Part II: Journeys (Chapter 43)
Perhaps I’m being mean-spirited.
When Ruby writes to me about
her childhood, I call Nana long distance and read the letter to her.
I just want Nana to know the
consequences of her actions.
Shel, my fiancé, says people need
to understand consequences....
Timber City, AK
July
7, 1983
Dear
Sam,
Isn’t
she beautiful? We have named her Tess, after Raymond’s great aunt who passed last
year. Our Tess was born on the 4th of July, a real firecracker, too. She’s
going to be a real fighter, I can tell. It’s a good thing, too; she’s going to
need all she’s got to get through this crazy, mixed-up world.
I can’t believe how small and delicate she seems, and yet the
strength in her tiny hands never ceases to amaze me...I can’t tell you how
wonderful it is being a mother; makes me wonder why we waited so long.
I felt afraid, Sam. I’ve always feared that something vitally
important was missing in my psychological makeup, that my kids would grow up
warped. Maybe I’d be a bad mother, just like our mother. Genes are funny. And
then, there’s Mom – Aunt Vivian, I mean. Double whammy.
Sam, I never told you this – I was afraid it would sound like
sour grapes – but my childhood was hell. I didn’t know it then, but Aunt Viv
was, well, strange.
Of course, back then, I had no idea what “strange” really
meant – I had no point of reference.
But as I grew up, I began to realize that my life was anything
but normal.
This is painful to write about because I still love my Aunt
Viv – I just don’t understand her – so please bear with me.
We lived in a small house in Hot Springs, where Viv still
lives. From the outside, it looks like any other house on the block: white
siding, picket fence, small garden, but you wouldn’t believe the inside. Viv
saves everything, I mean literally
everything: cereal boxes, old newspapers from 15-20 years ago, old clothes,
garbage. Says she’s just recycling stuff, but that’s bunk. None of it goes
anywhere. You name it, she has it, and it’s stacked everywhere: on chairs,
tables, TV. To save your life, you couldn’t sit down in the living room, and
the junk is piled high to the ceiling. No floor space – just pathways going
from room to room, like a maze. When I was small, I remember getting up at
night and losing my way to the bathroom, and it was scary. I thought monsters
were after me. Even my room was filled with junk, although I managed to clear
out a space around the bed.
I fought hard for that space, and sometimes I even won, but
mostly I lost my battles with her....
Her toilet is broken – has been for the past 15 years. We used
a chamber pot, which I had to empty outside twice a day. I don’t know what Viv
does now. Can’t imagine she’d want to dirty her hands. So maybe it all piles
up, and she hides it under the bed, or in the closet. God only knows.
You remember all the pictures Aunt Viv sent you? Do you
remember any of them set indoors (other than church)? Now you know why.
None of that weird stuff would have been so bad if it hadn’t
been for the beatings.
The beatings started when I hit junior high. I had just gotten
my period; I was starting to develop.
That first time, she called me a “slut” when I came home from
school five minutes late – that I was just like my mother, which was very
confusing because I thought she was my mother. And I thought Dean Platts was my
uncle. No one had told me otherwise. It was a real shock hearing about our
mother while getting the shit knocked out of me.
This all went on for years. I never knew when I was going to
get a beating – never knew what would set her off. It was like walking a
tightrope all the time – you never knew what would make you fall off and get
the belt.
When I was 15, Viv beat me so badly; I still bear the scars on
my back. After that, I hated her guts. I really thought she was going to kill
me or that I’d get fed up and kill her.
Either way, one of us was going to end up dead, the other in
jail.
I ran away from home and took my case to social services. I
found out Aunt Viv hadn’t bothered to adopt me, that she had no parental
rights, so I filed papers for changing my legal status to “emancipated minor.”
My petition was denied, but the courts agreed I could live with Viv’s neighbor
Harriet Andersen. As long as I didn’t have to live with my aunt, I was happy – I
would have lived with anyone, the devil himself. All I wanted to do was get
through school and start my life over. Make some sense out of everything.
Harriet helped me through that process – we’re still close.
Once, when Viv went on the warpath, Harriet even got a restraining order
against Viv.
I can’t figure out what went wrong with Viv and why she agreed
to raise me if she hated kids so much. I later found out she had been married
once but divorced within a year. There was also talk of a miscarriage years
before I came along, but I don’t know if that’s true.
So now you know the truth about my early life. I don’t mean to
make anyone feel guilty. Who could have predicted this? I’m sure the Mallorys
felt they did what they had to do.
I called Viv about Tess – I just didn’t want her to accuse me
of being secretive and petty. You know what she said?
“You, a baby? Who’s the father?”
Well, I tried. All I know, my daughter’s going to have a
better life than I ever had. She’s going to be loved like no other baby has
been loved. That’s my promise.
You want to know the best part?
I’m finally free of the little traps which have been holding
me hostage for all these years.
As always,
Ruby