CHAPTER TWO-- COLLEGE IMPLOSION

College they called it, Martha laughed. She called it freedom! For the first time she felt in control of her own destiny! It was somewhat bittersweet to finally be here. What a long drive! She thought back over the trip just to get here to the college.

They had left earlier than planned. The Children Services Division came into being when she was in her senior year of high school. Before leaving the state on “the trip,” the Agency apparently had gotten a report about her father. They were requesting to see him in their office. Martha found out about this like she found out about most things – by accident. She was doing homework and overheard whispering. She was able to catch words here and there. She didn’t entirely understand it then. What would they want with her Dad and why was he so anxious about it? Who were these people? What power did they have that could make her father this nervous?

The only other time she had seen her father so nervous was when the Feds came to the house to accuse him of tampering with evidence in a mob trial. They accused him of hiding a gun and files. Martha remembers that this was the first time she had seen her father rattled by anything. Her father wasn’t scared of anyone! But when he talked to the Feds, he easily had explained the files. They had burned in a house fire. He retrieved the gun and handed it over to them in a box. Martha didn’t know any more about that incident either…another secret. He was nervous more then, though.

After the Feds came to the house, Martha and her twin were telling their sister about the incident. Her sister was now married and in another state, but the family saw her almost every weekend when they traveled up to their “weekend cabin at the lake.” Her sister had helped them put things together and they finally realized that their father had hired someone to set their house on fire to destroy those files…that evidence! Their sister eventually talked to the older half-brother who had been living excommunicated in the south with her mother’s family. He told their sister that one of their mother’s brothers was the one who was “hired” to set the fire. To this day, it is all still a “secret” surrounded by deaths, denial and lack of proof.

The family moved every four years as a norm, so there was never any going back. There was never anything to jog a memory by looking at it, nor the ability to remember by familiarity. The kids talked at the time of the fire about how strange it all was. The fire had started conveniently in an area of the house that had been built on as a “tool shed.” This is where their father kept a huge, heavy steel safe with a combination tumbler and huge handle. The safe was about the size of a four foot cube. It was a ritual with him to always check that room at night and lock the safe with everything in it. Martha and her twin brother were too young to understand the significance of this then, but their sister wasn’t. Her sister was 5 years older than them. Looking back Martha realized how absurd all of these events were and how “normal” it all seemed to her then. All these “things” just happened and there was never a comparison that allowed her to know that what was going on around her was “odd,” or “strange,” or “abusive,” hell, much less criminal!”

There was, “… no doubt it was arson,” the fireman had said back then. Now, the three of them put all of the pieces together. Martha and her twin brother had tried to tell the officers and firemen responding to the fire at the time about the guy they had seen in the area just before the fire. The guy had drove off the roadway to the side of their house on a motorcycle, dropped the bike and fled through the nearby woods. The bike was left. But as they tried to tell about it, they were “shushed” by their father. Their mother, as if on command, herded them away.

Her Dad gave the responders a guided tour of the damage and was making sure to report everything that was in that area that burned. He had specified the files that had been left on top. The important files he always kept habitually secured, just happened to be left out on top of the safe the night of the fire. Now, it seemed that the guy on the bike was just someone that was supposed to lead people away from suspecting my father did it. He was the one that my father was going to be able to blame for the fire then. That would be how it would be reported and it would have been believable because of the motorcycle group that gathered at a place about a mile away. Everyone was ready to believe bad things about people who rode motorcycles then.

It didn’t seem to matter that the fire had come into their home; it didn’t seem to matter that there was thick smoke everywhere and that all of them woke up choking; and it didn’t seem to matter that on the other side of the wall, his wife was sleeping! Martha now realized that her father must have been awake waiting on the event! Neither Martha, nor her twin figured anything strange then, but after the Feds came to the house and they talked to their sister…how could he! The life of ANYONE did not seem to mean anything to him! Then, of course it was year four when the fire occurred, and they moved. The Feds came to the new house almost two years after the fire… but that was just one of the OTHER things that came up in her thoughts when she allowed herself to drift back.

Now though, they were going to take her to college “early” so that she could visit her Aunt Dotty in the Midwest (about a thousand miles out of the way) before going to college. Then, they would double-back nearly the same distance to bring her to her college in West Virginia. As they drove out-of-state, Martha grimaced as she looked out the window watching her mother place the notification to the “Authorities,” in the mail. She had heard her parents talking about the scheme. They were going to notify them by mail that they were “out-of-state, and could not possibly make the appointment with them [Social Services].” It would be proof enough when the letter they received was postmarked out-of-state.

