It was the first football game of my senior year in high school and I was drunk. This was not unusual for me or any of the people I hung out with for those three years. Since sophomore year, we had always found a place to drink before any school sporting event or dance or assembly we frequented...and we frequented all of them. I didn't think this was strange; it was all I knew about high school. It wasn't until years later when I had conversations with people from other schools than the one I had attended that it came to light not everyone consistently arrived at school events three sheets to the wind.
Kiya was the "DD" that night; "DD" loosely used as she had been drinking as well. We always voted before leaving whatever party we had been at who would play this role based on who was the least drunk. This was always a hard thing to determine as our drink of choice at the time were two cheap bottles of wine consumed by each girl, accumulated through shoulder tapping at grocery stores or big sisters/brothers or sometimes even parents. Our fake ID's didn't come into play until that winter.
After parking the car a few blocks away from the football field, we walked and talked about how epic our senior year was going to be. We felt invincible. As always, security would be in attendance at this game but we already had them wrapped around our little fingers. It was strange, but our security guards actually cared about being popular with the kids and we had long since locked down an "understanding" of them looking the other way when we misbehaved in exchange for positive recognition and conversation with them in the school halls. Many days, we opted not to go to class and would sit in a big group in something we called "Senior Hall." The security guards would walk right past us, wink, and continue on their way. We would smile, wink and blow kisses at them until their backs were turned and then talk about how sad, pathetic and stupid they were.
Our class had named myself and my six best girlfriends the "Sacred 7." We pretended to be surprised, humbled and even embarrassed about this nickname given us while we quickly drew up ideas for T-shirts advertising it. They were basic tight, white, crewneck T-shirts from the Gap that had our emblem of Sacred 7 on the front and and our individual nicknames on the back. The nicknames for each of us derived from the name of the award we had each been given in junior high at our graduation ceremony. These awards were things like "Best Smile" or "Prettiest" or "Best Eyes." Mine was "Best All Around" so mine was abbreviated "BAA" on the back. We wore these T-shirts to every football, basketball and baseball game we attended despite our boyfriends pleas to wear their jerseys instead. This name was sadly our identity.
We walked up the bleachers to the 20-30 people that we consorted with, and the game commenced per usual. Small talking, bad-mouthing, flirting and bouncing around from group to group is all we did...the only reason we would make note of the final score of the game was because our boyfriends would be hurt if we hadn't watched them play. The game was over and after determining whose house we were going to continue to drink at, we made our way back to the car.
"You guys, this year really is going to be the BEST," I said dramatically. "The security guards didn't even LOOK at us. We can do whatever we want," I happily added.
"Absolutely!" Brooke said. "And those junior bitches are going to be put in their place. It's a rite of passage. Right, Jamie?" She looked over at me with a knowing look that had everything to do with my personal hell I had endured the year before. The senior girls when we were juniors had openly hated me, calling me names while they sat in Senior Hall and challenging me to play in our annual powder puff game with threats of killing me, kicking my ass, etc. Lucky for me, our powder puff game with them had been canceled the year before due to the bloodbath we had witnessed between the junior/senior girls when we were sophomores.
"Ha, ha! Duh!!!" I said in my standard sing-song voice. "Did you SEE what Laura was wearing?!?!? Skank." I flipped my hair away from my face disdainfully and added, "Her and her little friends think they are so F-ing special. Pathetic."
We rounded the corner, car in view, and began to skip ahead towards it. "Shotgun!" I called out, assuming my position by the front seat door. "Ummmmm, who's the dumbass that left a beer can in the window?" I asked casually. "Krissy?"
At that moment, three policemen literally came out of nowhere with their flashlights shining in our bewildered faces. "ID's please," one of them said solemnly. "You girls are in big trouble."
We looked at each other and stayed completely motionless. My heart was beating so fast I thought I may die of a heart attack. Considering how much trouble I knew I was going to be in with my pastor step-father and frail mother, I remember actually hoping I would, in fact, die.
"ID's!" the police officer demanded again.
Brooke and Kiya jumped visibly and started for their bags. The rest of us followed suit. Denise and I began to cry as we handed over our drivers licenses. "Please," I whimpered. "We didn't do anything wrong."
"Whose car is this?" the police officer asked, unaffected by my tears.
"It's mine," Kiya said quietly.
"This your beer can?" he asked, reaching inside the back door and holding the PBR in front of him.
No one said anything.
"THIS YOUR BEER CAN?" he repeated.
