Читать книгу The Struggle is Real, but So is Jesus - Tessa - Страница 15

Chapter 8

1982

As soon as I got home, my parents enrolled me in a high school two blocks from our house where I could walk every day. I would go to one or two classes, find some friends to party with, mostly guys, and go home while my mom and dad were at work. I was almost seventeen now and had my driver’s license, but they rarely trusted me to drive their cars after the first one I ruined.

I met a guy who lived about thirty minutes away and would take off in the middle of the night and hitchhike to see him. In the morning when I came home one day, my bedroom window was locked. Obviously, I was busted and had to go ring the doorbell to get in. I wasn’t allowed keys to the house either for obvious lack of trust.

I didn’t stop my behavior. I continued to sneak out at night. Another time I came home in the middle of the night, I snuck around the back to go in the sliding glass doors. It was pitch-black, and I was really quiet opening the door. As soon as I stepped in the living room, a light came on, and my mother was there waiting on the couch for me. She was furious. I was very lucky to have the parents I had, they could have kicked me out at anytime, but they never did. They just didn’t know what to do, they kept trying, but I just did whatever I wanted. And they just kept praying for me.

Eventually after skipping school too many times, our school counselor made an appointment to come talk with my parents. He told them I was never going to graduate the way I was going. He suggested I drop out and get my GED. He even gave them information and helped me get into a community college to take classes for my GED. I was beyond thrilled. My parents, I think, were relieved. This was something I knew I could do. And I felt so cool that I was going to college even if it was only to get my certificate. It was mainly studying for the exams I would need to take to pass. I enjoyed it.

In the meantime, I was still sleeping around with a lot of different guys. The main reason which I never explained earlier: I wanted a baby really bad and didn’t care who the father was. I wasn’t looking for a husband, I just wanted a baby since I was old enough to have them. I never got pregnant, though.

The last guy I was with before I met my first true love who would end up being my first husband was this redhead kid with a twin sister. He was friends with my soon to be and took me over there a lot to hang out and party. We weren’t really serious, and eventually, I just started showing up at my future husband’s house by myself, completely unannounced. He was twenty-three; I was seventeen. I was immediately in love with him. And he didn’t seem to mind me just showing up, he always let me in, and we’d hang out for hours before he had to go to work. He worked nights at the newspaper. I was really impressed. He had this cute mobile home he owned and a good paying job he loved.

Eventually, he started calling me to invite me over. I would take the bus to his house, and he was always waiting for me at the bus stop. He was so sweet. I had never been on a real date because I never really had a boyfriend except for the eighteen-year-old when I was fourteen. So he would take me out for lunch. I was embarrassed the first time. Like most girls, I just ordered a salad. I didn’t know how to accept someone treating me good, respectful, and like they liked me.

We ended going on a lot of dates. He took me skiing for the first time. I was kind of scared to ask my mom (like it ever stopped me before). Maybe I was growing up. I had to tell her how old he was, which was the scary part. She didn’t say anything, except as I get older, that age didn’t seem to matter as much, and she really liked him.

He picked me up one morning to go skiing. I didn’t have anything, so I had to borrow some snow pants and coat from my brother. He rented me the equipment and took me my first time on a green hill, which for my first time was scary. He didn’t let me try the bunny hill first, but I wasn’t going to complain.

I had a lot of trouble. He tried to show me how to snowplow, and I kept falling and losing a ski which he kept having to crawl back up the hill and get for me. I was completely embarrassed and could tell I was holding him back. He was a really good skier, and I sure want to go on the black hills that he was used to and I was just not catching on. The hill seemed to have no end, and I couldn’t see the bottom. I finally started crying because I was scared and asked him to call ski patrol to come get me. He tried to talk me out of it; he was probably embarrassed, but I just couldn’t do it. He finally gave in and called. I told him to go have fun and shred some snow. He laughed. I told him I would just wait in the bar and to take as long as he wanted. I wasn’t about to ruin his day and waste his money.

