Anyway, my story starts at the beginning of 9th grade. I enrolled in the International Baccalaureate Program, IB for short, at South Fork High School in Florida. Which is basically an honors program on steroids. My class list for the start of Freshman year was: Algebra 1 Honors, Pre-IB English, Pre-IB Biology, Pre-IB Inquiry Skills (A Writing Prep Course), and AP Human Geography. My summer assignment that year was to read The Odyssey, in its entirety, and be prepared to take a test on it the first day. That book was one son of a bitch. Five Hundred tiny worded pages filled with words no one uses and story lines you couldn’t follow if they gave you a map. I got a B on that test and was pleased. The second week for AP Human Geography we had to take a test on the countries of the world. Yes I did mean world, which includes all those tiny 400 letter countries in Europe and Africa. I got a B on that too, and I was lucky. The person next to me was pretty happy with his D.
Because of this program I had no classes with anyone I knew so I had to start making friends all over again. Which some of you might think is easy, but when you’re in IB you cannot have friends. You can’t really have a social life at all as a matter of fact. So as the months dragged by I found a few people in each class to joke around with and talk to during class, but certainly no one to write home about.
Not that I ever wrote home about anything. My home life during that time was a disaster. My parents had gotten divorced about three years before this and it had a profound affect on my mother. By profound I mean she went from being a slightly abusive parent to a full blown child beater. It was like living with Muhammad Ali staring down at you! But that September things were about to change... for the worse.
“Kids,” the wicked bitch started in her fake southern accent, “ I got a surprise for y’all! Mark and I are getting married!”
“Yay!” Jody shouted from the top of her lungs.
“That’s great mom,” I mumbled feeling like I was about to puke.
“Is he going to be our new dad?” Kyle asked quizzically.
“Well Kyle --”
“Yes, he is,” Jody said interrupting mother.
Kyle didn’t respond and we all went on like everything was normal again, but it wasn’t.
Over the past three years my mother had entertained, shall we say for lack of the correct word because I’d be kicked out of school for using it, multiple men. She entertained my brothers married baseball coach, the assistant coach of the same team, and even was engaged to my sisters fifth grade teacher, not to mention countless others and some we probably never saw. I felt like we were Hobe Sound’s royal family, in the way that the Kardashian’s are America’s royal family. For some reason everyone knew all about us. Who we were, where we lived, how we were doing in school, what sports we played, and all about my mother.
Anyway, my mother was marrying Mark. A local southern-born businessman who owned a Napa Autoparts store in town. After meeting my mother he bought her a brand new Ford Expedition because we didn’t have a car (she’d just purposely stopped paying for her previous one and had given it back to the dealership). My mother and sister were impressed. Kyle and I... not so much, but this man had to be successful right? It appeared that he was so I went along with it.
For a while now they had been going down to Miami almost every Thursday to Sunday night and hanging out at the clubs. I thought this was great because it meant my mother wasn’t home so I wasn’t getting hit as often as before, but Kyle was of a different opinion. He refused to sleep until mother got home and every night was the same ordeal. My mother would leave for the club shortly after she got off work around five pm and drive down to Miami with Mark. I would either have to cook dinner, order a pizza, or have my grandparents cook us dinner. Usually they left us money to order pizza which would probably explain why my face looked like a one. Papa Johns Pizzas’ are about as oily as they come. However, sometimes they forgot and didn’t leave anything to cook so I ordered pizza and paid for it with my own money.
Then after dinner we’d all go off to our rooms and do homework, play games, and sometimes Kyle would head off to one of his friends houses in the neighborhood. At the end of the day it was up to Jody and I to get Kyle to sleep before mom got home because if we didn’t things wouldn’t go over well and every night it was the same struggle.
“No! I don’t wanna go to bed!” Kyle yelled at us.
“But you have to mom said so,” Jody replied trying not to sound irritated.
“I don’t care. I want mommy!”
“Kyle, mom is in Miami. I can call her and see if she answers so you can say goodnight. Would you like that?” I asked.
No response.
“Well would you?”
“YES!” he screamed.
“Okay, but don’t be so loud. The neighbors are going to think we’re murdering you or something.”
