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My Stolen Diaries – Chapter 20: Help!

CHAPTER 20

HELP!

August 1965

Today the song Help! by the Beatles was playing on the radio, and the words of the song describe our lives to a T because we desperately need some help, especially the part that goes,

♪ Help me if you can; I’m feeling down
And I do appreciate you being ’round
Help me get my feet back on the ground
Won’t you please, please help me ♪

It’s been seven months since my window screw-up, and Mom still blames me for everything bad happening to her. She keeps whining that Roberto was our only hope of escaping Bridgeport and that Nick will never be of any help since he likes it here. Plus, Mom says Nick has no ambition and will never make enough money to get us out, even if he changes his mind. According to Mom, we’re stuck in Bridgeport forever, thanks to me.

I hate that I’m the cause of all of Mom’s troubles, but as long as I’m with Mom, Mem, and Mere Germaine, I agree with Nick that we don’t need to leave Bridgeport, although it would help if we could move someplace without bugs and rodents.

Mem always says that help can come in the unlikeliest of places and when we need it the most, but Mom says there is no one to help us now that Roberto is off with some other girl. Mem’s reply to Mom is that if he found another girl so fast, he wasn’t the right guy for her anyway.

Speaking of help, before school let out, Sister Regina Mary helped me sign up for a library card because she believes that reading is good exercise for the brain. Sister also says that books will help my imagination and strengthen relationships. I hope Sister is correct because I could sure use some help with my relationship with Mom.

But the biggest thing that has happened since I wrote last is that poor Adam passed away. Lucky for him, Mem was there and helped him get to the other side. I have never seen Mem so upset, and it took her a few weeks to return to herself. You’d think that with Adam dying, Mom would be nicer to me, but she hasn’t been any help at all, mainly because she still hasn’t heard one word from Roberto.

Two days ago, Mem got a call from Adam’s lawyer asking her to come into his office. I took the bus with Mem to a fancy building on Main Street. The lawyer said that Adam’s will was recently probated. Mem told the lawyer she didn’t understand what that meant, so the lawyer explained that Adam’s will was proved by the Bridgeport Court to be his last will and testament. Mem was still confused as to why she was there and asked the lawyer if she was in some kind of trouble. Mem was shaking like a leaf.

I could see the lawyer felt bad for Mem and calmed her down by saying that she was in no trouble at all and that he had great news for her. Mem replied that Adam dying was terrible news for her, and nothing could change that. That’s when the lawyer told Mem that Adam had left her his car, the contents of his house, and a substantial amount of money.

Mem cried like a baby, and the lawyer offered her a box of tissues. Seeing Mem cry made me cry because I never saw her cry before.

The lawyer sat quietly for a minute before asking, “Who is Tony?” Mem, who was blowing her nose, pointed her finger in my direction. The lawyer looked down at his notes and then back up at me and said, “Adam left you his baby grand piano,” which made the two of us cry even more.

Then the lawyer turned to Mem. “Don’t you want to know how much?” “How much what?” Mem asked, wiping the tears off her face. “How much money Adam left you,” the attorney replied, looking shocked that Mem didn’t think to ask him.

Mem stood up, straightened out her skirt, grabbed my hand, and on our way out of his office, looked back at Adam’s lawyer and said, “No, I don’t want to know how much. When I get the money, I’ll know.”

Up to me, I would have wanted to know how much money Adam left Mem. Poor thing cried the whole bus trip home, even though I tried to calm her down by reminding her she was right on the money when she said that help comes from the unlikeliest of places and when we need it the most. She replied that right on the money was the wrong choice of words.

The one thing I know for sure is thanks to poor dead Adam; help is on the way. And no matter how much or how little, I know his money will go a long way to helping us get our feet back on the ground.

Click here for Chapter 21: Building 55, Success Park

My Stolen Diaries – Chapter 19: The Boot

CHAPTER 19

THE BOOT

April 1965

It’s been almost three months since Mem gave Steve the boot, Roberto gave Mom the boot, and Mom gave me the boot, or should I say the broom. But Mom won’t stop telling Mem that everyone got the boot because of me. Except, of course, Adam, because he’s almost dead, so there’s no way he’s getting the boot except from God.

Since I’m not allowed to go to Steve’s Market, and Adam is sicker than ever, I’ve spent most of my time at the Bridgeport Library.

I’m also not allowed to go to Father Panik Village, so Yolanda meets me at the library and helps me hide Rib in an old purse of Mem’s, so he can come with us.

We don’t have library cards which means Yolanda and I never get to the end of the books we like because we must leave them behind. I hope to apply for a library card soon because I’d like to finish just one of them, but I need an adult sponsor.

The first couple of times we went, I was paranoid that the librarian was watching us because of Rib, but Yolanda said it was because I was with a girl with black skin. I think it’s sad that the librarian is way more interested in why I’m with black-skinned Yolanda than the dog in Mem’s purse.

Rib is only three pounds, and Mem says that’s as big as he’ll ever get, which is excellent for me because I get to take him everywhere, and because he’s so tiny, no one even knows he exists, which in Rib’s case is a good thing.

Speaking of not existing, Mom still hasn’t heard one word from Roberto since I shoved my stupid face out the window. And she still hasn’t forgiven me for it, even though I make her bed every day and do all the chores she’s supposed to do, like vacuuming, dusting, and taking out the garbage.

