Chapter 5 Fighting Back
Fighting Back
WE’D LEFT MY AUNT ANDI BEHIND IN HOUSTON, BUT MY parents couldn’t wait to ship Baby Sis and me off for the summer. By junior high, Andi had roped her a millionaire named Henry and moved to Kentucky. She might have been crazy as shit, but she was still drop-dead gorgeous.
Henry was sweet, and he loved my aunt. She towered over him at six feet, and poor Henry was short, stocky, and couldn’t have been more than five six.
But all that mattered was he loved her. I’m sure the bank account helped.
And he was nice to us—even if he didn’t know what would happen when he left the house.
I was too young to judge the situation, and I was too young to understand their dynamic or to realize how much older Henry was than Andi.
It was normal to me that an older man would be with a much younger woman.
But there was one thing I knew for certain: Henry thought my beautiful aunt walked on water.
They spent weekends at the country club, and Andi would turn on the Southern charm and pretend to be the perfect wife and aunt, just like her two-faced sister, Mindy.
The acting gene must run in that damn family.
She went looking for a reason to flaunt her body at the pool in front of the other country club wives and their husbands.
So she signed me up for the diving team, even though I fought it tooth and nail.
I’m not coordinated enough for diving, and I wasn’t thrilled to be risking my life with every bounce on that board. But I didn’t have a choice.
There wasn’t a moment I didn’t feel out of place around all that country club–style wealth.
I’ve made a lot of money for myself, but even today, I still feel like an outsider around that kind of money.
Old money. Hell, my husband and I lived in a country club, and I still didn’t feel like I belonged.
Our summer with Andi just dripped with fake charm and fake happiness.
It was almost like she was trying to prove to Henry she was mommy material when in reality she was Mommy Dearest. And the minute Henry wasn’t around she turned on the physical and verbal abuse.
Every minute with her was a nightmare. She was a ticking time bomb.
I eventually even tried to tell Mindy and Bill how abusive she was, but of course no one ever listened and thought I was being dramatic or exaggerating.
So Baby Sis and I had to sit there and take her tirades and act like we enjoyed it for the whole summer, especially on calls home, because Andi would sit right in front of us every time we were on the phone, listening to every word.
One night, I was fucking tired of being a human punching bag and I snapped. I heard something funny from the bathroom and found Andi holding Baby Sis’s little head under the water.
“What are you doing?” I screamed. “Leave her alone!” I ran up and started pounding on her back.
I realized what I’d done and backed away, but Andi turned and looked me up and down.
She grabbed Baby Sis out of the tub, carried her to the room next door, threw her down on the bed, and pressed a pillow over her face.
I didn’t even have time to think. I just jumped onto Andi’s back and started screaming at her to get off my sister.
I doubt my little fists were doing much, but I fought like hell and got her loose.
You know when someone pushes your face so far down into the mattress you can’t breathe?
Andi slammed her hand down, holding my face until there wasn’t any air.
I was screaming and Baby Sis was too, while Andi beat the shit out of me. I didn’t think I’d make it.
Finally, she stopped. Henry must have come home, but whatever it was, she snapped out of it. Right after, she tried to hug and console us and tell us she was sorry. Talk about a complete mindfuck.
The violence I was subjected to by the people who said they loved me and called themselves my family has left scars on my heart.
Growing up, I could never understand why I was so angry and so violent, but writing these pages makes it crystal clear.
There was no way I wouldn’t have been. Children are sacred, and sometimes people don’t deserve them.
* * *
HEADING BACK HOME AT THE end of the summer was small comfort.
Instead of Andi screaming at us, my parents screamed at each other, and Mindy screamed at me—always.
It would go on for hours and hours, and it was always about money or my dad’s cheating—I guess even the Lord couldn’t help Bill keep it in his pants.
No wonder I couldn’t ever stay faithful either.
One night, the arguments reached a new level of TMI—clearly, we had zero boundaries in this damn family.
Bill told Mindy she wasn’t fucking him enough, and so she went on a tirade.
Now, I don’t really blame her, but at the time, all I could hear was this woman piling verbal abuse on my dad.
I was so attached to him, even with all his problems, and to hear and see him insulted and abused emotionally hurt me.
I would get so upset listening to this woman talking to my dad like that, but he wouldn’t say anything.
He’d just take it, and I couldn’t fucking stand it.
Women like Mindy would be his weakness until his last day.
Maybe it’s because of the little boy in him who was never loved that he wouldn’t stand up for himself.
Maybe if he couldn’t be faithful, at least he could let them manipulate him and he’d take their verbal abuse.
For him, it must have been what love was—or at least a fair trade.
And even as it was eating me up inside, I couldn’t say a word either.
I just had to watch it all happen. It made me resent her even more.
The argument turned to money like it always did, and Mindy was being a cunt about my school clothes. She laid into him about how much I cost—and remember, Mindy made it clear I wasn’t part of their family. Why should she have to pay for my clothes?
My dad and I went outside to the front yard to catch a breath from the war zone we called home, and I tried to defuse the situation. Maybe I could just make it all go away.
“I’m sorry you have to buy me school clothes, Dad,” I said, staring at the ground. “I’ll wear what I have.” He didn’t say This isn’t your fault or I love you. Don’t listen to her.
“You’re under my roof until you’re eighteen, Alisa,” he said. “Until then, you’re my responsibility.”
“I’ll be out of here before then,” I said flatly. No way I would stick around for the screaming and abuse. I was still in junior high school, but I was already reaching my limit.
“Shut up, Alisa,” he said. “You’re here ’til you’re eighteen.”
Wanna put some money on that, Mr. Carter? ’Cause I’ll never lose a bet.