JANUARY 2001: A MCMANSION IN NAPERVILLE ILLINOIS:
I feel so sad. My mom and dad just told me they’re getting divorced. They told me “nothing’s changing” and they’ll “both still love me just as much as before.” But I’ve got friends whose parents got divorced; so I know that’s not true. Why does this have to happen to my family?
*****
JULY 2003: A DIFFERENT MCMANSION IN NAPERVILLE ILLINOIS:
Well, I was right. After my parents’ divorce, everything changed. And not in a good way. I mean, are everyone’s parents as embarrassing as mine? I’m pretty sure not. When I tell my friends stuff that goes on at my houses there’re all like: “Are you serious?”, “We feel soooo sorry for you.” I’m not sure if they really mean it or if they’re laughing at me behind my back. Sometimes I wish someone would jump out and tell me this whole thing’s a joke and I’ve been, ya know, punk’d – like on that t.v. show.
I mean, it’s not like I don’t have enough of my own stuff to worry about without my folks acting crazy. Last month I gained about five pounds and got some zits on my face and, of course, there’s school. So I kinda wish my parents hadn’t gotten divorced, which was bad enough. But now each one of them is having some sort of (air quote) personal crises. Plus they’re sharing custody of me so, each week, I’m moving my stuff back and forth between houses. Whoever thought of this sharing custody thing was, like, the stupidest person EVER. It’s all, like, soooo annoying.
There’s, like, these different sets of rules at both houses. My mom is all into healthy eating and early bed times. She’s so annoying. She acts like she knows everything. At Dad’s house, we eat mostly take-out food and he, like, prefers not to know anything about anything that might upset him because, he says, he “can’t handle that right now.”
Plus, my Dad has all these new girlfriends – so there’s this endless parade of, like, really dumb girls not much older then me. I guess they don’t mind dating an old guy because my Dad’s a lawyer and makes tons of money. Meanwhile my Mom keeps getting constantly dumped by one jerky guy after another – probably because she’s sooo serious and such a prude. ( There’s one mistake I know I’m never going to make. ) Then she gets in a bad mood and takes it out on me: “Amber, clean your room. Amber take out the trash, wash your dishes, do your homework.” It’s like living with, like, Adolph Hitler or someone.
So, anyway, one day I’m at my dad’s house and he’s got Carrie, his latest stupid girlfriend, over and I’m looking at her like, OMG, could you be any dumber and she’s sort of staring at me with her eyes half shut like she’s, you know, sizing me up or something, and then suddenly she says: “You know,” Amber, “I’ve got a younger brother whose just about your age, maybe a couple of years older. We’re going horseback riding Saturday. Ya wanna join us?”
And my Dad gets this stupid smile on his face like he thinks maybe me and this latest mistake of his and I are going to become best friends or something. Now, I don’t really like this girl and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t like me either. But I’ve got nothing to do Saturday because Ashley is out of town with her parents and Tiffany has some kind of gymnastics tournament. I figure horseback riding might be fun. Maybe I could just ignore this idiot and her kid brother. “Whatever, Dude,” I say.
So, anyway, on Saturday, I open my Dad’s front door and there’s this totally awesome guy standing there and I’m like: “Can I help you?” And he’s like: “Are you Amber?” I’m like: “Do I know you?” (Because I’m pretty sure I would remember.) And he’s like: “I’m Corky, Carrie’s brother. She had to work this morning so she said we should hook up here for horseback riding.” He’s, like, standing on the doorstep and I’m peeking past him at this candy-apple red Mini Cooper parked in our driveway.
“I…unh…do you want to come in” I finally mumble. Could I sound any stupider? It’s just that this guy is like an Abercrombie & Fitch poster boy, that one with blond bangs and dreamy blue eyes. “My…umh…Dad’s not,,,no one’s home now…just me,” I say. “But I think he’ll be back soon…You could, umm, wait, I guess.” I step to one side and Corky walks in looking all around like he is sizing everything up and I’m thinking: If only Ashley and Tiffany could see this guy. They would be soooo jealous. I hope I marry a guy who looks just like this one. I am also thinking how mad my mom would be if she saw this because, over there, I am under orders never to have boys over if she is not home (not that I even know any boys to invite over). “Would you like some…unh…Gatorade,” I ask.