That report, she felt sure, was initiated by one of her high school teachers who really cared about all the kids. Ms. Bennett had seen Martha when she had the right side of her head swollen after her father had kicked her unconscious. Ms. Bennett had been stunned, but she knew that Martha had been drinking a lot then. Martha had showed up in her class (and others) under the influence of a half pint of straight Vodka that she and a friend had split for “lunch.” Martha had sworn off beer because the last time she had drunk beer they had gone bowling. The next day after the beer and bowling she went to school, but she wasn’t feeling right. By the afternoon, it was clearly going to be pain she could not shut down. She had made her way through what seemed an endless stream of hallway corridors that normally were nothing for her to jump around through. This day though, every step was painful.

The nurse’s office was down in the area of the school where the younger kids were. The hallways were clear because classes were in session and that gave her some relief. She didn’t like to show pain in front of anyone, but she especially didn’t want the children that she taught Physical Education to seeing her this way. Somewhere along the last hallway to the nurse’s office, she noted seeing the little sign above the door of the nurse in the distance and then she was gone. Martha collapsed. She didn’t even get to enjoy the thrill of the ambulance ride with the sirens that all the kids told her about when she returned to school.

She had been bleeding internally over 24 hours from some ruptured ovarian cysts. When she awakened a couple of days later, she had no idea where she was, but felt the pain on her abdomen and when she reached for it, felt gauze and tape. Another woman was beside her and told her she was okay, but to leave the bandages alone. She explained to her she was in a hospital. Martha had never been in one before. She peeked under the bandages and saw a long part of her skin looking like a railroad track. She found out later that it was “cat-gut” stitches from an exploratory surgery.

The woman sharing her room was from Puerto Rico. She told Martha how relieved she was that she was going to be alright now. They were close enough in age that they could kid-around together and they both made each other laugh and hold their own respective stitches. They became close friends. Had she not had to return to Puerto Rico, Martha was sure she would have remained friends with her for many years. For now, she would be her room-mate.

The room-mate began to tell Martha about things that took place while she was unconscious. One of the nurses who had popped into the room at the time of the review supported her room-mate’s story as she told it. The Doctors and nurses available in the hospital were all running towards the sounds of a man screaming loudly in the hallways the day Martha came into the Emergency Room. Doctors could be heard trying to calm him, but it became evident that he was not going to. The screaming got louder and louder and the words became clearer coming down the hallways. Martha’s father was refusing to sign the papers for her surgery. The Doctors and staff were trying to make Martha’s father understand that she had only three likely, but six hours maximum before she would succumb to the internal bleeding and die. The nurse in the room added that he never DID sign them! It was Martha’s mother who had to sign.

Martha was laughing out loud when she heard what they told her next. Martha’s father told them that they were mistaken about her needing ANY type of surgery and that Martha had brought all this on MENTALLY! Martha was turning 15 then. She felt safe for the period of time she was there. The hospital would not allow her father in the hospital while she was recovering. She kidded and played around with the staff and had a great week recovering. Martha was sad when it came time for her to return home. There were so many repercussions that followed this event, but for now, let’s get back to the Social Services and college…

Ms. Bennett had seen Martha’s face swollen [and it had been days after the actual incident]. She had asked Martha about it. Martha told her about the day after the kick-beating when her mother was trying to get her to see a “shrink.” Her mother made her feel that she had brought the beating on herself because of the drinking. She told Ms. Bennett about her mother picking them up on the street after they were walking home from the after-school event. It was a two mile trek home and Martha was being walked by her brother and her best friend to try and get her sober. It wasn’t unusual for them to walk home from after-school events, but it was unusual for Martha to be this drunk.

Her mother hadn’t appeared to notice anything unusual about her behavior when they were in the car, and didn’t seem to think anything odd about her going to her room. She had told her mother she was tired and had made it up to her room. She thought she had made it there safely and would sleep it off. She realized her twin had given her up again when, moments later, she was called to the kitchen by her mother.

Her mother didn’t even talk to her, but immediately told her to report to her Dad. Her father never even stopped long enough to find out the answer to his question, “…smokin’, drinkin’, or what?” before she was holding her head from where she had hit the closet across the other side of the room. She had slid down the closet door to the floor. She felt her face from where he had hit her and realized she had hit the closet door hard with the back of her head, too. She sank to the floor largely from being under the influence. Normally, she didn’t go down easily, and refused to show any weakness when he beat her. But this time, she was not standing. She was reeling from the pain in her head. That’s when the kicking began. It didn’t seem to stop.