I called my mother. About eighty percent of the time I got the, “Hi this is Dee. Leave me a message bitch.” The other twenty percent of the time she answered with “What the hells wrong now!?”
“Well,” I answered hesitantly, “Kyle wants to say goodnight.”
“Tell him to make it quick,” she shouted.
“Here Kyle. For you.”
The resulting conversation usually soothed him.. for about five minutes. Then it was back to screaming and crying. Eventually Jody and I would give up, go back to our own rooms, and hope he’d fall asleep before mother got home.
He usually didn’t.
One night mother staggered in the garage door, her heels already in her hand, and attempted to get into her room without alerting Kyle that she was home. She might as well have slammed the door and shouted through a bullhorn, it would have had the same effect. Kyle made a beeline for her and as usual she batted him away.
“Mommy I’m so glad your home! Can you come put me to sleep?”
“Kyle!” She wailed in annoyance. “You’re ten years old already! Stop acting like a damned baby and go to bed.”
He looked at her with stunned sadness and she slunk off toward her room. Unfortunately, he was persistent.
“Mooooommmmmmyyyyy,” he cried while punching her door. “I just want to say goodnight Mommy. I promise that’s it.”
“Goodnight Kyle!” She yelled through the door.
Kyle went quiet and sat there awhile not sure what to do. I thought it was over and began getting ready for bed. Midway through brushing my teeth he started again. I knew my mother wouldn’t stand for it anymore. So I dropped my toothbrush in the sink and ran through the house. I got to him just as she was opening her door.
“I got it Mom.”
“Good. Now make sure he goes to bed.”
I half dragged half carried him back to his room. Rough treatment I know, but it was better than the alternative. I sat with him until he calmed down and then went back to my room so I could sleep.
“Mommy... are you there? Mommy I have a question.”
“Son of a bitch,” I said to myself. “This kid is going to get us all killed.”
The next thing I hear is: “Mark stop hurting my mom!”
Unfortunately this time, I got there second. My mother had him by the arm and was dragging him on his stomach across the living room floor.
“Kyle what we’re doing in there is perfectly natural. It’s called sex and I’m going to tell you about it.” She said loud enough to alert the coast guard... in Japan.
Then she proceeded to explain all about the birds and the bees to a 10 year old while drunk at 3 in the morning. I felt traumatized for him and spent the next hour sitting in a chair parked in the hallway so he couldn’t go back to my mothers room without getting my attention first. Thankfully he didn’t so I crept back to my room got my 2 hours of sleep, then woke up to get ready for school.
Let’s skip ahead shall we? I don’t know why I’m asking you, because you have no choice in the matter.
April of 2010 was probably the most hellish month of my life. It all started with a harmless trip to see my father in Stonington, Connecticut. At that time a lot of the town was flooded due to horrific rains that pretty much washed away anything close to the river. I spent the week in a small 3rd floor walk-up apartment relatively isolated. My family knew everything that was going on at home and were desperately trying to entice me with promises of a happier life and better opportunities if I moved to be with them. But could I? Should I?
After mulling it over for a few days I agreed to move there during the summer so I wouldn’t have to start school all over again. So, my oh so brilliant father, decided that the best thing to do in the current situation was to call my mother and tell her what I had decided to do. Yes in his mind it was a good idea to call the woman who’s hit me hard enough for long enough to inflict brain damage and tell her I was moving in with him so I could get the hell away from her.
I went to bed that night wishing I had shot myself in the head instead of ever having that conversation. Nothing good was going to come of this and I knew it, but the next morning I had to get on a plane to West Palm Beach. Shit.
The following morning I woke up, threw up because I was so nervous, and somehow managed to get dressed. A couple hours later I was in the air. The flight was uneventful, then again the only eventful thing that’s ever happened to me on a plane is being bumped up to first class. Anyway a few short hours later we landed and I went off to baggage claim. My mother had told my dad that she would not be there to pick me up in person so she sent the Errand Boy from Mark’s Napa to pick me up. Which was fine with me because it meant I didn’t have to see her for another half hour. What wasn’t fine with me is that the guy was nowhere in sight. After I grabbed my bags I called my dad to see what was going on. No answer. So I called his girlfriend. No answer. I tried them about three or four more times then said screw it and called my older sister, Samantha.
