Moving in with my dad was as close to a culture shock as I have ever been. We had rules, we had bedtimes, we had chores and we had no clue what we were up against. My dad started dating Lacy right around the same time we were in church with my dad. They married around the same time my mom and Brian were getting divorced. We were not invited to the wedding so I had no memory to share with you there. I remember being pretty crushed that we weren't a part of it. My dad said it was sort of spur of the moment and that's why we weren't invited. Try telling that to a teenager and see if it makes sense.
Lacy, was a crazy woman. At least to me she was. Initially, I really liked her and looked up to her. Lacy was a Christian woman, that's how my dad met her, and she put off that persona for a while. Lacy's husband before my father had passed away from a tragic mistake in the hospital. She had a son and a daughter, Matthew and Brittney, and her mother Beccah lived with them too. Lacy was obsessed with "I Love Lucy". That stuff was all over her house! Lunchboxes, magnets, pictures, and there was plenty more paraphernalia involved, trust me.
Since the house was pretty crowded, I was on the floor in Britt's room or in the living room. They were working on building on to the house but it still left me without a room. When my dad took custody of us, I was furious with him. I would pick out any reason to fight with him. We had screaming match after screaming match. I was such a jerk. See, you can read these chapters so far and come to a conclusion that my mom might have had her priorities mixed up. That did not appeal to my heart at the time. Even though she isn't the average "Susie homemaker", she is the most loving mother I have. Her methods were certainly impractical, but she had the best intentions, I believe. Taking me away from the free for all meant I now had boundaries and rules. I was not having it. My dad and I were at war and I was bringing out the big guns. Or, so I thought.
One day, I wanted to wear my short shorts over to his friends house where we would watch the boxing matches. Naturally, my father said no. He told me to change, to which I replied, "no". DING! DING! Our own boxing match was about to begin. All but one of the seven kids were in the van that day, I can't remember who, but it doesn't matter. We are screaming back and forth at each other and I wish I could remember what I mumbled under my breath that made my dad do this...He pulled that van over, slammed the brakes, opened the door and started smacking me. My dad had never struck me like that before. I have been thumped, which is worse than a smacking, with my dads fingers, I have been spanked, or back handed in the arm, but NEVER hit in the face. Not only was I traumatized, but it was like the hit heard around the world, every child in that car was crying. Looking back, it's rather comical. I was such a little turd and I needed a good smacking.
Now that we lived with our dad full time, we were at our mom's on the weekends. She was going back and forth between here and New Mexico, dancing. She would get a hotel normally and we would stay with her. They were like mini vacations. She would get our favorite things and we would have a great time together. At one point she got a house in Paradise Valley. She was dating this guy that had a limo for a car. I think his name was Peter. Weird guy, stuck up daughters, and I don't think any of us wanted them to date. I remember we didn't have a whole lot at this house. My sister below me and I were sleeping on box springs because we had no mattresses and we had thirteen inch television with a built in VCR. The only movie we had was "Superstar" and to this day it's still my favorite movie. We literally watched that movie every single day, at least twice a day. It was the only form of entertainment available.
Paradise Valley is in the same area as the middle schools I went to and some of my old friends lived in the area. There was this guy, that I was friends with at the first middle school and he was in the neighborhood with a friend of his. I ran into him and we started hanging out while I was at my mom's. One day, I went to his house to hang out. I'm pretty sure I lied to my mom about where I was actually going, but his mom was okay with me being there. I hadn't seen this guy in a while and he was so different. He wasn't a virgin anymore, he had guns, he was some stranger I was hanging out with practically. He asked if I just wanted to stay the night. It seemed fine to me. I didn't even consider what happened next, to ever be possible.
That night, he told me to sleep in his room. I don't know what my problem is but for someone who has seen a lot of life at a young age, I was so naive. I am also the kind of person that will throw myself under a bus before I let you get run over. I am too nice to a fault and this night it showed the consequences. I slept in his bed with him, but I laid as far away as I could on a full mattress. I was nervous, and had no idea where this was going. He started making his move towards me. I just went with it. I don't know why, I wasn't attracted to him, I didn't want to date him, I just didn't want him to be mad at me. He started to try and have sex with me and I kept telling him that I didn't want to. I was a virgin and even though I was experienced with other things, this was the only sacred thing I had left. He didn't stop. I couldn't scream, I didn't want to wake his mother up. I kept thinking to myself that she wouldn't believe me anyways. No one would. This was my fault for all the other things that I had done with boys. No one would believe that I didn't want to do this. I just closed my eyes until it was over and pretended to be asleep when he was done. I was fifteen and I had just lost my virginity.
He said he wanted a "quickie" that morning. Oh, now I have the courage to say , "no." A whole night too late. His mom was finally awake, I could hear her in the kitchen, I just asked to her to please take me home. When I got home, I didn't know what to do. I needed to tell someone, but I couldn't tell anyone that I had been raped. I spent the night there, I got in his bed, I didn't scream, I didn't do anything to stop it from happening. It was my fault, so how could it be rape? I had to own it like it was my choice. I called my friend and told her that I had sex with someone. That was it, now I wasn't a virgin.
When we went back to my dad's I had to pretend like nothing happened. Besides that one friend, I never told anybody about what happened until much later. I told everyone I was a virgin because I was so embarrassed. I had to act normal around my dad and siblings. It eventually became the truth to me. I was still a virgin and I had never had sex. Lie.
Lacy and my dad had to have a house built because our home was too small. When we finally moved in, Lacy and I had grown to dislike one another. I don't know if it was because she was a control freak and couldn't stand my siblings responding to me more like a mother than her. Or, if it was because I reminded her of my mother, whom she despised. Either way, we had major issues between each other now.
One day, all the kids were sitting around the dinner table eating lunch. Matthew and my youngest sister were arguing back and forth and I pushed Matthew's head with my hand and told him to stop. For me, a very normal thing to do with bickering siblings. For Lacy, who was standing behind me, an unbelievable act. She screamed at me to go to my room. "Don't you ever put a hand on my child!!" "Did she hurt you Matthew??" To which he replied with tears perfectly on cue, "ya". Sniffle. Sniffle. Apparently, I was a child abuser. I stayed up in my room crying from the unjust act I had just been accused of.
The next day, Matthew and my youngest sister are at it again. Arguing back and forth because she won't move from in front of the television. Annoying? Very. Does it justify him kicking her in the head? Not on my watch. She came to my door crying and and told me what he did. I went out there and ripped him a new one. Didn't hit him, but if my words were nun-chucks he would have been out for the count. That night Lacy came into my room and told me I was being kicked out, going to my mom's and never coming back. She wasn't lyin' either.
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