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.

That ugly thing in the pit of your stomach

Haley was already three days old when I called a nephew up north to leave a message for Wilson.
"Just wait," his nephew said, ''I'll go get him."
"No, I mean, don't bother. I just called to tell you so you can tell him. I don't need to talk to him."
"No, I'll go get him," he said, and hung up.
Strange. All the times I wanted to talk to Wilson and no one would help me. Now, I don't want to speak to him, and someone is rushing to get him.
Wilson called back almost immediately.
"I'll come home."
"Don't bother."
"I'm going to detox tonight then come right down tomorrow."
But of course, he didn't go to detox. He went to celebrate that night. The following night he went to detox.

I took Haley in the stroller to the park when she was five days old. After opening her blankets so she could get sun on her slightly jaundiced face, I sat down to read. I wasn't there long when Troy rode up quickly on his bike.
"Wilson and Elaine are here."
My stomach knotted and I looked away. Taking a deep breath, I slowly stood up.
"Okay. Tell them I'm coming."
Troy took off on his bike. I slowly put my things away and got ready to leave. Haley's face looked pink.
Darn it, I thought, I think I sunburned Haley's face a little. I hope Elaine doesn't notice.
Moving slowly, I made my way up the sidewalk. What was I supposed to do or say to him? I had no idea how to act. I didn't want him there.
But in a small way, I did.

I never really warmed up to Wilson those following months. I rarely looked him in the eye and we no longer touched each other, even while lying asleep in bed. I changed my phone number and, even though he lived with me, wouldn't give it to him. I didn't want him to give it to his older daughters.
I hated to see Wilson alone and lonely, especially when I remembered how he used to be. But I couldn't trust him anymore, and love has to involve trust.

I found a job as a charge nurse at a nearby nursing home. I didn't want to leave Haley and start work, but the job was just weekends and it was close enough that I could come home during break and nurse her.
Andrew asked Wilson to play with him with the train set Uncle Bobby had given him for his birthday. I knew Wilson and Andrew couldn't play together for more than three minutes, and they didn't. Andrew said something and Wilson got mad and walked away. Andrew cried and begged Wilson to come back and play, but he said, "No." Andrew finally quit crying and started to play alone with his legos.

Just before Christmas, Wilson and Andrew each received about $400 from the tribe. This was the first and only tribal financial disbursement I'd ever seen. Andrew's money was automatically deposited by the tribe into a special savings account to be held until he turned 18, so he didn’t actually get it at that time. Haley didn't receive a check at all because she hadn't been enrolled yet as a member.

Cheri, who'd also received her money, had been staying with us. Wilson and I began to argue about her again. I had been supporting everyone, but Cheri was refusing to use any of her money to help out. I wanted her to go.
"Well if she goes, I go," Wilson hollered.
"Good-bye," I yelled back.
For a moment, Wilson seemed stunned. But then he packed up and, with Cheri and all their money, left.

Umm... I take that back....

This is really terrible. The book is not on the 2008 disk. I thought I had many copies saved. In fact, I thought I had TOO many, because I was afraid of mixing up later and earlier versions, and ... I DID mix up a couple versions even in this blog... There WAS more than one copy!

So...there was more than one copy on the crashed computer, there should have been more than one copy on the 2008 disk....but there are no copies. The file "book" is there, but all it contains is queries and things like that... I have no idea why the person that told me she had "saved" all the documents in my hard drive that day didn't save the book - or how they book would have been omitted when the rest of the file was saved...

This is devastating to me, as it took me a few years to write what I did.

I haven't given up yet, though. I am still looking for other disks, and will go through my daughter's old computer as well. I can't believe it would be totally gone -

I'm So Over You.

.
My nursing boards were scheduled to take place at the Civic Center over a two-day period. I asked Marion if Andrew could stay with her over those two days; I'd do better if I didn't have to worry about him. The first day of the test, the staff ushered us into a large room. We weren't allowed to bring anything in with us and we weren't allowed to leave the room. It was a long and stressful day. That night I went to bed early, my body was drained.

Around midnight the phone rang. "Beth.... This is Dorothy," came the slurred voice, "I'm over at a party.... Will you pick me up...and take me over to Lincoln?"

"No!" I barked and hung up.

_________________________________________________________

That weekend, the nursing boards finally over with, Andrew and I actually began to relax. Having nothing but welfare now money was tight. But it was okay, Andrew and I didn't need much. We went to fairs, the library, and to visit my family. We went to the beach twice a week and spent the whole afternoon doing nothing but play together in the water and lie on the warm sand. If I had loose change, I bought each of us an ice cream bar at the refreshment stand. It was a beautiful, wonderful time.

Unfortunately, it ended too soon. I came home from an overnight stay at my sister's one day and found Troy and Mathew sleeping in the house. They'd gotten in through the upstairs porch door.

I was angry, but didn't show it. Not wanting them to hate me, I didn’t want them to know how I felt. I scolded them and then let it go. My quiet time was over.

The phone rang just as I was falling asleep.