“No thanks,” he says smiling this cutest smile ever with these white, even teeth. “Mind if I smoke a joint?” Next thing I know, he plops down on the couch like he owns the place and pulls out a plastic baggie full of dried leaves and some white square papers. I am just standing there watching him like…wow. I’ve heard about this stuff and seen all those “this is your brain on drugs” ads on T.V. and all. But I’ve never seen a live person actually smoke dope before. Wait till I tell Tiffany and Ashley. They are not going to believe this. This dude is sooooo cool.
Of course if my Mom were around, I would have to say “Please put that away,” or something juvenile like that because she’s, like, so paranoid she thinks people are smoking dope whenever someone buys a new cat toy or the neighbor mows his lawn. But my mom isn’t around much anymore – with her new job and college classes and all. Anyway, this is my Dad’s house. And I’m pretty sure him and his little girl toys do more than drink the occasional can of beer. So I say, “Ummm…sure, no problem.”
The phone rings. “It’s my Dad,” I say putting one hand over the receiver. “He’s picking up your sister and they’re going to have lunch first and then head over to the stables. We’re supposed to meet them there in about an hour.” Corky nods, smiles, sucks in some smoke then exhales.
“So,” he says after I hang up “you live here part of the time and at your Moms part of the time”?
“Sort of,” I say, trying to sound casual…like someone who does not have a stupid, crazy life. “I mean, they’ve got this joint-custody thing.”
“Must be a real pain for you switching houses all the time,” he says and right there I think I fall in love with him. I can’t believe a guy this intelligent and sensitive could be from the same family as his stupid sister Carrie. “Do you have your own room at both houses?” He smiles and I notice he has dimples.
“Of course,” I say. “Both my parents always make sure I have, umm, everything I need.
“You wanna show me your room here at this house,” he says, still smiling. He stands up and stretches and I realize how tall he is and what a great bod he’s got.
“I, ummmm, O.K.,” I say, feeling a little uncomfortable for some reason. “It’s upstairs.” I lead and he follows, all the time looking around like he’s taking everything in. It’s a nice house. Nicer than Ashley’s or Tiffany’s or any one else’s that I know. It’s much nicer than Mom’s tiny, little condominium she got after the divorce. She didn’t have much money but she wanted to stay in the same neighborhood because of my school. She says things will be better when she finishes her college classes and gets a better job. Dad, of course, still makes tons of money being a lawyer and all — which is why this house is as nice as our old house we had when we all lived together. Maybe nicer. Our old house didn’t have a pool and hot tub in the yard.
I realize as soon as we walk in my room that bringing Corky up here was a mistake. He looks so big and out of place and it’s too late to hide my pink ruffled bed spread or my pink and white furniture or my stuffed animals or ballerina figurine collection on my book shelves. I am like dying of embarrassment. My room looks like…a kid’s room.
But Corky only says: “It’s nice. You get a good view of the pool from here.” He plunks down onto the bed and pats the space next to him. “Come on over here and sit by me. I don’t bite.” Part of me says: Don’t do it. But the other part walks obediently over and sits down. Right away, Corky drops one arm over my shoulder and I feel so scared I start to tremble.
“Hey, what’s up? Are you chilly or something,” he says turning his face directly into mine. His eyes are not really blue but sort of a blue, brown, green mix.
“I, uhn,” I stutter. I am scared but I am not sure of what. I feel that way a lot since the divorce. Sometimes I wish I had someone to talk to and some time to just rest instead of always having to run back and forth between my parents’ houses. But no. I’m always on the go, moving between my Mom’s and Dad’s and school. There’s no time or place to call my own and no one to talk to about how I am feeling.
Suddenly I realize Corky’s lips are pressing onto mine. OH. MY. GOD…my first kiss. I freeze because I don’t want to mess up.
First I picture Ash and Tiff. I know they would be soooo jealous.
Then, I picture my Mom. If she could see me now, she would totally freak out. She would be screaming about STDs and keeping myself “pure” and not allowing guys to “use me.” But where did all that get her? She’s old and alone. My dad doesn’t even like talking to her. “She’s just too set in her ways,” he says. “There’s nothing for us to say to each other.” But Mom says Dad doesn’t like talking to her because then he “has to face up to himself which is something he’d rather not do.” Basically they prefer to snipe at each other through me. I’m like their weapon of mass destruction. But at least I’ve learned that all that (air quotes) “happily ever after” stuff is nothing but a fairy tail. I’m not five years old anymore. So I’m going to have as much fun as I can so guys will like me and I will not be left old and alone like my mom.
