Claims to be Christian - Yeah, right.

Wilson went to stay with Misty. Well, that would be that. Shirley, remarried, had recently left her husband and was homeless as well. Not only were she and Joy living there, but Cheri, her little girls and Junior too. Wilson would be under the same roof with his ex-wife and all their kids and grandkids. A remarkable situation; they were one big happy family again. He wouldn’t need my babies and me. Also, with the amount of drinking and smoking going on there, it wouldn’t be long before he got started and that would be the end of his talk about sobriety and Christianity.

Wilson not only stayed sober but he kept coming around. I started letting him watch our kids while I was at work. For two weeks he courted me. One night he picked me up from work and took me to our old restaurant - just like we used to. When he dropped me off and drove away, I felt as though I’d been on my very first date ever with him.

One day I called home from work. "Wilson, I forgot my medication this morning. I just don’t feel like I can cope. Could you bring me my medicine?”
“Sure, I’ll be right over.”
But the medication didn’t help. It was my life I hated. How could a drug change that?

After just two months, I left ‘bitter’ BetterLife and went back to the family-run nursing home where I had felt more comfortable.

“Shirley is going back to live with her husband in Detroit and Joy wants to move in with me,” Wilson said one day.
I sat down. How could Joy “move in” with Wilson? He didn’t have a place. I knew I was asking for trouble again, but I really did love Joy. “Well, I guess you both could come here.”
Joy and Wilson moved back in with me on March 16. I explained to Steph that I had to do it for Joy’s sake, but she didn’t believe it. We argued and Steph moved out. Troy also went back to Salmon Lake and stayed there.

I enrolled both Joy and Andrew in swimming lessons at the YMCA. While they were in class and Haley was in the nursery, I worked out in the weight room. I was there partly to get back into shape after having a baby, partly to build myself up in case of another attack by Shirley.

Joy reported that the family from the Rez rolls joints on their coffee table. Four- year-old Andrew joined in, “I stole some cigarettes from 7-11 for them. They wanted me to smoke one.”
“And Mom,” he confided, “Rose is Louis’ girlfriend. They were in the garage and she told him to put his hand in her pants.”
I felt sick. Rose and Louis were both nine-years-old.
Standing on our sidewalk with Andrew, I pointed from one house to another.
“I don’t want you to play over there or that house either. They do bad things over there. You are not to go inside the house across from them, or play with the kids over at the red house. And stay out of that green house, too.”
“But Mom,” Andrew objected, “then there’s nobody left to play with!”

Elmer and Marcia came to visit relatives in Salmon Lake, then came down to the city to spend a couple nights with us. Having them physically in front of me was reassurance that they really existed. Seeing them was like nourishment.
“Why don’t you move on out to west?” Elmer cajoled.
“I’m buying this place. Where would we live out there?”
“There’s plenty of places.”
“Well, if we did go Wilson would have to find us a nice house first.”
“Well, don’t be so high on the horse. Sometimes you have to accept something not so good for awhile if you want to make a better life. You might have to accept living in a trailer or something.”
Later, I spoke to Marcia. ‘What happens if I quit my job, drop this house, go all the way out there and then Wilson starts drinking again?”
“He really is a Christian now. I know; I saw him crying on his knees on my living room floor. I was there.”

I still didn’t think I loved Wilson and didn’t trust that he was really going to stay sober. And I most definitely didn’t believe he was really a Christian. But I knew I wasn’t happy being a single mom trying to buy a house I didn’t like in a neighborhood I hated. I also knew I’d have to be evening charge nurse for awhile. When Andrew started school in the fall, I’d never see him.

I also knew I was an angry, bitter woman and if I kept going that way - my heart filled to the brim with hate - I’d end up like some of the bitter, old women I had worked with in the nursing homes. I decided moving couldn’t be worse than living here.

We sat around the dinner table with Mickey, Joy and my kids. We made a commitment to each other that we were going to stick together and move as a family. Grandma and Grandpa were having their 50th wedding anniversary and later that summer was my class reunion, so we decided to wait and move in late August, before school started. I’d have to prepare the house for sale and hire a realtor.

Some time later, Savannah killed her mother’s boyfriend

Some time later, Savannah killed her mother’s boyfriend. He had been verbally abusing Annie, and Savannah got angry, went into the kitchen, returned with a knife, and stuck it in his back.

I didn’t hold Savannah to blame, though. I couldn’t. So many people had abused her. I blamed all the adults who could have – should have – helped her, including Roland and the social workers. I was disgusted with them all. Why didn’t anyone help her?