"No," Kiya lied. "It must be my brothers' that he left in here. He's 21."
"I need everyone to step over here with me. I need you all to blow," he said as he held out the device used to determine blood alcohol level.
We all blew into the contraption he held out and we all, of course, were noted as having alcohol in our bloodstream. As they asked us all for our parents' phone numbers one by one, we were separated and told that our parents were going to have to come pick us up. We were told that we had a decision to make. Either we would all get MIP's or they would turn us over to the school and go through whatever disciplinary action the school deemed fit. All of us chose to go through the school.
As my step-dad drove up, I prayed for my life. Deep down, I was ashamed and embarrassed. I knew how disappointed he would be in me. I got into the car silently as he got out and talked to one of the policemen. Five minutes later, he got into the car and started to drive home.
"What was the score?" he asked brightly.
I was dumbfounded and remained silent.
"J. What was the score?" he repeated.
"I don't know," I said quietly, shifting uncomfortably in my seat.
We were silent for a long time. "I love you, J. You make really bad decisions, but I love you," he said softly.
Silent tears streamed down my face as I reflected on how out of control my life was. I consistently felt deeply unhappy, but refused to acknowledge it or take any steps in a different direction to change. I felt very alone and very unloved, trapped in a lifestyle that was empty and meaningless but at the same time provided me my only identity at the time.
I ended up being suspended from school for a week and grounded for a month. Looking back, my step-dad's reaction to that incident was the first grace-giving experience I allowed myself to feel and acknowledge. I continued to allow myself to be viewed by my friends as something I was not for another two years, but I never forgot that my father loved me from where I was at.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Pool Secret
When I was a little girl, my family went to Myrtle Beach every year for a week in the summer. We drove there from whatever state we were living in at the time because we couldn't afford plane tickets. I loved everything about this vacation. We always left in the middle of the night, and my two sisters and I would stay up whispering in bed the night before about how much fun it was going to be. Three or four o'clock in the morning would finally arrive and we would be ready, sitting on the couch in wait for our parents with our suitcases at our feet; each of us smiling from ear to ear.
We were uncharacteristically nice to each other for the first three hours of the car ride, at least. We had self appointed assigned seats in the car; Erin and I lay facing each other at opposite sides of the backseat, toe to head. Holly had the misfortune of the floor and had to maneuver around the bump. We knew not to argue with each other and to talk quietly and not too much or my daddy would "turn this car around and we wouldn't go on vacation at all." These were the "traveling rules" and for the most part, we adhered to them; the thought of turning around and going home was horrific. I liked to watch the street lights streak past us at night as our car zoomed through various cities on the way.
Looking back I'm sure the car ride was anywhere between 12 and 16 hours, but it seemed like it took days to get there in my 10 year old mind. We were only allowed to ask my parents "how much longer" three times total before they would stop answering, so we would discuss very carefully amongst the three of us what the most strategic times were for posing the question. I monitored the time with my Mickey Mouse watch and shared with my sisters at intervals what time it was, what state we were in and why it made sense to ask them at such and such time. They always agreed and after asking, my parents would praise me for my logic behind waiting to ask for this reason and that, which I always pridefully shared with them after the fact. My sisters would glare at me after this exchange between my parents and I as I leaned back in my seat, satisfied with myself as a stray cat licking its paws after a long awaited meal. Erin called me a "know it all" and told my parents they helped decide, too, and Holly swatted at me from the floor. I didn't care at all. They were just jealous.
One year in particular, we arrived at our standard Holiday Inn mid-day. My sisters and I thought it was so fancy that we stayed there. It had an indoor swimming pool that stayed open till 10 pm and even though this was way past our bedtime, my daddy would take us there till close every night if we were "good girls." We loved to swim...our daddy called us "little fishes."
The three of us bounded out of the car as I yelled out a challenge to Erin to race me there. I was tall for my age and all legs at that point and I used them to propel me at top speed for the entrance. I put all my might into that race and felt like I was flying; I couldn't even see her in my peripheral vision I was ahead by so much. All of a sudden, a very loud thud vibrated out into the wind as I flew backwards and landed in a sitting position 10 feet from the door. I got very dizzy and just sat there as my mom flew towards me and bent down asking me over and over again if I was okay. I blinked back at her blankly as my sisters and daddy started to laugh so hard they cried. They thought it was hilarious that the door to the entrance was so clean that I hadn't realized it was closed and had run full speed right into it. Mortified, I walked with them into the hotel as half the staff fussed over the huge knot that had already started to materialize on my forehead and the other half made sure there were no cracks in the door. My entire family called me "Lumpy" that week.