My birthday was a bust because Mom refused to participate. Mem and Mere Germaine took me for a birthday celebration at Valley Farm Drive-In on Boston Avenue. I had a hot dog with the works, and Mem and Mere Germaine shared a meatball grinder, but Mom never showed up. When I cried to Mem, Mere Germaine told me that Mom’s heart was healing and to give her some space and time.

Mere Germaine still lives in Samir’s apartment, although I haven’t seen him since he punched out Uncle Luke. You could say Uncle Luke also got the boot, but with a fist to the face instead.

And just to let you know, I check the kitchen cupboard from time to time for any new newspaper articles about my dad, and there are plenty of them, so I’m sure he’s another man that I won’t be seeing anytime soon.

Based on his law-breaking behavior, he’s the only one who deserves to get the boot, although I hope the police don’t shoot him in the head like they did to his friend Anthony.

Maybe Mem is right when she says that all men should get the boot — except for Adam, who, according to Mem, is one-of-a-kind and not like other men. When I asked Mem about Nick, she said only time would tell whether he should get the boot.

I try to bring up Steve to Mem because I miss him terribly, but she’s stubborn and says he got the boot because he wouldn’t stop bad-mouthing Adam. Without Steve, we’re back to chopped meat, hotdogs, and liver, plus no more free cigarettes for Mom and Mem.

Mom is still dating Nick, but I can see his frustration. Nick knows Mom doesn’t love him because he told me so himself. When I asked him why he was wasting time with her, he said he still had hope.

If you ask me, I think his situation is hopeless because Mom cries every day over Roberto, so I’m all but certain that Nick will be the next one to get the boot.

Click here for Chapter 20: Help!

My Stolen Diaries – Chapter 18: The Secret Is Out

CHAPTER 18

THE SECRET IS OUT

January 1965

I should have never taken the chance that Roberto might see me at Mem’s window, but I was sick and tired of worrying about some guy I didn’t know. Plus, I was boiling mad at Mom for refusing to tell Roberto about me, and deep down, I wanted to punish her.

So late last night, when I saw the bright lights outside, I knew that Roberto was dropping off Mom, and I decided to take my chances at Mem’s window. Mem was busy on the sewing machine at the other end of the apartment, so I snuck a quick peek.

As I peeped out from the bottom right corner of the window, a cockroach ran out from under Mem’s bed, making me jump around and scream like a banshee.

That was the stupidest thing I could have done because Roberto looked up and saw me! I quickly dropped to the floor despite the cockroach. A few minutes later, I heard the kitchen door open and loudly slammed shut.

“Where is she? I’m gonna kill her,” Mom yelled out from the kitchen. I crawled under the bed, praying there weren’t more cockroaches, but from the sounds coming out of Mom, I was safer with the bugs.

Mom was screaming and swearing, and Mem warned her to stay away from me. Mom came into the bedroom with a broom and kept stabbing me under the bed with the bristles. It was painful, and I was crying. Mem tried to pull Mom away and threatened to call Mere Germaine on her if she didn’t calm herself down.

Then Mom dropped to the bedroom floor, sobbing. “Roberto saw Tony at the window. She did this on purpose. Roberto called me a distrustful liar and broke up with me. That Tony of yours is pure evil, and I wish she was never born.”

Mem responded by reminding Mom that I was her kid and not Mem’s and that I could hear every word she was saying. Mem warned Mom that she would regret her words later. “The only thing I regret is having that brat,” she yelled as she picked herself up off the floor and slammed the back door as she left.

Mem ordered me out from under her bed. When I crawled out, I was covered head to toe with blood pricks from the broom bristles. My bleeding body stung, but not as much as Mom’s ugly words.

Mem stayed quiet. She put me in the bath to clean off the blood and removed some broom bristles stuck in my hair and scalp.

Then Mem called Mere Germaine to ask what she should do because it wasn’t safe for Mom to be outside in the dark. Mere Germaine said she was walking over to our apartment, which was a very long walk, so Mem begged her not to come. But Mere Germaine said she was on her way.

I hated myself for what I had done, but there was nothing I could do to change the situation. If it weren’t for Mom refusing to tell Roberto about me, none of this would have happened.

When Mere Germaine finally showed up, Mem ran outside to look for Mom. Before Mem left, Mere Germaine told her to take a can of Raid with her so if anyone tried to hurt her or Mom, she could spray it in their eyes.

I told Mere Germaine what happened, and she scolded me but held me tight while gently patting my still-bleeding arms and legs with her dainty needle-pointed handkerchief as I cried uncontrollably in her lap.

She put me to bed and told me not to move a muscle. “When your mother gets home, you pretend to be asleep, tu comprends?” Oh, I understood, all right.

Soon after, I heard Mem and Mom come into the apartment. Mom was still sobbing hysterically and telling Mem and Mere Germaine that she couldn’t take me anymore.

“If it wasn’t for her,” she cried to Mem, “my life would be so much easier. All of our lives would be easier.”

Mere Germaine was quiet, but Mem said, “How can you say such a thing? She’s a child. Your child.”

“Tony just had to put her ugly, scrawny face on the window. How many times have I told her not to do it? She ruined everything. We will never get out of here now, thanks to her. Roberto demanded to know who the kid was. This is not how I wanted him to find out about her. He’ll never speak to me again; I just know it.”