After the murder and Savannah’s arrest, I called her defense attorneys and told them how she had been living. I wanted her lawyer to know what she had been through – the alcoholism in the family and the abuse, neglect, and gang rape she’d endured. I wanted him to be sympathetic. But I also called the prosecution. I wanted someone to finally do something.
I don’t think anything I said had any affect on anything, but her first baby was taken away from her, and Savannah went to a group home. And that was great.
_______________________

Wanda was admitted to BetterLife Treatment Center. Wanting to encourage her, I went to visit. Once there, I felt I’d better explain my absence from the extended family. It wasn't just because Roland and I were separated or because I didn't get along with his oldest daughters.

“Wanda, I haven’t come around you guys for awhile because I care about you all and just can’t keep watching all the bad things going on. I just can’t keep watching everyone get hurt and die.”

Wanda didn’t take offense. Instead, she felt touched by the idea someone cared. ‘No one’s ever said anything like that to me before,” she answered quietly.
________________________

My Sister Steph moved in with me in January. When she came, I was excited. I had visions that we would shop together, do each other’s hair and in general, be sisters together in a way we never had before. But neither of our schedules ended up allowing it. I was working the 3-11 shift and at times even back to back or doubles, and she was working two jobs. We rarely saw each other.

Troy and Mickey were my babysitters, not because they were good but because they were convenient. Some mornings I’d find Haley soaked in her crib because they hadn’t changed her before putting her to bed. And there were times girls stayed over while both Steph and I were gone. Steph was especially angry when one of her heirloom coffee tables was broken.
______________________

Troy came home one day and told me something Misty had said about me. That was it. I’d had enough.
“I’m going down to kick her a—right now.”
Matthew stopped me. “She’s pregnant. You better not go over there.”
“I don’t care. I’m sick of her!”
I was afraid if I stopped now, I’d never do it. I jumped in my car and drove over to Cheri’s place. Standing in the snow outside, I called Misty down from the upstairs duplex.
She hurried down the stairs and opened the screen door. “What?”
“I’m so sick of you and your mouth! If you don’t cut it out, I’ll kick the s--- out of you!”
“Wait a minute.” She turned and ran back up the stairs.

They're Indian Kids. Let the Tribe Take Care of 'em. They Aren't Our Business.

.
Carrie had been with us now for only about three or four months. It seemed like a much longer period of time had passed, but that was only because so much had happened in that short period of time.

Child Protection informed us that although there was proof Carrie was abused, there was no proof as to who did it. Without proof, they couldn't hold anyone accountable.  We were told Carrie's father and his family were to be allowed visits again.

Dalene, anxious to see her, took Carrie home for the weekend. On Sunday evening, they returned. Setting the baby out of the car onto the sidewalk, they handed her the overnight bag and gave her a nudge.  We had heard the car drive up and had come out, surprised to see 18-month-old Carrie climbing the steps to the door - by herself - dragging the little bag behind her.

They watched from the road until they saw us pick her up, then drove off.

When Cheri finally came back a week or so later and took Carrie, I laid on my bed and cried for a couple hours.

____________________________________________

I returned to the Ojibwe class in the last semester. I still felt it was important for the children to understand their culture, so I took Andrew and sometimes Joy with me to class. Pregnant again, I even considered wearing headphones on my belly in order to assimilate the baby to the language. Mickey’s brother Troy, whose friends had shaved his head during a drunk, moved in with us, too. I wanted the boys to get better at speaking also, so I wrote onto slips of paper the Ojibwe names of household objects and then stuck them around the house.

It seemed like a good idea, but no one was really interested. Those slips of paper remained stuck to our furniture for a good year, little noticed by anyone.

The boys weren't interested in the language, but attained other minor victories. While staying with us, Troy obtained his driver’s license, had his chipped front tooth fixed, and worked on getting his GED. Mickey worked on getting his driver’s permit and attended high school.

One day Mickey came home an hour early from class.

"What are you doing home?" I asked him.

"My advocate let me out."

"What do you mean, 'let you out'?"

"Well, I didn't like my art teacher, so a month or so ago my Indian advocate let me drop the class and go to study hall in his office instead. He'd ask me a couple questions and stuff, but I wasn't really doing anything there so now he just lets me come home instead."

I called the advocate. "In the first place," I told him, "I don't agree with letting him drop art.  He has to work out his problems with his teacher. But in the second place, Mickey got two 'F's' last quarter! How come you’re letting him cut out of school?"

