“Remember to put your face in your pillow when we get to the car so they don’t see you cry,” I reminded Lisa, after hearing the doorbell ring. Dad and Maum had arrived to bring us back to their apartment after a long weekend with Missus and Mister.
Things had settled down to a routine since the scary
night Dad showed up at The Home after the new house parents moved in with their
cat and two kids. He was yelling,
ordering us to pack, and took us away for good.
People tried to stop him, and I barely had time to say good-bye to
Benji, but 15 minutes later, after grabbing a few items of clothing, we three
Bennett girls were loaded into his car, eyes wide as saucers, too scared to
speak.
We were told his apartment didn’t allow kids, so he brought us to Mister and Missus’ new home above the Christian bookstore that night, where we would stay ‘for a while’ until Dad could find us all a new place to live.
I had never been so happy in my life! Mister met us at the door, casually draped his arm around us and told Dad he was happy to help. It was very late by the time our teeth were brushed and we padded down the hallway on Missus’ heels, saying our prayers and slipping between the crisp, cool sheets. Sleep for that night was sweet and deep.
Dad came back to get us, though, and we began our new lives as latchkey kids, loaded with a daily chore list and supper to make for ourselves each night. At first, everyone seemed happy, but then something changed. Dad became sullen and sour most of the time. Maum either screamed at us or ignored us. My oldest sister, Robyn, asked to go live somewhere else, and they took her away one day. It was eerily strange without her. Everyone acted as though she had never been with us at all, and Lisa and I dared not mention her to Dad after that.
We were no longer welcome to be with Dad and Maum outside of our room. One day, a child-sized table and chairs appeared in our bedroom, and we learned we would be eating our meals in our room from then on. We could visit the bathroom and wash dishes in the kitchenette, but otherwise had to stay quiet and out of sight. If we missed a spot on the dishes, we were taken out of bed, asleep or not, to wash, dry and put away every single dish in the house, which took hours.
The bright spot in our lives was when we could visit Mister and Missus. We never knew when it was going to happen, and once we were there, we usually didn’t know when Dad would come back to get us.
During these moments of bliss, we frolicked and played outside with Mister and Missus’ grandchildren who lived across the street, listened to Mister animatedly read and act out storybooks, substituting our names for the main characters, tried our childish hands at some old recipes, and giggled ourselves to sleep each night.
Lisa and I slept in a double bed in the guest room, and when bedtime became too rowdy, Missus would roll up a towel, telling us ‘there is a line and, you stay on your side of the line, and she’ll stay on hers‘. Somehow, she knew we needed a place to giggle and goof off, and she never got angry, though I’m sure she often grew tired of our silliness.
Now, Dad and Maum sat in the living room, discussing something with Mister. Dad usually talked on and on in his loud, deep voice, giving us more time to go outside and play.
Lisa and I promised each other to really memorize the way back this time so we would know exactly where to go if we ever ran away. We just knew we could walk the long miles home to safety if we ever got the nerve to leave. Of course, we never factored in the fact that Mister’s would be the first place they’d look for us.
Our hearts were heavy, as usual, after Dad showed up. He had threatened to never let us see the Beal’s again if he caught us crying when he picked us up, so we made a pact to hug our pillows to hide our faces if we just couldn’t help it. Most of the time, I couldn’t.
On the ride home, Dad announced that he was sending Lisa to live with our mother. Lisa and I fearfully caught each other’s eyes, but didn’t dare speak. What did this mean? Would Lisa leave and never come back like Robyn? I didn’t even think he knew our mother anymore!
About a week later, Lisa was gone. Dad told me he dropped her off at the church steps down the street and hoped my mother came to get her. He let me come into the living room just that one time, and, surprising me, Maum held me while I quietly cried for a very long time. She never did that before or since, but I was so grateful to have a ‘mother’s touch’ that night. And so my life as an only child began, with a prayer that Lisa was ok and the ever-present hope that I would be given to Mister and Missus if Dad decided to send me away, too.
