Authors: Cindi Jones
I finally relinquished the better part of my stolen stash.
I had been keeping it all.
I still had Lace’s white socks and shoes that had not fit for years.
I could no longer manage the risk of hiding these things.
It was amazing just how much I had.
I filled three large paper grocery sacks and waited until I could hear the garbage truck
come,
early one morning. Right before it came to my house, I slipped out with my treasures.
I carefully squished them into the cans already placed in position.
And just as I finished, the colossal rancorous dragon lumbered to the curbside.
I watched as my girl history went into the back end.
The garbage man pulled the lever and the big scoop came down and the dragon consumed my treasures, mixing them with everyone else’s garbage.
My trashy life was mixed with the neighbors’ garbage.
“The pervert who steals is only worth a truckload of garbage,” I glumly pondered.
I blindly wandered back into the house as the dragon slowly pulled away belching and coughing, choking on my filth.
I knew the value of garbage and I apparently was not worth that much.
The
Squirrel
kept on running, spinning the wheel, running, and sleeping only while I slept and even then, during my dreams, the
Squirrel
came back,
spinning ways to push me into damnation.
My stealing days were over.
“At least I can now be an honest person even if I am a pervert,” I reasoned.
Little did I know that the
Squirrel
would help me become the most despicable pervert in the world.
Over the next ten years, I would learn to betray every person that I ever loved. I would lie to them. I would steal their confidence. I would steal pieces of their precious lives. I would lead them on.
I, singularly, would be the source of anguish, embarrassment, and desperation for a full generation of my family.
How I hated the Rusty, how I abhorred the
Squirrel
. How I loathed every fiber of my being.
We were cleaning up after a big family meal at Nanna’s house.
My father’s siblings and all their children were running around the house.
The meal had been very nice.
And I don’t know how I ended up cleaning in the kitchen.
I was not one to volunteer for such things.
But I was holding a dish towel when a young woman appeared out of nowhere.
She was, perhaps a couple years older than I
was
.
“David,” said my aunt, “this is your sister.”
If there were a word in the English language that held a prolonged “uh” sound, it would be used here. All conversation stopped and everyone turned to look at us.
I could not understand.
I didn’t have a sister.
What a sister would have meant to me!
And yet here was a young attractive girl of 12 extending her hand to me.
“Hi” was all she said.
“Uh, ah, hi, my name is David,” I said as I returned my hand.
She only stayed briefly, made the rounds, and then left.
I was confused.
I felt betrayed.
How could I have a sister and never have met her?
I had a stupid little brother all my life.
And I had a big sister?
My mind raced.
I still did not understand.
And then
,
the
Squirrel
started running ever faster and my thoughts fell into the abyss.
A sister.
A playmate.
A friend.
Girl clothes.
Oh how would it be to have a sister.
“Mom,” I as
ked later “Do I have a sister?”
She shirked it off and did not explain.
I had no answers.
It was a subject that we did not d
iscuss in the family.
I was
left to dream about my sister.
I would never have the sisterly companions
hip that I craved.
Or would I?
I wondered and schemed and invented wonderful daydreams with my sister.
A year passed and she came to the door.
I was in the living room and I was the first to arrive to answer
the front door
.
She looked at me sheepishly.
“Hi David,” she said.
“Who are you?”
“Why
,
I’m Dalene, we met last year.”
“You didn’t tell me your name,” I responded.
“Oh I’m sorry.
Will you give this to my Dad?” she said as she passed me a birthday card through the door. I watched her skip down the stairs and out to a waiting car.
She disappeared through an open door and the car whisked her away.
I gave Dad the card.
“Tell me about Dalene, Dad,” I asked.
I should have asked him
long before
.
Dad never beat around the bush much.
I remember that once I asked him about a word painted on the wall at school.
It was the F
bomb
.
Everyone made fun of me because I didn’t know what it meant. They were merciless.
It was one of those things that you never live down.
I would be teased for years over the incident.
He took me into his room and he told me everything about the sexual experience.
It was a very uncomfortable moment.
He talked about anatomy.
I didn’t like my anatomy and I didn’t like talking about it.
I
promised myself
that I would never have sex.
I just wished that my mother were there telling me and that my anatomy were different. I’m not saying that Dad didn’t do well in his discussion.
He was clear and very frank and told without prejudice or tainted with religious bias.
I hoped that we could a have a frank discussion about Dalene
with similar frankness
. I wanted to know my sister. “David,” he began “before I married your mother, I was married to another woman. It didn’t last long.
She and I did not get along. We had a daughter and named her Dalene,” he explained.
“But dad, why can’t I spend time with my sister?” I queried with desperation.
“Because,” he started as
he tightened and then relaxed his lips,
“
her mother won’t let her visit,” he explained.
