the aftermath

canon digital rebel xsi

If you read my post from yesterday, you are probably wondering, what the heck happened. I am not even sure where to begin. Much of it is a big blur.

As you may have guessed, I was spared from being sent away; my sister was not as lucky. There was a bit of time (days, maybe a week) before the night that changed everything and my sister boarding a jet plane. For starters, she had to return to the mall and exchange Garfield and company for a winter coat.

There were also discussions as to whether or not this was the right thing. I wasn't really privy to them, but I do believe that my mother talked this over with her boyfriend. My sister, for the record, did not get along with him at all. Needless to say, he didn't have any problems with my Mom's plan, and on some level I do believe his approval gave my Mom the nudge she needed. I hate to say it, but he probably was also influential in my being allowed to stay.

At some point my Mom must have to come to me with the news. When my sister boarded that plane for Newark, she had no idea she wasn't coming back, but I did. I think I thought she knew, but didn't realize until many years later that she didn't. She believed it was just for the holidays. I still have this image of her walking to the gate at the airport in her new light blue puffy coat.

My Mom and I also boarded a plane - for San Francisco. We were staying with relatives who lived in Marin County at the time. I remember all of us joking about my sister being gone. They had never been fans of her either.

Things were going okay, and then suddenly, took a very bizarre turn. In the end, my Aunt, cousin, mother and I ended up at a hotel in Union Square. There was a fight. My Aunt may or may not have fallen down the steps trying to eavesdrop on my mother and Uncle's conversation, and they next thing I knew we were packing it up and driving across the Golden Gate Bridge.

Here's a random factoid. File under strange things I remember. The hotel where we stayed had "H"'s engraved on the towels. I really thought they were pretty and figured out how to write the "H", and used it in my signature from that point forward. Told you - random.

I know that it was weird returning to our apartment. I don't think I fully believed that my sister wasn't coming back. I figured if my mother didn't change her mind, my grandmother might. She was a recent widow, and while misery loves company, even my sister may have been a bit much.

I was told to clean out my sister's room. I remember finding a half-eaten PB&J under the bed. My sister was never a neat freak. I also found something that was like a diary. She didn't write in it much, but apparently had a crush on a boy. I closed the door, and we didn't go in there. My Mom said I could have her TV, but I didn't want it. We probably mailed her the rest of her things, but I have no memory of doing it.

I vaguely recall a phone call wherein it was revealed to my sister that she wasn't returning. That didn't go over well. She was pretty pissed. I couldn't blame her, but was definitely glad to have 3000 miles between us that night.

In an even more bizarre twist, my grandmother insisted that my sister be enrolled in private school. Of course, given her record, that wasn't going to be easy. It turned out though, that a space had opened up suddenly. That it itself was pretty random, but it would turn out that the student who left, was the youngest son of one of my mother's oldest friends, who it turned out was moving to northern California. He would manage to get a girl pregnant before he graduated, so maybe location doesn't matter after a certain point.

My mother and grandmother had come to some kind of agreement. She sent her money every month, even though my father lived with his mother on and off. Again, I wasn't in on all the details. At the same time though, the message being sent was that she was disowned. We rarely talked about my sister. There were no phone calls or letters. I often joked that I was now an oldest and only child. In many ways, I was.

We would move at the end of the school year. After our two years in the Valley, it was time to move up to the West Side, as promised. My Mom bought a brand-new condo with a roof deck. I felt like Cinderella. I think that was when it hit me that she really wasn't coming back. She didn't know our address.

When I started at the new school, I don't think anyone knew I had a sister. It was like this weird secret I had. Of course, eventually someone would ask, and I honestly had no idea what to say. I couldn't exactly explain this. Who would want to be friends with someone like me?

As expected, the story didn't have a happy ending. A couple of years later, my grandmother died. My sister was still a minor, and so my mother's sister agreed to take her in. Instead she robbed my grandmother's estate, and kicked my sister out. I think at that point my father stepped in, but may have also shown her the door. That was a very dark and ugly time. I was out of the house by then, so was spared much of the detail.

At one point though, my sister did call me. I was away at college. She was up to no good of some kind, and I called her on it. She told me to go fuck myself, and hung up. I wouldn't hear her voice again until after our mother died, and the call went pretty much the same way.

I have skimmed over some parts of the story, but you may already know how it ends. My sister died in March of 2003. She was 33-years old. I didn't find out until a year later, although part of me knew. The connection of sisters is powerful.


on the night stand :: Invisible Sisters

the night that changed everything

canon digital rebel xsi

I have no idea what is bringing this to the surface. It happened when I was 15, around the holidays. I couldn't even give you an exact date. But it truly was the night that changed my world forever, even if at the time I didn't realize its impact fully.

Like all incidents of this nature, it didn't just happen. It had been brewing for a while. The holidays were coming, and my Mom wanted to go up north and visit her brother and sister-in-law. My sister, did not want to come.

