MoTW—“Class of 1984”
As I pondered the meaning of the reversed doorknob, father walked out of
his bathroom. (Why he had his own bathroom has caused me many restless
nights. I don’t if it was because of his extremely smelly bowel
movements or because he was special, but that bathroom was off limits to
all, except for mom, when she cleaned it, and guests.)
“What’s this?” I asked pointing at the doorknob.
“I’m sorry, it’s not me,” he said moving close enough for me to smell
the Hai Karate. “It’s your mother. You know how she gets when she’s had
a couple drinks.”
This was true. Christmas Eve was the only time she showed any sort of
love towards me, and this was because she was tipsy.
“But why? What’s the point of locking me in my room?”
“She thinks you need to be controlled. She feels that you’re on downward
spiral and that this will help correct the path your life is currently
on. Or something like that. Remember, she was a bit drunk and rambled on
quite a bit.”
“Why did you marry that bitch? She’s obviously not doing too well
considering you had to adopt me and Geoff.”
“You also have a sister that came from me and your mother you dumb,
forgetful shit,” he said and then hit me square in the face with both
When I woke up my little sister was standing over me, holding her
favourite doll, Mrs Beasley.
“Pull the string,” she said holding the doll out to me
“Not right now, Noelle,” I said as I got to my feet.
“Daddy hit you and you fell. You went boom,” she said, the doll
“Yeah, and I guess that destroys that bond I thought we had. No more
hookers for me!”
“What? What are hookers? Me and Mrs Beasley want to know, so pull her
“Just leave me alone!”
She ran away crying and that’s the last I saw of her for a few weeks.
A few hours later mom came back from her tennis outing and I was waiting
for her in the kitchen.
“Someone’s been stealing cookies from the freezer,” she said as she
filled the tea kettle with water. “It’s not your sister since she’s too
innocent, besides which I don’t see her around much. Does she still live
here? Was she taken away by them?”
I almost asked who “them” but decided against it, at least for the time
She continued. “And it’s not your brother since he’s going to college
and doesn’t need to steal anything. Therefore it’s you that’s been
stealing the cookies. That’s why were going to start locking you in your
room at night and why you need to be in your room at seven, unless it’s
a work night.”
Not exactly the explanation dad had given me, but close enough I
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