"Tell my dad Cheri had her kid," Misty snapped.

"Tell him yourself," I snapped back and hung up.

_________________________________________________


Mickey came back from Texas, but Paul stayed with his dad. I went into labor in September and Troy drove me in. I didn't call Wilson. Why bother? He knew when I was due. I'd packed my overnight bag for Andrew also, intending that he stay with me. Troy dropped Andrew and me at the hospital door.

Around 5:30 p.m. the next day, Andrew tried to cut his sister's cord. The doctor helped.

Haley's initial color at birth was dark and her face was squashed, accenting her Indian features. My initial reaction to the way she looked was fear. My thought; "I've given birth to an Indian girl who will become a teenage Indian girl."

I was barely out of the shower when Steph arrived half an hour later from work. She very lovingly combed my wet hair out. Erik, Bobby and Chris arrived soon after. All of them took time to hold Haley. I was tired, but so touched and grateful to have them all there. When they left they took Andrew and his belongings with them.

"I'll pick you up and take you home when it's time," Steph offered.

I fell asleep that night comforted by my brothers and sisters. Alone with Haley, my feelings of fear passed.

She was beautiful.
.

If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves

.
For three weeks we struggled to rid our house of lice. Everytime I had thought they were gone, I'd look on Andrew's head and there they were again. Fortunately, the Crisis Nursery was well stocked with lice shampoo and even an upholstery spray. I helped myself to the products, putting them into the car as my co-worker slept, and went through our home washing every head, stitch of clothing, and stuffed animal in the house more than once.

And as I went throughout pulling out every piece of clothing I could find, I came across a pair of pants, a blouse, and a white blazer that had been missing for quite some time. Mine! Embarrassment washed over me. Not wanting the clothing to be found by anyone else and my false accusation of Misty discovered, I stuffed the clothes in a bag and gave them away at the first opportunity.

But as for the lice, despite my cleaning efforts, scarcely a week later the pests would be back. The mother of Andrew’s friend called one day and asked if we were having trouble with bugs.
Reluctantly, I admitted we were.

"So were we. But I think it's been coming from that new family that just moved in from the Rez. I went and asked her about it, and she acted like she didn't even know what lice were. I told her I'd wash her kid’s heads for her."

"I'll keep Andrew away for awhile."

The lice problem disappeared.
_____________________________________________


In order to pass the Ojibwe class that spring, I had to stand in front of everyone and give a short speech in the language. Family and friends were invited to this event. Roland and the kids came, along with Roland’s sister Yvonne. After we had all given our speeches, we shared a potluck lunch that included venison, wild rice and fry bread. I was given an "A" for the class, but even more important, Yvonne said I did really well. I was so glad to hear her say that.

____________________________________________
The small man who owned the corner store was a friendly fellow, but unless I needed a last minute item, I avoided his store. His food was old. Previous purchases had included freezer burned ice cream and milk that was so outdated it plopped like pudding into the glass when poured.

I don't know why I went in this day with my WIC vouchers. I must have been in a hurry.

"You have WIC?" he asked, "here, I let you get pop with your WIC instead of juice. You can get anything. It's okay. I do this for my good customers. You are a good customer."

"No thank you. I'll get juice," I said, while thinking to myself, 'why would I want to get pop when juice is more expensive?'

Returning, I met Andrew in the alley. He, along with some other boys, was racing around with a stick in his hands.

"Look, Mom! I'm part of a gang!"

_____________________________________________________
At fourteen, Savannah had a baby girl. I called the hospital and told them she was homeless, truant and addicted. I told them that her mother was homeless, too. I asked them to place Savannah and the baby in foster care. But someone showed up at the hospital and claimed them. I suppose all they had to do was tell the hospital that yes, they did have a good place to stay. The hospital released them.

On Savannah's new welfare check, she and Annie got an apartment together. I brought over some clothes and diapers from the Crisis Nursery.

"Just take good care of the baby and everything will be okay," I told Savannah, "Don't start drinking again. Use your check to get five bags of diapers and a case and a half of formula every month. If you stay out of trouble, social services will leave you alone."

A couple of weeks later, one of Verlin’s sister's called me.

"Do you have Savannah's baby?" she asked.

"No," I answered, "is the baby missing?"

"Well," the caller said, "Savannah was drinking and doesn't know where she left it."

She went on to say the baby had been missing for about ten days. As I hung up the phone, I was horrified. The baby could be lying dead in some alley. After a moments pause, I called St. Joseph's Home for Children. 'Misplaced' children often turn up there.

"Yes," The woman on the phone said, "we did get an unidentified Native American baby girl this last week."

I hung up the phone in relief, but I didn't call and tell the family. The longer the home kept the baby, the better. Unfortunately, the family eventually called St. Joseph's and the baby was returned to them shortly there after. 

Why does Social Services keep putting Savanah and her baby back on the street together?  Why isn't anyone stepping in to protect these two children?
.

Diary of a Mad Black Woman

Today, December 10, 2010, My daughter had ordered two movies from Netflix - "Madea's Family Reunion" and "Diary of a Mad Black Woman."

