Saturday, September 17, 2011

Saturday Stories #4

If you are reading this and you know me personally, please know that it is not my intention to hurt, harm, or disrespect anyone.  These are events the way that I remember them, the way I lived them, how I felt about them. This is only about me.  Nobody else. This is my story.

I think I can.  I know I can.  I will.

Read Part 1 here.

She’s a Little Runaway Part 2

That night was the beginning. The beginning of hell for my poor parents and a different life for me.  Am I sorry?  No.  I am sorry that I hurt my parents.  I am sorry that my actions following that night caused my parents relationships to change - with my Aunt, my Grandma, with me and my brother; with each other.  Am I sorry for how things turned out for me?  No.  Even though it got so hard I thought I just wanted to run farther and faster.  I would not be me if where not for all of that past and despite my glaring flaws, I like me.

So that night, I slept at my Grandma's.  I do not remember much about the next day other than it was emotional.  My parents were beside themselves and I just wanted to go do what I wanted to do.  I left again in shorts and t-shirt with no shoes, hitching a ride into town and to a party. I came home from the party with Debbie and stayed with her at my Aunt's for the next week or so

I spent the rest of the summer I running away.

When we got back to Trail my Mum was not letting me out of her sight.  I had other ideas and took myself to the arcade across town.  Sitting there feeling sorry for myself, thinking that I would never see the Pebble Tosser (we will call him PT for short)  and suddenly out of the blue, in walks his brother.  I was more than a little excited.  I ran up to him and and gave him the biggest hug I could muster.  They were never far apart - after hugging Tim I ran outside to look for PT.  He was there.  In his big black menacing looking car. (Aside: I have to tell you that now, as the mother of a daughter, I would be terrified of this guy.  Long hair, heavy metal t shirt, big black car (with a big back seat!), looking older than his 17 years...)

We made plans for them to pick me up about a block from my parents'.  I waited until everyone was settled down for the night, locked my bedroom door and went out my window.  That night was crazy.  We started the night at friends where PT pressured me into having sex with him, we got evicted from there and spent the rest of the night sleeping in a culvert under the highway near an old run down cemetery.  Cold, scary, and and maybe a little bit thrilling (again I SO DO NOT WANT my daughter doing anything even close to this). In the morning we made our way to PT's house and he the took me to my Aunt's.  I stay there for a few days and then my Uncle brought me home.

When I arrived there, I think my Dad was at work because my Mum was alone, very emotional, and left to deal with me.  I walked in the door with my half a dozen duffle bags containing my clothes and other precious items, and she said "If you are going to go, just go now."  I took her seriously and walked out the door. Perhaps not my greatest moment. I was left to trudge through the neighborhood loaded down with too many bags in the heat of August.  About half way through the neighborhood, I spotted the police - my instinct was that they were looking for me.  I dumped all of my stuff in a friend's yard and tried to look casual.  It did not work.  They picked me up and took me to the station.  I am not sure what happened after that other than from my perspective which was that the cop was a total jerk and the bed in the jail cell they put me in was really uncomfortable.

In the wee hours of the morning I was brought to a foster home.  In hind sight, I think the decision was made that night but they wanted me to sweat it out a little.  The foster home was interesting, a story for another day.


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