She did not want to wait in the truck. Tapping on the steering wheel, too many thoughts were running through her mind at all the scenarios that could possibly occur. The screaming and yelling, or the sheer inconsequential silence of the induced tensions it might bring, are almost too much to handle. She feels uneasy, anxious, and restless. Suddenly hunger strikes her, and she forces herself to get out of the truck to breathe in the eight o�clock morning fresh air. The truck door opens, but the sound drones into the other preoccupations trembling in her bones. She turns towards Wal-Mart, feeling awkward, and places her hands in her pockets, trying not to think too much. Still, she worries. She is here to meet someone for an appointment. She is a nineteen-year-old kid � a college student, but fresh out of high school - and scared to death of everything that comes her way, including late appointments.
Blonde hair, blue eyes, naturally fit, but her baby face displays a sense of emotional trauma that she cannot shake off. Walking through Wal-Mart with her head down at all times, her mouth can only frown. Suspicious of all the customers, within minutes she chooses her breakfast and pays without trying to think. Thinking is responsible for where she is in her life, presently. Still, life goes on, and she walks out of Wal-Mart, hoping that no one recognizes her face or stares at the pale insecurities she fights alone.
Walking outside in early March, the air was oddly warm and hazy during a cold early spring. She is hot in her light sweater and dislikes the feeling of unwelcome circumstances in the atmosphere. She walks to her rented 2001 black Durango and tells herself that everything will be okay, just as soon as it ends. Falling into her seat, she breathes a large and exhausted sigh. She thinks about the day, feeling weak in her arms; dreading the passage of time.
An old, 1995 turquoise Topaz enters the parking lot and finds a spot right next to her Durango. Out pops a brown-haired girl, nineteen in age as well, displaying similar features as the girl in the truck. Her darker complexion makes this girl appear somewhat different though, and at the same time the bone structures in her face create almost a similarly shaped baby � like face. This young girl seems stressed, more so than anyone could have ever imagined, and the look of political business is inscribed along the lines below her brown eyes.
�Morning Stacy.�
�Morning Michelle.�
Stacy�s twin walks over to gawk at the impressive black truck. Never had she imagined that her sister would place herself in such an impressive vehicle, �Stacy, how did you get this truck?�
�Jon helped me out,� Stacy replied, numbed to her sister�s excitement. The thought that her boyfriend was far away now, working, was painful to remember. �Where�s your friend?�
Michelle stops and thinks for a moment before saying, �Should be here soon.�
�Better be. I would like to get this day over with as quickly as we can.� Stacy grabs the box of cereal bars and chocolate milk, giving it to her twin sister. �Want breakfast?�
�Thanks,� Michelle takes a bar out of the box and takes the drink. She nibbles a little while looking out into the parking lot. It is quiet while both girls think about the last statement Stacy made; I would like to get this day over with as quickly as we can. Michelle seems lost in her own thoughts while Stacy stared at her chocolate milk. �I think I recognize that truck!� Michelle exclaims.
Stacy turns to look at an older model Chevy truck with faded white pain, now parked next to Michelle�s Topaz. Michelle ran over to greet the friend, who is supposed to meet the girls at the Wal-Mart parking lot fifteen minutes earlier. No matter, Stacy looks on and decides that she must go meet her sister�s friend. An air of dread sticks at the back of her throat. In a few minutes, she will be back on the road and driving towards a home that didn�t want her, but now requires her to go back. She just does not want to go through with the pain over again.
* * *
A two-story house stands high above the other houses on the short Arbor Drive street. It is brown, light and dark shades reflect its origins, dating back to the seventies. There�s a two car garage with one automatic door, a bay window displaying shades that hide secrets, windows scattered across the house, and large windows on the top floor where Stacy and Michelle used to share together as part of a large family. Now, Stacy is driving up and feeling the pains of familiarity. The feeling of home makes Stacy believe that she can be happy, but rationality reminds her that she will do the exact opposite �retrieve the remains of her belongings and leave a residue of contempt. Memories rush back to her, granting her the privilege of happiness in moments of regret. Three little boys running around the flagpole outside the front lawn on a late summer evening while fireflies scattered; softball bags and baseball bats lying around the yard with three gleeful faces anticipating her arrival; bikes on the driveway; Christmas lights glowing the soft snowy ground.
Shaking her head and wiping away the smile and tears, Stacy tells herself to relax as her sister and her friend arrive at the street. Her sister parks by her neighbor�s yard while her sister�s friend, Scott, parks across the street from the house. Everyone takes a step out and comes to the middle to greet each other, almost trying to hold off the inevitable duty.
�Well, what do we do?� Michelle asks.
�What should we do, Michelle? We�ve got to go ring on their doorbell.� Stacy replies.
Michelle stares at the house with a longing to return to its doorsteps as a part of that life once more, �I don�t want to do that.�
Scott stands sleepily waiting for a command or a movement to the house. �Michelle, I will.� Stacy appears courageous, but only to fade away in her mind. She walks up the driveway, cracked and rigid, towards the porch with Michelle and Scott following. Stacy takes careful steps to avoid touching the yard because it was once sacred ground to her. Each strand of grass was once vigorously green and strong, standing up tall and without fear. Years ago, a bright fresh smell of freshly cut grass gave her the sense of stability. Reality smacks her in the face, though, and the yard takes a distorted shape. Now it smells of brown patches and distilled rainwater. Now, the death of the dying cannot be prevented. No one has tended to the yard in months. It seems that attempts at renewing the green were lost, anyway.