She remembered coming to and realizing that she wasn’t getting kicked anymore. She began crawling slowly to the stair-well trying not to attract attention to her. When she got to the stairs, she tried to pull herself up using the rail, but she couldn’t, so she continued to pull herself, crawling up the steps, past the landing, up the second set and onto the second floor where she found her room. She hoped it was over. She slept there on the floor of her room and saw no one again until the morning.

When Martha saw her face in the mirror she was beside herself. Her father had left for work. She was angry with her mother for setting her up for this and confronted her. She demanded to go to school! She wanted EVERYONE to see what he had done this time! Her mother held her in check though, as she usually did, by making Martha feel sorry for her. Her mother always made Martha think about what would happen to her if Martha did not listen to her. Then they began arguing about a shrink.

She remembered arguing with her mother that her father needed to go to a shrink and screaming the question she had asked her over and over the past few years -- “Why don’t you just leave him!” His own family had intervened when he was beating her! But for her kids, she helped him hide it from them! She helped him hide it from everyone!

When she finally was able to return to school, Ms Bennett and her friends already knew something about what had happened. Martha guessed her twin had told her friends. Ms. Bennett was outraged when she relayed what had occurred, but vowed to keep her safe. When the letter came from Social Services, Martha felt Ms. Bennett was the one who had talked to them. Maybe it was, or maybe it was just the number of days missed from school. She was never to know. But, again, her father slipped away from the grasp of accountability.

So, Martha was looking forward to college. She needed to get away and here she would have legal, uncontrolled freedom! She would wash her hands of her family. Martha’s half-brother, who was eight years older, had been run out of the house at seventeen. He had been sent to live in the south with their mother’s family until he could get signed into the service. Martha hadn’t known that much about him, but what she did remember, she didn’t like.

He used to grab hold of her cheek, pinch it and just shake it until it hurt. It hadn’t mattered if she told him to stop, or if she cried, or got mad and tried to stop him herself. The more she reacted, the more he would do it. He would smile and laugh at her no matter what she did, but he never stopped until he was told to by their mother. She was about 6, or 7 then. When he came to visit from the service though, it was the same. She was able to hold her own by then though.

Martha remembered his love for music and Elvis. He used to try to dress and look like Elvis. She remembered that he set up dates for his friends using their sister. But he was out of her life when he hit 17. The last time she could remember seeing him when he was living with them was when he was nearly 17 and her father had him by the throat choking him in the living room. There was a Christmas tree in the room.

After that he went south, and the family moved again. Except for occasional visits home on leave from the Navy, she really had no contact with him at all. Her twin though, had always looked up to him. They stayed in touch through the mail. Martha realized that she really didn’t care for any of her family! Well, maybe her sister.

Her sister had married at 18 to get out of the house. That became quite the fiasco. The wedding had been planned and then within a month or two of the wedding, they eloped! Their father was furious! Martha had to wonder why her father even had kids, because he never liked any of them.

Martha at least had some type of relationship with her sister though. There were things she remembered about her that were good things they shared between them; and things that happened to her sister that she saw as unjust. She could stay in touch with her sister perhaps. Maybe, she wouldn’t have to say good-bye to ALL of her family.

Martha realized how long the drive had been with all the thoughts that were traveling in her head when they pulled up at a hotel in a little town just outside of the college’s town. Her parents and brother and she were to stay the night there. Martha woke from a dead sleep in the middle of the night in a sitting position looking her mother square in the face. In her sleep, she had pulled her mother straight up to a sitting position and was staring at her. When she awoke, that’s the position she was in and her mother was not sure until Martha actually DID awaken, whether Martha was asleep at all. Both she and her mother were unnerved about the ordeal, but all they could do was go back to sleep.

In the morning, she was dropped at her dorm room, trunks and all. Martha recalled how confusing all the emotions were going on inside of her. There was such relief to be on her own, and she was happy to see them leave, but sad too. That was what was so confusing. Where was this sadness coming from? Who did she miss? Why did she feel so alone all of a sudden? None of this made sense. Well, practice made perfect. Martha shut down her emotions and got to the business of unpacking the trunks and suitcases.

She had requested the college to give her a room by herself. She had 2 beds in the room, but no room-mate. She did not know how she would get along with someone who would be interested in talking about boys and make-up and well, just plain crap, she laughed to herself. That was a good decision. Things were looking up already. In the process of putting her things away, the Hall Proctors came and introduced themselves and offered their welcome and explained where things were. A meeting would take place in the lounge area to welcome everyone in and there they would give out packets with the school layout and expectations. There were a few more days before classes would start.

