“That’s what I thought, get back in that cab.” She pushed me in the direction of the cab.
“I will try to explain on the plane, Dani. We don’t have time right now.” My mother’s whisper, as she grabs my hand, pulls me from my trip down memory lane.
I found out later that the only reason I got caught that night was because of my damned neighbor that lived on the floor under us. She was my mom’s little mouse, always spying on me. She was outside when we got home that night, so pleased I arrived safely and asking my mother if she did her job right. Her job at ratting me out, that is. I was an adult and trapped living with my mom. My mother’s and my relationship is a ‘go along to get along’ kind of thing; even if I’m miserable. Sometimes the streets didn’t sound so bad.
It’s another hour before we climb aboard the flight. I’m still curious how Trigger got us plane tickets so quickly and who is Bull? My mother sighs loudly, grabbing my attention.
“I suppose I should tell you the whole story,” my mother says as she runs her hands over her face, irritated.
“Yeah, that would be nice,” I respond, sarcastically.
“I met your father at a party in L.A. about twenty-two years ago. He was quite good looking; you look a lot like him.” She looks over at me, her face unreadable. I’m not sure if I’m bringing her painful memories or good ones, but judging by the way she acts toward me, I’m guessing painful.
“We were at a party when some drunk men started harassing me and a friend. My friend sprinted off, but I wasn’t as quick. The nasty men advanced on me; I was out numbered. They pushed me to the ground, smacked me around and started to …” She takes a deep breath before continuing. “Well, that’s when your father showed up; he beat them to a bloody pulp.” She starts to chuckle at the thought, which I find frightening. “He made them get on their knees and apologize to me. One even pissed himself.” She shakes her head as if to clear the thought. “I rode to his house on the back of his motorcycle and thought it was the beginning of something special; thought being the key word. I dropped out of school and my parents disowned me after they found out I was dating someone from a motorcycle club.” She sighs heavily; so much regret is evident in her voice. I almost feel sorry for her.
“We were together day and night for about five months. Then I told him I loved him and he changed. He didn’t call me or talk to me for days, so I went looking for him and found him with some club whore. I jetted out of there on the first plane I could get.” She pauses and looks out at the loading passengers. “Anyway, I found out a month later I was pregnant. I didn’t want the same path for you, so I didn’t tell him. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. He made it pretty clear he didn’t want anything to do with me. So I made my way to provide for you, to make sure you took the right path; not like me or your father.” She finishes with tears in her eyes and takes a ragged breath. I can tell she doesn’t want to tell me any of this.
“Are you with me so far?” she asks as her spine stiffens and she sits up straighter in her seat. Pity mode must be over with.
My head is a complete blur of information. I am following her but feel my nerves fraying around the edges. “Actually I could use a drink,” I say, raising my hand to catch the stewardess’ attention. All this incoming information has me feeling catastrophic.
“Dani, no! What are you, a drunk?” she asks, eyes wide, shaking her head in disappointment.
“Oh, no, we wouldn’t want someone to think that, would we?” I mock. She’s always worrying about what others think about her; my behavior giving her the worst of her labels with a child who acts like her deadbeat dad.
She turns her head the opposite direction. ”Just like your father,” she whispers, annoyed. Only in my mother’s eyes would a beer render me as a drunk; even after hearing the crap she just laid on me.
“You going to tell me what happened to your face? And why you’re suddenly telling me about my father?” I ask, resenting her by the minute for keeping all this from me. I am never allowed to ask about my father. He is just a sperm donor as far as my mother is concerned. So I’m confused why she is spilling everything I have ever wanted to know now?
Snapping her head in my direction, she loudly says, “I’m getting there,” gaining attention from everyone around us, too. Lowering her voice, she continues. “When I left your father I was a waitress at a restaurant in New York for several years, but it just wasn’t enough. So, I started dancing in clubs for money. It was sleazy but paid the bills and bought you dolls.” She turns her head away again, avoiding eye contact.