Walking on Eggshells: Discovering Strength and Courage Amid Chaos (6 page)

When fall rolled around Dad was so afraid that Child Protective Services would take me again that he was afraid to enroll me in school. I guess he thought if CPS didn’t know I was still in Hawai’i
they wouldn’t come looking for me. So instead of classrooms and friends, I spent my entire fourth-grade year home alone. Dad and Ginny were there, but I rarely saw them, as most of the time they stayed in the bedroom. Drugs had taken hold of Dad again, and this time he really lost his way.

Most days I’d wake up on the filthy couch in our living room. Then I’d find a bag of Cheetos somewhere, go back to the living room, and turn on the television. After that I’d pull my blanket (which probably hadn’t ever been washed) around me. There I’d sit, just inches away from the television screen, all day. When I got too tired to watch any more I’d fall asleep on the couch. I didn’t go to school and I didn’t play with friends, as I had none. I really was as lonely and isolated as a child could be.

Technically Ginny was supposed to be homeschooling me, but I don’t remember that we had many school sessions. She was too wrapped up in my dad. I don’t remember that I was signed up through a homeschool program in the school or a homeschool association, but Ginny and I did go to a store to get some fourth-grade books, and once in a while she gave me a few assignments. I hate to admit it, but when Ginny was busy with Dad I’d read the teacher’s copy of the book so when she tested me I did well, even though I didn’t study. I tend to think “homeschool” was just a term Dad or Ginny had ready to throw out if anyone ever asked about me.

Every day when I woke up I hoped that this would be the day when Dad would come out of his room and spend some time with
me. I missed all the things we used to do together as a family, the parades, fishing, swimming, Bible stories, and all the family time we shared. Barbara and Tucker were in Alaska, and Leland was off on his own. I missed them all so much.

Leland, in fact, was now a dad himself, as his son Dakota had just been born. I was still fascinated with children who were younger than I, babies included, but we didn’t see much of Leland during this time. I think he saw what was going on in Dad’s life and didn’t want any part of it, so he stayed away.

Sometime that fall I became so desperate for my dad’s attention that I went to extreme measures to try to find it. One day I spent hours giving myself about a hundred hickeys all over my body. Then I ran to Dad and said, “Dad, look! There’s something terribly wrong with me.” Dad gave me one dry look and replied, “The only thing wrong with you is that you gave yourself a bunch of hickeys.”

Still crying out for attention, one afternoon I actually jumped out of a tree with the full intention of hurting myself. I thought if I were hurt, surely my dad would take some notice of me. I planned the jump in detail. The tree was next to our house, and the branch I jumped from must have been about ten feet up. Scratched, bloody, and bruised, I lay on the ground and screamed for my dad to come help me. Then I screamed some more. But no matter how long or loud I screamed, there was no response. This was definitely not in my plan. Eventually, as dusk fell, I made my way up to Dad’s bedroom, only to find the door locked and no answer to my knocks.

★

Beth Smith came to visit us twice during this time. Beth was great at bookkeeping and making sense of a business, so Dad asked her to come, as he needed her skills. The first time Beth came I think she stayed in a hotel for several days. But when Beth came to visit our house she found the living conditions in the home so deplorable that she immediately began cleaning the newest round of maggots out of the kitchen. Her number one goal now became getting Dad off drugs.

I was thrilled that Beth was there. Finally here was someone who would spend time with me. I was always seeking approval from Ginny, but she was always too busy when Dad wasn’t around. She paid attention to me when Dad was there, but when he wasn’t she yelled at me a lot and had a lot of mood swings that were directed at me.

Beth recently said that I was a total blabbermouth during her stay. And why not? It had been so long since I’d had anyone to talk to that all my pent-up words spilled out to Beth. I told her about Barbara’s Goth life and that Tucker had gotten arrested for something. When we went to the grocery store I was so glad to get out of the house that I was on hyperoverload. I showed Beth the way to the store and talked nonstop the entire time we were there.

