by Dave Pelzer
Ms. Gold assured me that I was doing the right thing, but when she left me alone to think, I came to a different conclusion. As long as I could remember, I had always been in trouble. I was always being punished for one thing or another. Whenever my parents had fought, my name was always thrown into the ring. Was it really Mother’s fault? Maybe I deserved everything I got over the years. I did lie and steal food. And I knew I was the reason why Mother and Father no longer lived together. Would the county throw Mother in jail? Then what would happen to my brothers? That day after Ms. Gold left, I sat alone on the couch. My mind raced with questions. I felt my insides turn to jelly. My God! What have I done?
Days later, on a Sunday afternoon, while I was outside learning to play basketball, I heard the old familiar sound of Mother’s station wagon. My heart felt as though it stopped beating. I closed my eyes, thinking I was daydreaming. When my brain responded, I turned and ran inside Aunt Mary’s home and smashed into her. “It’s . . . it’s my . . .” I stuttered.
“Yes, I know,” Aunt Mary gently spoke as she held me. “You’re going to be all right.”
“No! You don’t under . . . she’s going to take me away! She found me!” I yelled. I tried to squirm myself away from Aunt Mary’s grip so I could run outside and find a safe place to hide.
Aunt Mary’s grip didn’t budge. “I didn’t want to upset you,” Aunt Mary said. “She’s just going to drop off some clothes. You’re going to court this Wednesday, and your mother wants you to look nice.”
“No!” I cried. “She’s going to take me! She’s going to take me back!”
“David, be still! I’ll be right here if you need me. Now, please, be still young man!” Aunt Mary did her best to calm me down. But my eyes nearly popped out as I watched The Mother stroll down the walkway with her four boys in tow.
I sat by Aunt Mary’s side. Greetings were exchanged, and like a trained dog I became my old self—the child called “It.” In an instant I went from an enthusiastic boy to Mother’s invisible house slave.
Mother didn’t even acknowledge my presence. Instead, she turned to Aunt Mary. “So, tell me, how is The Boy? ”
I looked up at Aunt Mary’s face. She seemed startled. Her eyes flickered for just a second. “David? David is quite fine, thank you. He’s right here, you know,” Aunt Mary responded, holding me a little tighter.
“Yes,” Mother said in a dry voice, “I can see that.” I could feel Mother’s hate burn through me. “And how does he get along with the other children?”
Aunt Mary cocked her head to one side. “Quite fine. David is very polite and extremely helpful around the home. He’s always looking to help out,” she answered, knowing that Mother had no intention of talking to me directly.
“Well . . . you should be careful,” Mother warned. “He’s tried to hurt other children. He does not get along well with others. The Boy is violent. He needs special attention, discipline that only I know how to instill. You don’t know The Boy.”
I could feel the muscles on Aunt Mary’s arm become tight as a drum. She leaned forward, giving Mother her best smile—the kind of smile that Aunt Mary would like to slap Mother silly with. “David is a fine young man. David may be a bit rambunctious . . . but that’s to be expected considering what David’s been put through!”
Suddenly I realized what was happening. Mother was trying to gain control over Aunt Mary, and Mother was losing. On the outside my shoulders slumped forward, and I gave Mother my timid puppy dog look as I stared down at the carpet. But on the inside my ears became like radar, picking up every phrase, every syllable of the conversation. Finally, I said to myself. Someone has finally put Mother in her place. Yes!
The more I heard Aunt Mary’s tone change toward Mother, the more my face lit up. I was enjoying this. I slowly lifted my head up. I looked right into Mother’s eyes. Inside I smiled. Well, isn’t this nice. It’s about time, I said to myself. As I listened to them, my head began to weave from left to right, then back again, as if I were watching a tennis match. Aunt Mary tried again to have Mother acknowledge me. I nodded my head at Mother as I openly agreed with Aunt Mary.
