Swirly’s Time Line
April – early May 1986
Paul and my mom fought a lot. Lisa and I had to go to bed early several nights so that they could “talk.” Often the sun was still hovering above the horizon when we were sent to our room. We would lay in our bunk beds, me on the top and her down below, and whisper about things to try to block out the sounds of their arguments.
Their “talks” were so loud we couldn’t help but overhear them. Paul would yell at mom about something and she would retort, “Go tell it to a tree.” Lisa and I would giggle and try to stay quiet so we wouldn’t get in trouble. We passed toys back and forth between the edge of the bed and the wall and tried to otherwise occupy ourselves.
Once Mom yelled at Paul for leaving a “foot-long turd/terd” in the toilet. Again, we were arrested with laughter and tried to not burst into high pitched little girl squeals. Even years later we would quote those things in tense moments and laugh – sometimes to remember and smile, sometimes to keep from crying.
Paul seemed to come home late on Friday nights. On one such night I was awoken by the sounds of yet another argument between Carol and Paul. She was shrieking and crying and I thought I made out the words, “Put down the knife!”
I strained to hear, sure I had mistaken what Mom said. I then heard Paul’s voice boom out, “I’ll kill you and that baby!” I sat straight up in bed and felt tears run down my cheeks.
I crawled down the ladder from the top bunk and snuck to the corner of the living room so that I could make sure Mom was okay. She was still crying and I got there just in time to see her pull a long kitchen knife from Paul’s hand. She told him to take his “drunk ass” to bed before she called the police. Brave words that were betrayed by her trembling hands and shaky knees.
They both went to their bedroom on the opposite end of the trailer from Lisa’s and mine. I went back to bed and shivered myself to sleep. I wondered if the baby would ever get to be born. I wondered why she brought two more kids into this situation. Mostly, I wondered if this man who yelled at me if I didn’t call him ‘daddy’ would be the demise of us all.
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sounds alot like my mom’s second husband…who coincidentally was named Paul…the bastard sat on my mother’s belly for over an hour when she was 8 months pregnant w/my brother…often threatened her life…shit like that…it’s a wonder we survive these things, isn’t it? {{{{{hugs}}}}}
Sounds like a winner. Just another reason that I should start a man-haters club. Heh.
although my parent’s fights never got as bad as that…your entry reminds me of the little things my brother and i used to do when my parents fought, to drown out the noise. awful memories if you think about it…but at the same time it makes you realize why we do a lot of the things we do now. i love reading the things you write here on this site! keep ’em coming!
That must have been a terrible time, I hope it got better.
I thought my childhood was awful but the more I read of yours the more I understand that it can be a lot worse. This is awful.
Great blog, swirly!
You know, as much as I absolutely hate everything like that happened to you, I must say it made you into the strong, independent, and caring woman that you are. I would still kick the shit out of paul, dont get me wrong, just finding the better points 🙂
A very good read. I was on that emotional roller coaster with you.