He gave me some money to get some food and drinks. I was really tall and looked older than my age, and back then, they weren’t that strict on checking IDs. So I had no problem getting alcohol. I really enjoyed myself—sitting in the lounge, drinking beer, and listening to a guy playing guitar and singing. There was a large fireplace, and the view was incredible from the huge picture windows behind the bar.

He stopped to check on me a few times and have a beer. He was so nice. He asked if I wanted to go; I told him no, I’m fine, I wanted him to have fun and enjoy the day. I felt I already ruined it for him and caused him some embarrassment, but he didn’t say anything. I could tell he was happy with me, maybe most girls would have complained and wanted to go home. I was never that type. I could tell he was impressed at this, me being seventeen and all.

My parents noticed the difference in me. I wasn’t running away anymore or staying gone all night. That was probably because he worked nights, but I wasn’t interested in other guys anymore or parties. I was in love, head over heels.

So my mom finally trusted me to start using her car. I had tickets to go to a Fleetwood Mac concert one night with one of my girlfriends. But she let me take the car to go see him while he was home during the day.

On the way home, I rear ended someone. I was in shock and didn’t know what to do. I think I sat there for a minute then took off but was obviously there long enough for them to get my plate number.

As soon as I got home, I pulled the car in the garage and ran inside. It must not have been more than a half hour and the cops were knocking on the door while I was hiding in my room.

My brother answered the door and called out my name, telling me the cops were there. I came out shaking and crying. I thought for sure I was going to jail.

They talked to me. They were very nice and said I wasn’t in trouble but did need to go back with them to the scene of the accident to take a report.

They drove me there and back after. My mom’s car wasn’t totaled but had some significant cosmetic damage to the front. To say the least, she wasn’t happy, but she also knew I had tickets to the concert and she didn’t want to take me. She figured, I guess, the car was already damaged. I was really surprised she let me go. But that was the last time I was allowed to use it.

A few weeks later, out of the blue, I guess, I didn’t remember a fight with my parents or anything. But I packed a bag and showed up at my boyfriend’s trailer and told him my mom and dad kicked me out and if I could stay with him. He didn’t even seem to think about it, I think he was happy, and he let me in, no questions asked. I did feel bad. I knew I was going to worry them again. I called them the next day and told them I moved in with a girl friend of mine.

I knew they weren’t stupid but didn’t say anything. It didn’t take long for them to figure out it was him. I gave them his number, but I didn’t want them to know we were sleeping together. My mom would sometimes call in the morning while we were still in bed. I told him to tell them when they called to hold on a sec as if he had to get up and come get me from another room. So I’d hold the phone for a minute with my hand over the mouthpiece before I said hello.

She started bringing me groceries and teaching me some recipes so I could cook for him. Man, my parents were cool. Sorry, it just brings me back to things I’ve forgotten, I don’t know if anyone else’s parents would do all they did and put up with.

I was a little scared, though, because he worked from 9:00 p.m. till 4:00 a.m. and I had never been on my own before and was afraid at night. I would spend my nights cleaning the house. I really wanted to impress him and didn’t like to clean when anyone was around. Besides, I wanted to spend every second with him when he was home. I cooked for him every night before work too. He was happy.

I did start calling him at work a lot, though, every time I got scared. He never got mad at me, but I’m sure he got slack from the guys in the pressroom when I called.

One night, I started hearing noises and got scared and called the police thinking someone was breaking in. We had a couple cats then, and after the cops came and searched our tiny trailer and outside, I heard them call dispatch and say, “There’s nothing here but a bunch of cats.” I was really embarrassed. I guess I embarrassed myself a lot; well, I still do.

I was still taking my GED classes and started taking the exams. I didn’t have to take them all at once which was a relief. But there were five, and I passed. It was my biggest accomplishment so far.

Eventually, though, the Hyde side would come out, I don’t remember how long until it happened, probably once I got comfortable. And for no reason, I would get upset over something stupid and freak out on him, throw things and threaten to leave. It wasn’t every day, but it was frequent.

At one point, I did pack my bags to leave then started crying. He came and held me and asked me to stay. To this day, I have no idea what he saw in me. I guess I was more fun than not.

He never left me behind or gave me a reason to be jealous. But I always was very insecure.

