I Am No Longer A Daddy's Girl
In my eyes, my dad was a superhero. But my mother and sister saw him in a way I never did.
For me, life was perfect. I went to school, played with my toys, visited my grandparents every weekend, and I hung out with my dad in the garage. My parents were happily married and had two daughters who were 13 years apart. We lived in a small town with 600 people called Gainesville, Missouri and the nearest metropolitan area was Mountain Home, Arkansas, where we would shop, go to the movies, etc. I only saw the good things in life, never the bad.
I never realized that when my sister brought me to her room, locked the door, turned up the music, and cried that my dad was beating the crap out of my mom in the living room. I never knew why my sister was so afraid to take a shower until she moved her huge shelf against her bedroom wall that was against the bathroom wall, or why my mom would take my sister and I to my grandparents house for a couple days and was black and blue when she'd pick us up. I never realized why my grandpa kept his shotgun near his recliner in case he needed it in a hurry. But as I got older, I looked back on these memories that my young mind had been blind to and saw the truth.
One day, my mom had my sister put me in the back seat of the car and we headed off to Mountain Home to go to Wal-Mart. They bought me tons of toys, which made me happy because I had lost my favorite ones in the weeks previously and because we generally didn't have much money to buy frivilous toys. On the way back home, my mom turned to me and said, "We are going on a vacation, and Daddy isn't coming." I didn't get what she meant-- I was just distracted by my new toys. When we got back home, we headed straight for my grandparents' house and my grandma and grandpa loaded the trunk with boxes. After my grandpa handed my mom a money-filled envelope, I was told to say goodbye and we drove away crying. We went back to my house to find local sheriff standing there with my dad. I later learned that my mom was worried that he might try something so she had the sheriff come by just in case. My mom had the sheriff hold me because I was crying and he tried to cheer my up by making the buzzing bee noises and tickling me. I didn't understand why my sister and my mom were grabbing everything out of my room and throwing it into their cars. They grabbed clothes and a couple treasured items out of their rooms and we left-- just like that, my world had completely changed and I had no clue why.
Once we had made it to the next state, we stopped at a diner and my mom asked me if I was okay and I nodded. By this time, I had an idea of what was happening. I excused myself and went to the bathroom and cried. We got a hotel room and my mom and sister explained that they had been taking my toys and storing them at my grandparents' house, trying to salvage everything of mine that they could. And because they grabbed all of my stuff, they didn't get to bring a lot of their things, which obviously made them upset. My sister realized that she had left her yearbooks and photo albums behind. To this day, I only have several pictures of me when I was young. My mom explained to me that we were going to Montana to live with Aunt Vikki. But I had no clue who Aunt Vikki was-- to my knowledge, my mom had two brothers and that was it. My mom explained that when she was in her 20s she had a best friend named Vikki and that they were so close, they were like sisters. I had no clue why I had never heard of her if my mom and her were such good friends. I learned then that my sister was only my half sister. My sister explained that her dad was from my mom's first marriage. I remember asking her why she called my dad, "Dad" and she told me that he forced her to do so-- he made them cut out their old lives completely. My sister had never even been allowed to see her real dad again.
We continued to drive across the U.S. until we reached Montana and I met Vikki. She was this really cool biker chick and she gave me a big hug when she saw me. My mom cried and hugged her saying how much she missed her. We stayed at Vikki and her husband's house for a week until we found a one bedroom place of our own. During the week we stayed with Vikki, I learned that my mom used to be a biker chick when she was younger and my sister's dad, also rode a Harley. My sister found her dad and they talked on the phone for hours and I heard him crying on the other end because he had no clue what had happened to her. He hadn't seen her since she was five and she was 18 at that point. I heard my mom talking to Vikki, catching her up on what had happened. She told her that my dad had drilled a hole in the wall of my sister's room so he could watch her shower, which was why, a year before we left Missouri, my sister had bought that huge shelf and put it against the wall where the hole was. About a month before we left, she told my mom all that was going on. She had tried to tell my mom so many times, but my dad always stopped her. My mom told Vikki that my dad was really protective over me and freaked out whenever I got a scratch and would beat my mom for it. My dad never let me go on school field trips or spend the night at my friend's house so when I heard her say that, I began to hate my dad. I was just 8 years old-- little kids play and fall. It was no one's fault. I hated my dad for treating my mom like that.
My mom went to court with my dad and won full custody of me. He was allowed to take me with him for only one week out of a year. When the summer began after 2nd grade, two years after the custody battle, he came to take me to California, which was where he was living, for a week. He called my mom on the last day I was supposed to be with him and told her he wasn't bringing me back. Three days later, she showed up on his doorstep and took me home. That was the first time I saw him hit her. I hit him in the leg as hard as I could, but only being 9 years old, he barely felt it.
Now, I am 17 and I haven't seen my dad since then. The best part is, I don't care! My sister is now 30 and visits her dad in Oregon twice a year. My mom is remarried to a nice man, who also rides Harleys. She is happy that her husband lets her ride and doesn't hit her for it, or anything else for that matter. And Aunt Vikki is the coolest person I know because she took in me in her arms and hugged me like a real aunt when we had never met each other. We live 100 miles away, but we always talk on the phone. She is one of my best friends.
In most cases for teens, divorce is horrible. They are forced to choose between there parents when they still love both. My parents' divorce opened my eyes to see my dad for who he was and allowed me to be who I am. And I am NOT a daddy's girl anymore!
