Family Tree the Novel

by Andrea N. Carr

  Lady answered, “I test David to see if he really loves me. He shouldn’t say it if he doesn’t mean it. When he stays with me after what I’ve done, I don’t respect him. Now, I think he deserves it.” She sounded as if she meant what she had said because she had given it thought. “Everyone else is a result of pissing me off. I lash out, wanting them to hurt too.” Lady explained.

  Lady, in one of her drunken rages, called David’s job and told his boss he had embezzled money. It was true. He was fired. David had made a six-figure income but they lived poorly. David liked gambling and had his own set of problems, especially after he joined Lady in getting high. Abraham’s room remained intact in spite of everything. My sister signed him over to his father when Abraham was about three; her lifestyle did not permit full time mothering.

  Lady loved Abraham and she made sure he knew it. Lady kept her visits with him regularly. She set a better example than mom had in spite of her difficult life, and I loved her for it. Signing Abraham over to his father seemed to take something poignant out of Lady. Her guilt was enormous and it was hard to talk to her about it. It was not difficult to tell she was high even if you didn’t know her. Lady was became extremely paranoid whether she was getting high or not.

  I remember pulling Lady from underneath her bathroom sink during my visit. How the hell did she get under there? I didn’t witness her getting inside the cabinet but it sure as hell couldn’t have been worse than getting her out while she fought me. Lady thought people were coming in and out of her house and spying on her; she was hiding from them. I almost believed her, she was so convincing and I didn’t want to think she was crazy. I couldn’t tell if she was crazy from years in self-destruct mode, even physically biting and burning herself or abusing herself because she was crazy and couldn’t help it. I just knew she was crazy.

  Abraham and Malcolm were in Abraham’s room playing games and watching TV while I struggled with her, hoping they wouldn’t see her this way. The only way I got her out of there, and making her promise not to go under the sink anymore, was to go with her to buy drugs; she was going to leave anyway and get them herself but I felt better being with her. I wasn’t sure what she would do. I wondered how she managed when I was away. I wondered how vulnerable her paranoia made her.

  Finally, the kids went to sleep without notice or incident. It was times like those that helped make my decision in not allowing my son to be in Lady’s presence if I wasn’t there. She wanted to be trusted but was not trustworthy. She was always offended when I would not let Malcolm visit alone. She promised nothing would happen to him. Also, she would tell me if she was ever scared again so I could talk to her about it. Lady never did.

  I relapsed that night with Lady, in spite of the entire day resisting. I couldn’t leave or cope with her. I never visited Lady again.

  CHAPTER 15

  I stepped down into the driveway and leaned on my mom’s car. I started talking to Brother.

  “How are you doing?”

  “Okay.” I didn’t just mean today but Brother always answered as if I did. I wanted to tell him I did not care what happened between him and Pam when we were little, it was the past. I didn’t know how to bring it up. I was also afraid of him denying it had happened. It was inside and I left it there.

  Brother asked, “Why didn’t you attend our sister’s funeral?”

  I told him, “It seemed like it was for everyone else and not really for her.”

  Brother said he felt the same way.

  “I’ll have a private funeral for Lady when I’m ready.”

  My Mother opened the front door and told me to get off her car. We went inside, Abraham and Mark were gone already. Malcolm, Brother and I sat down at a long table my mom used for Christmas and Thanksgiving dinner.

  I asked my mother, “Why didn’t you use my poem on Lady’s eulogy? Have you even seen it?”

  Mom was standing in the doorway looking down at us when I had asked. She hadn’t taken the step down that I was anticipating, assuming mom moved toward us to talk. Mom is short but taller than I am. I had already asked my son if he had given the poem to her. I read Lady’s eulogy for the first time when I asked.

  “I never saw it,” my mother said.

  I knew my son didn’t lie when he said to me, “Grandma didn’t use it because the metaphor was a tree.”

  The after funeral gathering was in the yard where it happened, so her answer made no sense to me, since the tree was still standing. There were flowers around the tree scattered on the ground. I picked up some flowers I liked, intending to make a dry bouquet out of them. I was glad I missed whatever ritual seemed to have happened here. I had wondered if Mom knew or cared it was important to me and what the real reason was for it. I don’t like second-guessing.

  “Mom, I’m leaving. I’m putting these flowers here to dry, okay.” I sat the flowers on top of Mom’s antique buffet. “I’ll get them when I come home from jail.” I looked back again briefly at the tree where Lady was hanged. I stood there wondering; I left trying to figure out how Lady had done it.

  CHAPTER 16

  I went to court the next morning in Beverly Hills. My attorney advised me to plead guilty and take Drug Diversion. If I complete Diversion successfully, I will have no criminal record, or I could go through a jury trial pleading myself not guilty. I didn’t have the energy to fight back so I didn’t.

  I asked if I could plead not guilty and take the Diversion.

  My Attorney said, “No.”

  I took the deal. I really would have liked to have had credit for my time served, and not come back to court again. Then I thought, I better save my record just in case this comes to haunt me one day. I don’t like being haunted. I felt so dishonored and disappointed, but I did not feel guilty. According to the law, I was guilty.

