. Ordering us in “his” quiet voice; “Sit down”. He walked into the kitchen where his cousin Larry talked with him. Father had never been so secretive. He was always fun and happy. He had never raised his voice at me nor treated my siblings or me cruelly. Sitting there on the couch taking everything in, Karrie and I had barely spoken to each other since Dad had grabbed us from our home.
The house where we sat was very old. The walls had dark wood panels and off-white paint in places. The fireplace was in use and the sound of crackling wood could be heard in the background. There were old candles throughout the room; sitting in bottles that were dressed in melted wax of every color. A white cat was perched on a large red fluffy recliner. He looked old. The cat’s long white hair danced in the air as he watched the three of us. There were pictures all over the wall. Musty rugs covered the floor. Just to the left of me, on the other wall was a large television. It was encased in mahogany wood.
At that moment a woman in her forties walked out of the distant hallway past the kitchen. She wore a multicolored robe. Her blond hair was cut above her shoulders. There was a hint of grey in it. On her feet, she wore yellow fluffy house shoes’. She walked into the room and smiled a warm smile at us. It was as if she was looking right into me. “You must be Little Kenny. You look like your father.” Katy said, “And this is Karrie. Ah, Sammy. He favors his mother”. “Who was this?” I thought, “She knows a lot about us and I have never heard of her”.
“My name is Katy. Katy Hall, but you can call me Aunt Katy.” Katy knelt down as she spoke. “Do you want some hot chocolate? I’m sure you’re hungry as well.” Katy said while looking us over. She has a “mother” feel about her. Katy was a cross between a Cottage Mother in fairy tales and Stevie Nicks. I would over time consider her like my mother; someone I could go to, someone who cared and loved unconditionally. I would learn many things from her over the next year; lessons taught that would stay with me to this very day. Aunt Katy disappeared into the kitchen busily at work making all of us something warm and good to eat. ….
I missed my mother terribly.
My father returned with Uncle Larry. He now wore a less serious look on his face. He almost appeared like “Good’ol Dad”, happy. I guess to a seven-year-old you are either happy, sad or angry. He asked us how we were doing and told us that tomorrow would be a better day. Soon we would have new clothes and a new school with lots of friends. He said he had one more surprise for us. I thought to myself, “You’re sending me home?”
We all gathered in the dining room. It was opposite the kitchen. It was the room that I had seen dimly through the windows. I realized now that the light wasn’t trying to escape; it was welcoming us with its warm glow.
The room was adjacent to a second living area. There was very old Victorian style furniture throughout it. Although the furniture was neither new nor even clean; it was homey. The walls were covered in more pictures. There was an old-fashioned mirror snuggly held together in old varnished wood. It had a lady holding a Coca-Cola on it. She looked like a person from one of my Papa’s cowboy movies.
The floor was covered in hardwood with a large rug. The windows were covered in long drapes that stood over the room like sentries. Everyone gathered around the largest table I had seen in my life. It was big enough to park my mother’s red Volkswagen Beetle on it. My Aunt Katy tucked us into our chairs under the table. Exactly what I ate I don’t remember. What I do remember was it was warm and the big red beast was cold.
I was so tired. Sammy had managed to evade the clutches of Aunt Katy’s cheek pinching hands and find this little spot on the couch. He lay fast asleep curled in a chubby little ball of innocence. Tired, on guard I sat straight up trying to listen to every word that passed between the adults. Holding onto the chair cushion; my eyes faltered. Like a “prisoner of war” desperately in need of physical and mental rest my head would jerk to attention when I faltered.
Soft hands caressed my shoulders. Aunt Katy whispered into my ear that I needed some sleep. Guiding the way, she led me to where my sister was fast asleep. With her soft hands she tucked me into bed. I curled up next to my sister, nestling in soft warm blankets, and already dozing off. Could I trust even her, my sister, now? This may not have been home but it was better than nothing. I was uncertain of the future. I was uncertain of tomorrow. I thought I knew my dad; I was wrong. I didn’t know anything. Is my momma looking for me? Is she worried that I’m not home? Papa, Nana, I miss them all. Where is Arizona? Will I ever see home?
Mommy…
Share
Print
Save