Stacy knocks at the screen door, Michelle and Scott standing away from the porch. It takes a couple of seconds, but a sudden reaction is heard scurrying in the house and out pops her step dad, Richard. He walks to the door, opens it without a word, without a facial expression, a cigarette hanging from his left hand, a trimmed goatee hanging from his chin, and quickly lets the door fall onto Stacy�s outstretched hand. Like a fantasy-nightmare coming true, the small group enters the house and immediately feels the tensions rising. Stacy looks around - that pain of familiarity pinches at her skin. Like walking into enemy territory, distortion of truth paints itself on the white walls with stains of grease and second hand smoke; clean furniture fades in the bland and hazy sunlight; an unkempt carpet, scattered with lint and rolled up dirt, picks up all that is left over from footsteps of dirty socks or fallen ashes from burned cigarettes. Stacy brushes her hand against a tabletop where gloves are placed in the wintertime and picks up dust an inch thick. Patting her jeans, Stacy looks at the bay window, a gut retching memory stretching through time and stuck in the back of her mind. Suddenly, her thoughts wander in an attempt to escape her fears. Stacy dives into her visions.
* * *
Lights are glowing in the dark, cold night. There�s a glow of reds, oranges, yellows, blues, and whites that spreads out as far as the light can reach. No one was worried about the bite of the cold, then. Cheerful family togetherness was experience in one last bitter taste of Christmas joy. Stacy, Michelle, the entire family and Stacy�s boyfriend, gathered in the living room ready to trim the tree. Christmas lights already circle a great big pine tree, a giant colored star lit at the very top. Three little boys ran about, jumping up and down at the excitement of claiming the ornament they will be place on the tree first. Stacy and Michelle�s mother, Charlotte, had just entered the room with a glass of orange juice, seltzer and vodka in her hand and a cigarette in the other. Richard stands in the corner, watching the fun from afar, and a cigarette in his hand; his bottle of beer waiting on the counter in the kitchen. Michelle was sitting on the couch and figuring out the tangled ball of hooks. Stacy was stressed and attempting to organize the effort, but the hand of her boyfriend greeted her leg. A reassurance of comfort appeared in his eyes, �It�s going to be fun,� he whispered to her. She looked at him and knew that he was trying to help her calm down. Stacy turned to her mother as she took a sip of her drink and laughed with her younger brothers.
Secretly, she replied, �Jon, I�m trying hard. But she�s going to get tipsy.�
�Stacy, we�re here to have fun. I�m here with you. It�ll be okay.� Jon grips her hand tight and she smiled at him.
Suddenly, a little boy with brown hair jumped onto Jon�s lap, �Yay! Hee hee hee. . . � Jon ran off after him.
Stacy gathered the plastic colored balls and called everyone to the tree. Michelle, then, took on the job of placing the hooks on every ornament, while the three little boys grab at what they could. Jon joined in with Michelle and helped take the balls out of the boxes. Stacy stood on a ladder to reach the high part of the tree that the younger boys could not. Charlotte sat with Michelle and Jon and helped Michelle place hooks the balls. It seemed like everyone was happy. Jon broke out in an imperfect version of jingle bells and everyone began to sing. Even Richard, with is great low voice, couldn�t help but find enjoyment with one of the last family moments they would have to treasure.
Stacy still felt uncomfortable, though. She watched the glasses quickly disappear and her mother get up to refill every one. Glancing at Jon from time to time, he looked back and slightly nodding his head. Feeling a little better that she wasn�t the only one who noticed, Stacy tried hard to concentrate on their rare happy family gathering. No one noticed Richard�s frequent trips to the counter in the kitchen. It�s been a long while since she has seen her mother not attacking her for something that she has done. Beginning college that year and meeting her very first boyfriend made the transition out of high school difficult. Stacy shook the thought out of her head, instead, distracting herself by looking about and trying to savor the moment she was in. Watching her younger brothers, three little boys she loved deeply and passionately, she thought about the present that Jon and she were going to give to them: an authentic and expensive N-scale train set. She thought about the trips together with her new boyfriend, going to the stores and watching Jon spend $1000 on supplies. She thought about how she explained to Jon the problems she was having with her mother and about their disagreements about allowing her to join Jon with his family for Christmas dinner. Despite the problems, Jon still holds on to Stacy�s hand and eases her mind away.
Charlotte returned with her forth drink in twenty minutes of trimming the tree and Stacy could smell the yellow stains on the walls coming out of the cigarette smoke. No one knew about the late nights and Charlotte�s struggle to keep her daughter home for Christmas dinner. Her stubbornness, her unfound nervous discomforts lost in gulps behind a glass bottom, annoyed Stacy infinitely. Even as the holiday season peaked, Charlotte�s displeasure at the idea increased and no compromises came in sight. Stacy struggled not to think about how her mother yelled at her, calling her a selfish, conceited jerk that didn�t think of her family first. Christmas lights glaring at her, yelling, screaming, cries of happiness coming out of her big and busy family, and all Stacy could ever think about was how bad she felt about her mother.