So my Mom gave her a choice. She could either stay with a friend, or visit the family on the east coast. Of course my sister wanted to stay at home alone - she was 14.

At one point my sister reportedly had found a friend who would take her in for a few days. My Mom wanted names and phone numbers. She wanted to talk to the girl's mother, and make sure everything was on the up and up. I guess it wasn't. So that left a trip to the Garden State to see my father and grandmother. My Mom made it very clear that my sister was too young to stay home alone. There was no way my Mom was serving time for being a negligent parent.

My sister came back to my Mom a few days later and pointed out that she didn't have proper clothing to spend a week in the cold snowy east. She did have a point. In Southern California, you really didn't need more than a jacket, so that's all we had. My Mom agreed, and gave my sister some money to buy a coat. She returned from the mall with stuffed animals, including one for my Mom with a small box of chocolate.

Needless to say, that did not go over well. My sister, I am sure, was surprised. How could our mother not be thrilled with such as gift? There was a huge ugly fight. My sister was sent to her room before my mother killed her.

Later that night we were called to the table for dinner. We were having hot dogs and beans. Why I remember that, I don't know. But what I do remember is that dinner ended with my sister picking up her plate with her unfinished dinner, and flinging it across the table at my mother. She missed, but made her point. And what that, the night that changed everything begun.

Understandably, my Mom was livid. While my mother had seen my sister go after me on many an occasion (including one time where she came home to find my sister sitting on me so that I couldn't breathe), this was the first time my sister had done some physical towards her. My sister fled to her room, and I tried to stay out of the way, cleaning the mess that was left behind. That's how I overheard the phone conversation.

My Mom called my (paternal) grandmother. She said she couldn't do this any longer, and asked if my grandmother would take us in. Yes, us, as in my sister and me. I didn't hear the other end, but it was clear that my grandmother was more than willing. She truly did love us, even if she didn't understand everything that was about to happen.

This is where things get a bit fuzzy. I am not sure when I confronted my Mom about the whole package deal business, but I did. I knew on some level that a one-way trip to New Jersey would be the end of me. I had worked way too hard to come as far as I had, and I couldn't let anything - not even my sister - get in my way. And so I let my Mom have it. I literally felt like I was fighting for my life.

I told my Mom that it wasn't fair. I said that were were two different people. I pointed out that I hadn't done anything wrong. I wanted to go see my Aunt, Uncle, and cousin for Christmas. I hadn't gone to the mall for a coat and come back with a Garfield and Odie doll. I was an honor student at a Catholic school, making straight A's, and keeping myself out of trouble.

Of course through all of this I was yelling and crying. My Mom was not impressed with my theatrics and sent me away to my room. I was so stressed that on the way, my nose started bleeding.

All I remember was that seeing blood streaming down my face, set me off further. I was now inconsolable and crying hysterically in a ball on the floor of my room. I managed to get blood all over the place. It was on the white walls of my room and the light beige carpet, not to mention my face and clothes. My sister must have come out of her room at this point and saw me. I guess I thought I told her what was happening, but maybe I didn't, or she didn't understand me or believe me. I think she tried to help wipe some of the blood up lest my Mom's rage be further fueled.

At some point my Mom came into my room. She saw the blood and her initial reaction was that I was being way overly dramatic, and had tried to kill myself. Of course it felt like she was saying that I couldn't even do that right.


on the night stand :: Bright Sided: How the Relentless Promotion of Positive Thinking Has Undermined America by Barbara Ehrenreich

back to school

canon digital rebel xsi

It has always amused me when back to school time rolls around, and people talk about how much they have to do to get their kids ready. I think it is because on more than one occasion we literally just showed up. Take for example, when I entered the sixth grade:

The summer before sixth grade we moved to a nearby town. It wasn't that far away, but too far to go back to our school. We spent most of that summer on the east coast with our father and grandmother. I am not even sure the topic of where we were going to school in the fall came up. I just remember that one morning my Mom told us to put on our old uniforms, and get in the car - she didn't want to be late for work.

As it turned out, we were a bit tardy already. For starters, school had started at least a week prior. Also as we noticed students rushing off to class, it was clear we were going to be an interruption. First though, we had to be enrolled.

My Mom explained that she was running late to work, and so was happy to fill out any necessary forms later - just send them home with the girls. Not so fast - you can't just show up with your daughters and enroll them in this Catholic school - we have a waiting list - some family have been on for years.

Clearly my Mom did not get that memo, and she quickly moved from talking to the secretary to the principal, who was a nun. Needless to say she was a bit shocked at my mother's request as well. Again, my Mom cut off her list of why this wasnt going to happen, explaining the job she had to get to, and pulled out my report card.

The principal reviewed it, seeming to calm down with each "A" and glowing comment she read. I remember her looking up, and saying okay, but what about the other one. With some reluctance, my Mom handed over my sister's report card. Let's suffice to say, it was far from glowing.

