Date: Sun, 30 Dec 2001 16:06:55 -0500 From: Tom Cup Subject: Jenny Chapter 4 - Lesbian/Young Friends Copyright 2001 by the Paratwa Partnership: A Colorado Corporation. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, except in the case of reviews, without written permission from the Paratwa Partnership, Inc, 354 Plateau Drive, Florissant, CO 80816 This is a fictional story involving youth/youth or adult/youth sexual relationships. If this type of material offends you, please do not read any further. This material is intended for mature adult audiences. Names, characters, locations and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. ************************************************************************ This story is part of the Girlztown Library at http://www.girlztown.net If you enjoy this story and would like to see it continue here on Nifty, please send me a note at tom_cup@hotmail.com Your comments are truly appreciated. ************************************************************************ Jenny Chapter 4 Thin Ice Mom was in a good mood on Friday, as good a mood as Scotch could produce. She was dancing, with the stereo blasting to a 7O's disco CD when I got home from school. My eyes burned with hate and distrust as she took my hand and began swinging me around in her alcohol stimulated joy. "Come on baby! Lighten up! Let's dance!" We danced. She drank. Through the afternoon, and into evening we played endeared daughter and beloved mother, Mom stopping to order pizza, and to grab a smoke and more drinks between songs. It's ironic to think that I usually looked forward to Mom's 70's party girl moods, they signaled the beginning of a good period. Now, what I saw in her dancing and spinning was not a desired reprieve but a pitiable woman locked in a fantasy dungeon of her own making, and of course, a window of escape for me if but for the night. I watched her carefully, waiting. Her words became slurred, her movements unbalanced, I waited for the moment I knew was coming; when she would be out of breath and panting for another drink, pleased that she had shown me the good time she had not. She staggered to the couch and handed me her glass. I made the drink. Normally I was careful not to give her too much, measuring the amount she was drinking against the clock, I would only fill the glass a forth of the way; fearful at what too much alcohol might do to her but I no longer cared, I filled the glass. I wanted her to get drunk. I wanted her slobbering on herself, mouth open, snoring; the undignified town drunkard. I smiled, watched her down the drink, and hand the glass back to me. "Another?" I asked innocently. "That'd be nice baby." I filled the glass again. I watched her as she watched me sipping the drink, an imbecilic smirk on her face, eyes bobbing, head nodding out of the beat of the music, Donna Summer bellowing in the background. "Come on Mommy. One more dance." Mom giggled and staggered to her feet. She leaned heavily on me during that dance, her breath labored and heavy with the fumes of Scotch. I moaned in mock disappointment when she said she had to sit down. I begged her to slight annoyance for another dance. She would have been angry had not the liquor taken away her passion. She muttered softly for me to make her another drink and then to go to bed. "Yes, Mommy. I love you Mommy. Thanks for the great time. I had fun tonight." "You're welcome, Baby. I love you too. I really do. Go on now. Go to bed." "Yes Mommy. Night." "Night." Inside my room, I leaned against the door and cried. I cried not for myself but for my mother. I cried because I had deceived her and because she deserved that deception. I cried because I was about to betray her and because she deserved my betrayal. I cried because I understood I was leaving my childhood behind and with it any illusion that my mother was redeemable. I fixed extra blankets to look as if I was in my bed, climbed out the window and looked back into my room to see the image of myself sleeping in my bed. I nodded to myself, if Mom did manage to look in on me she would be fooled; I was done being the fool. Tina picked me up within fifteen minutes of my call. Her face was drawn with concern about the treatment I was receiving at home. I told her I was OK, and it was the truth. I was OK. For the first time in my life I had admitted the truth to myself and it gave me strength, a will to survive that I never knew existed. When people asked me from then on about Mom I told them she was bitch and a drunk. The kids at school laughed and nodded. I found that a small group became friendlier with me, as if they had been waiting for me to wake up from my dream and walk with them in reality. I was no longer afraid to look people in the eye. Why should I have been? None of them could ever hurt me as much as Mom had. And then there was Sara. Your friendship and love affair just beginning, she reminded me constantly of my value, encouraged me in my studies and made love to me with reckless abandonment. ***** I got caught the fifth time that I snuck out to meet Sara. I climb in the window a little after six in the morning, kicked off my Keds, slipped out of my jeans and withdrew the covers to find that the blankets were gone and Mom was in the bed. She wasn't asleep she was waiting. She calmly turned to me and nodded, meaning `I caught you.' I could see the joy in her eyes, an anticipation of the pleasure she would get from punishing me. I stepped back and let her rise. I watched her hand reach for the strap she had placed on the nightstand. Anger filled my heart. She was so prepared to inflict me with pain. She swung at me without hesitation, aiming at my face. My arms came up to meet her arms, my hand encircled her wrist, the strap never touched me. "Let go of my arm!" Mom screamed. "No," I said staring her in the eyes. "What? You little bitch!" She swung with the other hand. I stepped up and pushed, she was caught off balanced and fell back on to my bed. "No!" I screamed, "You're not going to beat me anymore." Mom was scrambling to her feet. She rushed at me swinging wildly. I fought back, punching and scratching at her as she did the same to me; if she kicked I kicked, if she punched me I punched her back. She finally grabbed my hair and I repaid her in kind. "Let go you bitch!" she spat at me. "You