Mem and Mere Germaine did their best to calm her crying fit, but she wailed away for hours. That’s what Mom gets for being a big fat liar.

Mom’s words were way more painful than the stabbing she gave me with the broom, but getting Roberto out of our lives was worth the pain of all of it, and given a chance, I would do it again and again and again.

Click here for Chapter 19: The Boot

My Stolen Diaries – Chapter 16: In Over My Head

CHAPTER 16

IN OVER MY HEAD

August 1964

We went to Caribou, Maine, two weeks ago, for our annual St. Germaine family reunion. Mom is mostly dating Roberto, but she still goes out with Nick from time to time. Since Nick is Mom’s backup boyfriend, I was shocked when she told me Nick was driving us to Maine.

I suppose I shouldn’t have been that surprised because I’m not sure how we would have gotten to Caribou since we still don’t have a car, and Roberto still doesn’t know I exist.

I think Nick must really love Mom because even though she told him that she loves someone else, he hasn’t given up on her.

When we got to Caribou, Mom showed Nick around, although there wasn’t much to see except a bunch of potato farms and the Aroostook River.

Then we drove from Caribou to Eagle Lake for the family reunion. I helped Mem, and her sisters set up the picnic tables for lunch until a bunch of the kids decided to swim out to the floating lake dock. I didn’t know how to swim, but I really wanted to go with them, so I grabbed a swim tube and paddled out anyway.

The kids were diving off the dock, which roughed up the water, and I somehow slipped through the tube. As I sunk under the water, I panicked but luckily bobbed back up to the surface. But my tube floated away, and the water sloshing into my mouth made it impossible to yell for help.

I struggled to stay above the water, but I sank anyway. As I slowly dropped under, I could see the sun’s brightness above me. I thought I was a goner until a shadow blocked the sunlight, and someone grabbed me by the arm.

It was Nick! He was shaking, maybe even more than me, but he was a strong swimmer and dragged me to the sandy shore where Mom and Mem were crying hysterically. Mom was hugging and crushing me. I shoved her off of me so I could throw up. Mem was screaming at Mom that she should never have taken her eyes off me.

“Are you ever going to take responsibility for Tony?” Mem asked Mom. Nick tried to calm Mem down by saying he was watching me the whole time, but Mem told him while looking in Mom’s direction, “that’s what a mother is supposed to do.” Mere Germaine nodded in agreement which was a shock because she usually takes Mom’s side on everything.

Even though I was throwing up, I made sure not to miss a single word of what was being said. Mem made me promise never to go into the water again, which is more than okay with me because the only water I plan on ever getting into is in the bathtub.

The next day, Mem refused to speak to Mom even though Nick tried his best to calm down the situation. But Mem wasn’t calming down. She wouldn’t let me out of her sight and kept repeating that it was high time Mom woke up to the fact that she was someone’s mother, and again, Mere Germaine agreed.

With Mem and Mere Germaine giving Mom a hard time, she insisted we cut the trip short, so we left Caribou two days early. As usual, what Natalie wants, Natalie gets.

When Nick dropped us off, he lifted me out of his car and hugged me. When I thanked him for saving my life, Nick took my face into his hands, kissed the top of my head, and said, “You know I love you, Kiddo.” That was the first time a man ever said he loved me. “I love you too, Nick,” I said back, which was the first time I had ever said that to a man.

I wasn’t happy that I almost drowned, but it was worth it to have Nick say he loved me and to say I loved him back. Now all I have to do is get Mom to love him too.

Click here for Chapter 17: Somebody Has to Go

My Stolen Diaries – Chapter 14: Almost in the Nick of Time

CHAPTER 14

ALMOST IN THE NICK OF TIME

May 1964

Let me tell you about Nick.

He’s tall, handsome, and the best thing that has happened to Mom in a long time, maybe even ever. And even though Mom says Nick has his selfish reasons, he likes me!

Last week, when Nick came to pick up Mom to take her to Seaside Park, I screamed out the back window for her to take me with them, which I could see made her furious.

Mem yanked me away from the window and made me sit facing the wall in the living room for fifteen minutes. I thought they had left, but then Mom came upstairs and said Nick felt awful that I was begging out the window and insisted I go with them.

When I yelled to Mem that I needed to come off the wall because Nick was waiting for me to go to the beach, mean Mom told me Nick could care less about me. “He only told me to let you come with us because you screamed out the window like a nincompoop. You’re a pathetic beggar, and he feels sorry for you.”

Mem asked Mom why she had to say such hurtful things to me, but I didn’t care because I was just happy to be going to the beach.

I thanked Nick later, and he told me it was no big deal since he’s Mom’s boyfriend now and wants us to be friends. Nick should only know the truth—that Mom has another boyfriend.

Mom is also dating a guy named Roberto. I’ve never met him, but I’ve seen him from Mem’s window a few times. I’m forbidden to look out the window when Roberto shows up, so I am as careful as all get out.

Mom told me if she ever catches me spying on them, she’ll give me the strap, which is way worse than the wall.

I know Roberto doesn’t know I exist because, according to what Mom tells Mem and Mere Germaine, she’s afraid to tell him she has a kid.

I was going to let Nick know that he isn’t Mom’s only boyfriend, but he was so nice to me, I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, and at least Mom told him about me. And unless Nick is good at hiding his true feelings, it seems like he’s okay that I exist.

