Collateral damage

Nothing happened. Christmas passed, then we entered the new year. It was a month after the police came, still nothing.

My mom stayed with us a few days, then with her siblings. Eventually she went back home. My mom had a doctor appointment she wanted me to take her to. She didn’t trust that my dad wouldn’t drive them both off the road. I talked to my dad that day for the first time since everything happened. He looked sickly and lost a lot of weight. I told him I was sorry which seemed kind of weird since he was the one that committed the crime. He asked why I was sorry and I said that I never wanted things to be the way they were. I wanted a dad that loved and protected me.

As a child, I wanted retribution. I wanted my dad to burn in hell and pay for every cruel thing he did. But when his head was on the chopping block I found I didn’t want it as much anymore. It really was painful for the rest of us.

It wasn’t long before things went back to normal almost. My mom’s doctor visit went well. A week later my dad went in for a stress test. I wasn’t hoping for good results. I was hoping that he would have congestive heart failure like his mother. I was hoping that he would silently die and the whole prison thing would just go away.

You see, I didn’t want us to pay the price for his crime. My dad would be far worse then not being respected. He would be a registered sex offender, a pedophile. I would have a parent in prison. It wasn’t the kind of inheritance I was planning on receiving. The family name would be dragged through the dirt. Having the same last name might reflect negatively on my brother’s career. My dad lives in the same small town he grew up in. It would ruin the family name that my grandparents and their parents before them proudly built in that small town.

We probably couldn’t even go up north to the family cabin because everyone knows us up there too. People might make assumptions about the character of the rest of us. People might destroy our property or even threaten my mother who still lives in the house she spent the past 45 years in. A single heart attack and those worries would all be gone. But his physical heart was fine.

So we waited and we waited some more. Nothing happened. We were all on edge, waiting. Nobody did anything so I called the detective. The detective said that after the holidays he had to take a couple weeks off work because he broke his leg. He was still working on the case and it should be wrapped up soon. He seemed blunt and rather harsh in his tone. He was hesitant to talk to me until I told him I was the mother of the girl that brought her grandpa’s computer to the police department.

I asked the detective if there were any resources for families. Maybe a support group? He said he didn’t know of any and that we should get some counseling. He said he sees it all the time, collateral damage. It’s like being in a war. Sometimes innocent people get hit by stray bullets.

It wasn’t long after the conversation that COVID hit the nation which once again left us waiting…

Left without pants…

This morning I had a new bedroom set delivered to our house. Previous to the new set, I have been using the same bedroom set that my grandparents bought me in 3rd grade. Let’s just say that it has been a long time since I have been in 3rd grade. It has been a while since my kids were that young. More drawers were broken than not.

After the delivery men left, I noticed I made a gross error. I forgot to remove my pants from one dresser drawer. It was the drawer that contained my dress pants and nice jeans.

Tomorrow morning we are leaving to spend the weekend in Chicago to see the sold out Hamilton. And wasn’t I just the one complaining about people wearing pajama bottoms to concerts??

To make things a bit more interesting, I have two interviews with potential employees lined up very early next week. Can I hope that we have similar hobbies and they show up in running pants too? Yeah, probably not..

When I called the company earlier, it sounded promising that they would be able to find my pants. I felt like a complete idiot until the customer service rep said that one time the delivery drivers left with someone’s pet..

Why do these things always happen to me?? Why??!?

10. My most embarrassing moment

Day 10: Describe your most embarrassing moment

Back when I was in college, I took a class called Deviant Behavior. One of our assignments was to do something embarrassing, or simply not socially acceptable, in public to see how other people would respond.

While some students did embarrassing things like farting in public or picking their noses, I kind of cheated on this one… I went back to my repertoire of embarrassing moments in my life.

Maybe it was the time that my 350 lb dad decided to mow the lawn up north in nothing but a Speedo. His stomach hung over his underwear so that from the front it looked like he was mowing in the nude. What can I say? It was hot out that day. We gasped in disbelief as the neighbors tried not to stare.

Having my dad walk around in his underwear was nothing new. He used to do that when I had friends over and sometimes he does that when we visit today. He has no problem walking to the end of the driveway to get the mail in his underwear. Let me correct that statement…He does have problems walking to the end of the driveway, so he starts up his lawnmower and rides it to his mailbox in his underwear. He answers the door in his underwear if someone comes a knocking. He pees with the bathroom door open. He will dress up in pajama bottoms to go out to eat, but he only showers once a month. He wipes his teeth on the bathroom hand towel, but doesn’t brush them…There are some things that I am too embarrassed to even tell you about..

Or maybe it was all of the times that Aunt Grace, who had enough money to treat everyone to the meal, would shove everything from the table into her big purse or leftovers container. She would take the little butter dishes, silverware, cloth napkins, centerpieces, creamers, or practically anything they didn’t clear off of the table. She used to grab matches back in the day, but didn’t smoke or a handful of mints on her way out the door. She always insisted these items were hers since she paid for the meal. Or maybe it was her fondness of slapping the butts of my friends that she liked.

Or maybe it was all of the times that I saw my autistic brother expose himself to friends and neighbors. He used to stand at the end of the driveway at my grandma’s house and pull down his pants every time a car drove by. He walked around the house in stained underwear whether people were over or not. Sometimes he wore my mother’s dresses. He would stand out at the end of the dock up north with his pants dropped and pee into the water. Then he would stand there shaking it for awhile as the boaters going by would stare or laugh. Or maybe it was when he would fart, attack people, or swear in public. Hard to say..

Or maybe it was just simply bringing a friend or potential boyfriend back home to a house where there was always dirty dishes with rotten food on the counter and pee on the bathroom floor. I brought them home to a hoarder’s paradise where things don’t get thrown away. Funny thing is…I always preferred the clean freaks…Ha ha ha ha…Sometimes unwanted items would be given away to my brothers or I, but usually it just meant that it was time to build another shed.

Let’s just say that I don’t get embarrassed much by anything anymore…

But as for the most embarrassing thing that I ever did…Back when I was in 2nd grade, I peed my pants in front of the whole class. I couldn’t get the teacher’s attention and couldn’t hold it anymore. Urine leaked down my green tights and puddled into my shoes. I had to walk around all day in a short little dress with nothing underneath..

Now you can probably understand why I skipped the assignment of doing something embarrassing in public…been there, done that, and don’t want to do it anymore..The hardest part was narrowing down my topic of embarrassment.