Thursday, May 19, 2011

Guilt By Association: Part 1

Fall, 1988:

"Get up! You're going to be late!"

Alarm clock in hand, raised up towards her face, I groggily groaned at my Mother, "Look! I re-set it last night, I was going to get some sleep today.. the lady at CVS asked me if it could be rescheduled to 3... I'm going back to sleep!"

My Mother got all panicked for a second (I later found out that it was because they thought everything was going to go just as planned- which is funny, 'cause what does?-... but the switcheroo of my job interview screwed up their plans)...
"No! She called and said she wanted it to be at the original time."

I groaned, I rolled out of bed & started to walk to the nearest phone to call the woman to explain that I would be slightly late. My Mom, again, got all panicky.
"Where are you going?" she almost cried.
"Mom, chill. I'm just going to call her and tell her I'll be late, then hop in the shower."
"No!.. I already told her... just go get ready."
My mother was never this crazy normally... her voice was all was odd, but it was still no indication of the bullshit that was about to ensue.

I took a shower and got dressed. I no longer recall what it was I wore that day, but I'm sure it was not only very 80's, but completely wrong for a job interview. Whatever, I was 16 years old and thought purple eyeshadow was amazing, so use your imagination... but if you need help:
this is actually me, the summer of 1988... I know... I rule, eh?
With my hair blown dry, teased well past the zenith, then sprayed with enough Aqua Net® that I do believe I may be partially, and personally, responsible for some of that ozone layer depletion; my make up so heavy that it looked like I motorboated my make up bag; my massive amounts of jewelry adorning me like the cheap and tacky armor it was... I wandered downstairs into the kitchen to get some breakfast.

I found my Dad & some random guy with a gross 70's 'stache in the dining room looking at the computer. I just figured he was either fixing something, or a business associate.
"Who's the porn star?" I asked my Mom pointing my thumb over my shoulder.
"Stop it! That's a business associate of your fathers" she said in one of those angry whispers that can only be perfected by motherhood.
"Whatever, still looks like a porn star with that 'stache"

 I grabbed an apple out of the fruit bowl and a pre-wrapped portion of string cheese and asked my Mom for the keys to the car so I could get to town. She froze. In retrospect, my Mother was acting so freaky I don't know how I didn't know something was up. She tells me that the guy with my Dad, this "business associate," was leaving on the next train and they had to give him a ride, so we'd all go together. I was mildly irritated, because it meant I couldn't go anywhere after the interview, they'd be waiting. I shrugged and said "ok, let's go."

When we got into the car my mother was sitting in the back seat with me. This NEVER happens, my father is the über gentleman and always insists that the woman rides in front... so that was odd to me, but I just figured the porn star in the front seat was outta there soon, it didn't matter. We got to the end of the road, the car went right. The train station & my job interview were to the the opposite direction.

"Dad, wrong way" I laughed.


The safety locks go on, and all the doors in the car were controlled by the driver.


The window locks were on, and couldn't be controlled from the back seat anymore

"What the fuck is going on?" I say.

"Honey, don't use that language" my mother pleaded.

"Fuck you, you just locked me in a car going in the opposite direction of where we were supposed to be going, with a big goon that looks like a porn star in the front seat.. and you want me to watch my language? Fuck that."

At that moment porn goon had leaned back through the front seats, puts his hands atop mine and tried to hold me in place. I looked at him, laughed, and told him "don't fucking touch me, creep"  as I picked up my right leg (I was sitting behind my Father) and kicked him... I was aiming for his face, but only managed to get him in the shoulder. I've never been one to allow someone to place their hands on me without consent. Not to say it never happened before, but because it had, I reacted. I started to jab at the window with my elbows, trying to break it. My Mother freaked out and grabbed my hands, I freed one and started (I'll never forget this as long as I live...) to whack the piss out of her hands and arms with my one free arm that happened to be covered in metal bracelets almost to the elbow.

clink... clink... kuthud....clink....clink... kuthud...….  rapidly and repeatedly until she let go.

I'm still not only shocked I ever lay a hand on her, but that I didn't break her wrists or hands.

Once she let go I just kept pounding on the window with my fists and bracelets..... swearing up a storm, wanting to get the fuck out of that car no matter what. I didn't care if I had to jump out the window on the highway... I think I would have, no, I know I would have. There is nothing more in this world I hate than the feeling of being trapped.

Damn windows.

If I had been able to get a better angle I would have kicked the windows out... but porn goon and my Mother kept grabbing at me. Finally I just stopped, I mean totally stopped. Something came over me, and I had a strange moment of clarity. Eyes straight ahead, breathing calm, sitting straight ... and I turned to my Mother and said in a very relaxed manner "where are you taking me, and why is he here?" (*pointing at porn goon*) I, years later, learned that he was a hired thug to supposedly "help" them kidnap me and take me to hell.

This would be "The Mansion"
I don't remember anything after that moment right up until we pulled through the gates of hell in West Stockbridge, MA. We parked directly in front of the mansion by the front door. I refused to get out of the car. My parents went inside. Porn goon stood on the steps and stared at me as I watched a bunch of preppy lookin' kids wandering around. A group of girls walked by, all of them holding hands with each other. An older person (no idea who) stopped them and said something to the person that was apparently in charge (I eventually learned that her name was Kelly (no memory of her last name) and she was a dorm parent (DP) for "New Girls" (yes, that was the name of one of the "dorms") in fall of 1988). A few girls came over to the car, opened the door and said "are you coming out?"