Mom was reading a book on the blanket while the two of us dug for clams. We talked about White Street and what it was like living there. I told him about the rat traps, but he already knew. He asked me if I was afraid like Mom, and I lied and said no.

He seems to care about what I think, and I like him a lot. He calls me Kiddo, and I like that too.

When we got home that night, Mom stayed in the car with Nick while I went upstairs. I tried to look out the window to see if they were making out, but Mem pulled me away and yelled for me to give them some privacy or she’d put me on the wall again.

I pretended to go to bed and took one more peek out the window. Mom wasn’t kissing Nick, and it was obvious that he was upset about something because he had his head in his hands, and she was patting him on the back, which I took as a bad, bad sign.

Click here for Chapter 15: Roberto, Roberto, Roberto

My Stolen Diaries – Chapter 13: Is My Dad in the Mafia?

CHAPTER 13

IS MY DAD IN THE MAFIA?

December 1963

Like any kid, I wish I knew more about my father and would like to see him again, but I know it’s not possible, especially now that Mom thinks he’s in the mafia.

Mom refuses to talk about him, so we never do. I can sometimes get Mem to talk about him, but not very often. She mostly tells me, “Go ask your mother.” When I do as Mem says, Mom gets ugly in the face and tells me to “Shut my trap.”

I know I’m French on Mom and Mem’s side, but I don’t know what I am on my father’s side. Before my Catholic baptism, I was Greek Orthodox, so maybe I’m Greek?

But when I ask Mem and Mom if I’m Greek, they both respond with, “Don’t start that up again.”

But I can’t help myself. I try not to start up or cause trouble, but every time I look in the mirror, I’m reminded over and over of all the things I don’t know about myself or my dad.

When Mom gets mad at me, she yells that I’m just like my father. I want to ask her why, but I don’t dare because I’m not an idiot.  And I sure hope I’m not just like my father because everyone in my family hates him.

I tried to ask Adam some more mafia questions, but he must have told Mem I was snooping around because he said he wasn’t allowed to talk about that with me anymore. When I asked him what could be worse than getting killed, he made believe he didn’t hear my question and changed the subject.

That made me angry at Adam, so to get back at him, I said that Steve was buying us a television set for Christmas, which I could see bothered him a lot.

Three days later, Adam had a television set delivered to our apartment, which made Steve furious, but he never said a word about how he felt to Mem. Steve asked me if I had anything to do with Adam buying us a television set, and I lied and said no.

I also lied and told Steve that Adam told me plenty about my dad and asked him what he knew. He said he knew nothing about my dad, but I could tell he was a liar, just like me. Plus, when I asked Steve if he thought I looked like my dad, he said “a little,” so he must know something about him.

Even though I tried, I couldn’t get Steve to say anything more except that kids are better seen than heard and that I should give up getting any family secrets from him.

So, I listened to Steve and gave up until the other night when I caught Mem and Mom whispering together about a newspaper article Mom had in her shaking hand.

They spoke French, but my understanding of the language is getting better by the day.

Whatever they were talking about, as far as I could figure, had something to do with my father running naked out of a swamp with his hands up over his head! His friend Anthony, who It sounded like Mom knew, was shot and killed, but the police couldn’t kill my dad because he wasn’t wearing any clothes and his hands were in the air.

Mom also told Mem that the article said my dad’s problems with the law had something to do with a bunch of arrests against some of the hitmen connected to the Gambino family.

Mem hugged Mom, who kept saying she was afraid someone in the mafia would try to hurt me to get back at my dad.

Why would anyone want to hurt me? And who was the Gambino family?

Then she hid the newspaper article on the top shelf of the kitchen cabinet over the sink.

In the middle of the night, while everyone was asleep, I snuck out of bed and tiptoed to the kitchen even though I was scared to death of the cockroaches and rats. But I had to read the newspaper for myself, so I took my chances.

I didn’t turn on the light, so the cockroaches on the wall didn’t move much.

I dragged a kitchen chair to the sink, climbed up to the cabinet, and discovered a pile of newspapers, so I pulled them all down.

The article on the top said: BRIDGEPORT MAN ARRESTED IN SHOOTOUT

And there in the newspaper was my dad’s name and address. It said that investigators from the State Organized Crime Task Force arrested Mick Michaels for assaulting a State Trooper. The guy Anthony, who was with my dad, got shot in the head. The police said Anthony, who had ties to Billy Batts and the Gambino Family, committed suicide. My dad was charged with assault and carrying a dangerous weapon, which I’m sure had to be a gun. They also charged him with violating probation, whatever that is. And he paid $25,000 to stay out of jail until his court date.

My heart was pounding as I read through the newspaper articles and wrote down as many headings as possible so I could read them later.

