Love with Hatred

Carmen Carr

Mommy and Daddy were deeply in love.The line drawn between love and hatred was faint enough a small gust could blow their feelings one way or the other on any given day. She wanted to be free and to be loved; He wanted to have a faithful wife and well behaved children. Somewhere between I do and please sign at the x, love became not enough. Dad worked his life away to provide and at the end of the day the children of the house became scarce to protect themselves from his random temperaments. Mom played June Cleaver without the love or the caring attention to her children. We were raised in poverty with hatred. Robert, a five foot nothing hot tempered Brazilian, knew what working was! He was a provider above all else; overworked, underpaid and stressed. A baker, a trucker, a taxi driver, a mechanic. He was a marine, an entrepreneur, a handyman, a father, and most of all a controlling abusive S.O.B. Everything had to be perfect at all times, the house had to be clean or my two brothers and i were up at five in the morning before school seeing to it. I can still remember the times my brother would go flying down the steps because he had an attitude or the sight of him grasping his stomach in pain from the latest full handed blow to his abdomen. Once when putting away a pot in the cupboard there was an avalanche and the dishes fell on my dads foot and forced the bone out to the surface of the skin, I heard the crunch from the next room. When I walked into the kitchen he was standing on top of the hurt foot forcing all his weight on the break pushing the bone back in place and sure enough there was a quick gasp of air and you could hear it snap back in, he never went to the doctor it cost too much money. Anastasia, my five foot five inch blond hair blue eyed mommy dearest, made her living by the newest flimsy thought that crossed her mind. A dressmaker, a store clerk, a nurse aid; An artist, a singer, a lover; A child, a wife, a mother, and later in life a stripper, a dominatrix, and self-centered. She was good at what she did and could charm the pants off a monk. Before the

cigarettes took their toll, her voice was that of an angels and the love in her eyes was evident as long as there was a watching eye. Behind closed doors she was self involved and sleeping with every long haired free bird that was unlucky enough to meet her glare. My childhood was sneaking out my window when i was grounded and climbing into my friends to play with her troll dolls, or dancing on a bed to Madonnas Like a Virgin. It was about every morning taste testing my grandfathers fresh pastries at the local bakery he owned, or flaunting my innocent smile to everyone in Carmens Pantry, my pantry. My parents plastered on fake smiles and PTO skirts and ties until i was eight. They were dutiful and young, my dad owned his Yamaha and his guitars and my mom with her sewing and singing at local venues. They did their time with Amway and preached the word from a Mormon bible, but none of these things ever lasted long. My mother had two sons from a previous marriage, Adrian and Tre. Adrian molested me for six years as a child without even so much as remorse for me, killed animals to watch them bleed, and took a beating from my dad without a whimper. Tre was opposite, he loved with all his heart. He carried road kill home with tear streaked cheeks and dug graves and buried them with tombstones and hand picked dandelions. Tre would stand when he saw the metal studded belt come out and take the blame before the crime was even revealed. It wasnt all bad, I remember every other weekend with my grandma, holidays at my aunts, trick or treating with my friends, and watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer every Friday with a buffet of snacks lining the coffee table. One year my father saved every penny to take us all to Dorney Park and Wild Water Kingdom, we were there a half an hour until he got frustrated with my brothers whining and mothers flirting and left abruptly. I still can imagine sitting in the back of our red Geo Tracker, my dad winking at me in his rear view mirror and sticking his tongue through the gap on his upper gum that used to house a full set of teeth. Twelve years after i was born my dad finally started making money owner operating his own big rig. During his first buisness trip to Texas, my mom packed us up, claimed he