* * *
Charlotte stands in the kitchen with a cup of coffee on the cutting board and a cigarette in her hand. Smoke rises up and streams along in the air. Stacy watches, as she is the first to enter the kitchen. Looking at her mother, Stacy noticed that Charlotte has lost a dramatic amount of weight. Stacy�s mother looks much older than forty three, with gray hair streaming through her red, brown, and blonde hair. A scar runs on the bottom of her chin, almost hanging off her face. Her cheeks have started to fall into her jaw and her eyes are broken, lines running along the contour. Her mother almost becomes unfamiliar, an enemy she knows, and at the same time, there are secrets even Stacy can only have theories to explain. Her clothes now appear drastically baggy, hanging off her sunken and shriveled body, displaced in Stacy�s mind.
Suddenly, Michelle comes up behind Stacy to stare at her mother�s changed appearance. Charlotte doesn�t look at either one of her girls as she puts out her cigarette and turns to walk into the TV room. Charlotte walks out the back door and leaves the company to stand in an awkward silence. Stacy and Michelle look at each other, knowing that they didn�t want to wait for the first words to come out of their mother�s mouth. Michelle�s friend stands against the wall, half knowing the truth and half trying not to get too far into Michelle�s problems. Richard leans on the counter and merely watches everything from afar, empty beer bottles left on the counter for the recycling. He looks down at the yellow kitchen floor and acts as if to take up the space he was occupying. The room is heavy with unwanted attention and everyone is waiting for Charlotte and her first impression.
The twins are cowards in front of their mother, and they wait in the hallway for direct orders to be given. Like a drill sergeant forming a line with her troops, Stacy and Michelle stand side by side and wait for their mother. They find themselves caught, waiting for something to happen; looking around the house and recognizing the eerie silence. The voices of their three younger brothers are sadly missing, but it is a good sign. They are innocent. Those young boys don�t know the battles the two girls have fought with their mother. Stacy and Michelle look down the hallways and together they fear the future the boys have living in this house. Alcoholism is a very scary disease, because it�s not a pathogen and it�s not completely genetic. Though the illness affects the victim physically, the disease hurts everyone around the victim emotionally and mentally. For Stacy and Michelle, it has destroyed their naivety and their image of Charlotte. No longer is she the protector of good and evil, she has become an evil force not to be reckoned with. Worse of all, Charlotte doesn�t realize the intensely negative impression she has made.
Charlotte reappears into the kitchen holding a box of extra large garbage bags. She grabs her cigarette carton and lights up a new smoke, a puff of grayish white exploding into the air as she takes her first breath. Walking towards her daughters, Stacy and Michelle move out of the way. �Well,� Charlotte says her voice resonating against the silence, now broken in two, �Let�s go.�
Stacy, Michelle, and Scott follow the smoke up the stairs, feeling the impending doom of realization. Once, these steps lead to a haven, where Stacy and Michelle always ran to after their mother finished yelling at them and making them cry. Now, it has become an abandoned room mounting with inches of dust and painful memories. As Stacy, bravest of the company, follows her mother the closest, she swallows hardest and finds it impossible in the numbness of her throat. Each step becomes harder to take, as if cement blocks were suddenly attach to the group�s legs. Stacy feels her palms become sweaty, and she feels as if she marches to a place she grieves over. Every step that Stacy takes, feels like it�s another mistake in the eyes of the people she once trusted. Like an eternity, the march becomes infinitely imprinted in her mind, incorporated in the number of images that cracks through reality. When they all reach the room the images in Stacy�s mind become clear and it reflects a blinding light into her eyes, touching her soul, but stabbing her heart.
* * *
�What are you doing here?� Richard stared at Stacy in a room filled with the light from a lamp without a shade. A spotlight glistened onto Stacy, her heart racing. She feared the intimidation of a man she once knew, but he has become a stranger right in front of her eyes. A man with a proud stature, raising a family with kids that were never his own, he has suddenly chosen the wrong side to fight in this conflict between mother and daughter. Now confronting Stacy after her heart-filled struggles to keep her head above the water, he stood in the door way, where he took the door off the hinges, stealing her privacy and the light in her eyes for him. Stacy was without words to reply to him appropriately, a habit and weakness that had strained the relationship with her parents. It was only the beginning of the night, but the end of a long fight against time and against an inevitable ending.
�I�m looking for my paycheck and tax return. I�ve lost it,� Stacy replied, staring into his eyes with cocky selfishness and defense. She stood as if she were ready to fight, but she knew that with the swipe of an arm, she would duck and huddle herself in the corner of the room.
�Oh! Well, that�s a smart thing to do! That�s really smart, Stacy!� Richard�s eyes widen like a monster staring into the eyes of his prey and laughing at the fear. �Good job, Stacy. That�s the way to be responsible.� He took a step closer to her, and asked again, �What are you doing here? Don�t you have somewhere to go?�
Stacy stared at the familiar stranger. She became confused and couldn�t exactly figure out where her step dad was leading her to, the smell of his breath intoxicating her, �No.�
�Well, you�d better find yourself a place to go. You�re not welcomed here anymore.� He turned around and walked out of the room, not having to worry about the door closing behind him. He yells as he walks, �Maybe you should go visit you�re boyfriend at the TGIFriday�s in Freehold! Not that there isn�t a damn Friday�s here in Brick!�
Stacy found herself holding back tears. This was how her parents were kicking her out of their house and she didn�t want to leave. Stacy loved her family, but at the same time she couldn�t look at anyone, nor talk to them. Communication has simply stopped when Stacy realized that her parents were abusers of alcohol, a year ago. She couldn�t bear to watch her parents disintegrate into violent monsters who attacked anyone with a weakness for verbal cruelty. Stacy had endured nights of arguments. She had endured nights of listening to her mother tell her daughter how useless she was, how insulting she was, how disappointing she was, how critical of others she was, how selfish, how mean, how she forgot about her family, and the list went on. Stacy watched her mother as her eyes lids fell, as her mouth drooped, as she walked with a wobble, as her thoughts became irrational, and as her hands kept reaching for glass after glass of refills. There were nights when she went up to her room and found herself imagining the blood streaming from her wrists. There were nights when Stacy found herself trapped in a locked bathroom with a razor ready in her hands. Never could she bring herself to place the razor on her skin. There was so much out there to live for, that Stacy had to survive the worst to get to the best. An honor student, a star athlete, Stacy knew that she had to make herself a chance to succeed.
