The Drive-In
It was the fall of the year in 1981. I am 14 and like any teenager, I was pushing for more freedom. Somehow, I got my parents to agree to let me go with a friend four years my senior to the local Drive-In theatre. She helped convince my parents to let me go by promising that I would be home directly after the show.
She picked me up and off we went! The only thing is, we do not go to the drive in theatre as we informed my parents. Nope instead we drove three towns over. A college town about 45 minutes from home. Once there we met up with a few of my chauffeur`s friends and attended a frat party. Mind you I am only 14, 14 - fourteen!! Holy s**t, I knew I was in trouble absolutely without a doubt DOA when I got home. I begged the chauffeur to get me home by midnight as promised. She agreed and said not to worry.
Do you think I relaxed and had a drink or two? Why not make the best of it, hell if I was going to be in trouble might as well do it up right. I wanted to, believe me but I couldn`t get past the anxiousness of my stomach churning as I thought about what was happening. The hours ticked by at a snail’s pace. As my fear grew, I finally reached for the bowl of weed and lit it up. Might as well get high, I thought. This will be my last trip for a while. Midnight, one then two and eventually we climb into the backend of a pickup truck and headed toward home.
My chauffeur got wasted as did her good friend and it was decided we`d get back to town by one of the guys who hosted the party. Chauffeurs’ friend puked on the way which added 15 to 20 minutes to get her cleaned up enough to drop off.
Finally, we turned off the two-lane highway and down my street. It was 3:30 am and I was correct about my reception when I got out of the back of that truck. My father flung open the front door and had met me at the curb in seconds. He grabbed me by the back of my long hair and literally kicked my ass from the curb into the house. My feet never touched the grass that separated the curb from the front door. I do believe I pissed my pants on the second or third kick.
My mother was hollering not at my father for his use of force but at me. I received a life sentence that night. Yup grounded for life is what my father handed down as my punishment.
Maybe I should have gotten drunk, maybe then it wouldn`t have hurt so bad being manhandle like some rag doll? I`m not saying I shouldn`t have gotten punished, not at all. I lied and I put myself in a dangerous situation.
It was a good three months before I was paroled. My father after not speaking to me for those three months, reminded me that as long as I lived under his roof I was to do as I was told. Lesson learned, I moved out the following spring under MY own roof. He wasn`t the only one with a temper and mine came from years of abuse by him and blind compliance from my mother.
It took my junior year in high school as a married pregnant woman before I learned to contain that anger. I buried it deep inside of me but that is another story for another day.