"No, I'm staying right here" I said, and closed the door on them.

Becky K. & Lara M. are the only faces with names that I remember from that moment in time.

About fifteen or so minutes later the door opens again, this time it's Joanna H. & some girl named Judy (I don't remember her last name, but she ran away with Brian B. about a month later), Joanna says "Hi" then just as she's about to speak again my parents walk out of "the mansion" (it had been about 45 min. at this point).... my Mother walks over to the side of the car where I am and my father pops the trunk. She says "honey, you have to get out of the car."

"The fuck I do" I tell her

Massive amounts of giggles erupt from the 10 or so girls that I hadn't noticed before on the other side of the car...they were still holding hands. It was surreal. I thought they were going to break into song like some strange scene from Whoville, only the car was the Xmas tree and the Grinch was someone I had yet to meet.... but someone was clearly stealing my Christmas.

My father dropped a small duffle bag at the door of the car and told me to "get out."

I looked at his face and realized there was no way that car was leaving with me in it, so I considered bookin' it for the gate. I judged the distance, kicked off the heels I had on, and took a good long look at my Mother's face. As I turned to prepare to take off for the main road all the girls were suddenly standing there behind Joanna & my Mother. Now it looked like a game of "Red Rover"... and I didn't know if I'd make it through. I stood up finally, and there was a collective gasp (height pays off once in a while) ...

"How long?" I asked my Mother

"That remains to......" my Father started

"Shut up, I was talking to her, " I said, pointing at my Mother.

"You will not speak to me like that young lady!" my father shouted.

"You're right, I just won't speak to you at all, asshole"...... and for a full year, I didn't. I only spoke to my Mother on the phone. I tore up every letter my father wrote, unread.

"Why?" I asked my Mother as I stood .... and began to walk away with tears in my eyes.

She had no answer. It took over 19 years for an answer.... and in the end it was because they were worried I'd end up like the people I was hanging out with. Great. Awesome. ....... Dumbasses! I had never once acted as angry & violent as I did that day in the car, I would have NEVER laid a hand on my Mother... and I sure as shit never talked to them the way I did that day. In retrospect it probably made it easier for them to leave me there because I had done all that..... but can you blame me?

What happened next, and up through January 1990, is what will soon follow in a series of posts that tell the story, as well as the story of others that went there since this wouldn't be worth telling without them.


  1. OKAY--so my day wasn't so effing bad after all- Nevermind!

    You are awesome Gillian. There may be a little delay in the Guest post as there is a little trouble in paradise here. But I DO WANT TO DO IT!

    I just need a clear head--LOL--AS IF that's going to happen.

    Love ya mean it! Will there be shower stories and creepy--(GOOD) stuff like that?


    OMG--I swear the word ver is--- guestr!!!!!!!!!!

    Now I have "that" guilt to deal with thank you very much! ;-)

  2. They locked you in some girl school? That sounds awful... I can't imagine how terrible it must have been for you.

  3. John- shower stories? funny you should say that since just earlier this evening my former roommate from there and I were making jokes about when we we forced to shower in groups. You'll just have to wait for the blog post though ;)

    Starlight- It was Co-ed. There were definitely boys there. Remember that blog post about the friend that came to stay with me for our friend's funeral about 2 weeks back? This is where we all met....and yeah, the place was horrible.

  4. At least you met some good friends there :)

    I was thinking... you should join us on Twitter.

  5. Starlight- some of my very best friends, to this day, I met there... and you'll soon see why I love them so much. (It takes a while to write these particular posts, the memories I have to pull up can cause serious headaches, no joke.)
    As for Twitter... I'm on there, and every 6 to 8 months I post something along the lines of "Twitter is stupid"... I just never got into it. You know?

  6. I can't wait for new posts :)

    I love Twitter because I can "talk" to some bloggers every day. It would be lovely to have you there, I'm sure our blogging friends would love to see you there. =)

  7. Honestly, that's insane.

    Sweet jeans, by the way.

  8. Kev- I loved those jeans, in the 80's, like they were my baby.

  9. Love the post.. .Well kinda.. Thats awful they put you on a place like that and I would have behaved the same way had my parents done something like that to me! Glad it's all over and you're still awesome! I use to rawk pants like those in HS also. Loved them!

  10. WTF????? I was all like, "Oh, they're doing something special for her or something." Wow! Riveted! I can't wait for the rest.
    And what were these kids doing that was so bad they put you in a private school?? I mean, really, I know you can get into some bad shit but what 16 year old doesn't?

  11. I ain't going nowhere gal! I'm hooked. Noe that Cake Betch has dumped me- I need to read , read, and read some more! ;-)!!!!

    Hugs my friend,


  12. I can imagine wanting to hurt that strange man who tried to subdue you in the car. -pretty grim scene, GG. On a lighter note, I, too, rocked the Aqua Net. That hairspray was the bomb!