She helped him up afterwards, and then she looked at him in that way that told me something really blunt was fixing to be laid down. She said,"Cole, you have gotten fat and its not a good look on you! We are going to have to fix that with exercise and a good diet, so why dont you come dance with me now?"
Stubby was a bit take aback and he said,"Its rude to call someone fat." She agreed with him but then told him that he was her brother and she could tell him the truth. She drug him and his brother into the living room and she got my eldest to dig out my ipod and put on the 100 Monkeys for them to dance to. I actually videoed some of it because it was just too precious of a moment to miss. She drug her brother, Sticky, into a dance that was a mix between a waltz, a tango and some slam dancing. This went on for about an hour as she just about forced them to get up and move. I anticipate the weight loss will progress rapidly.
The weight was the least of the things I found down there in AZ that made me so angry and upset I had a hard time holding my tongue and maintaining the polite gratitude that was needed to get through it without ending up at the wrong end of one of the throwing knives he had sitting on the counter in the dining room.
The house that I had left him with new carpet, new paint and remodeled with the lowest house payment in the entire county, fully stocked with things like 6 months worth of laundry soap and food, as well as clothing that would last the boys a year, and beyond if he got them the minor things or kept them in reasonable shape.
Driving up to the house was a huge shock. The neighborhood looks like a war zone, with concrete barricades, sand bag walls, heavy machinery rumbling through constantly as the state and county try to battle back the floods. The house was barely visible through the weeds. A thick, impenetrable jungle of goat weed had taken over the yard, and it was soo tall in places I could not be seen if I walked behind it. There was no way for the boys to go out into the back or even the front yard. He had not cut the weeds in a year. The inside of the house was what hit me the hardest. All my decorating had been literally ripped down and thrown into boxes. The house smelled terrible, a mix of cigarette/weed smoke, dog and just general filth. He had ripped the living room carpet out and had thrown it out the back door where it lay, moldering in the occasional rains. There was a layer of dust and dog hair on everything, the curtains remained drawn all day long and the house was dank and depressing. The leather furniture was beyond filthy, and I didnt even want to sit down, but when he gave me a terse,'Sit down and try not to look so disgusted." I sat and realized with a shock that I was going to have to work hard to keep my true feelings hidden unless I wanted it all to go pear shaped.
He had disassembled the boys good bunk beds and stored them in what had been Stubbys room along with their tv's and many of their toys. It was his,'For sale" room. The boys were relegated to one bedroom and one twin bed to share. Sticky slept in the bed with him back in the master bedroom. The appliances I had left, including the expensive washer and dryer, were grimy and a pile of laundry lay on the floor in front of them. The dining room was what really set me off though and made it very hard to keep my peace. There was no place for them to sit and eat. He had moved his jewelry making bench, computer and stereo system out there and had just taken over. There were no more family meals. The boys told me they ate on the floor in front of the tv. What enraged me was the chemicals and equipment within easy reach of my children. The pickling bath and acid wash were right at eye level to the boys. Sharp knives, picks and machinery were right there, nothing keeping them from getting into them. The medications were right on the counter, and there was just junk piled all over the place in what looked like a tweekers nest. The fridge contained no less than 3 cases of soda and the boys gleefully told me that they had a soda everyday, and it showed. They are both easily 20lbs overweight and had no pants that fit them. They were walking around in shorts they could not button, underwear that was stained beyond recognition and shoes that were rotten and holey. Their hair had not been cut, they are pale, and they have some disturbing behaviors. Stubby says,'Im Sorry" like its a religious mantra and he tries to shrink whenever things get tense or stressful. His tension and stress are visible in the fact that hes biting his finger again. Sticky has regressed in his reading and his self care. They alternately went from joy at leaving to tears at missing their father, though the relationship was rife with dysfunction. He sat for hours on the computer. Lights off and the house dark and quiet, he just sat there reading odd stories or trolling craigslist to see if any of the things he was trying to sell, had any hits while the boys sat in the one bedroom they were allowed in and played video games for hours on end.
I went over and talked to a neighbor I had been friendly with, to find that she was leaving and moving to Tucson to escape the disaster zone. She was shocked to see me and even more shocked to find out that the boys were still in the house across the street. She had noticed that Ferg was gone, and wondered what had happened, but she said she had never seen the boys outside at all. She was shocked to find out they had been there all year long. She said she had never heard them or seen them, and she thought he was there alone. My sons had not been outside to play at all. With the weeds that had taken over the yard, it was impossible for them. I knew he had a weed cutter, he had at least chopped back a narrow path from the where the van parked to the front door with it and it was leaning against the stairs, but even though he was unemployed and sitting home most of the last 3 months, he had done nothing to clear the yard or clean.
The van was thrashed inside and out. The paint was peeling off and pieces of trim were hanging down. It was evident that he had done nothing to maintain it, including taking it in for the mandatory recalls to fix the dangerous problem with the front end. He told me he intended to drive it up to Portland and give it to me to drive the kids around in, I told him not to bother.
I managed to keep my mouth shut most of the time. I was stuck there with him for a couple of days, hashing things out and trying desperately to rescue some of the things that I cared about. He wouldst let me take some of them, telling me,"Ill bring them to Portland when I come." which means they are lost to me. I managed to stash baby books and a few precious things that he wouldn't miss when he was gone to sell the flatscreen tv I had left. He is just having an endless yard sale on Craigslist until the foreclosure is done and he is forced out. I know the house will be condemned when they get it, there is just too much damage, too much decay and there is just no value in attempting to fix it.
I noticed that he had several newer pairs of boots and things for himself, but the boys were wearing the clothes I had left for them along with clothes that the local firefighter charity had given them.
I managed to pack up 7 boxes of things for the kids as well as rescuing some of my things that had been left in storage in a spare room, but that he had started going through to look for valuables to sell. I scrounged enough money to buy the boys each a pair of shoes for the trip home as well as some underwear and I just bided my time until we left on Friday night.
It was tense and stressful and I dont think my stomach quit hurting the entire time I was there, and I hated to hear myself working to appease him when he started getting upset. It was soo easy to fall back into that role of the ,"Yes, woman" even though I have worked so hard to bury that. I had a goal in mind and that was getting my children out of there with the signed and notarized letter in hand giving me permission to leave the state with them, without involving the police or getting hurt, and I managed to do it.
When we got on the train I felt as if we had escaped from prison. The boys were anxious and gleeful at the same time. I managed to get them to settle down and sleep pretty quickly on the train, and took advantage of that and slept like the dead myself. Though the train ride was exhausting, it was not as stressful as I had anticipated. We quickly developed a team effort and though they were bored much of the time, they enjoyed the trip.
I have a lot of work to do over the next few weeks. I have to get them enrolled in school and get them to the doctor and dentist and I am going to have to find the money for clothes for them as well as supplies for school and just living. They had a few requests for me right off the bat, they want bicycles so they could learn to ride, and they want a piano so they can play and they want to be able to listen to music whenever they want. Considering they are giving up all their friends in Flagstaff, the only home they have known along with soda and video games and being allowed to just sit constantly, I dont think that is going to be something I could refuse them.
Its good to have them home. I know its going to be a long road for all of us, but I also know it can be done with determination, stubbornness and love.We have all that in spades.
No comments:
Post a Comment