I began to feel extremely confident. I am someone. I am somebody, I told myself. I could feel parts of my body begin to relax. I was no longer scared. For once, everything was fine—right up until the moment I heard the phone ring. My head snapped to the right as the kitchen phone shrilled. I counted the rings, hoping someone would hang up. I became tense after the 12th ring. Aunt Mary turned toward the kitchen. I grabbed her arm. Come on, I said to myself. No one’s home. Just hang up. But the phone kept ringing—16, 17, 18 times. Just hang up! Just hang up! I could feel Aunt Mary lean forward to get up. I kept my hand on her arm, trying to force her to stay. When she stood up, I followed. My right hand clamped onto her left arm. She stopped midstride and pried my hand off, finger by finger. “David, please. It’s just the phone. For goodness sake, don’t be rude. Now go back in there.” I stood still. I locked onto Aunt Mary’s eyes for a brief moment. Aunt Mary understood. She nodded her head. “Okay,” she said in a low voice. “Come on, you can stay with me.”
I let out a sigh of relief as I followed her feet to the kitchen. Suddenly, I felt my left arm being yanked backwards. I nearly lost my footing. I fought to regain my balance. I closed my eyes as I bit my lip. My legs began to shake. Inches in front of me sat Mother. Her heavy, raspy breathing made me quiver. Mother’s face was dark red. I could tell that from behind her glasses her eyes were on fire. I tried to search for my savior, but Aunt Mary had already turned into the kitchen.
I stared down at the carpet, wishing her away. Mother squeezed my arm tighter. “Look at me!” she hissed. I became frozen. I wanted to yell, but my voice became mute. Her evil eyes locked onto mine. I closed my eyes as I felt Mother’s head inch its way toward my face. Mother’s monotone voice became vicious. “Cocky little bastard, aren’t you? Well, you don’t look so tall now. Do you? What’s the matter? Has your little Aunt Mary left you?” she said in a sarcastic, whining voice. Mother then yanked me so close to her face that I could smell her breath and feel droplets of saliva spray on my face. Mother’s voice turned ice cold. “Do you know what in the hell you’ve done? Do you?! The questions they’ve asked me? Do you realize the embarrassment you’ve cost This Family? ” Mother asked, as she spread her left hand at my brothers sitting beside her.
My knees began to buckle. I wanted to go to the bathroom and throw up. Mother smiled, showing me her dark yellow teeth. “They think I tried to hurt you. Now why would I do that?”
I tried to turn my head toward the kitchen. I could barely make out Aunt Mary’s voice on the phone.
“Child!” Mother hissed, “Boy . . . get this straight! I don’t care what they say! I don’t care what they do! You’re not out of this yet! I’ll get you back! You hear me? I’ll get you back! ”
When she heard Aunt Mary hang up the phone, Mother released my arm and pushed me away. I sat back in the wide chair and watched my savior stroll back into the living room and sit down beside me. “I’m sorry about that,” Aunt Mary said.
Mother batted her eyes and waved her hand. Suddenly she became regal. The act was on. “That? Oh, the phone? No problem. I have to . . . I mean, we have to get going anyway.”
I stole a glance at my brothers. Their eyes were hard and fixed. I gazed at them, wondering what they thought of me. Except for Kevin, who was still a toddler, the three of them seemed as if they wanted to throw me outside and stomp on me. I knew they hated me, and I felt I deserved it. For I had exposed the family secret.
I tried to imagine what it must be like for them to live with Mother now. I prayed that somehow my brothers would forgive me. I felt like a deserter. I also prayed that the cycle of hate had not moved on to one of them. I felt sorry for them. They had to live in total hell.
After another round of pleasantries and final warnings from Mother to Aunt Mary, The Family departed. As I heard the sound of Mother’s tires from her stat
ion wagon mash down on the rocks as she drove away, I remained glued to the chair. I sat in the living room for the rest of the afternoon, rocking back and forth, repeating Mother’s pledge over and over again, “I’ll get you back. I’ll get you back.”
That evening I couldn’t eat. In bed I rolled back and forth until I sat up clutching my knees. The Mother was right. I knew in my heart she would get me back. I stared out the window of my room. I could hear the wind howl through the tops of trees and the branches rub against each other. My chest began to tighten. I cried. I knew at that moment there was no escape for me.