He asked me to join the bowling league with him and the guys at work; no other wives were invited, and I’m sure he got teased but never told me. They all seemed to like me.

We went to the bars a lot together. He knew everyone there. It was where all the pressmen went and I never got carded.

When he’d get home from work some mornings, he’d bring some of his friends over. I never let him see me without makeup and would always get up before he came home and shower and do my hair and makeup.

When they would come over after work, I’d join them in the living room and drank beer with them at 6:00 a.m. It wasn’t weird for them; like getting off work at any job no matter what time, most people liked to enjoy a couple beers. So I never complained and enjoyed hanging out with them even though it was early for me to be drinking. I didn’t care. I loved the attention. He had a good friend who lived in the mountains we would hang out with a lot. We would go to Red Rocks Amphitheatre on off-concert season and sit on the stage drinking beer while he played for me. One night, though, he informed me his friend was coming to the house. I wasn’t in a great mood, and his friend was a mooch. I liked him, but that night, I told my boyfriend that I was not going to feed his friend.

After a half hour of him being there, my boyfriend said, “Get to the stove, woman, and cook us some chow.” He had never talked to me like that and knew it was innocent kidding, but I was still not happy. His friends had never ever seen the Hyde side of me. And that night, he didn’t either, not vocally. I just said, “Fine, you want some chow.” So I pulled out some chow mein, and as I was cooking it, I fed the cats at the same time while adding in some cat food to the chow mein.

I served it with a smile and stood there watching them eat it. They asked me why I wasn’t eating. I just said I wasn’t hungry, but after only two or three bites at most, they figured why, and both threw their bowls down. “Ooh, she fed us cat food,” his friend said as he spit. I just started laughing and left the room. He must have realized he deserved it because he never said anything after that. He didn’t yell at me or anything. But he never did yell at me. He was such a quiet man, very sweet and gentle. I really didn’t deserve him.

It was one night when I was mad because he wasn’t in the mood for sex. Of course, I took it personal and freaked out and threw a hot pizza on his face and took off. I went across to the gas station I was working at and asked some guy that was pumping gas where he was going. I told him I needed a ride to Arizona. I don’t know why I picked Arizona, I had never been there before. I knew his sister lived there but had never met her, but this is part of my bipolar, just doing crazy irrational things on a whim. I didn’t even have money on me. But he said he could take me as far as Albuquerque, New Mexico. And I’d have to get a ride from there. He was very nice. He only said one thing on the way there: “Have you ever heard of gas, grass, or ass. No one rides for free?” I laughed at him and said I had none of the above. I think I embarrassed him because it didn’t scare me and he didn’t expect me to laugh, so he said he was kidding, and we kept going.

When we got close to his destination, he had a CB in his car and called ahead to see if any truckers were heading to Phoenix and could give a lady a ride. He got a response right away, and as soon as we got to the truck stop, I thanked him and parted ways. The truck driver was really cool and didn’t expect anything. I really didn’t know where I was going, so when we got to Phoenix, I just thanked him and left the truck stop walking. I ended up at an apartment complex and just went in to hang out at the pool. There were some kids there drinking beer and listening to music and invited me over. I told them my story. They, of course, thought I was crazy but also interesting. They asked me what I was going to do, and I said hitchhike back to Colorado the next day. They let me stay the night, along with a stray cat I found roaming around the complex. They had no idea who she belonged to, and I wanted to take her home. So the next morning, they made me a sign that said Denver on a piece of cardboard and dropped me off at the entrance of the interstate. Cat in hand, I stood with my sign, and it didn’t take long to get a ride even with a cat.

The guy that picked me up happened to be going straight to Denver. We did stop at a hotel halfway, but he got a room with two beds and didn’t once try to make a move on me. I wonder now as I’m writing pretty much my life story if all these people who picked me up hitchhiking, and it’s been a lot and a lot more as you read on. I wonder if all these people were angels God sent to protect me. I mean, what are the odds with all the risks I’ve taken and trusting everyone that no harm ever came to me when so many young girls who ran away or hitchhiked were found murdered all the time. It breaks my heart that these girls were probably all really good girls too, just at the wrong place at the wrong time.