Our days in Myrtle Beach were split between the beach and the outdoor pool; our nights playing cards together as a family. One day at the pool, my sisters and I were playing one of the games we had made up. Daddy would throw a penny somewhere into the deep end of the pool and the three of us would dive down and look for it with our goggles (we couldn't open our eyes underwater.) First one to come up to the surface with the penny got a point. We would play this game for hours until Daddy said he was tired of throwing and we had to come up with another thing to play that didn't involve parental interaction.
All of us hated to get out of the pool to go to the bathroom. We hated to miss out on the fun that would happen without us in those five minutes and we hated pulling our wet bathing suits down and up again. It was hard to do; it was cold and would get twisted up and feel weird as it made a thomping, sucking noise as it settled back into our bodies.
One afternoon in the middle of the penny game, the urge to go to the bathroom hit me. I had to go bad. But I was winning and they would keep playing no matter who had to take a time out to go to the bathroom. Those were the rules. The chance of losing was unacceptable to me. Worse, I had to go Number Two. I continued to play as the "feeling" got worse and worse. Finally, I made the executive decision to not get out of the pool. I looked around me from the spot I was treading water in the deep end. No adults were sitting out on this end, and my sisters were in the shallow end with my parents laying in chairs right by them. I pulled my bathing suit over to the side with one hand and kept myself afloat with the other as I relieved myself of my Number Two right there in the deep end of the pool. No one was the wiser.
I quickly swam back to the shallow end with my sisters and had it all set in my head what I would say when the Number Two was discovered...it was only a matter of time. Less time than I was prepared for, really, as Daddy threw the penny in what I inwardly measured as right around where the Number Two lay at the bottom of the pool. My sisters launched off at top speeds toward the deep end after the penny with me only slightly behind them. I didn't want to go over there at all, but if I didn't it would look suspicious. They treaded water over the penny, took deep breaths in and dove under after it. I followed suit. Sure enough, I could see with my goggles the Number Two laying menacingly on the bottom of the pool, slightly to the left of the penny. I came up for air and waited for it to enfold.
Sure enough, my sisters came up screaming and sputtering that there was a "Stinky" (that's what we called Number Two back then,) at the bottom. The three of us swam furiously for the shallow end to get away from it, screaming the whole way back. We jumped out of the pool and Daddy went to investigate. Sure enough, there was a Stinky down there. The lifeguard made all the kids get out of the pool as they fished around for it with a net. Most of them left with their parents before it was brought up, disgusted and not planning to swim anymore. We stayed to watch.
As the Stinky came up in the net, my sisters and I murmured "gross" and "who would do that" and "do you still want to swim." We decided we did, and somehow my parents let us with warnings to keep our mouths closed in the water. I kept that secret with me for years and we were all adults before I told my sisters it was me. They laughed and laughed before my sister, Erin, gasped for air and said out loud the very reason I had never told them about it - "But J. You don't even have the excuse of being a little kid. You were ten!"
I looked at them sheepishly, still embarrassed after so many years and simply said quietly with a shrug of my shoulders, "Well...I didn't want to lose."
We were uncharacteristically nice to each other for the first three hours of the car ride, at least. We had self appointed assigned seats in the car; Erin and I lay facing each other at opposite sides of the backseat, toe to head. Holly had the misfortune of the floor and had to maneuver around the bump. We knew not to argue with each other and to talk quietly and not too much or my daddy would "turn this car around and we wouldn't go on vacation at all." These were the "traveling rules" and for the most part, we adhered to them; the thought of turning around and going home was horrific. I liked to watch the street lights streak past us at night as our car zoomed through various cities on the way.
Looking back I'm sure the car ride was anywhere between 12 and 16 hours, but it seemed like it took days to get there in my 10 year old mind. We were only allowed to ask my parents "how much longer" three times total before they would stop answering, so we would discuss very carefully amongst the three of us what the most strategic times were for posing the question. I monitored the time with my Mickey Mouse watch and shared with my sisters at intervals what time it was, what state we were in and why it made sense to ask them at such and such time. They always agreed and after asking, my parents would praise me for my logic behind waiting to ask for this reason and that, which I always pridefully shared with them after the fact. My sisters would glare at me after this exchange between my parents and I as I leaned back in my seat, satisfied with myself as a stray cat licking its paws after a long awaited meal. Erin called me a "know it all" and told my parents they helped decide, too, and Holly swatted at me from the floor. I didn't care at all. They were just jealous.
