Life changed quickly and I barely remember details. There was much I chose to forget. We suddenly moved to Detroit and Fran married the big man we called Red.
Not sure when or where the wedding took place but I recall the house we moved to. It was a mansion in my eyes. I quickly memorized the address numbers, 14711 that were above the garage. It seemed we had arrived.
I guess we all settled in our new home except me. I was afraid of Red as he seemed to focus on me. Quickly it became apparent that my new living arrangements were overrated and I seemed to bring the monster out in Red.
My family embraced him as I rebelled. Slowly I began to confide in my grandmother Nellie what really went on in what I called the house of horrors. The narrative was no longer a teenager sabotaging Fran’s new life.
Nellie was not to be dismissed as a small elderly woman. She was fiery and took no prisoners. Red was on her radar and I was on my way out!
Much happened in between the great escape, Nellie had to intercede as my disdain for Red turned into physical fights between us. I was on the losing end more times than I want to remember, yet I was no longer afraid, I was determined.
Admittedly I did all I could as a young teenager to provoke Red. He was cagey and could portray himself as the innocent stepparent in front of the family. I ramped up my attacks, I wanted him to show them his true colors.
It culminated in a nasty episode at our cottage in Lexington one weekend when Fran went out grocery shopping. I was being held up against the wall by his large hand on my throat.
I knew in that instant he would kill me. As a small kid I only had one move, I had to kick him as hard as I could. My foot aligned perfectly with his family jewels and I landed the blow. It was over but not forgotten.
I knew I had to get away but at 14-15 years old, options are limited. I shared my Dads phone number with grandma Nellie because our home phone had a dial lock on it. We could not use the phone to make outgoing calls!
Nellie disliked my Dad, but she knew how dangerous Red was. She contacted Dad, they made arrangements to hand me off in secrecy.
I was gone, hidden away in a house in Birmingham until a custody agreement could be reached between Fran and Bob.
Red was livid from what I heard which made me happy. I am certain he feared what I might say to others who chose to listen and believe me.
The custody battle was settled quickly, Bob would pay child support for my youngest brother and I could live with my Dad.
Bob, ever consistent never paid child support for my brother and warrants were constantly issued for his arrest.
The divide with my Mother was instant. We did not speak or see each other for many years. Living with Bob turned Into a fiasco as he was ill equipped to handle a teenager.
He was jailed frequently between child support warrants that were enforced after he would be picked up for being drunk, getting a speeding ticket, or just being Bob. At the time I had no idea my Dad was a well known bookie.
We had moved into Muriel’s house around the corner from my Dads sister. Thankfully she kept an eye on the house and me.
Several months in my Dad disappeared with his girlfriend or possibly wife, June. I learned a new term, benders and they were frequent.
My Aunt noticed that my Dads car had been gone, the house was lit by candlelight and decided to check in on me on her way home from work. She knew her brother and was suspicious.
I opened the door and she quickly surveyed the house and knew the electricity and heat had been turned off. She grilled me like what I would expect from police during an investigation.
I pleaded ignorance, told her the heat had just gone out and I had no idea what was wrong with the lights.
When asked why I did not seek help, she quickly answered her own question. There was no way I was going back to 14711. We moved what little I had and I moved 6 houses around the corner.
I was welcomed into their 800 square foot bungalow and moved into the attic space with my cousin Lori. I was part of a family again and I was elated.
Just as I was adjusting Bob showed up on the tiny stoop. He finally found his way home and at some point noticed I was not there. My Uncle Jim answered the door as I hid. He politely explained to Bob that I now lived with them, no discussion, just a fact.
Bob weaved back and forth as he was drunk, his sister confirmed the decision and he left. I did not see my Dad again until 1976 when I was 23 years old.
6 houses away in a small subdivision in Southfield and we never crossed paths until he showed up at my home almost 10 years later. I was so stunned I slammed the door in his face, he left and we did not meet again until I identified his body at the morgue two years later.
That is truly the one choice I made that I deeply regret. He had been sober and I never gave him the chance to say he was sorry. I denied him a step in the program he needed to complete his sober journey.
Worse, I denied him the chance to meet his only grandchild.
Life had moved on for all of us. My brother Bill had moved to Hawaii, Doug lived in Lexington with Fran who had finally left Red.
Many years later when I found out Red had died, I needed details. It wasn’t enough that he no longer walked the earth, I needed to know he suffered.
He took my childhood and I cannot forgive him, but I could now forget him.
Next up:
Fran moves on, another marriage and three funerals and ultimately dementia. In a way it may be a blessing in disguise
as she does not need to remember much of it and can live out her life in blissful ignorance.
Great Grandma Sadie, Grandma Muriel, my Dads sister Joan, and Lori