I climbed across the mountain tops

Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven

I somehow managed to forget a traumatizing incident that occurred shortly before Mom moved out and Dad moved in. Well, not "somehow managed" - I've selectively lessened the importance of said incident pretty much since day one for my own sanity.

You see, my mom was just barely 30 with three children ranging in age from three to thirteen.  She became a mother at the tender age of 17 - she didn't even finish high school.  Needless to say, she probably felt a little... stifled, like she was missing out.  (Her actions, her choices, blah, blah, blah... I know.)  So, it seemed the advent of her 30th birthday was something of a rebellious awakening for her.  She started partying, but had the good grace/presence of mind to do so on the weekends we were at Dad's - the worst we encountered was coming home to her cleaning up the empties that were strewn about the house the morning after a party.

Until.

I had been "babysitting" my siblings for a few years at this point, if watching them while Mom ran to the grocery store for 20 minutes counts as babysitting.  As well, by the age of 13, I had picked up a couple of babysitting gigs in the neighbourhood.  It was no secret that, even in my own home with my siblings, I could not, would not go to sleep until parents were home and doors were locked - I just couldn't do it (this is probably my earliest memory of my ongoing sleep issues).  Mom was well aware of this.

I'm not sure how long it was before Mom moved out and Dad moved in - I want to say it was spring, so probably not long.  Hell, for all I know it might have been one of the reasons Mom moved out and Dad moved in.  Mom decided to go out with a girlfriend on a Thursday night - a school night.  I have no idea what the occasion was or if there was one.  I do know that at 11pm, I was annoyed because I needed to go to bed so I could be up for school in the morning.  At 12am, I was getting worried.  At 1am, I started calling around to find out when the bars closed (2am).  At 2am, 3am, 4am I panicked.  This was back in the day before cell phones: I had no way of getting ahold of her.  (Which, now?  Pisses me the fuck off - how irresponsible is it to leave a 13-year old with a 7- and 3-year old alone ALL NIGHT with no means of getting in touch in case of an emergency?  Fuck sakes.)

At 5am, I called Dad, sobbing hysterically into the phone, apologizing for waking him up.  He?  Chastised me for waiting so long to phone.  He came over to the house and sat with me until Nick and Taylor woke up, making up some excuse as to why Daddy was there, but Mommy wasn't.  As school time grew nearer, we were all fed and dressed; Dad was ferrying us out to his car (to take Nick to school, and to drop Taylor and I off at his girlfriend's, who ran a daycare - I wasn't going to school that day because I had been up all. night. long. terrified my mother was dead in a ditch somewhere) when a strange car pulled into the driveway.

The passenger door opened and some dude stepped out, pushing the seat forward so Mom and her friend could climb out of the back seat.  As Dad straightened from where he was tucking Taylor into the car, the driver decided to step out of the car - I don't know if it was bullshit male posturing or what.  We all stood there, awkwardly, all of us trying not to make eye contact.  I hurried to get into the car before Mom could say anything - even at the tender age of 13, I wasn't stupid: I was pissed the fuck off to know that my mother was too busy doing god knows what with these guys to even call and let me know she was okay and wasn't coming home.  I was so very mad.  I was so very hurt.

I don't think it's ever really been discussed properly to this day (which, after writing that bit about calling to let me know she wasn't coming home is awfully ironic considering how much shit I got for staying out all night at 19 - remind me to tell you that story).  I'm pretty sure there was some half-assed, extremely uncomfortable apology, but certainly no explanation and definitely nothing to quell my hurt and anger over being made to worry in exchange for some drunken dance floor groping.  (That's not entirely fair: because it's never been discussed, I have no earthly clue if there was some logical explanation, like a trip to the ER that rendered ALL of them incapable of using a pay phone.  Because those WERE still around back then.)  I do know that this incident and my reaction to it would come back to bite me in the ass.

From Dad.