threatened her with a gun and moved us to New Jersey with some friends from the dungeon she worked in as a dominatrix. I thought we were free from the oppression, that life would get better, Bon Jovis Its My Life was popular and i sung it loud with windows down and wind in my hair. We jumped from friends house to abuse shelter to our trailer home in Moonachie, Nj. Two months into gaining some semblance of security our home burst into flames and burned with it a dream for a new beginning. The four of us were placed into a smaller two bedroom trailer to make up for our loss. It was three days before Thanksgiving and the town did their part by donating turkeys and blankets and good wishes. Adrian turned to drugs and women at fifteen and I decided at thirteen I knew the secrets of the world. I found a boyfriend ten years my senior and gave away what virtue I had left. I devoted myself to him, to the thought of what i needed most, love. Of course my mom had no issues with him living in my bed, as she was waking him half way through the night to please her own needs. Two months after our first kiss he left me for my own good and moved his girlfriend and child in with my family. Dutifully, I took care of the young boy in hopes the father would change his mind, come off the drugs, and realize I wasnt a child anymore that I loved him! It didnt occur to me living this way was wrong until the middle of a cold winter night. My mother left me at home with Ray dog to go to a party with her friends. He was a Latin King, a friend of my moms, and he raped me. I told no one for fear of being hurt or dismissed until my monthly friend took a vacation. My mom blamed me, called me a whore, and took me to the clinic to take care of my issue without even giving me a choice. After a week of crying I started going to school regularly and was informed at the rate I was going I had to do something quick or fail the eighth grade. The pain and secrets i carried on my shoulders I hid in the books I read and the heaping piles of a years worth of school work. That summer I spent with my grandmother in Florida and when I returned home we lived in Highlands, NJ with my moms newest fling. I found joy and peace of mind in weed, sex, and alcohol. For an entire year I took pride in the many men I laid to bed with, in the amount of

alcohol I could put away and still walk home at two a.m., and in the shoe boxes of weed that was given to me purely on my looks. The following summer my dad called and asked me to join him on a two week journey out on the open road. I missed him so much I took the offer and a week later he pulled out front of our home in the white pathfinder he just bought. We talked for hours in that truck, he was different. The father I needed all along, he actually cared about my opinion and listened to my unrealistic dreams of learning to fly. I wanted the rules and the stability back in my life so I begged to stay with him, and he willingly opened his arms to me. My dads girlfriend, Fiona, lived with him along with her son, Christopher, who was about my age. Within a week of being there I started to feel uncomfortable with the situation. Christopher idolized me, he watched me sleep, drooled when i danced, and groped me upon passing. When I was brave enough to get help my dad said I was lying and that he would never do that, I was hurt. A week into my freshman year I transferred myself out of that high school and moved back in with my mother. That same night I got trashed on eight different hard liquors and somewhat remember my first time with my daughters father. Walter was six years older than me and had a car and access to everything that could put me enough over the edge to keep my days running together. He promised me the world under the condition I did as he said when he said it. When he lied he believed his own words and when he was mad he could say the right thing to crush my confidence to the ground. One night my brother Tre and I came home to find Danny, my moms boy toy, beating her like a grown man and my brother tried to step in and pull him off of her. I pulled Tre away in just enough time to get into between Dannys fist and his face, I dared him to lay a finger on me. After an hour of calming Tre we finally fell asleep and awoke the next morning to the power off and the fridge chain locked. On the table sat two dollars for bus fare and my mother stood behind Dannys shoulder as he pointed his finger to the street and told us to leave. I stayed at

Walters house and Tre went to my friends house, while my oldest brother, Adrian, lived in an adolescent homeless shelter for three months. I called my father once more and he came and picked me and my mothers sons up to come live with him once more. I knew what was coming but I couldnt bring myself to admit it. There was no way I could tell my father his fifteen year old little girl was to be a mother, so I lived in denial for a month. I hid in my room until I was forced to face my fears when Fiona asked why I hadnt needed female products yet. Once it was medically proven my daddy bought me the rice-a-roni I craved and paid for the maternity clothes I needed. He supported me and never once looked down on my choice to be the mother I never had. Christopher began to look like a godsend,he was not related to me, lived in my house, and made me laugh when I wanted to cry. I fell in love with things about him and knew I would never be worth anyone else so I made him mine. It took six months into our relationship and a missed contraceptive for me to be with another miracle. Once again I deluded myself into thinking he would be there for me. I worked night shift, I cleaned the house, I