Saturday, August 20, 2011

What happened.

The first time I questioned her sanity was when I saw her engaged in a conversation with the mirror. I have done this, but I would be embarrassed if someone walked in the room. Not her. She just giggled and flexed her smile and never left her world of being flattered by some guy that wasn't there. One time she was doing this in her rear view mirror
on the freeway and asked me to smell her breath so she would know if she was going to fog the guy she was meeting.
She would sit at her dressing table and put on make up and giggle like a school girl. It was unnerving.
She would leave for the day and come home before my father and coach me the story that we were to tell him.
We lived with my grandmother while her charges were pending. My father found a new job and begged the family dry for her attorney. They granted bail and I started a new school. I worked hardest at becoming wall paper.
It was close to normal but the under current was not predictable. Her mother was too polite. Every one was but them. They carried on like nothing had happened. One was trying to wring the neck of the other, or they were having sex so loud no one could sleep. She never slowed down. Her appetite for affairs and trysts were not human. His denial never ran dry. We were gearing up to fight for her life. And she was fucking any guy she could get alone.



As time went by and I gleaned the tidbits I could. I finally put together the whole story.
My father worked for Sears and Roebuck remodeling retail stores. Each remodel took from six months to a year and we lived in that town for the duration. My fathers boss was some hustler down at the track and always carried a roll of cash with him. After my father went to Denver to gear up for a new project, my mother took her day shift boyfriend down to Dallas. She was also sleeping with my fathers boss and they were to meet down in Dallas.
In Dallas she called the boss and he was to fuck her at a motel in Dallas. She had the kid come at them in the parking lot with a gun acting like a random robber. He was to rob the boss, take his roll and leave with no one but them the wiser. They didn't count on the boss slapping the kid around. Which is what he did. The kid ran and she claimed hysteria and drove home and picked the kid up along the way. After they made it to the house she called the boss back and told him she had composed herself and to come over and finish what they had started. The boss came over. The kid met him in the driveway with a gun and tire iron and started beating the boss. Boss is overwhelmed and takes off running. Kid empties his pistol in the bosses back  killing him. Bloody sheets. Body in car. And a drive to Denver while the police flew up and waited. Cops had this one solved before we crossed state lines.




7 comments:

Charity said...

This is hellacious. How in the world did you manage to hang onto to even a sliver of sanity through all this?

q1605 said...

Who said I was sane?

q1605 said...

Joking luv. Just joking!

Charity said...

I know, it's all relative.

There's a pun in there somewhere.

q1605 said...

It really was like watching the freak show at the carnival. Which accounts for the name of my blog.
You didn't get enough time to be traumatized before she was rolling out phase two of her crapola.
What I don't get is how my father put up with it.
In my processing process, after I had gone to live with her for a few months to help her recover from a stroke, I was talking to my wife and the words just came out.
I get why my father did what he did. He just shot the wrong person.
I don't think she would have been near as bad had any one stepped up and told her no.
But she was pretty hot so I think once she was about 16 she knew she could walk out and in 15 minutes get picked up hitch hiking or find some guy willing to put a roof over her head to smack it up.
Back then statutory rape wasn't the deal it is now. So her life turned into a long series of trading up.
Out of her house.
Out of our house.
I can't count the number of times she packed a suitcase while me and sis were at school and my father was at work and we would just come home to an empty house. It reminds of a movie I just saw.
Jolene.
Except Jolene has a conscience and a soul. Not much but she does.

q1605 said...

Any resemblance to actresses named Jessica Chastain and any other red heads is purely coincidental.

Charity said...

Jolene. My second husband had an affair with a stripper named Jolene. I found this out when I picked up the bedroom extension to call the time and temperature - remember when every city had that? - and I heard the proverbial Jolene say "I just heard a click like someone's picked up an extension, so we'd better hang up. Love ya, Hon." Like, oh, yeah, she didn't want the wife to catch on!!

So there's a red head connection, huh? Well don't worry, I'm naturally gray.

See how I crack goofy jokes to keep from doing.... whatever the heck I might do if I didn't crack goofy jokes?

My mother wasn't ever that pretty. She also was never a redhead. So there's where the eerie similarities end, I guess. Still, you know there's magic in Max Factor and Lady Clairol.