She searched through her bedroom, looking under her books from college lying around on a soft pink, but yellowed carpet. The walls, scattered with teenager�s posters, were bright by the unfiltered light, without it�s shade, but dimmed by the dramatic shadows of figures in her room; now becoming unfamiliar to her. Her bed was unmade and cluttered, with a mountain of blankets and clean clothes thrown to the side. Her closet was disarrayed as she searched. Stacy looked around her computer, placed on boxes next to the bed after she received it a week before. Afraid, Stacy didn�t want to lose the important papers.
Then, Stacy could hear footsteps walking up the stairs. On guard, shadows from the outside lights revealed the figure of a disfigured human being coming to attack her once again. Stacy turned around and pretended that she didn�t notice her mother appearing in her room. Charlotte leaned on the door frame, grasping for air, and then walked towards Stacy, who was now on the ground looking through the notebooks and folders from school. Her mother fell down on her knees and slurred,
�Tulk too mee, sssStacy.�
Stacy looked up at her mother in disgust. How dare she come up to Stacy�s room and expect her to talk to her when she�s drunk? Her mother won�t listen to anything Stacy would say in the first place. Stacy had no reason to encourage her mother�s behavior and remained silent. A drunk does not want to listen to rationality; they have no mental capability for it. Instead, alcoholics feel they are in the right all the time, even when they are very wrong. Charlotte�s thinking disorder constrained her from understanding simplified concepts. So, Charlotte couldn�t understand why Stacy wasn�t talking to her and the only way Charlotte felt she could get her daughter to talk was by forcing it out. Charlotte wanted to discipline her daughter into being the person she was in high school: Stacy was home all the time, taking care of her younger brothers, cleaning, laundry, and controlling half of the household activities. Suddenly, Stacy found out that there was a world outside of the house and Charlotte felt she was losing control on her daughter. Especially after a couple of glasses of her orange juice/vodka drink, Charlotte attacked Stacy for the way she has been acting the past couple of months. Charlotte�s distrust of Stacy�s new boyfriend made Charlotte feel that if she got rid of the guy that she would get Stacy back. Stacy wasn�t going to allow her mother to take away the first guy who was truly attracted to her and sincerely cared about her.
�sssStacy! Tuwlk tuu mmee!� Charlotte grabbed Stacy�s shoulders and she shook her mother away from her, backing away. Her mother pleaded with Stacy with her eyes, but Stacy wouldn�t allow her mother any closer to her. �That�ss it, you�rl dawne. You�rl dawne! You�rl gawn! You�fl losst you�rl chanze. Forgest sit! Nno mmor! You�rl dawne� Charlotte slowly got up, thirsty and alcohol driven, she staggered to the door and grabbed on to the frame. The cigarette hung out of her hand and emitted blacken, grey smoke that flew to the ceiling, and her mother slowly walked down the stairs.
Stacy was overwhelmed by fear, knowing that if she stayed any longer she was going to get hurt. What plagued her more was that she didn�t even know if this time there would be emotional or physical abuse. So, Stacy grabbed her dark blue gym bag and began to fill it quickly with the most important clothes she would need in the next couple of days. Tears streaming down her face, Stacy couldn�t take Charlotte�s control and violence any more. She promised herself that it would be the last time her mother would ever threaten her like that.
* * *
Fifteen minutes after they entered the room, the group had almost finished bringing out the smaller objects that a garbage bag could easily fit. Michelle was grabbing as much of her precious video game collection as quickly as she could so she could store it into the car. Scott was following Michelle, taking as much of Michelle�s stuff as she directed him to. Charlotte was trying to take newspaper and wrap it around some of the fragile glass and pottery that the twins owned. Stacy was attempting to organize clothes into separate bags so that her and her sister wouldn�t become confuse with personal belongings. Slowly, the room is emptying into a void of dust and yellowed tar on the ceilings. The bare wall, once covered with posters of boy bands and video game icons, has faded paint around squares of now empty spaces. The cluttered closet is becoming empty cubbies and shelves that once held private and sentimental belongings for the girls. The beds strip of their sheets, lying with their mattresses exposed to the light for the first time in more than two years. Trophies and awards the girls received in high school are placed in boxes, most likely never to be touched for a long time. As the room is moved out, Charlotte is making prejudice comments towards the girls, directed at Stacy mostly, and trying to get Scott to laugh along with her.
"You know, if you didn�t act like such a damn fool, we wouldn�t be doing this at all.� Charlotte said as she places a newspaper-covered object into a box. Stacy could feel the knife stabbing into her heart. �You could have stayed, you know, but you had to come down the stairs and show us your bag of clothes.� A functioning alcoholic has the will to act like ordinary people, but they don�t realize that the chemicals within their metabolism conflicts with their judgment and abilities at any part of the day, whether they drink or not. Functioning alcoholics not only have a physical addiction, but they are also mentally and emotionally unstable. Psychologically, Charlotte was dealing with her own insecurities by feeding off the weaknesses of those around her that falter under pressure. Michelle and Scott were ignoring Charlotte and not realizing that Charlotte was still under the influence, but Stacy bitterly listens to everything her mother says, in full awareness of Charlotte�s illness. Stacy is trapped and can not escape, even as she packs up to leave like her mother had told her weeks ago.