Lots of the kids were from out-of-state attending this college. Many from near where she lived, but no women from her school came here. There were a couple of guys that came, but she only knew one of them well and that’s because she was friends with his older sister.

She was going to be majoring in Physical Education and have a minor in English. She had been good in Physical Education. Even the high school recognized that. She had all kinds of Physical Education and Intramural achievement awards and trophies. Being good at Physical Education had earned her a place to be an aide to the P.E. instructor in high school. She actually taught the 8th grade girls sports and physical fitness over two years in high school. She was good at it. The older sisters and brothers of the young kids must have gotten good reports because many of them befriended her.

That was one of the reasons she had been so popular. She even ran for Student Council President after being a Representative for a year. It was not as close as she had hoped, but out of the three running, she was second and it was a decent percentage of the votes. Being in contact with the younger ones and being friends of the older siblings came in handy when the race-riots of the 60’s hit her high school, too. She knew many of the people that were getting involved and was able to de-escalate a lot of the violence. Martha could remember the police at the doors and around the parking lots with the shot-guns to escort the teachers in.

She used her skills in teaching and her appreciation of the oppression of other human beings to negotiate peaceful resolutions between the kids she knew. Only on one occasion did an incident come close to getting out of control and harming a friend. Two of her good friends, one black, one white, were at each other one day. One had the other pinned. Maybe it was because she respected each of them, or maybe because they both respected her, but for whatever the reason, she was able to get them to agree to go their separate ways. No one Martha was close to had gotten stabbed, or beat with chains, or wood, but some kids she didn’t know had. Thankfully, guns were not readily accessible then.

She did have a hole inside her from this turmoil though. She had wanted so desperately to go to Mississippi on the “Freedom Summer” buses. She couldn’t find a way to get there before they left. That is what she wanted to do! She never really wanted to go to college. Before the riots began, she had wanted to sing in a band, too, but her father would hear none of that!

So, she wound up here in college! Here she was, starting over! No one knew her here. No one knew the good things about her either. She guessed she would just concentrate on her grades. That was one thing her father had appreciated – good grades. Any time you brought home anything less than a “C” you were severely disciplined for it. We learned how to study and were religious about homework. Fear was one side of the motivator and rewards the other. For each “A” we got a monetary reward.

She was learning quickly from the influx of people here that being different might be okay. She thought she had run into a small community of women in the Physical Education area who were just as “different” as she was. They played the intramural sports together and many of them were in her classes. Some of them were visually “out,” but no one talked about the subject then. It was hard to really “know.” Martha had to laugh at some of the girls denying their own sexuality. They were the biggest dykes she had ever seen! She laughed to herself. She sure knew what THAT word meant! She had heard that word thrown around in the most negative terms by people she cared about. It made her shut down telling anyone about her feelings about women. She had felt those women were the type she was most like, but she was still different from them, too.

But Martha couldn’t understand why no one here would talk to her about it. She couldn’t understand why they didn’t admit to her about their sexuality. It wasn’t like they were still at home and feared retaliation. She guessed there really MUST be something wrong about being different. Why else were they hiding themselves from her? There was so much freedom here! It plagued her daily.

In the dorm, there were some friends that developed the phrase “bestest gooder” to describe their relationship as best friends. She befriended that set of “bestest-gooders.” One of them appeared to be straight and one gay. Martha was developing her own bestest-gooder. Her next-door neighbor was fast becoming close to Martha. They had so much fun together! And it wasn’t long before they had a strange group that hung together. But Martha never really felt part of the group. There was always something that made her feel outside of it. She was never able to feel she totally belonged.

Although Martha never openly told anyone about her feelings toward women, she thought it was pretty evident. If it wasn’t okay for anyone else to tell her they were gay, then she sure wasn’t going to volunteer it! Slowly, talking and listening to other students about their families, Martha was beginning to understand just how different her family was…so, maybe she really was different from all of them. She began to struggle again with the concept of becoming straight.

According to the people she respected, it was a mental illness, or a “sickness.” She knew how people reacted to the mentally ill. She had seen this first hand growing up when one of her half-Aunts was given a lobotomy. Martha wondered if she was actually mentally ill after all. She remembered growing up and the people around her talking about the fact that mental illness could be inherited. Great, she thought, something else to worry about! Was this Aunt really related to her? When were the secrets going to stop coming up to haunt her she wondered. There just seemed to be too many secrets!