ORGANIZED CRIME INVESTIGATORS ARREST GAMBLING CLUB OWNER * BRIDGEPORT MAN CHARGED WITH ASSAULT * JAIL TERM GIVEN IN GAMING CASE * U.S. PRISON TERMS GIVEN TO TWO IN AREA * DRIVER IS JAILED IN CAR GUN CASE * COURT CHARGES TWO IN STOLEN GOODS * THREE FROM CITY INDICTED ON FEDERAL CHARGES * JAIL TERM GIVEN TO BRIDGEPORT MAN IN GAMBLING RAID * MAN ARRESTED IN LIQUOR AND MAIL THEFTS * TWO MEN JAILED IN AFTERMATH OF NEWSROOM RAID * TWO NABBED IN GAMING RAID * BRIDGEPORT MAN HELD FOR GUN FOUND IN AUTO * FIVE IN BOOKIE RING GIVEN JAIL * MAN ARRESTED AFTER GANG FIGHT ON BEACH * DIVORCE GRANTED BASED ON INTOLERABLE CRUELTY * 34 ARE CHARGED ON AUTO TAG LIST * RAID ON BRIDGEPORT HOUSE RIPS BIG BET BUSINESS * CLOVER CLUB OWNER CHARGED ON INCOME TAX VIOLATION * LOCAL MAN INDICTED FOR DISTRIBUTING HEROIN AND COCAINE *

I went back to bed but couldn’t sleep. All I could think about was that my dad was a thief, a thug, a criminal, a dangerous man, and probably in the mafia.

The next day I asked Sister Regina Mary if $25,000 was a lot of money, and she told me it was almost one-quarter of a million dollars! I also asked her if she knew anything about the Gambino family, and she said they were mafia murderers.

Now I know that Mom is right, and my dad is in the mafia, but at least he’s not in jail. Not yet, anyway. And I pray he’s not a hitman.

So now, like Mom, I’m worried that the mafia might be coming for me, which makes me really angry at my dad. Doesn’t he know I could get killed or worse? Doesn’t he know I’m already living a scary life?

And since he came up with so much money, my dad must be rich, so why are we so poor?

Click here for Chapter 14: Almost in the Nick of Time

My Stolen Diaries – Chapter 8: What a Difference a Mother’s Day Makes

CHAPTER 8

WHAT A DIFFERENCE A MOTHER’S DAY MAKES

May 1961

Ever since my birds croaked on the rat poison, Mem and Mom have been worried sick about me. They sat me down a bunch of times to talk about my acting out.

I told them that the lie they forced me tell at St. Ambrose started the whole thing, making it easy to make up stories about my life instead of telling the truth about the sucky one I was living. So now, I pretty much lie about everything. My lying is a big worry for them, but their biggest worry is that I’ve been peeing on the rat poison in the corner of our porch.

I told them there was a double reason for that. First off, I hate the pitch-black hallway where the bathroom is, and second off, I want those stupid rats to drink my pee.

Mem cried out “heavens to Betsy” and then took her rosary beads from her housecoat pocket to pray for me. Mom grabbed my ear and twisted it around while yelling that I sounded like a retard. I gave Mom the rat face, combined with hissing sounds until she threw her hands up and walked away.

Mem and Mom both have it in their heads that I’m a tough nut to crack, but I’m a scaredy-cat. They don’t know it, but I’m afraid of everything. And the scariest of all is coming home to that empty apartment.

With Mem working the 3-11 shift, she’s gone by the time I get home. Every day after school, I force myself to climb the four flights of stairs in the back of our building and then sit at the kitchen table until Mom shows up for supper.

I check the clock in the kitchen and then run as fast as I can from one end of the apartment to the other to press my face against Mem’s bedroom window, hoping to see Mom walking down the street. Then I run even faster back to the kitchen, convinced that the rats are waiting for me in the hallway.

I rock myself on a kitchen chair, willing my bladder to cooperate, so I don’t need to go to the bathroom by way of the dreaded scary hallway. If I can’t hold in my pee, I pee outside in the bowl of rat poison — way better than on the porch floor.

“The poor dear is lonely,” Mem told Mom in French a few days after the ear twisting while I colored at the kitchen table and pretended not to understand. Lonely wasn’t the half of it.

A couple of weeks later, Mom promised to take us all out to an expensive restaurant for a Mother’s Day lunch in New London.

The Lighthouse Inn was surrounded by water and was the fanciest place I had ever been. There was a path leading up to the front door with the most beautiful flowers, and on the front lawn, kids threw coins into a giant stone fountain.

I stuffed my face with eggs benedict and crispy bacon and washed everything down with my Shirley Temple cocktail. After brunch, I convinced Mom to let me throw a penny into the fountain and make a wish. The fountain area was filled with families who all had the same idea, and as we squeezed in and out of the crowds toward the fountain, Mem threw up everywhere.

Well, the crowd emptied out quick enough, and to their horror — and ours, Mem’s top false teeth flew out of her mouth and plopped right into the fountain.

Mere Germaine and Mom looked at Mem in shock as she bent over, fished her teeth out of the water, shook them off, and popped them back into her mouth. Then she turned to us and said, “la nourriture était trop riche,” which means the food was too rich.

Mom said she wanted to get the hell out of there. I was in no rush because I still never got to throw a penny in the fountain. She dragged me to the car, all the while talking under her breath about how embarrassed she was and how she couldn’t take us anywhere without us causing some kind of a ruckus. Mere Germaine was holding onto poor Mem, who was nauseous as all get out.

We got into the rickety old car Mom borrowed from a friend, and it took a few tries before the engine turned over. Mom was super unhappy, and I figured our Mother’s Day fun was over — ruined by Mem’s teeth flying out of her mouth.

We drove for a while and came to a white house with a large red barn. Mem, burping, and gagging, stayed in the car with Mere Germaine. Mom took my hand, and together we walked up to the house, where she rang the doorbell. An old lady answered the door and walked us to the barn.