�Look, Scott!� Charlotte looks up at Scott and he turns around while helping Michelle with her video games. �Look at all this stuff they have! It�s not like they were spoiled or anything!� Charlotte laughs at her joke and Scott politely smiles, �I mean, come on. It�s not like they were deprived of anything. I didn�t keep anything away from them or not buy them what they wanted! I gave them everything and this is the thanks I get!�
Stacy grits her teeth as she walks out of the room. Sure, look at all the garbage they had. It was ironic that everything was being placed in garbage bags! Most of the girls� possessions were items Charlotte bought and the girls never used. Stacy liked a few outfits, and all that Michelle ever did when she was up in her room was play video games on her Nintendo consul. The twins didn�t like make up and they didn�t wear jewelry. They accepted the things their mother bought them out of courtesy and gratitude most of the time, because it�s nice that their mother would give them things. The girls never took anything for granted because they knew what it was like to have nothing.
What was never thought of, what was always missing in girl�s life was Charlotte as a compassionate mother. The twins never had that friend to talk to, or to trust. At the age of 15, when Stacy and Michelle had just moved into their mother�s house from their biological father�s, Stacy remembers their mother telling them that she is not their friend, but their mother; and it has made all the difference in how the girls perceived their parents. They never came to Charlotte for advice, they never came to her to confide things, and they especially never came to her for sincere conversations.
Stacy walks down the stairs and passes the kitchen with her step dad staring at the counter. She knows that he can hear everything that is going on upstairs and she can�t bear to look at him for more than a second. He�s another body in the house to �watch� the twins. It is sickening to Stacy that her parents have no trust in their scholarly daughters. Stacy couldn�t help thinking of how repulsive it was that her parents were acting like they were the victims of some heinous crime. Instead, it was the exact opposite; Stacy and her sister were the ones whose morals were violated. They were stripped of their dignity and forced to embarrass themselves in front of their brothers, who look up to them like heroes. The girls, harmless and wanted no confrontation, were forced to live every night in fear that their mother would come upstairs to their room to attack them, verbally, about the way they were as human beings. The twins were scapegoats of problems their parents were having with themselves and they suffered the consequences.
Stacy walks through the living room, quiet and lonely without her three little brothers, and walks out the screen door to her truck where the sun�s rays blast through the sticky air. She walks across the yard, a lost of trust in the house, and places the last black bag of clothes from her room in the back of the truck. Stacy takes a breath and thinks about how her mother was complaining about the appreciation her twin daughters did not have, as if it never existed. Stacy looks at the house, the size of it vast when standing close, in disbelief that this is how a year long struggle with her mother is ending. She closes her eyes and notices the feeling of impending doom deep in the pits of her stomach. Stacy can�t stop thinking about how her parents had desecrated her morals and had violated her twin sister�s as well. She remembers the phone call from her sister that marked Michelle�s dishonorable discharge from her home.
* * *
A monotone tune rang from Stacy�s cell phone in the room she rented from a friend in an apartment two months after Stacy was kicked out. Stacy turned to the small phone and recognized Michelle�s number. Answering, her sister was in tears, exclaiming that their mother was attacking her. Alarmed, terrified, concerned, Stacy asked what was going on. Michelle said,
�Stacy, Mom has gone crazy. She keeps yelling at me to get out of the house and I keep trying to stop her, but I can�t! She�s here in the room and she won�t leave me alone.�
Meanwhile, in the background, Charlotte was yelling in another drunken rage, �Stacy, you better come help your sister!� This time Charlotte wasn�t slurring. Thusly, Stacy knew the extreme severity of the situation.
�Mom, stop it!� Michelle screamed back. Stacy did not know what to do, feeling helpless on the phone. Stacy couldn�t come to protect her sister from the monstrosity that was her mother. She was too afraid, and at the same time, Stacy wanted to jump through the phone to block her mother from her sister.
�Michelle . . . Michelle!� Stacy screamed into the phone. Her room was dim with a single lamp standing on her side. Her computer was on with a half finished poem for school, but Stacy was lost in the voices calling her over the cell phone, late at night. �Michelle! What�s going on! Let me talk to Mom.� It was a brave act for Stacy, to speak to her mother when she couldn�t even stand to look at her. Stacy was scared with her palms sweating, her heart falling to the ground, her mouth becoming dry, and her arm trembling. Charlotte came on Michelle�s cell phone,
�Stacy, you better save your sister. She needs your help.�
Stacy replied, full of anger, �Leave her alone, Mom. She can fend for herself. I don�t have to her rescue because she didn�t do anything for you to warrant kicking her out.�
Charlotte laughed, not paying attention to Stacy�s point, �Oh can she?! Well, she can help sneak your stuff out of the house but you can�t help save her ass when I�m here yelling at her!�
Stacy trembled as she tried to think of something to scream at her mother to stop her from terrorizing Michelle. �Michelle hasn�t done anything! Leave her alone!� Stacy finally came out with while listening to a struggle over the phone, �Stop hurting her. I know you�re only doing this to get to me and it won�t work!�
Again Charlotte doesn�t understand Stacy. Instead, Charlotte completely ignores Stacy�s statement, �You won�t even come help your sister? You can boss her around, give her orders, tell her what to do and what you want, but you won�t help your sister?�
Stacy stands up, yelling into the receiver, �Leave her alone!!!� Suddenly, there�s silence on the receiver. �Hello! Hello!?� The phone has been disconnected. Stacy quickly redials the number, her arms shaking terribly. Tears streaming out of her eyes, she held onto the cell phone with both hands, resisting a total breakdown. Her sister finally answers.