I’m thinking about all this when I feel Corky give me a little shove down onto my bed. My folks are my folks and I am me, I decide. I am picturing myself this fall, after I start Lake Long High School. I imagine myself waiting out front for Corky, and Corky pulling up in that candy apple red Mini Cooper, smiling and waving for me to hop in. This fantasy makes me smile while I allow Corky to unbutton my top and pull my bra off.
What happens next is quick and not really all that much fun. In fact it hurts and I bleed a little. Corky sees the blood and looks surprised. “Is this your first time” he says, sounding a little concerned.
“I…um…no, that just sometimes happens,” I say, looking the other way so he can’t see my face.
“Oh, O.K., well good,” he says. “So, anyway, we’d better get on down to the stables, hunh?” He stands up like nothing happened and glances at his watch. I’m left to sort of pull up my clothes and find some Kleenex to wipe the blood spot off my bedspread. I keep smiling though, so he’ll think I’m having fun.
*****
OCTOBER 2003, A MODEST CONDOMINIUM IN NAPERVILLE, ILLINOIS:
My life is over. I am totally serious. I cannot believe what happened. I waited three weeks for Corky to call me. Nothing. Was I that…bad? Did I, you know, do it wrong or something? I’m, like, so embarrassed, I didn’t even tell Tiffany or Ashley what happened after I realized Corky was not calling me back. I’m not sure what they would think.
So then I show up my first day at Lake Long High School and there he is. I mean standing right there on the front steps of the school with his arm around some blond girl I later found out is head of the cheerleading squad. I nearly died right there. I was, like, so embarrassed…I sort of turned my face so he wouldn’t see me, ran past him and snuck into class.
It gets worse. So Ashley and Tiffany are in a different home room. So we don’t have even one single class together. I’m, like, totally alone. I don’t know anyone in my section. I’m, like, so depressed. Plus I’ve got to keep sneaking around everywhere so I won’t run into Corky or his blond, cheerleader girlfriend. If all that’s not bad enough, I’ve got this, like, rash and I didn’t get my monthly visitor this month. So I’m kinda scared. I’m not stupid, you know. I know from sex-ed class that you actually can get pregnant from one time.
I just wish I had someone I could talk to about all this. But who? Tiffany and Ashley? No way. They are both gossip girls. I would just die if this got out around school. My mom? Right, like she knows anything at all about men. If she did, Corky’s sister wouldn’t still be leading my dad around like a dog on a leash. Funnily enough, I notice she never mentions her brother anymore. Sometimes I wonder if she could possibly have set up that horseback riding thing on purpose. I mean, she must have known her brother already had a girlfriend. I have heard that Corky and his blond girlfriend have been together since freshman year. Carrie never really did like me. Or me her. But after what happened with Corky I can’t really complain to my dad about her, can I? Because if I do, she can tell him about what happened with me and Corky. (I’m sure she knows. Something about the way she smirks at me whenever I see her.) So can I talk to my dad? Double no, for obvious reasons. I’m just keeping everything to myself hoping it works out somehow. I don’t see how though. Ever since my parents split up, nothing’s been the same. I wish we could go back to the way it was before and I’m pretty sure my entire life is ruined like totally.
*****
DECEMBER 2003, A HIGH SCHOOL RESTROOM NAPERVILLE ILLINOIS:
O.K. So somehow Corky’s girlfriend found out what happened between him and me and now pretty much no one will talk to me, not even Tiffany and Ashley. Like I am the bad guy or something. They are a super popular couple and no one really knows me. So, of course, everyone hates me. Maybe if I can just avoid everyone for a while this will all blow over. But I can’t stand the way kids turn around to look at me in the halls. It’s like I’ve got a sign painted on my back or something. Corky was the biggest mistake I ever made and sometimes I wonder if I would have done what I did if things had been like they were before my parents’ divorce.
*****
FEBRUARY 2004, A HIGH SCHOOL LUNCHROOM, NAPERVILLE, ILLINOIS:
This is the third day in a row that Eric has sat down with me at lunch. He is the only one who will sit with me because Corky’s girlfriend “the queen bee cheerleader” has put the word out on me and everyone is afraid to go against her because she is so popular. I don’t really like Eric because he and his friends are all sort of weird – with their black clothes, goth make up and creepy ideas. Still, it’s better than sitting alone all the time. So maybe I will meet up with him and his friends after school like he keeps asking me to. They like to hang out and listen to this music from the old days, punk and rock. I guess it’s better than emo. Life sucks.