Beth also told me that she was appalled when, during her visit, she and dad went to a movie. Dad apparently pulled out a crack
pipe and began smoking it in the theater. Even worse, he couldn’t understand why Beth was upset.

Ginny had thrown a fit when Beth showed up, but the two of them had only one major fight that I recall. It was a real doozy, with all the screeching and name-calling you could imagine. The argument took place either on Thanksgiving or a day or so after, and centered around a turkey that Beth cooked. Ginny apparently didn’t like the way the bird was prepared, and the fight was on. At one point Ginny howled at Dad, “Are you going to let her treat me like this?” Dad’s response was to throw Beth’s suitcase out the door along with a lot of yelling and door-slamming. Beth stayed in a hotel for a few days until she could catch a flight back to Colorado; and when Beth left, I went back to my Cheetos, television, and newly washed blanket.

With Beth gone, Nathan, dad’s sensei, was the only other person who ever came to our house. Nathan quickly became my only “friend.” He began coming over more and more, and before too long Nathan began taking me to his house, which wasn’t too far away.

The house was blue with white trim and was in a secluded area. It was furnished in a sparse oriental style, and the thing I remember most about it was how impeccably clean and orderly it was. I had the dramatic contrast of our home, which, in addition to the maggots, was as littered and filthy as a pigsty.

At his place, Nathan and I played Yahtzee, a dice game I enjoyed. But at that time in my life I would have enjoyed any game as long
as another person was playing it with me. Unfortunately, Nathan recognized that. Our Yahtzee games quickly turned into “strip Yahtzee,” where I’d have to take off a piece of clothing whenever he scored a point. His behavior then progressed to inappropriate touching. At age nine my breasts were starting to develop, and Nathan used to call me “Big Baby Lyssa.” I remember his thick fingers and his heavy older body touching me, grabbing my breasts.

I hated it. I hated him for doing it. The anger I feel toward him today is so huge that it could consume me if I let it. But I kept going back because he was the only person in the world who showed me any attention at all.

Nathan never raped me, but his touches were totally inappropriate. I even spent a number of nights sleeping with Nathan in his bed. The first few times I stayed at his house I was going to summer school three days a week, and my classes were much closer to his house than to ours.

I remember cuddling with Nathan, which in a weird, sick way made me feel safe. Now I can’t even stand to think about it without tears coming to my eyes and wanting to vomit. But even though I didn’t like what he was doing I was never afraid of Nathan, and I never thought of him as an abuser or a molester. In reality he was a pervert, but he was also my only friend.

Nathan’s girlfriend was a beautiful woman I’ll call Elissa, who was twenty-five to thirty years younger than he was. I wasn’t at all surprised when not too long after my dad met Elissa he began having an affair with her. For some reason I told Nathan this and
instead of getting mad about it, he instructed me to watch the next time they were together. He wanted me to report back and give him the details, which I did.

I clearly remember going to Dad’s door, peeking in, and then telling Nathan. I felt weird, though, when Nathan asked me to mimic the sounds Elissa made. At some point I must have realized that Nathan’s behavior toward me was not right and I told Dad. I wanted my dad to stand up for me; I really wanted him to do something to get Nathan’s behavior to stop. But instead, Dad just said that Nathan was a creepy but harmless old man.

Nathan was never punished for his behavior toward me, and I often wonder if he ever found other little girls to be inappropriate with. How many other dads let him touch their daughters? I should have told someone else—anyone—what was going on, but in my isolated existence, there was simply no one else to tell.

★

In the midst of my misery, I did find ways to entertain myself. I have always loved nature, and I spent a lot of time outside, climbing trees. Where we lived, if you walked outside the house wilderness was not too far from our door. There were banana plants and lemon and lime trees. I also found avocado, mango, and orange trees, and ate the fruit from all of them. And like many other kids, I invented imaginary friends to play with.

My hours of watching television had given me a worldview of
politics, current events, government, and other things most kids my age were not concerned with. I designated one tree as my “studio.” It was high up in that tree that I regularly hosted an imaginary television show. It was a talk show, similar to morning shows such as
Good Morning America,
or the
Today
show. I even had imaginary guests.