When she opened the latch to the barn, there was a pile of tiny black puppies! I was happy to be playing with the baby fluffballs but ran back to the car to get Mem and Mere Germaine so they wouldn’t miss out on the fun.

When we got back to the barn, the dog lady handed me what she called the runt of the litter. “He’s a Pomeranian, and he’s got papers,” Mom told me proudly as he licked my face with his teensy red tongue. I was confused as to why I was there and what a puppy would need with papers.

“He’s yours,” Mem said lovingly. “Someone to keep you company,” Mere Germaine added. The old lady pulled out a folded paper from an envelope as I smooshed the little black snowball against my chest.

She proudly presented Mom with some papers and said, “His mother’s name is Lady Marlene, and his name is Marlene’s Onyx Jet.” “His name is Jet,” Mom told me.

Jet? I didn’t like that name. It didn’t fit my puppy at all.

“What’s his father’s name?” I asked. “Who cares about his father?” Mom responded, annoyed. The old lady pointed out a line on the paper and said, “His father’s name is Captain Jean Ribault.”

Mem yelled out “il est français!” Mere Germaine clapped her hands in delight.

“I’m calling him Rib,” I told everyone, even though they thought it was a stupid name. On the way home, all three of them tried to talk me out of calling him Rib, but my mind was made up.

It was a Mother’s Day I will never forget. Poor Mem asked Mom to pull off the side of the road so she could throw up again, and right before we got to White Street, Rib puked all over my new dress. All Mom cared about was that we didn’t get throw up all over her friend’s car.

Now with Rib in the picture, when the school bell rings, I race back to our apartment, fly up the stairs, and burst into the kitchen where my little man is always patiently waiting for me.

The bathroom? The hallway? No problem. Rib leads the way and stands guard at the bathroom door, growling and barking. He’s a tiny thing, but Mom says he thinks he’s a Great Dane, and I guess whatever is in the hallway thinks so, too, because nothing scary ever shows itself when Rib is around.

And best of all, there’s no more peeing on the poison even though the rats deserve it, and not too much lying, except for making sure I don’t forget to tell everyone at school that my Mem is my mom and my Mom is my sister.

Now instead of sitting in the kitchen, willing myself not to pee, I can dress Rib up in his pink tutu and whip him around the kitchen with his tiny front legs. Don’t worry, I won’t hurt him, because he likes it.

The two of us swirl and spin in circles until I fall, and he jumps all over me. I laugh, and he barks, and then we both try to walk our dizzy selves straight.

Hooray for Mother’s Day because now it’s Rib and me — my best friend, my guardian angel, my hallway guard, and the one and only man in my life.

Click here for Chapter 9: Father Panik Village

My Stolen Diaries – Chapter 7: A New School with a Side of Baptism

CHAPTER 7

A NEW SCHOOL WITH A SIDE OF BAPTISM

January 1961

Mem, Mom, and Mere Germaine huddled around the kitchen table, whispering to each other. I was supposed to be asleep, but I snuck out of bed to try to hear what they were saying. Mom was doing all the talking, and it was mainly in French. I tried my best to figure out what was going on, but I was confused.

Mom was telling Mem and Mere that for me to go to St. Ambrose Elementary School after Easter break, I needed to get baptized.

Wait. Was I going to a new school? Nobody told me that. And I had no idea what a baptized was.

Mom went on to tell Mem that she would have to pretend to be my mother because the Catholic school wouldn’t accept anyone from an excommunicated family. Mere said that she didn’t want Mem to lie, but she had to agree with Mom that the only way I would get into St. Ambrose was if they pretended that I was Mem’s daughter and Mom was my sister!

Then Mem piped in that it was about time they baptized me Catholic anyway and that there was no reason I should be Greek Orthodox and risk going to Limbo. She blamed my dad for that.

Wherever Limbo was, it didn’t sound like a place I wanted to go. And no way did I want to go there with my father.

Then Mom said that if anyone at St. Ambrose asked, she would tell them that she was married to an oil rig worker stationed out of state and that Mem and Mere were widows. Mem and Mere bobbed their heads up and down like Mom was the boss of both of them.

They had always taught me that lying was a sin, so why was it okay for them?

The next day Mom sat me down and told me that because of Barbara Titone, I was going to a new school.

I was thinking about all the ways I could punch Tit out for causing me so much trouble. Mom scolded me for not paying attention.

Then Mom said that I had to tell everyone at St. Ambrose that I was Mem’s daughter. When I reminded Mom that lying was a sin, she told me to “shut it.”

It was Mem who told me that right before Easter, I was getting baptized. I wasn’t crazy about getting a pile of water dumped on my head, but what could I do? Mem promised me that she would take me to Howard Johnson’s for a banana split afterward, so I was excited.

Every time I saw Tit at school, I gave her the rat face, so she stayed far away from me, but so did everyone else because they thought I wasn’t right in my head.

While I waited to get baptized, I focused my attention on the top outside corner of our back porch, where two small birds were busily making a nest using dried leaves and twigs.

Soon, the birds had a baby! Mem called them Oiseaux, which means birds in French. The mommy bird peeked her head out of the nest while the daddy bird watched their wobbly baby hop around on our rotting rail. I knew which one was the mom because she was smaller than the dad. I asked Mem if she thought their tummies growled like mine when they were hungry. She said she didn’t know. My belly was always growling from hunger, and I was afraid that they were hungry too.