“Sam I need help.”
“Why Ry? What’s up?”
“Well I’m at the airport and the schaffer person my mom sent for me isn’t here yet. I tried calling dad and he didn’t answer.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? That bitch didn’t even come pick you up herself?”
“Nope.”
“Ugh. Hold on I’ll call dad.”
“Thanks just keep calling until he answers, otherwise I’m going to be stuck here forever.”
A few minutes later my phone rang.
“Ryan what’s the problem?” My dad asked half drunk.
So I explained what was going on and he said he’d call my mother and figure out what was going on. Surprisingly my phone rang about 30 seconds later.
“Ryan what the fuck is your problem,” mother screamed into the phone.
“Well the driver from Napa isn’t here yet and --”
“So you called your father? You’re in Florida now and you are to call me and only me. You got that smart ass? What are you trying to do create more problems in the family?”
“No I didn’t mean too,” I replied choking back tears.
“This is the guys number call him. When you get home I will meet you in the driveway we are going to have a talk tonight.”
Now I really wished I was dead. So I did what I had to do. I pushed what I was feeling aside and called the guy. The conversation was quick. He had gotten lost on the way there because he’d never been to the airport. He’d never even flown. At least he was nice and took his sweet time getting home. Then again he was probably around 70 so maybe he thought he was flying down the highway.
Anyways, when we pulled into the driveway my mother was standing there just as she had promised me.
“Ryan go to your room. I will be there to talk to you in a few minutes.”
No hello, no hug, no how was your flight. Nice homecoming right? So that’s what I did. I sat on my bed huddling in the corner (it was pressed up against a wall) until the queen walked in a few minutes later.
“Ryan you are one piece of shit,” she raged. “Do you know what I have had to deal with because of you?”
“No.”
“Your father called me and told me what you said to him.”
Son of a bitch, I thought to myself. As if living with her wasn’t bad enough already. Is he trying to get me killed?
Son of a bitch, I thought to myself. As if living with her wasn’t bad enough already. Is he trying to get me killed?
“Stand up and look at me Ryan.”
So I did and she continued to rage. On and on about what I did to ruin her life then all of a sudden there was a crash and shattering of glass. I looked up and saw the lamp that was on my nightstand before now shattered at my feet. I couldn’t help myself, I started crying. The lamp was a present from my aunt and was cool because it would turn on when you tapped the base. Now the glass and metal shade lay twisted and deformed at my feet and all but one of the glass panes had shattered. At the sight of my tears my mother became even more enraged. She accused me of trying to ruin her family, and then kicked the lamp sending more shards flying all over the room and some cutting my feet.
“Now you listen here and you listen good. You are on the first flight back to your fathers. Don’t go to school tomorrow, just start packing up your shit. I’ll send Jody and Kyle down with a garbage bag for the lamp and you can clean it up.”
I slowly began picking up the pieces of the lamp and waited for them to come with the bag. When they arrived they threw the bag at me and watched as I slowly began filling it up. Still crying I handed it back to them and they took it out for me. My mother reappeared.
“Call your father and tell him you will be coming back on Tuesday.”
So I did. Then I called Samantha back and cried with her while what was left of my life was slipping into the abyss. I was completely alone. My grandparents were on a cruise in the middle of the friggin ocean and couldn’t help me. My mother had my dog, Buddy, put down the year before while we were on vacation. My friends were all asleep.
So I did what I did best. Pretended things were going to be okay, ate Sunchips for dinner, and started packing my stuff. I woke up around noon the next day and stumbled into the shower wondering if last night had been a dream. When I got out I saw that my room was pretty well deconstructed so it definitely wasn’t a dream. Then the garage door opened. I know what you’re thinking and yes it was my mother.
“Here I brought you some boxes,” she said while throwing them too the floor, “put your stuff in them and use the suitcases and duffle bag for your clothes.”
Nothing else was said and with that she left. So I kept packing and tried to get messages out to friends about what was happening. I also went to my second Facebook to get messages out to my gay followers (I guess that’s what I should call them). I got apologies and offers to talk through what was going on, but I didn’t want any of it. I wanted my grandparents to come home. That evening my mother came down to my room and demanded I hand over my phone. I didn’t even think, I just gave it to her. About fifteen minutes later she came rushing down the hallway.