  My Attorney explained, “When you finish your time for your traffic warrant…” This was the time, I was thinking, I wanted credited. He continued talking, clueless that I was someplace else “…We come back to court one more time. And we start your Diversion, okay?” He sounded like he had said it a million times and he had memorized it without knowing. “Go to the probation department while you’re up here and get evaluated for a report the court needs. It is a formality in your case. I’m certain you will be recommended for the program. You have no criminal record and you weren’t under the influence.”

  I went. I drove around when I was finished at the probation department, expressing my freedom. My son was okay, for now, and I needed a breath of fresh air. I had to turn myself back in to jail in the morning.

  Riding around in LA made me miss it. I needed more freedom so I decided, in the car on my way back to Orange County, I would be back up here tonight.

  After I got home, I spent some time alone with my son. I love him and I made sure he knew it. I watched a documentary on sexual behavior before I left home; I missed that sort of thing in jail.

  * * *

  I met a cool friend of mine named Dwight in WeHo. He’s like a wind up doll. I love his personality and I thought he would be a perfect distraction from my own reality. We sat on the patio of this nightclub/restaurant in LA, smoking cigarettes and having drinks.

  I told him I had watched a documentary ‘The Nature of Sex’ before I got there. I told him it was really interesting; the documentary explored from Human to Worm sexual behavior. I asked him if he had ever seen a monkey in heat with a flared up pink butt before, and would seeing it excite him?

  After all I said, “You are gay.”

  Dwight said, “That would make me sick.”

  I laughed at the way he said it. I was joking to forget yesterday, today, and tomorrow morning turning myself into jail. I wanted to think about anything other than my own reality right now.

  Dwight was a natural comic and I was counting on him to make me laugh. He only needed to be provoked to start me off.

  “You are a sick child.” he commented in his deep coarse voice that sounds like he eats sandpaper.
We have joked about some of the most insane things we could imagine. I like Dwight; he is so comfortable with himself in spite of being gay. I think he should be some sort of gay activist for young people. I made that decision when he told me, “As long as I continue to receive the blessings, I think I’m okay. God is constantly showing me love through people.” After I had asked him if he had issues with God and his gay sexuality.

  Every time I am convinced that he is completely insane, he says something that makes perfect sense. I admire people who know love; they will pursue it once they have tasted it. He describes me as a ‘gay man trapped in a woman’s body.’

  The first time he called me that I asked him why?

  Dwight said, “You have a wonderful, strong personality and you let ‘em have it. No guessing who the Diva is when Angel arrives. Gay men love strong women. You like men, but I did think you were gay when I first met you.”

  “Why?” I asked. “I get so tired of hearing that.”

  “Well, guess what, get used to it. That’s not going to stop.”

  I started to laugh as he spoke, to cover up my discomfort with his answer.

  “It’s your ‘I am the strong one’ attitude.” He said.

  “That doesn’t make you gay,” I defended. “Men I like probably think that, about me.”

  “You don’t have a man ‘cause you’re too independent and you don’t care what he does. I know that’s not going to change, so there it is. Men your age want someone to take care of them, do the laundry and cook, meet their friends, and stay home. We know you can’t be bothered with that because it’s not you.”

  “That’s not true. I care what he does, and I cook when I feel like it; cooking for someone is an act of love I don’t mind expressing.” I do not want it expected of me. “I like to do things for a man because I want to, especially if it’s his striped underwear. I don’t need to be joined at the hip with my boyfriend either and it’s not because I have two of him. My boyfriend, whoever he is, can do what he wants as long as he treats me like; he tries to help me. If he tries to help me, he can’t be anything except my friend the way I see it. Then, I can put up with just about any idiosyncrasies he may have.”

  “When you feel like it” Dwight added.

  “I’m secure with myself. I like my company too. He has to like himself also,” I continued to explain. “I don’t need a lot of men; just one I like. And what’s wrong with being the strong one?”

  Dwight was giving me the look, the one that meant he was not going to disagree with himself because of something I was not getting.

  “I definitely have to be able to talk to him and he has to be secure with himself, so he doesn’t sweat me for not needing him always.” I could see Dee’s face inside my head. I continued, feeling like I needed to explain to him because he had the wrong impression of me. “I don’t even need to marry him or live with him; just be complimented by him.”

  “That’s what I said, everything you just said in different words.” Dwight said mocking me.

  “Men my age aren’t attracted to me anyway.” I complained. “Younger men, that do attract, are emotionally inadequate.”

  “Just keep on having that little cute boy. I’ll take him if you don’t want him.” Dwight had a crush on Dee, my old boyfriend. He likes straight men.

  “That’s over, same as all of my relationships. He’s not a boy, he’s a man.”

  Dwight looked at me like he did not care I was irritated.

  “He is not a boy he is a man, you know that is how I talk.”

  “Evilness, straighten up your face. I don’t think he would let you do anything with his butt anyway. You think?”

