Dreams

We all have dreams. Plans for the future. Things we hope and aspire to do our whole lives. My Mom for example...

She was an actress, once upon a time. Not just an "I starred in my school's rendition of Annie," actress. No. She was an "I went to Europe to study theatre," actress. She was good. She was more than good. She would have been up there in the ranks with Madonna, Jamie Lee Curtis, Ellen DeGeneres, and Sharon Stone, who were all born the same year as my Mom.

She would have been rich, famous, and happy. But she was too scared. To afraid to let herself into the world of the rich and famous. Also, her parents were slightly less than supportive of her acting dream.

She was, and still is, an amazing artist. She is a published poet. But she's never given herself to that world.

So, instead, she became a chef. That, too, has art involved. And, my Mother is an amazing chef. She had another dream. To have her own catering company. I found her old sketch books, and in one of them, the plans, the advertisements, even the layout of the shop she planned to have. I really don't know what happened to this dream.

All I really know is, she married my Dad, and was the successful chef at Brays Island Plantation for 18 years. She was married to my Dad for 10 years before she was able to have me. Then, when I was, I guess, two or three, he had an affair with another woman who worked at Brays. (By then my Mom had gotten him a job there, too.) When I was four, he divorced my Mom, and got married to Sabrina, who quickly shipped her son, Jeremy, off to his grandmother's to please my Father, who, for some reason, had no liking for children at this stage in his life. You see, my father is a selfish man, and any attention used on children instead of his is, in his mind, attention wasted. Now, it is my Mother's belief, my Dad wishes I would spend more time with him, but Sabrina has developed a certain dislike for children.

Anyway, my Mother, upset, distraught, and not knowing what to do, decided to run away to the place where dreams come true. (No, not Disney World.) She went to the wine country, with four-year-old me in tow. She had always dreamed of living in the wine country, and for a while, it was bliss. Our house was small, and the weather wasn't what we expected, and I, raised in Sunday School, had to adjust to a Mexican nanny, and the harsh life that the west coast presented me, the life I was not prepared for, but it was bliss, all the same. Driving to school in the morning, and counting hot air balloons, taking care of the school's garden, and getting lost in our landlord's vineyard. But, my Mother was what you might call "emotionally damaged", and our bliss was not to last. We moved. And moved. And moved. And though my Mother slowly got over what my Father had done, I don't think she will ever be the same. We still move. And over the years, she has met a slew of crappy boyfriends, and had a multitude of crappy jobs. And over the years, I've tried to help her realize that she doesn't need these crappy guys, but she won't listen. She thinks she needs someone, but I think she needs a guy like a fish needs a bicycle. I just wish she could learn to stand on her own. Now, though, I think the guy is right. Though the job search, and the guy search has taken us throughout the country, I'm scared to leave her alone, and go off to boarding school. What if Dad turn out to be as crappy as the rest? What if he leaves her stranded, penniless, and broken, all alone in Texas, and I'm not there to help her back on her feet? I'm just so scared for her. I don't want her to get hurt again. I've been trying to save her from getting hurt for so long, so many guys she's gone through, and so many fights we've had about me being horrid to them. I've only been trying to help. But it seems I'm hurting more than helping. I'd kill myself, but I know that wouldn't help her any. If she didn't have me, she'd have the money to follow her dreams, but I know that if I was gone, she'd be so overcome with grief, she'd probably kill herself, too. I'd make things worse, doing that. If only she hadn't wanted a child, if only she hadn't married my Dad, if only she'd been braver. When I was 10, and we were in Virginia, we used to lay on the carpet in the couch-less living room, and talk about how we would kill ourselves. Those were hard times, and that was only one night, but it sticks in my memory. Who's lives would be affected if I, if we, weren't here. I think Dan might be devastated, might even kill himself, but probably not. He's got kids, and an ex he gets along with. Both his parents are still alive. He'd probably be very sad for a a long time, but I think, eventually, he'd get over it. Maybe like my Mom was with the divorce. My Dad, and grandparents, my aunts and uncles, my Mom's sisters and brother, my Dad's sisters. They'd care. They, too, would be devastated. I think that, if this is even possible, I would feel very guilty in death, for making them all so sad.

But life seems to be caving in on us lately, and the only thing that I think keeps me going is the promise of a future. I'm smart. They tell me that every day. But with the way things are now, the amount of school I've been missing, the way my grades are getting, Mom threatens every day that Thomas Hayward (the awful small private all-white school near my Dad's house) looms in my future if my grades don't get up. I need this scholarship. I need it more than anything. Hope is the only thing keeping me here. I don't know what holds Squall here. She doesn't even have hope anymore... She says she wouldn't kill herself, and that makes me feel better. She is holding me here, too. If she were gone, I don't know what I'd do. She thinks it wouldn't matter to anyone much, but I know her brother, and I, would be devastated if she were gone. I don't really know about her parents. She's helped me so much, with the whole coming out thing, and just accepting myself. She's taught me to be an ass if I want to. And how to be better at this, at life. She's teaching me to be tough, to not let people walk all over me, though I still let her walk all over me. I don't know if I'm doing it right. But at least I'm doing it. Life, that is. I'm just doing life, as best I can. And I guess that's all there is. -me

P.S. No worries, I'm not suicidal, and neither is my Mom, thanks to Dan. The job hunt continues, though, always looking, looking...