�Michelle, what�s going on?!� Stacy can�t hear her own voice. She is too afraid of God and his plan now. She is too afraid of the power she does not have against the will of her enemy, and what her enemy�s power of free will can do to her sister.
�Stacy! Stacy! She�s going to break my video games! I�m gonna kill her!� Michelle�s violent temper flared in her voice and suddenly she left the cell phone on.
�No!! Michelle!� All that Stacy could hear was screaming on the other end from Michelle for her mother to let go of her video games. Stacy could hear her mother screaming back, a loud pounding noise and Michelle�s terrified shrieks. Stacy was yelling at the receiver, calling her mother�s name, calling her sister�s name, cursing God and desperately trying to get someone�s attention. However, the phone disconnected again and Stacy jumped back into her chair to redial the number. She threw her elbows on the desk and ran her hands through her hair. Stacy shook her legs with impatience at listening to the cell phone ring. When she received Michelle�s voice mail, Stacy hung up and redialed the number again. Five minutes later, no one had picked up and Stacy was scared that someone was seriously hurt. She thought about trying to call someone else, but her boyfriend was at work and the neighbors around her were probably upset that Stacy was making so much noise, at such a late hour. Finally, someone answered,
�Stacy?� Michelle�s voice came onto the receiver.
�Michelle! Are you okay??� Stacy waited.
Michelle replied, �Yeah. I�m out. It�s done.�
�What happened?� Stacy asked.
�She hit me, a lot, and then she helped me pack my stuff.�
* * *
Three truck loads later, the room was clear. Stacy takes one last look at the pink that was her room. Images of what had been - are now replaced by the emptiness of the room now. Why? There are questions that Stacy can not answer and it is a discomfort to watch everything she had worked for taken away from her by the very person who had given it all to her. Years ago, Stacy had moved to her mother�s home to escape the neglect of her biological father. Stacy wanted to have something better than a house that was cold, than old rags that were her clothes, than no food. She thought that her mother was the best person in the world, trusting her with everything a child should be able to trust their parent. Even though Stacy could never understand why her mother always made her cry late at night when they talked, she still sat on the bar stool by the counter that wrapped around from the family room to the kitchen every night, so she could spend time with her mother. One night, though, while crying and walking up to her room, Stacy finally told herself that she wasn�t going to do it anymore. Believing she could talk to her step dad, Stacy turned to Richard and found no that there was compassion in him either. In the end, any conversations with her parents were never too personal.
You never expect relationships of any kind to go sour, Stacy thought as she walks down the stairs. Most often then not, relationships with significant others are the type of companionship which is so dispensable because strangers agree to stay together. It is seen that because strangers have no past connections, the agreement can be terminated at any time and without any plausible warning. Friendships are another type of relationship, tending to endure longer, because a friend is more willing to understand imperfections. However, friendships are still subject to disintegration. Trust, faith, devotion, compassion, and warmth � all these feelings are necessary, but the exact opposite can be destructive. Both parties have to give equally, because it is understood that both parties want to. However, relationships between family members are the most the important and unique kind of relationships a person will ever have in their life. Whether you put in everything you have, or nothing at all, these people will be your brothers and sisters; mothers and fathers; grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins � there always lives a deep obligation that one can not easily throw away without feeling guilt. We find ourselves bounded forever by blood, by skin, by culture, by morals, by values, by any means possible, to these people. When you�re born into a community, you grow up with their identity. So, when you�re rejected from someone you are connected to, that you have for all of your life cared for unconditionally, it becomes a pain that hurts in the soul; intense in the heart. It matters not the choice to live together or to live countries away; it matters not how we choice to be a part of a family, whether we choice to welcome relatives warmly into our home or we kick them out on the most dangerous of streets in the world; you can�t deny, you can�t reject, you can�t escape family.
Stacy hits the ground, from walking down the stairs, and an earthquake feels like it flows out, like a pebble hitting a lake and waves circle outward. She�ll never return to that room she feels so bonded to. It�s a pain that throbs continually throughout the day in describing every aspect of this experience. Stacy feels that she is bonded to the house and to the people living in it, no matter what happens. Here she is, though, ready to go downstairs to the half finished basement and remove the Christmas present her and Jon built for her little brothers. At the same time, the sadness was transforming into a flaring of anger and vengefulness. Her step dad sits, now, on the couch and smokes a cigarette, carefully watching Stacy as she slowly walks through the kitchen. Every step she makes, echoes in her mind and feels detached from the world. It�s as if reality isn�t what she sees and everything is a dream badly gone wrong. Why can�t Stacy pinch herself away from the madness that is her dysfunctional family? Down the stairs, she starts, and that feeling of doom grows and grows. Soon, she will be out, and her things will be removed � her life will be removed.