One being who brought me some comfort was our macaw, Paco. A macaw is a kind of parrot that usually has a large black beak and a light patch of facial feathers. Paco was red and gold with white on his face and gold eyes. He was so soft! We had brought Paco to the Big Island with us from Oahu. He was a large parrot who was smart and funny, and he gave me many moments of comic relief.

I loved to hold Paco like a baby and rock him, and he seemed happy to let me do so. He was like one of my dolls come to life. Dad also had a lot of “Paco sticks” placed strategically throughout the house. Paco’s wings were clipped so he couldn’t fly long distances, and between funny waddles across the floor, he used the sticks to pull himself to new heights in our home.

In the mornings Paco would crow loudly, and he sounded like a real crow. Everyone in the neighborhood could hear him. He also used to bark like a dog. One time, to Dad’s dismay, I put Paco on my shoulder and walked around the neighborhood.

Paco was also very picky about whom he spent time with. He’d come to family members but kept his distance from strangers. His preference for me made me feel special at a time when I really needed to feel that way.

Other than my nature walks, imaginary TV show, and Paco, I look back at this period as one of the worst of my life. Actually, I am still somewhat amazed that I got through it. My oldest daughter, Abbie, is now the age I was then, and has been given a protected and somewhat sheltered childhood. It is completely unimaginable to me that she would live through anything like I did.

It may have been only a year or so of Dad’s intense drug use, but it felt like forever. I know without question that my dad loved me, but he had gotten so involved in his drug-filled lifestyle that I believe that most of the time he didn’t give me more than a passing thought. Since then I have learned that forgetfulness, lack of motivation, irresponsibility, short-term memory loss, and a host of other similar behaviors are typical of drug use and abuse.

Nevertheless, I missed my dad. I missed the “fun” dad who was excited when one of us brought home a new pet. I missed the wonderful dad who tried so hard after Tawny left to make a home for Barbara, Tucker, and me. I missed the great man who helped his ex-wife, my mother, when she was in need. I missed the nice guy who worked so diligently to keep a respectable roof over our heads, who took us fishing, who loved his kids so much that he put us in a parade—and made me feel like a princess. That man was my dad, but drugs had taken over his life. The man who lived in the same house as I did wasn’t the man he used to be. I desperately wanted my dad back.

I’d get my wish, but it would take many, many years.

★

I
moved so much as
a child that when I became a parent I vowed to provide as much stability in my daughters’ home life as possible. When Abbie was a baby that was very difficult for me to do, but Abbie has been going to the same school now since she was three. She and Mady have the same routine every weekday: school, homework, dinner, bath, read a book. My girls thrive on that routine, along with our fun adventures that usually happen on the weekends.

I make this kind of stability a priority because I remember how difficult it was for me to make new school friends from year to year. Plus, I wanted my girls to have lifelong friendships that
only stability can provide. My heart aches for military families and other families that are forced to move frequently because of work commitments. It is always hard for children to be uprooted from familiar places and familiar friends. I know Dad did his best, but even though the moves often brought good things, they were always hard.

One of our moves when I was a child happened when Dad broke up with Ginny. He also stopped using and life got a whole lot better. In particular, I loved our new house, as it was in the town of Captain Cook and just a block from Manini Beach.

Without Ginny to “homeschool” me, I landed back in school. And because I had not gone through the fourth grade I had to be tested for grade placement when I reentered. I passed with flying colors and started fifth grade with other kids my age.

I adored my classes and was thrilled to realize that my love of learning had not deserted me. I was especially glad to ride the bus to and from school. This unstructured time with other kids helped as I dusted off my rusty social skills. My time of isolation was over. I had returned to the school where I went with my Samoan friend, Emma, and the first thing I did was look for her familiar face. I was so sad to realize that she no longer attended classes there. After that I just existed during school and waited for the hours to pass so I could go home and do my own thing.