  Just then Dwight saw a person he knew and said, “You should hear what this child just asked.” Then he asked me, “Do you think anal sex is all gay relationships are about?” As the guy kept walking and smiled at me when he passed, I was smiling back and feeling vulnerable, wondering if he could tell.

  I said, “No Dwight.” Like I was being scolded. I was. I did not want to hear his drag right now, but I didn’t want to offend him either. I respected him, so I listened.

  “You have been around enough gay people, to know better Miss Thing.”

  “I ‘m kidding, lighten up freak,” I said this, actually wanting him to cheer me up. “If I was a man and gay, which you say I am, I imagine I would be sticking my penis in every butt I could. Let me rephrase that, forget about being gay, just a man.”

  Dwight screamed, “No. I couldn’t function child!”

  “I would be putting my penis in everything to see how it feels.” I kept on. I was being silly, toying with him. We started to laugh loud enough to draw attention to ourselves.

  “You should be committed, and you write children’s books.” he said. I laughed so hard my side started to ache. “No wait, I can think of a million new places to put it.”

  “You’d probably like them too.” I said laughing, trying to get a hold of myself while he danced around.

  “That’s because a penis would be new to you, damn fool. You’d better be trying to protect it.” he said.

  “A watermelon is the safest sex I can think of. Someone should make a public service announcement with men and women having sex alone but adding something a little different.”

  “Like fruit,” he said. “What the hell are you gonna do with a watermelon?”

  “Use your imagination. It’s juicy and sweet, cut a hole, put your penis inside it.”

  He frowned. My imagination is too farfetched, I thought.

  “Doesn’t it get in your way? What do you do with it when you wear skirts, seriously?” I asked. I was thinking about when I had seen him wearing a very short skirt.

  “It’s in my underwear.” he replied.

  “That’s just it; do you pull it back between your legs to keep it from hanging,”

  “That’s a drag queen, I’m an old queen there’s a difference. I wear skirts only when I want to be cute; a tight blouse and skirt,” he said sliding his hands down the sides of his body, as if he were imagining himself in that outfit while he stood there. He laughed with his eyes widened like he had choked on food and he leaned forward trying to clear his throat. He put his hand over his mouth as if he was embarrassed when he stood back up. He was not embarrassed and he doesn’t wear blouses.

  “I could have thought of leaving it in your underwear.”

  “No you couldn’t have, that’s too normal for you.” he said while trying to stop laughing, and sitting down again. He started to comment again about my monkey question, it seemed important to him. “That’s not all we do. That is how straight people perceive us,” he said more seriously. I felt crooked most of the time and wonder where I fit in, which had nothing to do with my sexuality.

  “I know the story,” I assured him. “You raised me better than that.” Larry explained it to me this way, it’s a problem making the decision whether to do the butt thing or not in gay relationships. Because, you are still men. ‘You have to earn that right, sort of like being punked out,’ I think were his exact words.

  “I don’t know if that’s true for you.” I asked.

  “No, because I’m more effeminate than he is I have to decide mostly not to, it’s expected of me. If it’s not going both ways, I may as well get dressed. Just because I’m more feminine, guess what that doesn’t mean that’s all I want.” Dwight explained.

  The plot thickens, I thought. I was surprised there were stereotypes among gay people. I thought they should understand each other. I was sorry it was like that for him, on top of being judged by straight people. All he really wanted was a meaningful relationship.

  We talked more about everything and nothing. He danced around in front of me doing spins; I like him doing them. I decided to leave early. I was nervous considering what had happened to me the last time when I was out.

  “I’m leaving now; I love you, thanks for coming,” I told him while I hugged him and he kissed my cheek. I turned around while
he was watching me walk away not sure, why I was crying and I said, “Let’s follow the train when I get out of jail.”

  “What?” he said looking at me as if he should call someone to help me.

  “You know, how you never see the train while you’re driving around town but when you ride on the train, the path seems perfectly normal. Then when you get off the train at the station you wonder where it went after you leave.” That is what I felt had happened to my life. “Let’s find it.” I said. I left feeling like everyone in the restaurant was thinking about what I had just said to him.

  CHAPTER 17

  When I woke up the next morning, I got dressed in something warm. The holding cells were always cold. I drove to my mother’s house. My mother was pleasant this morning, not complaining. I thought, maybe my sister’s death has affected her positively.

  I didn’t understand why the change of attitude; my mom became suspect. I thought maybe she regretted her decision about not using my poem. I had a strong vibe of regret from her, which may have had nothing to do with me. I have never really understood her.

  We had been estranged for years, we didn’t talk unless we had to, and that was minimal. Mom had insisted I let her drive me to court, so she could make sure I got back there. Anyway, I felt comforted with her going. My stepfather was there to drive us. He seemed to go along with everything she said. I told her I would have someone else drop me there. I didn’t understand why it was so important to her that she see I get back. In spite of her motives, my mother and stepfather drove me to court.

  When we got there, my mother mentioned, “They will probably let you go when you go before the judge.” I didn’t say anything. The court room door opened and I felt a little anxious. We went inside and I let the deputy know I was there.