Before my sophomore year we moved into my mom’s fiancé house. You know the one who had a son that I lost my virginity to, yup that one. It wasn’t so bad, they had been dating for almost three years and I was beginning to like him. He lived in another split-level house with the master bedroom next to the kitchen and the other three bedrooms on the other side of the house. My room had a sliding glass door to the backyard again like the house we bought in Boca. Parents never learn. My mom and her fiancé Peter also bought a house together in Lake Placid, Florida as a summer or getaway house. Peter owned a boat and he took all us kids wake boarding and hydro-sliding. My mom seemed to be calmer while living with Peter, or at least she didn’t seem to need to beat up on me as much anymore. Life for me seemed to have its own personal ups and downs. I was still with Chris even though we saw each other less. Peter lived two towns south of Boca Raton and Chris and his mom ended up moving into a house 20 minutes north of Boca. We didn’t even go to the same school anymore. Besides the fact, my mom insisted I be put on birth control. She took me to her gynecologist, who happened to be an old man with a chip on his shoulder. He did a pap smear which I felt to be the biggest personal infringement ever. I know I was sexually active since the age of 13 but these were consensual and my peers. Not some old man with hurtful metal instruments and a look on his face like he enjoyed torturing me. After he examined me I was brought into his office so he could tell me about STDs and how he delivered a baby to a 13-year-old mother. Through the eyes of a fifteen-year-old it might have seemed worse than it actually was, I just remember it being unpleasant.
We lived at Peters house for maybe eight months before something happened and I wasn’t even awake for it. I slept through the whole thing! I would give anything to be that deep of a sleeper today. I woke up for school like any other day. I made my way through the living room and once I turned into the kitchen I stopped dead in my tracks. There was blood everywhere! On the walls, the cabinets, the counters, the fridge, the tile floors. This was an all white kitchen so the blood was even more illuminated by the morning sun. Was someone murdered? I went into their bedroom seeing more blood as I made my way over to my mom who was still in bed. She had blood on her and Peter was nowhere in sight. I asked her what the hell happened and all she said was were moving.
I’ve been told a couple of versions of this story. My moms, my brothers and my Aunt Ellen’s who had a conversation with Peter after we packed up and left but I think I know the complete story by connecting the dots myself. My mom was still drinking every night. Peter didn’t drink, he was actually on the wagon. I’m sure they had a fight and my mom was egging it on like she always did. He probably pushed her away from him because as you know by now my mom was a physical person. In her alcohol induced Brain she probably took it as him being physical with her or she just wanted an excuse to run to my brother and tell him that he hit her. That is exactly what she did, she ran and told my brother that Peter hit her and my brother being the overprotective teenage son wasn’t going to let that happen. So my brother goes and confronts Peter and a fight ensues. Peter’s son Jacob heard what was going on and decided to get involved. There you have it, a two on one beat down. Except my brother best the shit out of both of them. Peter’s face was bloody and bruised and Jacob had a broken arm. I don’t think my brother even had a scratch on him. Never underestimate the love of a son for his mother. We had
to move into a two bedroom furnished dump of an apartment for months until our house was vacated by tenants that were renting it out.
Misguided Mommy 