"What are you worried about?" the advocate, also a tribal member, responded, "He's got three years of school left. He's got time to catch up."

About ready to blow my top and getting nowhere with this man, I called the principal, who agreed Mickey shouldn't be leaving school early. It was too late to get Mickey back into the art class, so he placed him into the real study hall instead.  Unfortunately, the principal didn't have the cojones to fire the advocate for being the idiot he was.

The following day, Mickey confided that the Indian advocate had told him  "Don't listen to Beth, all white people talk like that."

'What a jerk,' I thought angrily, 'why isn't that so-called advocate helping Mickey apply himself? Don't they think an Indian kid can be expected to work hard?  Do they look down on Indian kids that much?  If anybody dares treat Andrew that way when he gets to school, expecting less of him just because he's Indian, I'll knock em to the moon!

Right - it's easy to blow up at all the fools outside the family.  But to open my mouth and say something to family members?  Not so much...
.

Willingly Wearing the Floor Rug.

.

The next day Wilson went back up north, taking Dale, Tammy and Misty with him.   Mickey stayed with me.   I enrolled him in South High School and in a karate class on Lake Avenue.  

            The next Friday, I woke Mickey up for school.

            “Do I have to go today?  Can’t I get to stay home today as a reward for having gone the other four days?”

            “No,” I answered.  Despite all I’d seen in the last few years, this train of thought still astounded me.

            Through the grapevine we heard that both Wilson and Misty were drinking heavily.  Misty had even taken our van one night and tore up someone's yard.   I called Tammy and asked her to hide the van keys.  Later, I heard the vehicle wasn't running right anyway and they had parked it.          

            Wilson called one evening, "Could you send me the title for the van?"

            "Why?"

            "I sold it."

            "What?  It's in my name.  How could you sell it to them?"

            "Well I did it and they need the title."

            It was Wilson's van; he'd paid for it.   But I was angry he sold it for drinking money.   I called the county sheriff's office.  

            "My van was sold without my permission."

            Later, the deputy called me back. 

            "Look, I know the people that bought it.  I used to go to school with the lady and they're good people.   They've already bought new tires for it, so they said that if you want it back, they’d have to take the tires off.    You'll have your car but it'll be on blocks."

            Reluctantly, I sent the title.

            Angry I was, but being a single mom was also lonely.   Don't ask me why I kept wanting him back.  I never could figure it out myself.

            A month or so later, Wilson called and asked if I'd come get him.

            "Okay.  I'll be up this weekend."   

            "And I hocked my tools.  I need about $75 to get them back."

            Everyone was drinking at Dale's when I arrived on Friday night.   Wilson greeted me.  

            "Buy us a twelve-pack, will ya?"

            Misty, high on whatever, stumbled out the door with her boyfriend as soon as I sat down.  A few minutes later, she returned.   While I sat on the couch, she leaned over to her dad's ear, too stoned to know she wasn't whispering, and asked, "Can I get some of Beth's money?" 

            "I don't know," he answered, "ask her yourself."

            Misty looked at me, then walked away.  A few minutes later she came toward me.

            "Can I get some money?"  

            "I need all the money I have to get your dad's stuff out of hock and then get home."

            "You f------ b----," she swore.  Turning, she pulled her boyfriend out the door.

            After Wilson and I made the rounds collecting his tools, we went back to Dale's to spend the night.   Wilson wasn't done drinking.   He decided to go out to the bar with his nieces.

            "I'll drive you," I told them.   Wanting to make sure we could leave the next day, I figured I'd rather go with Wilson to keep him out of trouble.

            After spending about an hour at the bar, we were just getting ready to go back to Dale's when Misty came in.   Her boyfriend was tugging on her sleeve, trying to pull her back out.   Wilson stood up and walked over to her.

            "You only care for her!" she cried.  "How come you always have to drop everything and do what she wants?"

            Wilson, with the help of the boyfriend, pushed her back out the door.  The whole bar watched.   As Wilson walked back to our booth, Misty could be heard still screaming on the street.   I felt satisfaction.

_____________________________________________________

           

            Before we left the next day, we drove up to the nursing home to visit Walter with Dale’s family.   Not finding him in his room, a nurse searched the facility for him.  He was no where to be found.

            "Oh darn it," the nurse announced, "he must have taken off again."

            "Which way does he go?" Wilson asked.

            "Toward home," she said, pointing down the highway.

            We climbed back into the car and took off down the road.   After several miles, we saw the lone figure on the horizon.