So we took off the next morning, and he drove me straight to the entrance of my trailer park. He was home as I walked in the door. And I just said hi as if nothing happened. He looked worried but very happy to see me. The first thing he asked, though, was where did I get the cat. I told him Arizona as if it was just the next block over. His mouth fell open, he thought I was kidding. So I told him how I hitchhiked to Arizona and back the next day. He was shocked; he already knew I was crazy, I don’t know what he was thinking, but he was happy to have me home safe.

Another night he went to work, we had this little car, I must have been fighting with him and threatening to leave again because when he left, I tried to start the car, and it wouldn’t start. I don’t know how I knew at seventeen anything about cars, but I figured out he had removed the coil wire. I walked around the trailer park across from ours in the dark and found a car that was unlocked and popped the hood and took their coil wire and took off in the car. I don’t remember where I went, but I was home when he got home from work in the morning. I didn’t say anything until I saw him with the coil in his hand to go put back in the car to go somewhere and I told him he didn’t need it. The poor guy, I baffled him so much.

I don’t know why he loved me so much with my craziness, but maybe it’s because he loved my spontaneity and adventure and never knew what was going to happen next. I don’t know what his life was like before me, but I know I made it very interesting for him and a little fun. Well, it was a lot of fun when I wasn’t having a bipolar moment.

I don’t remember how long after, but sex started to become very, very painful. And I was constantly having really bad stomach cramps. We had been trying to get pregnant pretty much since day one. I wanted a baby so bad. If I was a day late on my period, he would give me $20 to go to the hospital for a pregnancy test. I had found out through a blood test they could tell within twenty-four hours of conception if you were pregnant. Every time, we would sit patiently waiting for them to call with results. The call would come. We’d both be on the phone listening and always the word was negative. And I’d cry for days.

When the symptoms of the pain started happening and weren’t going away but getting worse, we went to the doctor several times to find out what was wrong with me. They did every test known to man back then—syphilis, gonorrhea, even thought I might have a tubular pregnancy—but everything came back negative. This went on for several months until one night while he was at work, the pain got so bad I had to call my mom in the middle of the night to take me to the hospital. My tubes were so inflamed with fluid they said if they didn’t drain on their own by morning, they would have to.

I woke up in a soaked bed. Long story short, I found out I had PID (pelvic inflammatory disease), which filled my tubes with scar tissue I didn’t find out till a year later, that I had contracted it from an uncircumsized ex boyfriend I had been with before I met my first husband. He had passed it on to his current girlfriend we found out later. PID has a very long incubation period.

One night while we were making love, he popped the question. I didn’t even see it coming but was so excited I immediately jumped out of bed and ran to get a calendar. I let him pick the date. He chose February 4. And it was only four months away. I didn’t care, I was so excited. I would have married him that day, although, of course, every girl wants a wedding. I had four months to plan a wedding. I was eighteen now, so I didn’t need my parents to sign for me, although I knew they would and didn’t waste a minute planning.

First, he wanted to go to my mom and dad’s and ask for their blessing. Tears filled my eyes. I had the best man ever. We went and my dad wasn’t very sentimental and very straight to the point. After he asked my dad, he said, “You might as well, your living together.” My dad, I miss him so much.

They said they weren’t going to pay for my wedding, though, because they didn’t approve of us living together. Surprisingly enough, I didn’t throw a tantrum. We agreed we would do it ourselves. So I started looking in a sears catalogue for an inexpensive nice white dress. Of course, we couldn’t afford a real wedding dress, but I didn’t care. I just wrote out a list of what we needed and the cheapest way to do it. And my mom and dad didn’t know this at the time, but we went to my parents’ Catholic Church. Actually, it was where I went to school and told them we wanted a Catholic wedding.

Because he wasn’t Catholic, he had to take classes to convert, and he had no problem doing that for me. The second, I don’t want to use the word, demand, but I guess requirement is a better word, was I had to move back home until the wedding. We were not allowed to live together if we wanted a Catholic wedding.