Charlotte stood looking at the magnificent project that sat on a pool table. Rail lines ran criss-cross, under and over, and through a great big mountain made out of plaster. Almost finished, Jon stopped coming over when Stacy had told him that it was too dangerous to work on the project. Stacy kept thinking about how hard they worked on the railroad as she came down the stairs and looked at Michelle and Scott; they were exhausted from lifting mattresses and dressers onto the trucks. It felt like a never ending dreadful event in their lives, and Stacy is most connected to this trauma about to happen.
The basement is much cooler than the rest of the house because there is no humidity below the ground level. A gray carpet lies on top of black and off white tiling, only covering half the basement, and it is cold to the bare foot. An out-of-date red plaid couch and matching chair fit on the carpet with a coffee table and a television. Video games are scattered with toys, movies, and instruction booklets. On the other side of the basement there are wooden shelves made into the wall. Toys and clutter hang off the shelves and old baby toys pushed against the wall and lay on the floor. A messy computer table is cramped on the other side of the wall where the pool table sits. Next to the computer table is an entrance to an unfinished part of the basement that includes a humidifier, a washer and dryer, a refrigerator, storage for food, a freezer, an old piano, and older couch, clutter of boxes, and a work area for Richard.
Unfortunately, the pool table where the train set sits is very fragile and prepared to fall because the screws are missing for the sides of the legs. Clearly, the train is unwanted because no one tried to fix the table. Charlotte and Stacy study the railroad, which was so delicately built, deciding how it should be brought up the stairs. After a long debate between Charlotte and Stacy, the mountain, made out of Styrofoam and newspaper, has to be chopped down because it couldn�t fit in the doorway. Unbearable for Stacy, she decides to turn her back while her sister and friend watch Charlotte cut the mountain. Stacy kept thinking about how Jon is going to be hurt by the destruction of a present he put his heart into. He cares about her little brothers just as much as she did, and Stacy knows how important it was to the both of them that they give the boys a present like this. Yet, here is a woman who wouldn�t recognize the thought and the love that had been placed into this project that took a week to make � days of working more than 12 hours on it. It tore Stacy apart and brought back painful memories.
* * *
A few days after Christmas ended; Jon and Stacy decided that they would stop at her house to continue working on the train set they gave to Stacy�s three younger brothers. The boys were excited to have received it and even more thrilled as they watched it be built. Jon took pride in the creativity he put into the railroad, and Stacy saw his dedication and bondage he quickly established with the three boys. He came over to visit Stacy, and end up playing pretend fighting games with the aggressive little boys. It filled Stacy�s heart with joy to know that her boyfriend cared about her little brothers as dearly as she did. When Jon admitted to Stacy that he loved her little brothers, the comment brought tears to her eyes. She fell in love with Jon because he understood the importance of family.
It got late. At about 1 o�clock in the morning, Stacy and Jon were working on a part of the railroad track when they heard screaming coming from upstairs. Stacy�s parents were drunk and they were beginning a rather large fight. She became embarrassed, scared, and cuddled next to Jon. He looked to the stairs and whispered, �It�ll be okay.� He kissed her on the head and continued working. Stacy and Jon worked quietly for an hour. During so, they heard odd noises coming from upstairs as the argument was getting heated. Suddenly, someone was becoming violent and a scuffled could be heard hitting into things. The screams were loud, even though the three boys were sleeping in rooms down the hall from where the kitchen was. Stacy tried hard to keep her composure, but it was difficult when her parents were fighting about her. Charlotte was accusing Richard of placing favoritism on Stacy and Richard was trying to defend himself. Richard was trying to tell Charlotte that Stacy wouldn�t talk to her because she was a drunk. At every mention of Charlotte�s unknown alcoholism, she would switch blame to a scapegoat, and converted Richard�s defense onto himself. Charlotte began to criticize his laziness around the house and challenged Richard�s principles or dignity and integrity.
Drunk, lost; Stacy and Jon listened to Charlotte threaten that she would destroy Richard�s valued and extensive music collection. Foot steps could be heard walking to the television where the CD collection was stored in boxes underneath the television shelf. To Stacy and Jon, the noises upstairs were becoming erratic and uncontrollable. They couldn�t detect who was doing what any longer because it sounded like someone was attacking. Chaos in the noise, footsteps were heard running into the kitchen that was it sounded like Richard had gotten his drunken and dangerous hands on Charlotte. That was how Charlotte got attention, by threatening something that was close and dear to someone�s heart. In that way, Charlotte knew that she would get a reaction of some kind. If you couldn�t control your anger, then you broke down and found yourself at the mercy of her empty threats, like Richard. In the end, he always became submissive to her dominance. If you could control your anger, like Stacy, then you got a constant string of threats at the things she cared about so deeply � her brothers, her boyfriend, her school work, her poems, her softball, the people in her lives that mattered, and countless things. Charlotte always made remarks and never intended that they be fulfilled, but when they were, suddenly Charlotte was at the mercy of your feet. That was how Stacy got her control and Charlotte couldn�t deal with the lost of dominance. That was when Charlotte drew the line and found that to deal with the problem; she had to literally get Stacy out of her house.
