39

I-Man in flesh,the father, the spirit.





May 1992



She left…just like that, and she was smiling. But I was not smiling at all. She had gotten half way through ‘Interview with the Vampire’ and was hiding away in Matt’s grandmother’s house. I saw her only when my brother would drive me out to the house. Father just wouldn’t let me drive a car because he thought it was way too dangerous for a girl my age. Yes, you read it right…I wasn’t allowed to drive yet.



But my brother was cool and he let me drive anyway when he was with me. I still felt so humiliated by this. When he let me behind the wheel, I drove as fast and as recklessly as I could. After all, girl’s my age shouldn’t be driving…it’s too dangerous. hehe I drove to Matt’s grandmother’s house and saw the beautiful gray eyed girl. I kissed her lips, sniff her hair. She was 5 foot 2 and it was very easy for me to feel as if I protected her. I tried but I really couldn’t protect her at all. I think I could destroy her.



June



1992



I watched him read the bible with his mouth slightly open. His hands caressed the leather as if it were a lover. I could hear his breathing shift as he captured another revelation. I was in awe of him. I knew Nasha was still working and would be for a couple hours and so I wanted to enjoy this before my brother got back. Matt was beautiful to me…his long brown locks hung desperately on his shoulders as if they were reading as well. A single strand of beads decorated his lone braid on the left side of his face. I noticed that the colors were red,yellow and green. He lifted his face to me and smiled. His eyes were upside down crescent moons…dark ones. He was the spitting image of Johnny Depp if he had dreadlocks. I then noticed how Matt’s nostrils flared just slightly right before his eyes filled with wonder and he spoke some tantalizing spiritual thing that you could never forget.

“Sherrie, did you know that marijuana was a holey plant. See, look here…”



Matt motioned for me to join him on the other couch. I smiled and tilted my head. My long black hair spilled into my face.



“Really…Matt, so you mean that the fact that we are stoned right now is god’s will then, huh?” I giggled, half serious.


Matt shook his head. “I am serious…” He pointd to the scripture and spoke . “Look…here.”



As I moved closer to him, I could smell something lovely about him. It was musky and permeated the smell of the marijuana. I could hear whispers…or was it just the sounds of the house.



A knock came at the door and I jumped up, immediately crossing the room to the chair I had occupied earlier. Matt closed his bible and sat it down. As he stood, he looked at me. “Why are you jumping, it’s probably just Nasha.”



On the back of his notebook which lie next to the tattered bible was printed the words ‘I-Man’. I stared at the letters and wondered what they meant.



Matt opened the door and my brother motioned for me from the doorway. I knew it was time to go and father would be angry if we were gone too long.







1992



I was almost finished with the painting. It was a huge deal..probably as big as an average tabletop. I have never been good with numbers so I will only guess as good as that for now. It was bright and big and he loved it. Several times when Nasha and Matt had come to visit, he would rush into my room and look for the painting. His eyes would be huge and his hands sweeping aside various things in my cluttered room looking for it. I pulled the painting from the top shelf of my closet and carefully sat it upon the eisel. He would take a long breath in and look at me smiling from ear to ear. Tysha would rub his arm and say “You love it don’t you, baby?”



July 1992



Father found out that Nasha and Matt were living together. He said that he is limiting my time with them because they are going to hell for what they are doing. My heart feels like it is breaking. I have to beg daddy to let me call them and even then, he monitored my conversations and gave me time limits for the phone.



I hid in the bathroom today and daddy broke the door down trying to get to me. He says I was trying to sneak out but I wasn’t. I just wanted to be alone and I couldn’t lock my bedroom door anymore. Daddy took my lock off when he found out about Nasha and Matt living together. He said there shouldn’t be any secrets.


He fussed at moma today too for watching soap operas. He says that she shouldn’t be watching people kiss on television. It is a sin.



summer night



1992



No one knows that I left. I don’t even remember when I left that night. I only remember waking up on the trail right before you get to the mounds. I wasn’t scared of the dark this time. There was this calm comforting blanket which seemed to cover me. I could smell musky warm smells surrounding me when I woke.



July 1992



I don’t remember what the fight was about but I knew it was only a matter of time before daddy would get angry again. My first memory was of him yelling at me and his face turning red. He was telling me he was about to beat my butt. My mother was crying and my brother was holding my arm. My brother knew that he should restrain me. I felt rage welling up inside me and I smelled a bitter smell iminating from my father. Mother smelled like soft rose petals and my brother smelled like old socks. I did not know why all these smells were mixing and driving me mad. It was overwhelming and it was unnerving that I could smell them like this. My mom was hoping that father wouldn’t hurt me. My father wanted to hurt me like his father before him and my brother secretly hated me. I wanted to be free…





Mother cried louder as I wiggled free from my brother. I could hear him saying for me to stop and to just go to my room. He told father that I didnt mean what I said. Father was talking about the lesbian artwork on my wall .



Then I was clawing…I was tearing at the air, trying to get at him. I was swinging my fists. Daddy stepped back and reached out a strong hairy arm. He was trying to catch hold of my arm with one hand and held the belt in the other. I remember growling like an animal and coming off my feet. I remember the last fist I threw and that it missed him. It was the one that my brother couldn’t catch. It was the one that broke the clay horses on the wall ….and then struck my poor mother in the face.



I remember my shock. I never wanted to hurt my poor sweet mother. She stopped crying then and grabbed hold of me. She told me that she loved me. Father left and went back into the woods. He had his gun and his anger.