That lasted all two weeks only because I couldn’t stand not being with him, waking up with him. My parents would let him come over on his work nights off, and he was allowed to stay over but sleep on the couch. I just couldn’t do it and moved back in with him and started looking for nondenominational churches. My parents weren’t happy, but they knew by now when I made up my mind to do something, there was no changing it.

So I moved back in and continued to plan within our budget. The first thing I did was our wedding invitations that I wrote myself. I was a really good writer and loved to write poems too. But I really did come up with it on my own. “This day, I will marry my friend, the one I laugh with live with dream with, love.” It was a simple but passionate yes, but I believe passionately, and that’s exactly what we were.

My mom would call and ask me progress. I would tell her my plans, then she showed up one day and told me she was taking me wedding dress shopping. It makes me still cry now. I had the most amazing parents.

So I went out and found myself a southern bell dress and a hat with a veil. I have been married a few times since, but this was my absolute favorite wedding dress. And I made him wear a white tuxedo with a top hat and cane. I don’t know if most men would have done that, but he was amazing and made me very happy. I forgot to mention the first engagement ring he bought me at a pawnshop. I absolutely loved. It was old and dainty with a small princess-cut diamond. It wasn’t expensive, and I didn’t care about money, I absolutely loved it then lost it in a bowling ball bowling. Well, I’m embarrassed to admit: actually, I lost it twice. The bowling ball was the second time and never found it because we didn’t even realize it was gone until we got home, and of course, it was a rented ball, and we called the ally, but they never found it.

The first time I got mad for whatever reason, almost anything would set me off no matter how small or stupid. And I took it off and threw it at him across the room. He found it but didn’t tell me for a few days. He let me panic. And I did. Then after I lost it for good, he took me to the mall and let me pick out my own. Like I said, I never cared about fancy expensive things. I might have been selfish about a lot but not material things. And I wasn’t good at letting people buy me stuff. I would even get uncomfortable at Christmas opening presents. I still do, but I’m getting better. I would rather just give the gifts and not get any. As bad as I’ve been and acted and hurt people, I also have a very big heart and am very generous. Now it says in the Bible, we aren’t allowed to brag or tell people about our good doings or it doesn’t count. But I never did any of these things for praise or to look better than anyone else or brag. It’s just what makes me happy. I’m so much more comfortable giving then receiving and probably mostly because I don’t feel like I deserve it. So I picked out the least expensive set, but to me, they were the most beautiful. I had never had any one buy me something more beautiful in my life. I still would have rather had the first one. It was the most special to me. But I cherished these just as much.

So after the wedding dress, my mom asked me where we were going to have the reception. I was embarrassed to tell her we weren’t because we couldn’t afford it. We had planned to let people know that because we couldn’t provide a reception, we wouldn’t be accepting any wedding gifts. We just wanted them at the wedding was the only present we wanted.

My mom called me again the next day and said she talked with my dad and they rented the Elks Lodge out for our reception. I told her they didn’t have to do that, but she said I couldn’t have a wedding without a reception. So basically, they ended up paying for the wedding, which we were very grateful for, and it was small and beautiful. My dad even paid for an open bar. Most everyone would be there at our wedding. Well, at least my friends and my brother and his were underage, and my mom told me I couldn’t drink at my wedding.

I told her, of course, I was going to drink at my wedding and told her they weren’t going to card the bride. Where would I hide my ID in my wedding dress? I remember telling her those exact words, and she didn’t say another word. And because it was a private hall, no one was carded.

The first time my brother even gave me a hug was on my wedding day but only because he was drunk, him and all his friends, and they were all sixteen. But everyone behaved, and it was a wonderful day.

I want to mention before I go on that these were the most precious years of my life, that’s why I feel I want to include them in my book even though it’s called The Struggle Is Real. And you will see things get much crazier, and I didn’t live a very godly life after this chapter, but my husband—although who is with God now—meant the world to me, and it took many years for me to realize it. He was my first husband, my first love. And this book is in memory of him because as you will see in the end, he is the one who helped me get saved. He is the one who helped me find Jesus, in part 2. I threw away the greatest gift God ever gave me.