fucking let go of me!" I yelled. She glared at me and I glared back. I don't know what made her let go but she did, pushing me away, panting, she sat on my bed and began to cry. I kept my distance staring angrily at her. "I told you to stay away from that bitch," Mom cried, "Now look what she's done." "She didn't do it, you did," I said surprised by my own boldness, "You beat me all the time for no reason. You keep me locked in this house like I'm a prisoner. I hate you." "No, no, no, baby you don't mean that." "Yes I do." "OK honey, OK. OK. OK. Let's just forget about this. We'll pretend that it never happened. I forgive you baby. I really do, OK?" "No!" I screamed, "I'm not pretending anymore!" The anger returned to Mom's eyes. She stood up slowly and adjusted her clothes and hair. I waited for the fight to start again but it didn't. She walked to the door, stood in the threshold and turned to me. "This is my house. You do what I say or get the fuck out." "Fuck you. You can't throw me out." Mom laughed. "Oh? Really. You got mighty sassy all of a sudden. I'll tell you what's going to happen. You'll sleep in my room, with me, because I can't trust you. You're going get this room cleaned up and then you're going to clean the rest of the house and do your chores. Monday I'm transferring you out of that school and you are never going to see that bitch again." "Yes, I am." "You better watch your mouth. I may not be able to throw you out but I'll tell you what I can do, I can put your little juvenile ass in a home; that I can and will do. Think about that." "Better than living here." "You think so?" She turned to leave but I was determined to have the last word. "Go ahead, Mommy," I said, "Put me in a home. I'll tell the counselors everything you ever did to me. Maybe you should call them right now so they can see the bruises and scars. Do it Mommy. Do it!" She turned and looked at me. I didn't have to say it but I wanted her to hear it again, "I hate you." I stayed in my room until mid-afternoon. I thought about what Mom and I said to one another. As the adrenalin wore off fear crept back into my heart. I cleaned my room and then began doing my chores. Mom didn't speak to me and I didn't speak to her but I could feel her eyes following me. I wondered if she would come into my room while I was sleeping and smoother me, or start beating me with the broom handle or something worse. But the weeks pasted, and though the enmity between us did not die, we settled into a pattern of politeness. I began staying the weekends with Sara. I asked Mom only the first time, she answered, "You're grown. Do what you want." After that I would just tell her on Friday morning that I would be going to Sara's after school. She would grunt or snort but didn't forbid me to go. I paid special attention to my chores -- I never wanted Mom to have to tell me I forgot to do anything. I waited on her hand and foot but was cautious to stay out of her way. ***** "Hi Jeeeenny." I absolutely hated the way the Jimmy said my name. I was sure the brat had waited until Sara wasn't in school to approach me. Tina and Chad had taken Sara out of school for an extended weekend camping. They had asked me if I wanted to come along but I felt I had pushed the boundaries with Mom far enough and thought that asking to skip school to go camping with Sara and parents might push Mom over the edge, so I declined. "So where's your girl friend?" Jimmy asked. "If she wanted you to know she would have told you," I answered. "You think you're tough shit just cause hang with Sara. You're still a weirdo and one day she'll wake up and dump you." "What's the matter Jimmy? Mad cause she likes me and thinks you're a jerk?" "Fuck you bitch!" "Mr. Rice!" the voice came from Ms. Carmichael, the school counselor. Jimmy and I turned to see her coming toward us. "Uh, yeah," Jimmy stuttered. "I think you owe Jenny an apology." "She started it." "No, Mr. Rice, you did." "Sorry," Jimmy muttered to me. "What did you say?" Ms. Carmichael asked. "I said I'm sorry," Jimmy answered somewhat annoyed, "God." "That better," Ms. Carmichael said, "Now, let's see if you can keep you manners from now on; cause the next time I hear you speaking to a young lady like that I'll march you straight to the principal. Do I make myself clear?" "Yes." "Get out of here." I watch Jimmy stomp away before turning to see Ms. Carmichael staring at me. "What's happening with you Jenny," she asked. I really didn't know what she was talking about and told her so. "Well," she said, "the rumor is that you've been saying that you're Mom is a drunk and a B.I.T.C.H. That doesn't sound like you. Is there anything you want to talk about?" "No ma'am. I'm OK." "Jenny, are you sure?" "Yes ma'am" "Well if you change you're mind, you know where to find me." "Yes ma'am. I will. I promise." "OK, I'm holding you to that. And you let me know if Jimmy keeps bothering you." "OK," I said and as she turned to leave, "Ms. Carmichael?" "Yes?" "Thanks for caring." She smiled and left. I spent that day in classes planning how to say something to Ms. Carmichael about what was happening at home without her freaking and making matters worse. What I wanted to do was set it up so that if Mom did turn on me again that Ms. Carmichael would already know something was happening and would believe when I came to her. My bruises were nearly healed so I knew I couldn't hold that over Mom anymore. The silence, and Mom's calm, was becoming more and more pronounced. I was not deceived into believing that I had won. I had gain time that was all. I knew Mom well enough to know that her `you can do what you want' attitude would not last. I felt like I was walking on slippery thin ice that could break at any moment, sending me plunging into icy waters where I would flounder and drown. I was right. *********************************************************************** Send comments to: tom_cup@hotmail.com To support this and other stories by Tom Cup, join the Girlztown Library at: http://www.girlztown.net Now available at the Girlztown Library: Donna: The serial story of the younger sister of Kevin. Barb, Chuck and Kevin have all left their imprints on this young girl's life. Can she overcome the hurt and pains left behind from the tragic events surrounding her life? Become a Girlztown Library member today!