I could tell he was holding the anger. Dad was quick to anger.
H
e was doing his best to hold it in. And that was all Dad wanted to tell me.
I would later learn that Dalene’s mother was unusual.
The word that most of the family used was “crazy”. I truly admire my Dad for his restraint at the time.
Apparently, he didn’t know Dalene all that well.
I
t wasn’t because he didn’t want to. Dalene
’s mother would not let Dad see her.
Dalene was instantly added to my list of secret daydreams.
A sister.
Before I turned eleven,
mother announced that she was pregnant.
The time flew by and before I knew it, my wish was sort of answered.
I had a sister. Her name was Charlotte.
What a beautiful name it was and what a pretty baby she was.
Dad worked late hours often and my mother participated in a local singing group.
Mom left me
to baby sit several times a week.
I enjoyed taking care of Charlotte.
She was a good baby.
But I never thought that Charlotte and I would ever have much to do with each other.
I was
eleven
years older.
I was changing her diapers.
I could hardly imagine her as an adult.
A few years passed and Charlotte was a little 5 year old pixie doll.
She had pretty light brown hair and a delightful smile.
She and I got along really well but tensions were always high between her and my brother Ben.
Charlotte had a trigger that Ben could fire at will.
“Mom! Ben is staring at me again!”
“Cut it out Ben,” my mother would yell from the other room.
Ring Ring.
I picked up the phone.
“Hi, can I talk to dad?” Dalene queried.
How I wanted to delay passing the call to Dad.
I wanted to spend time on the phone getting to know my sister.
And the
Squirrel
was spinning wildly attempting to push daydreams of Dalene and me to the forefront.
I forced the thoughts away.
“Da ay ad!” I cried, “Tel e phone!”
He quickly stepped from the living room to take the call.
“Hi Dalene, how are you?” he answered.
He looked at me as though I should leave the room.
I did.
Dad talked a short while and then hung up.
He took Mom aside and talked to her briefly and secretly.
Apparently they had made an agreement.
Then Dad gathered us kids together.
His voice broke slightly as he announced that Dalene was coming to live with us.
She was
eighteen
now.
She had fallen on some tough times Dad told us.
He advised us that we would treat her with respect and as a member of the family.
I was elated.
I was 16 and she was 18.
What a perfect time to have a sister. We could talk about all kinds of things.
Dating, music, and everything else that teenagers worry about.
I could not wait until she arrived.
It
was
but a few days
.
Before I knew it, she was sitting in a chair in the basement with Dad telling her the ground rules.
“You can smoke, but you had better do it outside.
I will not allow smoking in the house.
I want you to be in by…” and his voice faded as he noticed me peering in on the conversation.
I promptly
disappeared
and I heard him continue.
I was so anxious to really meet my sister.
And I finally did.
But we talked only briefly before she announced that she had to leave on a date.
“Great,” I thought “I’ll never be able to get to know her.”
I didn’t know how true those feelings would ring true. She was away all day long and came in only to sleep.
I didn’t get a single chance to talk with her.
B
efore I knew it, I stumbled in on a conversation she was having with Dad.
“Look Dalene, you are 18 and you are of legal age
.
You are welcome to stay here. I
f you want to leave and go to Texas you can. But if you do, you’ll be on your own. I don’t want you to come back. I will tell the family not to accept collec
t calls.”
She agreed and left.
She
didn’t even say goodbye to me.
My sister had arrived and departed like a summer shower.
Dad firmly instructed us not to accept any collect calls from that point forward.
“Oh Dalene
, why would you do this to me?” I lamented.
I would probably never, ever see her again.
Days passed into weeks and a couple of months passed.
Dad, a railroad worker, was going to Florida for some company trainin
g.
He was very excited to go.
He had never been on a business trip before.
A
nd we were all excited for him.
Nothing so exciting had happened in our family b
efore.
This was an extraordinary event.
H
e was even going to take a plane!
“
Ring….. Ring….
”
Dad had been gone a week.
Mom and the other two kids were gone somewhere. I ran to pick up the phone.
“Hi, this is the operator,” a woman said in the stereotypical nasal sound
“Will you accept the charges from Dalene…” and before she had finished, I answered “I’m sorry but I’ve been
told
to
not receive any collect calls.” T
hen I heard Dalene “Please, oh please hel…” and the operator cut her off “Thank you very much,” she said.
The call was troubling to me. She needed help and I had denied the call.
Dad came home and had exciting news to share with us.
He told of his training on the new locomotives which was pretty boring to me but then he went on to tell us about his visit to NASA.
I was always interested in space exploration and so I hung on every word.
I did tell him that Dalene had called and that I would not accept the charges.