But mostly, I was afraid the hungry rats would eat my new friends. I asked Mem if rats ate birds, but she didn’t know that either.

There was a window in our kitchen, close enough to the nest for me to watch them. I put a small pot of water on the rail and laughed with delight when the birds took turns dunking their tiny heads in it. But Mem took the water away, explaining that it would bring other things, and I knew exactly what she meant by that. Every time I pressed my face against the windowpane, I prayed to God to make sure the rats didn’t eat my birds.

On the day of my baptism, Mem dressed me in all white. Mom couldn’t come because she had to work, so she sent one of her friends who came as my godparent, and Mere was a witness. Mem lied to the priest and told him she was my mother. Mere kept quiet and didn’t say one word. The priest was rough, and the water he poured all over my head and face was ice cold. Some of the water went up through my nose, and I started to choke. The priest forced me to keep my head back even though I was having trouble breathing. He told me to be strong for Jesus and that the Holy water would save me.

On the bus to Howard Johnson’s, Mem told me that Catholics were against divorced people. She explained that both she and Mom were divorced because they both married bad men. She made me promise not to tell anyone about their divorces, or I would have to go back to school with Barbara Titone. I told Mem I never wanted to see Tit again, but I also didn’t want to lie. She responded that I shouldn’t give her any trouble and just do what I was told.

On the first day of school at St. Ambrose, the kids were friendly, but the nuns were strict and grumpy. I made it my business to lie, lie, lie, and told everyone I met that my dad was a famous oil rig worker who worked far away and that I lived with my mom and older sister, even though nobody asked.

When I got home that day, daddy bird was lying limp on the porch. I poked him, but he didn’t move. Then I noticed the empty bowl of rat poison in the corner. I dragged a kitchen chair outside and climbed up to the nest, where I found the baby and mommy dead.

I took them out and laid them next to the dad. Then I poured water on their heads to baptize and save them, but it didn’t work. I gently placed my bird family into the bowl of poison, hid them underneath the bottom level of the porch, and prayed to God for Him to make the rats eat them and croak.

Click here for Chapter 8: What a Difference a Mother’s Day Makes

My Stolen Diaries – Chapter 6: Tit

CHAPTER 6

TIT

August 1960

It was in the middle of August, and I was getting ready for first grade.

I was excited but also nervous. Mem was even more nervous than me because I was going to be walking to school by myself. The walk wasn’t a long one, but I still had to do it alone.

Mom worked from 7 am-3 pm, and Mem worked a factory 3-11 pm shift and was a seamstress during the day. Because we didn’t have a car, they both had to either walk or take buses everywhere, which took a lot of time. Mere Germaine was living too far away to help out, so I was pretty much on my own day and night.

Mom said that moving Mere Germaine back in with us so she could help out was yet another reason why we had to get out of our White Street apartment.

After church, for three Sundays straight, Mem walked with me to the school, warning me about cars, strangers, and stray dogs.

The walk was pretty straightforward. From White Street, we made a right at the corner, then walked up a long hill, and then made another right, and then down a steep hill, where the school was at the bottom, and across the street on the left.

On day one, Mem packed me a paper bag with a jelly sandwich, and a chocolate doughnut from the batch she had made fresh the day before.  She wrote “RR” for right, right, on my right hand in pen so I wouldn’t get lost.

My walk was uneventful until I started down the second hill. There was a group of girls slightly ahead of me. The biggest one turned around and yelled: “Whatchu lookin at?”

I looked behind me to see who she was speaking to, but there wasn’t anyone else there but me. When I turned back around, she was in my face. “I aksed chu a question.”

I looked down at my lunch bag, too afraid to answer. “Watchu got in the bag?” She grabbed my lunch and ran off to catch up with her friends.

Later that day in the playground, I was hungry and didn’t feel much like playing. Plus, every time I looked over at the mean girl, she gave me the finger. When I asked some of the other kids who she was, one girl told me that her name was Tit.

“Who would name a kid, Tit?” I asked, and the girl told me that her real name was Barbara Titone, and she was a bully to everyone, even her friends.

Oh, she was a bully, all right. And husky. And since she was in the third grade, she towered over scrawny me.

After school, I ran all the way home, terrified that Tit was going to come after me.  And those hills were a killer.

When I got to the apartment, it was empty. Mem left for her shift way before I got home, and Mom’s shift was over at 3 pm, but after work, she had a second job as a dance instructor for a local Arthur Murray Dance Studio, so it was me myself and I, until at least 6 or 7 pm.

Between being afraid of the refrigerator, the scary hallway, the shoebox cabinet, and the rodents, I sat at the table in the kitchen until Mom got home, even though I had to pee.

Since the only way to get to the bathroom was through the hallway, there was no chance I was doing that, so the only choice I had was to hold it in or pee on the back porch.

I didn’t mention anything to Mem about Tit, but the next morning I told her I had a stomach ache and didn’t want to go to school. Mem told me she wasn’t having any of my nonsense and to pack up.

For the next few months, Tit made my life miserable. Back then, I didn’t know what a butch was, but if ever there was a butch, Tit was it.

And her name might make you laugh, but there was nothing funny about being taunted day in and day out.

In the morning, she would torture me and take my lunch, and in the afternoon, she would just torture me.