Eventually, the noise died out and it seemed safe for Stacy and Jon to come upstairs. They left their mess and went upstairs to discover a kitchen that was bare and dark. The couple walked through and to the hallway leading to the living room, finding Charlotte packing clothes for Richard. Stacy watched her mother; her eyes almost completely closed and seemed to be sleep walking. Hangers hung from the hand bar of the stairs and bags of black garbage bags were placed all across the ground. Their hearts pound as Jon quickly walked to the door. Stacy hung on to it as Jon turned to her when he stepped out. �Go straight upstairs. Don�t look at her. Don�t think twice about it. Go straight to your room and go to bed. I�ll call you when I get home to check on you, okay?�
Stacy stared at him. Fear, confusion, and a yearning to leave with him and for something better glowed in her bright and young face, �Okay, Jon. I�ll be waiting.�
That next morning, Stacy�s mom had a black eye and a limp. Nothing was ever acknowledged about the argument between the parents. Her little brother said nothing and Michelle and Stacy stayed quiet for the whole day. Stacy later learned that the fight was the last time Richard would defend her; he turned sides and began to support his wife because he, as well as Charlotte, feared going through another divorce. Stacy�s parents chose each other�s commitment over the love of their children.
* * *
It took all day. As quickly, as everyone tried to move, it is not until 5 o�clock that Stacy is ready to take the railroad and dressers to the storage unit the twins had rented. There is no good bye. There is no thank you. There is only a walk out of the house and across the yard to vehicles that seemed ceremonious. Charlotte�s mother criticized the girls for not showing their appreciation for all the help Charlotte had put. Stacy completely ignores her mother and leaves, still feeling the pains of vengeance from the railroad. Michelle walks back into the kitchen and forces a thank you out of her, but receives ridicule because it was not self-thought. So, the girls leave as quickly as they had moved in. Stacy doesn�t look back, but Michelle does take one last look at the enormous two � story house that was no longer theirs. Sometimes, it takes a while before reality truly hits a person. When it does, the results could be drastic.
* * *
A month later, Michelle will find herself in a horrible situation. She will get kicked out of the first home she will stay at and will become forced to live in a dark room that shares a kitchen and bathroom with four other rooms in a house. Stacy will go visit her sister only once because Stacy won�t like the room, getting chills in her bones for days after walking into the isolation and the darkness. She desperately wants Michelle to find a better place, but there will not be anything that she could do to change the situation. Stacy and Michelle will look into getting an apartment together, but because the girls are so young they will not be able to get into any place without a co-signature on any agreement. The best they will do is rent separate rooms from separate people, hoping that weeks down the road will give them an opportunity.
Despite these efforts, Michelle�s boyfriend will abandon Stacy�s sister, turning Michelle�s world upside down. Stacy will come home one night from work and talk to her sister on the phone, asking her to come over her house. Michelle will insist that she stays home and Stacy will not be sure that everything is okay. At about two o�clock in the morning, Stacy will find herself on the telephone to her mother, driving 80 miles an hour, and screaming for her to go to the hospital where her sister will be taken after an overdose on sleeping pills. Stacy, Jon, and Charlotte will stay at the hospital all night and pray that Michelle would be okay.
Michelle will eventually go back home. Her relationship with Stacy will be crushed because Michelle will no longer talk to her. They won�t live in an apartment together. They won�t share a life together. Stacy won�t ever get to go home.
* * *
Stacy and Michelle go their separate ways when night time falls. So, Stacy goes to Jon�s house to pick him up. With a heavy heart Stacy walks the path to his beautiful, quaint, white colonial house with blue shutters. She feels a great honor and appreciation for the structure and landscaping. Ringing the doorbell, Stacy notices the absence of the stars. It is cloudy and cool; the humidity releases from the air and onto dew on the grass and cars. Stacy anticipates the smile from her boyfriend as he opens the door. He walks out and follows her to her car. They get in and Jon gives her a kiss. �How was it?�
�Horrible.� Stacy looks out the windshield as the car starts to drive. They are silent when Stacy drives twenty minutes to her friend�s apartment. Only when the couple settles into her room, the doorway only covered by curtains, will Stacy tell Jon what had happened. She told him about meeting her sister at Walmart. Stacy explains to Jon about her mother�s criticisms and rude comments while they take out her things. When she mentioned the railroad, though, Jon become quietly irate. He stares at the wall and curses Stacy�s mother.
�She�s a bitch. I�ll never look at her the same way again.� Stacy is afraid that Jon�s dislike for her mother will affect their relationship. Yet, his anger does not stop Jon from grabbing Stacy and embracing her. Finally after all the endurance and strength, after the struggling to hold to sentimentality, Stacy breaks down and cries long and hard. She has lost a war, receiving a killing blow. Tears retch out of Stacy, she screams out in agonizing pain; as if someone had placed a long, rusty pin in the back of her and twists it over and over again. Stacy slips off the bed she was sitting on, falling to the floor and on her knees. Jon holds on and Stacy grips him tightly in her arms. Jon can not stop her from falling, he can not stop her pain and he can not help her retrieve her family from pain. All Jon can do is rock her, a tear falling out of his eye in empathy. They both feel anger that will never be satisfied, but always simmering deep inside.
Stacy is so attached to her family that she won�t be able to stop crying. It will take months of lonely nights before Stacy will feel better about herself. Stacy will fear that there will always be an unfulfilled void in her life. She will fear that she will never find comfort nor a replacement for people that made up her past and are part of her identity. Stacy is afraid that stubbornness and anger will always keep the family separated; with no promise of a compromise in the future. Stacy is afraid her younger brothers will become victims as well, with no promise of escape.
Jon rubs her back and comforts as much he can, but he cannot deny what they both know � that no matter how she lives her life from now on, she can�t escape family. In everything that she does, in every moral aspect of life, and with every memory she has, family is the one thing that haunts souls and gives nightmares to demons.