I'm glad I watched  "Diary of a Mad Black Woman" all by myself, because when Helen's cousin entered the church, I began bawling like a big baby. I cried for the next half hour - not really watching the rest of the movie.  (Spoiler warning) - She reminded me so much of Lila - who also had a daughter and son about those ages when she died - and then to see this woman walk through those doors - grabbing hold of the Spirit with all her heart -  I had no idea I had all that grief still inside me.  How I wish that Lila had been able to do that.

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...
.

Tragic Mothers

.
Cheri and Gene split up and Cheri, with Carrie almost 18-months-old, moved in with us. I did like Cheri and never stopped wanting to help her, but we walked a fine line with each other. As long as I smiled and gave her everything she expected, we were fine. We spent time together watching TV and teasing Wilson. But again, I was the one that had to do the bending in order for us to get along. If I asked anything of her or refused her requests, I messed things up.

One afternoon after she had been with us about three weeks, Cheri went out with Misty and didn't come back. This took us by surprise. Although we had had our hard times with Cheri, we never expected her to walk away from Carrie.

Now Carrie was my responsibility. A few months earlier, Carrie had been diagnosed with anemia and a yeast infection. Cheri had gotten the medicine but had never really used it. Now with her gone, I wrestled with Carrie twice a day to get her to swallow the bitter liquid iron and grappled to get rid of her yeast infection. The infection had been going on for so long that the normal salve wasn't effective. I took Carrie to the doctor, who gave some stronger medicine, but even that didn't work. Something was still there. I took Carrie again to the doctor.

"The yeast infection is gone; this is something else. I'm going to have to call child protection. This problem is sexually transmitted."

Child protection was called and a report was made. The doctor assured us that the incubation period was such that he did not suspect our home to be the source of the abuse. However, we were told Carrie should not visit her father's house.

Two weeks later, Cheri came back. Sitting on the couch and taking Carrie onto her lap, she asked "Carrie, do you love me? Did you miss me?"

I was surprised her first words to her daughter after three weeks absence were self-centered, but those words gave real insight into some of the problems.  When told about her daughter's diagnosis, she said she didn't know how or when Carrie would have been abused. But she seemed willing to believe it might have been someone in Gene's family. The doctor's statement gave her opportunity to be in control and keep Carrie from them.

Not that she was hung up on having Carrie, herself, though.  Cheri left again without warning the next day.

I could have spent time chasing Cheri down, but I wasn't keen on having her back in the house, and it was kind of fun to have a daughter. I picked up pretty dresses for her at the Crisis Nursery, fixed her hair, and took her to the college day care along with Andrew. At night, sitting in the rocking chair with her kneeling on my lap clinging to my neck, it would take only a few minutes to put her to sleep.

That same month Annie was in the hospital, just having given birth to little Shaine. I had worried about this pregnancy. She'd been drinking the whole time.

Bringing a gift to her room, we visited for a little while. Shaine looked good. I was relieved. Annie also looked good. Her long, silky, black hair, washed and brushed, literally shown. Two days of being cared for, sleeping in a comfortable bed and eating three meals a day had been good for her. Or maybe it was the little boy. She held him closely in her arms and spoke softly to him. I hoped that maybe she would leave the hospital determined to stay straight for him - and herself too.

__________________________________________

January 11, 1987 was the afternoon of a big football game. Mathew and Wilson watched it together in our living room. Annie called a couple of times that day asking Wilson to come over and talk with Lila.
"She’s sick," Annie told him, "she's coughing up blood and won't go to the hospital. She wants to talk to you."

Wilson was reluctant. He had been over there several times this week already. All they wanted, Wilson figured, was to ask him to run to the liquor store again.

Lila had some money and a group had hung out with her all week helping drink it up. Lila hadn't moved from the couch the whole time. Wilson said the apartment stunk from the smell of alcohol, urine, and "some other strange smell." He really didn't want to go back there.

Nevertheless, he told them he’d come, then settled back down to finish watching the game. While he and Mathew watched the game, I opened one of my nursing books and tried to look up the symptoms that had been described.

After the game, I went with Mathew and Wilson. I usually didn't go with him anymore, but I was worried about Lila. We pulled into the alley behind the brownstone building, the same building Julia had died in four months earlier, and parked. There was an ambulance parked near the back door. Wilson got out and moved quickly toward the steps. I was slower; I had to help Andrew out of the car. As Wilson began to go in, two men carrying a stretcher came out. Wilson stepped aside to let them pass, glancing only a moment at the body with its sheet covered face, then started up the stairs. I also looked. The belly of the person was huge, as if it were a pregnant woman. The way my mom's belly had looked when it was filled with fluid just before she died. I hesitated, then turned to the two men now loading the corpse into the ambulance.

"Is that Lila Hunter?" I asked them.

"Yes," one responded.

I called up the stairs, "Wilson! Come back! It's Lila!"

He turned and looked down at me, "No it's not."
.

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.