“Ryan! What the fuck does this say?”
I took the phone and read it. It said: ‘Sometimes I could kill my mother I swear.’ To which my dad’s girlfriend had replied: ‘Yeah I understand. I’ll get my peeps on it.’
“Do you know what that means Ryan?”
“I didn’t mean it Mom. I swear,” I stuttered out in shock.
“I don’t care Ryan. You do not threaten someone's life like that!”
“Mom I’m sorry. I was being sarcastic. You say stuff like that about us all the time.”
“I’m going to call Mr. Marcum and we will see what he thinks about this.”
She was going to call the cops. She knew I was being sarcastic... Right? She couldn’t really be calling the cops. Terrified, but desperate to find out I crept down the hall and waited outside my mother's door.
“Mark I don’t know what to do with him.”
“Honey, Fuck him. If he thinks he’s big man on campus then I say we show him what happens to guys who get too cocky.”
“Mark he’s my son. I can’t call the cops on him.”
“Dee if you don’t I will.”
That was enough for me. I went back down to my room and started balling on the bed. What was I going to do? I could run away, but that was useless. I figured mother would work the story to her advantage and suddenly I’d have my face plastered all over the news as a juvenile delinquent who’d run away and was trying to murder his mother. That would have been brilliant. My only option was to sit and wait for the cops to arrive. He got there soon enough.
He walked into my room, with his hand on his gun, and told me to stand up.
“Why did you send that text message?”
“Officer I swear I was being sarcastic. I didn’t mean it, I’d never hurt my mother.”
After ten minutes of begging like a fool he decided that I wasn’t a threat, but I had to do one thing before he left.
“Give your mother a hug.”
Forget before when I said I wished I was dead. I wished someone had killed me then instead. Sadly I had no choice and I wasn’t going to explain why this was a terrible idea because he was going to let me go without doing anything to me. So I gave her a hug. It lasted about ten seconds and thank God I can hold my breath that long because her silicone Double-D’s were pressed up against my neck tight enough to cut off any air flow.
At least it was over, but now I had to finish packing which thankfully took the rest of the day and night. When I woke up the next morning my mother told me that my grandparents were home and wanted to see me. I called them using mothers phone and they came to pick me up shortly after she left for work. As soon as I got into the car I broke down. I didn’t know what I was going to do. I had to leave everything I knew and move to another new place and go to another new school. Do you remember what it was like starting school the first day after going from Elementary to Middle School? Well I had to do that twice. I also have had to change high schools three times. It’s enough to make someone puke.
My grandparents did their best to console me, but I was too upset to listen. The only thing I was concerned about was keeping my mother from getting rid of all my stuff, so I got them to promise to go get all the boxes the following morning. Thankfully they did because when they got there my mother was going through all of it and throwing stuff into a trash bag. I don’t want to know what she got rid of before they got there. In fact I don’t want anything to do with her.
She sent me off on a flight later that day to go live with my father.
As for how I ended up at Brookline High School... Let me give you a brief summary of what happened in the time between then and now.
I moved into a new house with my father. He was a massive alcoholic who let the entire family control him. During the time I lived with him I continued to amass friends on the facebook page I mentioned earlier. It got high enough that it broke Facebook's friend cap and I was banned. Before the ban I met a guy named David. He would travel from Brookline to see me on the weekends in Connecticut. He helped me deal with my issues and made me realize that the Facebook account was taking over my life. I was literally on my phone every second of everyday. It vibrated every ten seconds. It was crazy, but I loved it. It offered me a way to help people deal with the same things I had for the past ten years of my life. Which is why that account is now reopened.
Anyways, my father was becoming an extremely abusive drunk. Not physically thank God, but verbally and psychologically for sure. After two years I couldn’t take it anymore. David offered me a chance to move in with him here and I jumped at it. We slowly began taking things out of my room and putting them in a storage unit about 20 minutes from the house. On the last day I was there we had a birthday party for me. I had to clean the house and decorate so by that evening I was exhausted, but it meant I was finally eighteen.
The next morning David and I woke up, loaded the van full of my possessions, and took all of it tothe storage unit. All that was left in the room was a bed and a dresser. I was free.
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