One year in particular, we arrived at our standard Holiday Inn mid-day. My sisters and I thought it was so fancy that we stayed there. It had an indoor swimming pool that stayed open till 10 pm and even though this was way past our bedtime, my daddy would take us there till close every night if we were "good girls." We loved to swim...our daddy called us "little fishes."
The three of us bounded out of the car as I yelled out a challenge to Erin to race me there. I was tall for my age and all legs at that point and I used them to propel me at top speed for the entrance. I put all my might into that race and felt like I was flying; I couldn't even see her in my peripheral vision I was ahead by so much. All of a sudden, a very loud thud vibrated out into the wind as I flew backwards and landed in a sitting position 10 feet from the door. I got very dizzy and just sat there as my mom flew towards me and bent down asking me over and over again if I was okay. I blinked back at her blankly as my sisters and daddy started to laugh so hard they cried. They thought it was hilarious that the door to the entrance was so clean that I hadn't realized it was closed and had run full speed right into it. Mortified, I walked with them into the hotel as half the staff fussed over the huge knot that had already started to materialize on my forehead and the other half made sure there were no cracks in the door. My entire family called me "Lumpy" that week.
Our days in Myrtle Beach were split between the beach and the outdoor pool; our nights playing cards together as a family. One day at the pool, my sisters and I were playing one of the games we had made up. Daddy would throw a penny somewhere into the deep end of the pool and the three of us would dive down and look for it with our goggles (we couldn't open our eyes underwater.) First one to come up to the surface with the penny got a point. We would play this game for hours until Daddy said he was tired of throwing and we had to come up with another thing to play that didn't involve parental interaction.
All of us hated to get out of the pool to go to the bathroom. We hated to miss out on the fun that would happen without us in those five minutes and we hated pulling our wet bathing suits down and up again. It was hard to do; it was cold and would get twisted up and feel weird as it made a thomping, sucking noise as it settled back into our bodies.
One afternoon in the middle of the penny game, the urge to go to the bathroom hit me. I had to go bad. But I was winning and they would keep playing no matter who had to take a time out to go to the bathroom. Those were the rules. The chance of losing was unacceptable to me. Worse, I had to go Number Two. I continued to play as the "feeling" got worse and worse. Finally, I made the executive decision to not get out of the pool. I looked around me from the spot I was treading water in the deep end. No adults were sitting out on this end, and my sisters were in the shallow end with my parents laying in chairs right by them. I pulled my bathing suit over to the side with one hand and kept myself afloat with the other as I relieved myself of my Number Two right there in the deep end of the pool. No one was the wiser.
I quickly swam back to the shallow end with my sisters and had it all set in my head what I would say when the Number Two was discovered...it was only a matter of time. Less time than I was prepared for, really, as Daddy threw the penny in what I inwardly measured as right around where the Number Two lay at the bottom of the pool. My sisters launched off at top speeds toward the deep end after the penny with me only slightly behind them. I didn't want to go over there at all, but if I didn't it would look suspicious. They treaded water over the penny, took deep breaths in and dove under after it. I followed suit. Sure enough, I could see with my goggles the Number Two laying menacingly on the bottom of the pool, slightly to the left of the penny. I came up for air and waited for it to enfold.
Sure enough, my sisters came up screaming and sputtering that there was a "Stinky" (that's what we called Number Two back then,) at the bottom. The three of us swam furiously for the shallow end to get away from it, screaming the whole way back. We jumped out of the pool and Daddy went to investigate. Sure enough, there was a Stinky down there. The lifeguard made all the kids get out of the pool as they fished around for it with a net. Most of them left with their parents before it was brought up, disgusted and not planning to swim anymore. We stayed to watch.
As the Stinky came up in the net, my sisters and I murmured "gross" and "who would do that" and "do you still want to swim." We decided we did, and somehow my parents let us with warnings to keep our mouths closed in the water. I kept that secret with me for years and we were all adults before I told my sisters it was me. They laughed and laughed before my sister, Erin, gasped for air and said out loud the very reason I had never told them about it - "But J. You don't even have the excuse of being a little kid. You were ten!"
I looked at them sheepishly, still embarrassed after so many years and simply said quietly with a shrug of my shoulders, "Well...I didn't want to lose."
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