Chapter Two

     Every dime I earned at my two jobs, my father collected. He said that he needed it for gas. I was only making about one hundred dollars because I was working part time. He expected one hundred dollars every paycheck and always left me penniless. How was I going to escape if I didn’t have any money? He took and cashed my brother and my social security checks and spent them. He wasn’t spending them on us and we lived in a section 8 housing with rent that was forty dollars a month, everything including except prorated electrictry. He was getting good money but we never saw any of it. I never got anything for my birthday (but my brother did) and when Christmas came, he always gave us the speech about him not being able to afford anything.

     Since, my father had been in a car accident (a blessing from God, I know), I was able to start taking the city bus to school and work. I was so happy! He could no longer follow me. I managed to get more hours at both jobs, lying to my father about increased classes. Every pay period, I gave him the one hundred dollars he expected and then stashed away the rest in a bank account I opened at a bank in downtown Providence where I caught the second bus to Rhode Island College.

      During this time, a love interest developed with someone on campus who seemed to be everywhere I was. I wasn’t aware of it until one day, a friend of mine and I were studying like we did every day before class in our special section in the campus library where we both worked. My friend had gone to the bathroom and upon returning, she whispered to me, “There’s a bunch of guys watching you from behind the bookshelves!” I had heard books being moved behind me but assumed it was one of my coworkers doing stacks as I often did as a first year worker. I was seated with my shoes off crossed legged, reading my textbook. My friend motioned for me to follow her. Suddenly, there was a lot of commotion as several guys poured from the bookshelves and raced downed the stairs of the balconey. All but one lingered behind, the one who had been interested in me. Placing my hands on my hips, I looked around for more of the guys and saw my admirer smile, lower his head, fix the strap of his backpack and slowly head down the stairs.

     I couldn’t believe this was happening! I never thought of myself as a beauty and having a pack of guys follow me around campus all the time was a bit more than flattering. My admirer was indeed handsome but couldn't he find someone else on campus  besides me? He had neatly cut  dark shouldner-length hair, dark eyes, thick eyebrows and a nice smile. He seemed very nice and he seemed to be everywhere I was. He was shy and so was I when it came to guys. I figured out who his friends were and they always ended up in my classes. I overheard him one time on campus say to a friend, “there she is…I think she’s cute.” I thought I looked horrible in my long blue skirt and white t-shirt. Because of my situation at home, I knew that it could never happen . I’d just be putting him at risk. The fact that he was white would only make my father hurt him more. My father told me once, “Don’t you ever bring some white guy home!” I couldn’t bring anyone home, for that matter, white or otherwise.

     One night, I overheard my father cussing someone out on the phone and, by the way my father was swearing, I assumed that someone had somehow gotten my home number and was asking for me. I wondered if it were my admirer who seemed to be great at detective work.

     One summer, I was in class with my admirer but I was too shy to talk to him . He’d sit next to me on the wall outside during our break from class and look at me. He even followed me after class and asked one of the guys who was friendly with me something about me, which until this very day that I am unaware of. I think it was a note that I never received. I was flattered about having an admirer, especially someone as handsome as he. His color made no difference to me since, having gone to Classical and private school, I was accustomed to those who didn’t look like me. I just thought that he would be in danger and could do a heck of a lot better than me. What was so special about me? How could anyone like or even love me?

     I always felt bad about the situation with my admirer but other things began to occupy my mind. I had saved six thousand dollars and began to plot my escape from home. I had managed to take a few days off from work, telling my supervisor the issue at hand. It was agreed that if my father came looking for me, my father would be told that I was busy in the stacks and they couldn’t reach me. After I managed to get an apartment down the hill from my college, some friends and colleagues of mine helped me trasport the furniture to my apartment. I had paid for my apartment four months in advance while I moved things in slowly.

      When it was getting close to my big escape, I confided in my brother. In disbelief, he said to me, “You’re never leaving!” I was shocked that he was so cruel to me. He wasn’t happy. Although he appeared angry, I think that there was a lot my brother didn’t understand and he was also afraid. I had to leave. I knew that if I didn’t my father would see to it that I never graduate from college and I needed to be sure that I succeed. For once, I had to think of myself. My brother was about sixteen years old and I thought he was old enough to take care of himself. I promised him that I’d be in touch, write him often and make a way for us to see each other without letting my father know my whereabouts.

     When my oldest half sister came over to pick up her daughter after work one day, I told her of my plans. She said to me, “How are you going to survive on your own? You’ll end up being a prostitute to take care of yourself!” Why was I being bombarded with negative comments? Was this a way of trying to prevent me from gaining my freedom? Despite her remarks, she wanted to see my apartment so she devised a plan.

     Everyone, it seemed, was always lying to my father. That’s the way we had to operate in order to live. My oldest sister told him on Saturday that she was taking my brother and me out. He liked that. It gave him freedom to have his women over and act nasty all over the house. We went to my new apartment and my brother was visibly upset. I reassured him that I would never forget about him and that I’d always be there for him. I kept my promise, but he shut me out.

     When my sister dropped off my brother and me at home, I tried my key in the lock and, for some, reason, it wouldn’t turn. Outside the house, was a yellow car, the car of one of the many women my father was seeing. At night, my father always put a wooden door block on the lock to prevent anyone from opening the door from the outside. I assumed he didn’t want us inside and I didn’t want to imagine the nastiness that was going on inside. My sister  yelled, “Come on!” and my brother and I returned to my sister’s car.