At school the next day I couldn’t concentrate on my work. I strolled around the schoolyard like a zombie. Later that afternoon I met Ms. Gold at Aunt Mary’s home. “David, we’re going to court in two days. I need to ask you just a few questions to clarify our case. Okay, honey?” she asked with a bright smile.
I refused to speak and sat rigidly at the far end of the couch. I couldn’t look at Ms. Gold. To her dismay I muttered, “I don’t think I should say anything.”
Ms. Gold’s mouth nearly fell to the carpet. She began to speak, but I raised my hand, cutting her off. I then retracted as many statements as I could, claiming that I had lied about everything. I had caused all of the household problems. I told her that I had fallen down the stairs. I had run into doorknobs. I had beaten myself. I had stabbed myself. I then cried to Ms. Gold that my mommy was a beautiful, kind woman, with the perfect flower garden, the perfect home, the perfect family, and that I craved her attention because of my other brothers. And everything was all my fault.
Ms. Gold became speechless. She scooted over to where I sat. She tried several times to reach out and hold my hand. I brushed her delicate fingers away. She became so frustrated that she began to cry. After several hours and many attempts, Ms. Gold looked at me with dried streaks of tears and blotches of black eyeliner running down her face. “David, honey,” she sniffled, “I don’t understand. Why won’t you talk to me? Please, honey.”
Then she tried to switch tactics. She stood up and pointed her finger at me. “Don’t you know how important this case is? Don’t you know that all I talk about in my office is a cute little boy who is brave enough to tell me his secret?”
I looked through Ms. Gold and tuned her out. “I don’t think I should say anything else,” I coldly replied.
Ms. Gold bent over, trying to force me to look into her face. “David, please . . .” she begged.
But to me, she just wasn’t there. I knew that my social worker was trying everything in her power to help me, but I feared Mother’s wrath more than Ms. Gold’s. From the moment Mother stated “I’ll get you back,” I knew everything in my new world was lost.
Ms. Gold reached out to hold my hand. I slapped her fingers away. I turned my back to her. “David James Pelzer!” she barked. “Do you have any idea what you’re saying? Do you understand what you’re doing? You had better get your story straight! You’re going to have to make a major decision pretty soon, and you better be ready for it!”
Ms. Gold sat back down, wedging me between her knees and the end of the couch. “David, you have to understand that in a person’s life there are a few precious moments in which decisions, choices that you make now, will affect you for the rest of your life. I can help you, but only if you let me. Do you understand?”
I again turned away. Suddenly Ms. Gold sprang up from the couch. Her face became bright red and her hands were shaking. I tried to hold back my feelings, but a surge of anger erupted. “No!” I cried out. “Don’t you get it? Don’t you understand? She’ll get me back. She’ll win. She always wins. No one can stop The Mother. Not you, not anyone! She’ll get me back!”
Her face went blank. “Oh my God!” Ms. Gold exclaimed as she bent down to hold me. “Is that what she said to you? David, honey . . .” Her arms stretched out to embrace me.
“No!” I yelled. “Won’t you just leave me alone? Just . . . go . . . away!”
Ms. Gold stood over me for a few moments, then turned on her heels and stormed out of the room. A few seconds later I could hear the sound of the screen door slamming in the kitchen. Without thinking, I ran into the kitchen, but I stood frozen behind the door. Through the screen I could see Ms. Gold stumbling up the steep walkway. She lost her grip on her papers and tried to catch some of them in midair. “Shit!” she cried out. The papers scattered as she desperately tried to gather them into one pile. As soon as she stood up, she fell down, scraping her right knee. I could see the frustration on her face as she clamped her hand over her mouth. Ms. Gold tried again to stand up, but this time with more caution as she made her way to the county car. She slammed the car door shut and bent her head against the steering wheel. As I stood behind the screen door, I could hear Ms. Gold—my angel—sobbing uncontrollably. After several minutes she finally started her car and sped off.
