Never Worked

Chapter 4

The next few years sort of went the same way as far as my relationship with my father was concerned. He would call, promise all these wonderful things, and tell me he loved me before hanging up and essentially doing none of the things he promised. It was routine, and I learned to deal with and expect disappointment. It was always better when you didn't get your hopes up. My mom got us a little townhouse in Baltimore County, closer to her job. I had to share a room and bed with her, but it was home. I was an adult before I realized her forcing me to share a bed with her was unnecessary. She just didn't want to give up her precious living room set, so she took my bed instead.

I eventually and forcefully stopped staring at the side of Mitchell's head and had successfully deluded my brother and myself into believing that I no longer liked him. He was the past. A little girl crush that was no longer necessary. I kept with my tradition of staying away from the girls and favoring hanging around with the boys. They still played the dozens, there was just a lot more cussing involved now.

Now, not only was I funny looking, but I had gained a lot of weight too. It wasn't safe to go outside and play in some of the neighborhoods we had previously lived in. So I was the fat, quiet shy girl who was really smart and stayed in the school studio to do art whenever I wasn't in class. I was still making my own masterpieces. DeAndre was the 6' defensive lineman on the varsity football team now, so I was also un-affectionately known as "Franklyn's Sister" because his last name was on his jersey. Cute, I know.

I learned early on in high school to stay as quiet and as invisible as possible. The more people who saw you, the more likely you were to become someone's target that day. Our high school only graduated about fifty percent of its students and Baltimore wasn't exactly known for its outstanding education. So, among the gang members, future baby mommas, and thugs trying to be "hard" you could easily become the joke for the day. I learned a lot more than the STEM subjects: 

Keep your head down. Don't look anyone in the eye. Never speak up unless absolutely necessary. They don't need to know you know every answer the teacher asks, it'll just make them feel stupid. Don't let the people around you know that you already know every vocabulary word the instructor is about to "teach" you. Don't tell them you don't study for the tests because you're able to remember all of the coursework. Don't show them your grades, and don't ask about theirs, they'll just return the inquiry.

Don't worry about boys. They don't want you anyway. And even if by some ludicrous chance they did, DeAndre and his football friends would have their head before he let you go out with any of them. Stay focused on your artwork, designs, and school work. Your brain is your only way out of this hell hole, so use it. Use it without letting anyone know you're using it. Knowledge is power, but ignorance is bliss. So stay powerful and let them blissfully ignore you, it's safer.

My mom was going through her own metamorphous. Looking back on it now, I guess she was just dealing with what Dad put her through and struggling to keep things together. She became angry. She would yell almost every day, and most of the time it was at me. She had gained weight after the divorce and had to have gastric bypass to get the weight off. I never looked at her any differently for it though, and I never saw her as fat or skinny. She was just mom. I guess she was angry for all she had lost and didn't know how to deal with it. When I started gaining weight she was seeing herself and seeing me make the same mistakes she had made. Which also made her angry.

Every piece of food was watched and every meal was monitored. I looked forward to the time of day when I would come home from school before mom was home from work and I could eat what I wanted. Even if it only ended in her yelling some more because the food was gone. I never went outside and played. You needed friends for that and my only friends were my paintings, hand-made purses, and sketches. Sad, I know, but it was reality. Alienating was my bread and butter. I wasn't like any of the other kids, so why should I spend time with them outside of school when I didn't have to. It was enough work to appear normal around them at school, why would I sign on for extra work.

At home, I could watch Golden Girls and sew in peace. I could daydream about being happy and just live in the future where I went off to college, got skinny, had ton of friends and every boy wanted me. And DeAndre couldn't do anything about it from home. Even sadder, yes I'm aware.

I was a virgin, of course. There were already girls walking around school pregnant, I was NOT trying to be one of them. Plus sex involved getting close to someone and letting them get close to you. I couldn't do that. Besides, no one would want to have sex with me anyway. Being "wanted" at all was foreign to me. My own father wanted nothing to do with me, why should anyone else?

I was waiting until I was married, yes I was going to get married. When I went to college and got skinny guys would love me. I was amazing on the inside, it was the outside that was horrific. I wasn't waiting because I wanted to. You could only find the right man if you waited. God wanted you to and a bad man wouldn't wait until marriage for sex so you could weed out the undesirables. It made perfect sense to me. Abusers wouldn't wait until marriage. Molesters wouldn't wait until marriage. Dad wouldn't have waited until marriage. I could find a good one and live happily ever after while simultaneously staying the size four I always wanted to be. You may think this was unrealistic, but I believed this plan would work.

All I had to do was fix myself. I couldn't stand to be touched. Not nicely anyway. I could take a punch, a slap, even a tackle, DeAndre did those often. Bored football players tend to have energy to burn. I got burned a lot growing up. But gentle, revenant touches completely freaked me out. I couldn't stand for anyone to rub my back, caress my hand, or even hug me unless I was braced for it. My heartbeat raced, I couldn't breathe. I'd break out in a sweat, tense up entirely, and wouldn't be able to focus until they stopped touching me. At which time I would suddenly remember how to breathe and wait for my heart rate to go back to its normal pace.

It didn't matter who it was, even my mother was banned from touching me without warning or permission. You could always see how it affected me in my face. My entire face would tense up and freeze in a grimace. She never did understand it. She would ask why I couldn't stand it and even went as far as asking if someone had abused me in the past. The sad part? I couldn't answer her. I didn't know how or why I was this way. I only knew I was going to have to figure it out and fix it before I met my future husband and had my happily ever after in the suburbs somewhere.

They say, "If you wanna hear God laugh, just tell him what YOU'VE got planned."