January 31, 2003
things that go "bump"Night
Night is when you turn out a light.
Night is when sister has a fright.
At night it is very dark.
No more children at the park.
—lisa, 2.22.75 my sister had nightmares all the time. usually, mom would get up and go into her room to make sure she was all right and soothe her back into sleep.
one night, when i was about 10 or 11, laura woke up screaming...something about an alligator under her bed. i lay in my bed, in my own room down the hall, waiting to hear mom get up and go to check on her. after about 5 minutes, there was no sign of mom, so i got up myself. on my way down the hall, i stopped at mom's room and opened the door. it was pitch dark. i couldn't see a thing.
"mom," i whispered. "mom, wake up! laura had a nightmare."
"what are you doing?" mom said, obviously alarmed. "go in and check on her and i'll be there in a minute."
by this time, my eyes had adjusted to the darkness. before i turned to leave, i saw a pair of men's shoes sticking out from under the bed. i glanced up and saw the outline of someone besides mom under the covers. i suddenly felt sick. but i went to check on laura, anyway.
moments later, mom came flying out of her room and into laura's. she gave me "a look" and went to comfort her youngest child. i went back to my room. i felt like i was going to throw up. i couldn't stop shaking. my tears were hot streams down my face.
awhile later, after mom had returned to her room and laura had gone back to sleep, the door to mom's room opened again. two sets of footsteps—one heavy, one light—made their way downstairs. i heard the back door open, and then close. i heard a car start up and drive away.
the next day, my eyes were swollen almost shut from crying and lack of sleep. i couldn't look mom in the face. she wouldn't look at me, either. i was relieved to escape to a babysitting job down the street that afternoon.
the night before, i had felt like i always felt when she went out on dates. or when she had come home from a date, but stayed with the man out in his car, in our driveway, for what seemed like hours.
i felt how i would feel many nights almost a decade later, when my college roommate—the woman i loved, but didn't know i loved, at least not like that—left the room we shared to stay with her girlfriend. one time, it was so bad that i called them and begged to come over. i'd sleep on the floor, whatever. i just needed to be near them.
they let me. they were annoyed...but they let me. i never asked again.
days after my sister's alligator nightmare, mom tried to explain.
"i have needs, lisa." emphasizing that word like i was supposed to know what she meant.
i had needs, too. a need to be free from the fear that i'd wake up in the middle of the night and find some man i'd never met (and never would meet) in our house. a need to stay ignorant about the term "anxiety attack" for just a few more years. a need for a mother who wouldn't expect me to understand her needs, because she was busy taking care of mine. a need to just be a kid.
12:07 PM
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