I stayed behind the kitchen screen and cried inside. I knew I could never forgive myself, but lying to Ms. Gold was the lesser of two evils. I stood alone, confused, behind the screen door. I felt that by lying, I had protected Mother, that I had done the right thing. I knew Mother was going to get me back and no one could stop her. But then when I thought of how kind Ms. Gold had been throughout everything, I suddenly realized the terrible position I had just put her in. I never meant to hurt anybody, especially Ms. Gold. I became a statue as I stood behind the screen door. I only wished that I could crawl under a rock and hide, forever.
CHAPTER
3
The Trial
Two days later Ms. Gold drove me to the county courthouse. The ride began in total silence. I sat on the far side by the door, staring at the scenery. We drove north on Highway 280 beside the aqueduct, the same water reserve the family used to drive by on our way to Memorial Park years ago. Ms. Gold finally broke the ice, explaining in a soft voice that today the judge would decide whether I was to become “a permanent ward of the court” or be returned to my mother’s custody. I didn’t understand the “ward of the court” part, but I knew what returning to my mother’s custody meant. I shivered at this last part of Ms. Gold’s sentence. I looked up at her, wondering whether I would be riding back with Ms. Gold after court or in the back of Mother’s station wagon. I asked Ms. Gold whether there was a possibility of Mother taking me back with her today. Ms. Gold reached out, patted my hand and nodded yes. My head slumped forward. I didn’t have the energy to resist anymore. I hadn’t been able to sleep since our last meeting. The closer Ms. Gold drove to the courthouse, the more I could feel myself slipping from her safety and back into Mother’s clutches.
My hands formed into a tight fist. The countdown now began.
I felt a soft caress on my left hand. My arms flew up to protect my face. It took a moment for me to realize that I was only daydreaming. I took a deep breath and nodded to myself, trying to calm myself down. “David,” Ms. Gold began, “listen to me very carefully. This is Pam talking, not Ms. Gold, your social worker. Do you understand?”
I let out a deep sigh. I knew we were only a few miles away from the courthouse. “Yes, ma’am, I understand.”
“David, what your mother did to you was wrong. Very wrong. No child deserves to be treated like that. She’s sick.” Pam’s voice was soft, and calm. She seemed on the verge of tears. “Remember Monday afternoon when I told you that one day you’d have to make a decision? Well, today is that day. The decision you make today will affect you for the rest of your life. Only you can decide your fate. I’ve done all that I can do. Everyone’s done what they can do—your teachers, the school nurse, Aunt Mary, everyone. Now it’s up to you.
“David, I see so much in you. You’re a very brave young man. Not many children can tell their secret. Someday this whole experience will be behind you.” Ms. Gold stopped for a moment. “David, you’re a very brave young man.”
“Well, I don’t feel very brave, Ms. Gold. I feel . . . like . . . like a traitor.”
“David,” Pam smiled, “you’re
not a traitor! And don’t you forget it.”
“If she’s sick,” I asked, “then what about my other brothers? Are you going to help them, too? What if she goes after one of them?”
“Well, right now my only concern is you. I don’t have any information that your mother was or is abusing your brothers. We have to start somewhere. Let’s take this one step at a time. All right? And David . . .” Ms. Gold switched off the ignition. We had reached the courthouse.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“I want you to know that I love you.”
I looked deep into Ms. Gold’s eyes. They were so pure. “I really do,” she said, stroking the side of my cheek.
I cried as I nodded my head. Ms. Gold lifted my chin with her fingers. I pressed my head against her hand. I cried because I knew that in a few minutes I would betray Pam’s love.
Minutes later we walked into the waiting room of the county courthouse, and Ms. Gold grabbed my hand. Mother and the boys were waiting on one of the benches. Ms. Gold nodded at Mother as the two of us walked by. I stole a glance. Mother was wearing a nice dress and had fixed up her hair.
Ron had a cast on his leg.
No one acknowledged my presence, but I could feel Mother’s hate. Ms. Gold and I sat down, waiting our turn. The delay was unbearable. Burying my head under my right arm, I mumbled to Ms. Gold, asking her for a pen and paper. I proceeded to scribble a small note.
To Mother:
I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come to this. I didn’t mean to tell the secret. I didn’t mean to hurt the family. Can you ever forgive me?