One day on my way to school, Tit was particularly aggressive and shoved me so hard that when I fell, I hit my head on the pavement and wet myself.

As I sat in a puddle of urine, Tit laughed with her friends, singing ♪ Tony needs a diaper, Tony needs a diaper ♪.

I didn’t want to say anything to my teacher about what happened, so I had to stay wet until my clothes air-dried. Tit told everyone at school I pissed myself, and I was humiliated. Plus, my clothes dried all smelly and crusty, and the back of my head was throbbing. That’s when I started to fantasize about how I was going to get back at Tit.

Even though I knew it was hopeless, I needed to take some kind of action because running away from Tit every day was both mentally and physically killing me.

The next day, on what I knew was going to be yet another torturous walk to school, I was feeling brave.

That was until I caught sight of Tit. And like a coward, and before Tit could even grab it, I handed her my lunch. So much for bravery.

But when Tit turned her back to me and began singing, ♪ Tony needs a diaper; Tony needs a diaper ♪, an uncontrollable storm of fury invaded my body.

I let out a roar, and in a fit of rage, I pounced on Tit from behind.  Tit fell on her knees, and when she rolled over, writhing in pain, I jumped on her stomach and straddled her. Then I punched Tit hard in the face, once with my right fist and then with my left. Tit was holding her hands up to her face and crying. I yanked her hands away and slapped her in the face a couple of times while repeatedly calling her shitty titty.

Then I grabbed my lunch bag, winked at Tit, gave her friends an evil grin, and asked if anybody else wanted what Tit got. While they all looked down at the sidewalk, I roughly elbowed my way through the girls and strutted the rest of the way to school.

We both got called into the principal’s office, and when nobody but Tit was looking, I imitated one of those nasty rats from our shoebox, and put my two hands up like claws, and gave her a creepy bucktooth face. And from what I could tell, Tit was scared titless.

When Mem came to get me at school, she wanted an explanation for why I beat up “Barbara.” I told her all about the Tit taunts, and how I was going to shove her tits down her titty mouth. My dirty words mortified Mem, so we stopped at the church on the way home, where she ordered me to recite the Lord’s Prayer five times. I knew Mem was more worried than mad, though, because she didn’t threaten to wash my mouth out with soap.

That night Mem and Mom spoke together in French to figure out what the hell they were going to do. I knew they used the swear word because Mem said in French, “enfer.”

Mem told Mom she was horrified at my violent actions and words. And Mom told Mem she was worried I was going to take after my father’s side of the family, and that was yet another reason why we had to get Mere Germaine back.

That night, as I laid in Mem’s bed, I wasn’t obsessing about the rats, the mice, the poison, or the cockroaches. I was happily and busily conjuring up all sorts of ideas for how I was going to torture Tit.

Click here for Chapter 7: A New School With a Side of Baptism

My Stolen Diaries – Chapter 5: My First Diary

CHAPTER 5

MY FIRST DIARY

April 1960

My seventh birthday had finally arrived. Mem and Mom went back and forth as to whether we should have a party or not. I didn’t have many friends, so it would be mostly family, which seemed weird to me since I didn’t have many of those either. But in the end, they decided that a small party was better than no party at all.

On the day of my birthday, while I blew up the balloons at the kitchen table, Mere Germaine hid the rat poison under the kitchen sink. Mom was whispering to Mem in French about how unhappy she was that Mick’s two sisters were coming.

I didn’t know I had two aunts, and I was curious, although I was hoping that they wouldn’t come to the party with guns.

“I want them all out of her life,” Mom told Mem.  “It’s not that easy,” Mem responded. “With Mere Germaine living rent-free from Samir right now.” Mom reminded Mem that Mere Germaine didn’t want any of them in my life either. Rats and all, Mere Germaine wanted to come back and live with us. I wanted her to live with us too.

I was worried about Mere Germaine being around that side of my so-called family. And I had to agree with Mom that it might be best if they were all out of our lives.

The first and last time I saw my father, Mick, was with that woman, and if I never saw either one of them again, that was fine with me. Nobody offered for me to see him again anyway.

I never told Mem and Mom about the cow’s head in Samir’s refrigerator because I knew if I did, Mom would never let me go back to visit.

Who opens a refrigerator expecting to find a cow’s head? For a long time after that, I added refrigerators to the already long list of things that terrified me.

And if I kept the cow’s head a secret from Mem and Mom, you know I never told them about Uncle Luke and the bloody yellow kitchen table.

Anyway, when my Aunt Mona showed up for the party, Mem and Mom pretended to be happy about it.

And then my Aunt Sara showed up — with who else but Uncle Luke! My eyes were rounder than saucers, but Luke never let on that we had ever met, and neither did I.

Every time I took a glance at Uncle Luke, he was also looking back at me. At some point during the party, he came over to me and told me that when I was first born, he used to babysit for me and that he used to walk me to nursery school. He asked if I remembered him at all, and I shook my head no.

The only thing I remembered about him was his bloody face and swollen winking eye.

I don’t recall any of the other presents I got that year except for the pink diary from Aunt Mona.

The inscription read:

Dear Tony, Happy Birthday.  I have always loved you. Aunt Mona

While I was reading what she wrote, she was smiling at me and patting me ever so gently on my head.

And I was thinking, you’re such a liar. If you loved me so much, you would never allow me to live like this.

Click here for Chapter 6: Tit