            “Man, can that old man walk!"

            Wilson pulled the car over in front of Walter.  Walter looked up and, recognizing Wilson, smiled.

            "Ho! Wha’cha doing out here!" Wilson asked, "You've got all those women at the nursing home worried about you!"

            "Oh...gotta get home!" his dad said, still smiling.

            "Your home's back here now.  Come on," Wilson said gently.

            Walter came without a fight.  After settling him back into his room, we had to go.  We got in the car and counted heads.  Wally was missing.

            "There he is," Dale said, "by the little fir tree."

            Two-year-old Wally stood on the trim lawn with his fly open, watering a tiny tree.  A nurse watched from the door.

            "Come on Wally!" Dale said laughing.   


-------------------------------------------------------------------
Go ahead and feel disgusted in me; I feel disgusted in myself.

The Wedding Reception

.
Working with my sisters to ready the yellow canopy and set up the tables, my stomach was tied in knots. I wanted very badly to have my relatives believe my life was normal. I suppose I assumed that because I lived on the south side, they couldn't see my day to day life and had no idea what kinds of things were going on. I wanted to preserve this illusion that was probably much more mine then theirs.

My cousin arrived with the beautiful three-tiered cake she had made and set it on the white tablecloth. As nicely dressed people began to arrive, Wilson still hadn't shown up. I welcomed my family's neighbors, friends and relatives and accepted their brightly wrapped gifts with a smile. Everything looked beautiful.
"Wilson will be here soon," I told everyone.

But while I smiled, I was in pain, unable to keep my mind off of what I knew was happening in my home.

Wilson showed up an hour later, very drunk. Elaine, arriving in her own car, carried the chili and, followed by her children, went on down to the party. Mickey smiled encouragement to me. Wilson stumbled out and went on down to the gathering. His four older children followed. Joy was wearing the pink dress and bonnet I'd bought her the Easter before. Dale was drunk too, but saw my shame and refused to get out of the van. I picked up Tammy's baby girl, the one Tammy had said she'd named for me, and took Dale's family down to introduce them. I was unable to even look in Wilson's direction.

Suddenly Wilson grabbed me and pulled me over to dance around the canopy.
"This is a traditional wedding dance," he told me, slurring his speech as he stumbled along.
I could feel my face burn hot as everyone watched. When he finally let me go, I hurried into the house, humiliated. Eventually, Wilson and his crew left. A few of the guests came into the house to say good-bye. Others just left.

Bobby took Mickey, Andrew and me home. No one was there when we arrived, but beer cans littered the floor and their contents stained the living room rug. The empty boxes they came in were stacked five feet high in the kitchen corner and Burger King wrappers littered the stairs.

I looked around; initially more exhausted and dejected than angry. Bobby waited a few minutes, not saying much of anything.

"Look," said Mickey, "Wilson's pulling up."

I looked out the storm door. Wilson was trying to parallel park in front. He had a group in the van with him. Wilson looked up and saw me in the door. He quickly turned his wheel toward the street and drove away. Now I felt the disgust and anger - at myself just as much as him.

"Fine then. The reception is done, and I’ll be d----- if most of them are going to stay another night."

Bobby left and I started cleaning. Soon Elaine came for her belongings. I had no problem with her. She had tried to help with the day and had planned on driving back that night anyway. But Dorothy was with her.

"I paid $12 for the chili's hamburger," Dorothy demanded, "Pay me back."

"I didn't ask you to spend your money."

"Give me the $12 or I'm taking Mickey back with me."

I paid her and Dorothy climbed into Elaine's car and left.

Misty, Dale and Tammy stayed. I didn't mind Dale and Tammy, but I didn't want to take care of Misty anymore. Wilson wasn't there and I didn't want him coming back, so she might as well go too. I was through taking care of his problems.

"Where's those clothes you took? I'm tired of you owning into my stuff!"

"I didn't take your d--- clothes!"

"Get out and don't f------ come back!"

She ran to the phone and called her mom. After speaking to her quickly, she hung up and came back.

"My ma's coming to get me and when she gets here, she's going to kick your a--."

"Let her come."

Dale, Tammy, and Mickey sat quietly in the living room and said nothing. After Misty threw some things into a bag, she stood at the door and waited for her ride. As I stood at the top of the landing, Misty looked up at me and swore,

"You dumb, f------ b----."

"Least I finished school," I said as I turned and walked into my room.

Misty's mother pulled up in front and honked. Misty grabbed her bag and left.
.