Now the bargaining began. The principal explained that while she could find room for me, she didn't think the fifth grade (my sister's level) could be as accommodating.

With little hesitation, my mother explained that this was a package deal. If she was willing to accept me, she had to also admit my sister (she didn't have time to go to another school - remember that job she had that was paying for tuition). Yes, the woman had chutzpah.

There was a bit more negotiating, and in the end we were both admitted to Our Lady of Fatima. My sister was basically on super secret probation. As the deal was finalized, I recall the principal looking sternly at my sister, and telling her that she would be watching her. I wanted to pee in my pants by this point.

My mom then took off to her job, and we were each escorted to our new classrooms, where we were introduced, once more, as the new girls in school. I think we may have had some paper and pens, and maybe even a backpack to carry it in. I have a vague memory of our grandmother taking us to K-mart and buying some school supplies for us before we headed home. I am not sure if we had packed lunch though. I think my Mom thought we could buy something at the cafeteria, but alas, this school had none.

Class was already in session, and I felt so out of place. Not only was my uniform the wrong color, it was also the wrong style. In most Catholic elementary schools, girls in first through fifth grades wore a jumper. When you moved into sixth grade, you wore a skirt and blouse. It was a big deal. Oh yeah, great way to start off the school year. Did I mention we missed a week too?^*

Somehow we got uniforms and books. We figured out any missing essential school supplies. Rumors started flying about regarding things my sister was doing down the hall. Notes were starting to arrive home about her bad behavior. To this day, I have no idea exactly what she did, although I did hear some pretty crazy stories from a couple of my classmates that also had siblings in my sister's class. After a few warnings, and last chances, she was asked to leave, or be kicked out. My Mom opted to remove her, and my sister was enrolled at the local public school mid-year.

______________________________________________________________
^*It didn't really matter, as most of my 30 other classmates had been together since the first grade. I was definitely an outsider.

on the night stand :: That Old Cape Magic by Richard Russo

on top of a lake

It has been a crazy few weeks. I am just happy to say we all survived the holidays. Of course, it didn’t end there. Apparently my calling the house the “lake cabin” wasn’t entirely a misnomer – the lake seems to be underneath the house!

On Monday we arrived back at the lake cabin (after a day in Pasadena) to find a large van blocking the driveway, and three men in white Hazmat suits standing on the front lawn. Should you ever find yourself in this situation, the best advice I can give you is to keep driving. Instead we went in to investigate. Big mistake.

It would seem that after all my asking about the strange smell in the house, B’s parents decided it was time to take action. They tried calling “the only plumber they trust”, but it seems he has skipped town and is now in Miami. His recommendation was that they get a current copy of The Penny Saver. Seriously.

They had trouble getting someone to show up same day, but apparently one finally did. After some investigation, it was discovered that the point at where all the water sources in the house collect to go to the sewer was leaking. It was so bad, in fact, that they had to take immediate action.

The good news was that the homeowner’s policy should cover it. The bad news was that they didn’t manage the expectations of the parental unit properly, and given that they watch 20/20 religiously, there was a two-hour back-and-forth over signing papers giving the plumbing company authorization to directly bill the insurance company. I went and hid under the covers at that point. It was freezing in the house.

Before that happened though, they laid down plastic to protect the 25-year old carpet, and set up a long hose to start pumping out the raw sewage – aka “the lake” – under the house. During the process there were at least a dozen guys through the house, and at least three trucks in the driveway. The smell was intense, so we went out for a bite to eat.

Once the large van was filled with waste, the next step was to try and kill all the bacteria and their friends living down there. This was done by pouring limestone into the affected area. Wish I could say that made it smell better – it really didn’t.

The hot water also had to be turned off so the guys working in the area would not be burned by hot pipes. This meant that technically the house was uninhabitable, so around 1 o’clock in the morning, all of us headed out to check into a nearby hotel. I packed not only for the night, but also for our six-day trip to Vegas. Needless to say it was not my finest packing.

We arrived at the hotel, and B and his father went to inquire about rooms. We may be in Southern California, but the temperatures can still dip into the 30’s at night. While the rest of us sat freezing in the cars, B’s father actually looked at hotel rooms (his brother may be visiting). Really, he did. B was a witness. Keep in mind, they had to be back at the house by 8:30am in order to let the workmen in, so they could finish what they started. I really don’t understand.

We missed the free breakfast, but stopped by the house before hitting the road as I forgot a couple of things. B’s mother was there by herself. Apparently the other two were off at the DMV. That will give you an idea of the smell. They ended up spending the entire day at the DMV only to have his sister fail the written exam (she has since passed).

At any rate, this hopefully will rid the house of that awful musty smell. I have no idea what we have been exposed to. Maybe we will have more pep in the New Year? Who knows? It took the plumbers three days to finish the job. Thankfully we had Las Vegas to escape to. You know it is bad when Las Vegas is your escape.

on the night stand :: The Story of a Marriage by Andrew Greer