*****
DECEMBER 2020, A DRUG & ALCOHOL TREATMENT FACILITY IN CHICAGO, ILLINOIS:
Hi, my name is Amber Anderson and I’m an alcoholic. Oh…and a sex addict too. But I guess that’s a different meeting. Ha, ha.
I guess my problem, if you can call it that, started around high school about the same time as my parents got divorced. Not that I’m blaming them. I mean we’re all responsible for our own choices, right? But actually it’s kind of strange how before they split up I was a real goody two shoes, straight ‘A’ honors student. Never got in trouble. And after, well, everything changed.
O.K.. So after my folks got divorced I had a…bad experience with a guy. I thought I was in love but of course I wasn’t. It was a, I don’t know, summer fling. But when I started high school, he was there. And he had a girlfriend already. So, it was sort of stupid but I felt like he broke my heart. After that, I don’t know. Everything just fell apart. High School was so much harder for me. I couldn’t concentrate on anything. I had no friends and then I got in with this wild crowd where everyone drank and used drugs. I mean it wasn’t my parents fault or anything. Like I know I am responsible for my own behavior, right? But it was like I couldn’t trust anything or anyone anymore.
Before my parents divorce I believed in…things, you know, love…the future. Afterwards, it all seemed like, I don’t know, a stupid game of some sort. I felt like I wasn’t me…like I was someone else outside of myself, watching myself…like all those stupid things I was doing, like sleeping around with everyone, were being done by someone else. I guess that’s another reason I started drinking. It made me feel happy again. But, like I say, I don’t blame my parents for getting divorced. They weren’t happy so what else could they do, stay together just for me? Ha. Ha.
Anyway, now I’ve got no problems with relationships. If one ends, another will begin. Am I right? After all, I’m an adult now. I get that nothing is forever. Hell, I’ve been married three times, Ha ha. But seriously, the first was just because I wanted to get out on my own. That was after I dropped out of high-school and I didn’t have a job. So I guess it was, you know….an escape. Then after I had the baby, I got this little job at a coffee shop. But it seemed like my life wasn’t going anywhere and I met someone there and…. You’re only young once, I figured. Plus I had seen where playing it straight gets you. Anyway, my second husband was gone a lot for his job. So I was still left alone and then I had the second kid. So I couldn’t really get a job. I guess I was lonely. By now my mom had moved across country and was living in some elder commune and my dad was involved with his latest “micro-mini” wife who was practically a teenager. (I call them micro minis because each one is smaller, and younger, than the last.) So, anyway, I guess I just wanted someone to talk to. But my third husband got violent when he drank. So, that was that. Number three didn’t even last as long as numbers one or two. So now it’s just me. The kids live with my former husbands’ moms. That way I can work. I do feel bad that they don’t get to be together and enjoy being, you know, kids together.
When I got caught drinking and driving for the third time. It was either come here and agree to a treatment program or go to jail…”directly to jail and do not pass go,” ha ha. So here I am.
Do I think things might have been different if my parents had stayed together? Who knows? I have read somewhere that kids from divorced families have lower academic achievement, more social adjustment problems, more medical and psychiatric treatment, more drug and alcohol use, more teen pregnancies and more divorces than kids from in-tact families. If that’s true, I guess I am a walking poster child for parents staying married. But, hey, you can’t expect people to stay together forever for the sake of their kids, can you? I mean life is short. If people are unhappy with each other, what else can they do but get divorced? Like I say, I’ve been married three times myself. And neither of my first two ex-husbands ever paid up on their child support payments, I might add. Not that it matters now that my kids are living with their grandmothers. But…whatever. Life goes on. Am I right?
By the way, how much longer do I have to keep “sharing” and how much longer does this meeting go on? I’ve got a date later tonight and I want to stop home first and freshen up. We’re going out clubbing. This guy is like me, loves to dance. We’ll have to take cabs or walk, though, cause, like me (ha,ha), Max has had some problems with DUI. But since the kids are with their grandmothers now, hey, I can stay out all night if I want. I might just do that and call in sick at work tomorrow.
You’ve got to have fun when the opportunity is there because nothing lasts forever. Plus, I’ve got a feeling this new guy just might turn out to be husband number four.