Where We Begin

Chapter 1 - Maybe You Can Make Some Friends

June 30th, 2002 - Busta

My mom stood in the doorway with her arms folded and that familiar, irritated look in her eyes. I sat on my bed, in my boxers, in the glow of my laptop, watching cat videos. Classic us.

"It's time for you to get out of this room." She walked over to the window and threw open the curtain.

"Aghhhh are you trying to blind me?! It's too sunny!" I yelled, dramatically falling over and pulling my plaid blanket over my eyes.

Mom moved on to the second window. "It California, it's supposed to be sunny. Who doesn't like sunny?"

"We have been here a month and it hasn't rained once. That's just weird." My words came out muffled from under the comforter.

"We have been here a month and you've barely left this room. That's just weird," she said. 

I poked my head out and opened my mouth, then quickly closed it. Looking at my laptop, I realized I was on hour three of my cute animals doing stupid things video binge... and that maybe she had a point.

Like she was reading my mind, my mom gave me one more concerned glance. "I know, I'm right. Get up and come down for lunch, please." 

She walked out of the room, but from halfway down the stairs called back "...With pants on."

I was becoming too predictable.

I got up and looked out the window at the rolling hills in the distance and the neatly manicured palm trees lining the street, swaying in the breeze. Mount Blue was an alien planet compared to my neighborhood in Chicago. Back there I lived in a two bedroom townhouse and shared a room with my little brother Buddy. My view was of my dad's favorite liquor store right across the street. 

As much as I don't want to admit it, the scenery here is definitely a lot better. What sucks it that we got here right at the beginning of summer and I don't know anyone.

Our move was pretty sudden when my parents got divorced. It wasn't a smooth or easy process for any of us, because my dad is a really bad guy. Always drunk and always pissed. I was 11 the first time I saw him hit my mom, but that was just the first time I saw. After I discovered their secret, it really started getting out of control. He didn't have to bother to hide his drinking as much and I was fair game all of a sudden. 

I'd rather him take it out on me then my mom or my brother. If he hit me, he wasn't hitting them. Unfortunately, it wasn't long before Buddy was getting the brunt of his anger too. 

We were all too scared to do anything about it. I'm still furious at myself for never calling the cops, but what if they couldn't do anything? Then we would all have to pay for it. If it was just me, I would have, but I didn't want to make things worse for my mom and brother. 

Luckily for us, my dad got himself arrested for getting in a bar fight. He actually slashed a guy in the face with a broken beer bottle. My mom refused to post bail and with him behind bars for a while, she decided it was time to leave him.

So how does a newly single mom with two boys, no job and no money end up in a four bedroom, five bathroom house in Mount Blue, CA? How do I go from bunk beds to a gigantic room over the two car garage? Aunt Ivy. 

My mom's younger sister is this like yoga guru who spends most of her time traveling and holding these weeks long women's only retreats in places like Bali and Belize. Apparently people are more than willing to drop a couple grand for some inner peace. When Ivy heard about my dad and what he did to us, she was horrified this had been happening for so long and she insisted we move in with her.