The Mother of My Unborn Children
I began writing my life story back in 1990 using my journal’s I’d kept since age 12 as a source. A very large part of my life story involves the girl I was suppose to have for my wife, but she dumped me and married some guy she met and hardly knew. I think she had paid dearly for that mistake for years as he is very abusive to her and she lives in fear he would murder her if she ever tried to leave him.
In 1978 13-year-old Phyllis Hogan won my heart when we attended Alex G. Barrett Middle School together in Louisville, Kentucky. I was the happiest 14-year-old guy in the world to believe that this girl I fell in love with had also fallen in love with me. She was my first love and my last love. I never recovered from the loss of her. My life fell apart after she left me. Don’t let me jump too far ahead though. Let me tell the story as it happened that is forever etched on my heart.
As I mentioned, I began keeping a journal at age 12. By the time I began writing my life story in 1990 I had a pile of journals. They became a helpful source for remembering some very agonizing memories. The writing of my life story took a creative turn several years to become a novel based on a true story. A publisher who had read some of my online story expressed interest and supported me in the creative novel approach where I incorporate my faith in re-incarnation. That’s all I will say about that for the moment.
Phyllis and I had become flirtatious friends when I was 14. The following school year Phyllis began attending another school, but just a week into the 8th grade one of my friends named Sammy Murphy came to me with a note from a girl he said called him. I called the phone number on the note and it was Phyllis to my pleasant surprise. We talked on the phone daily and one day I told her I could ride my bike over to her house and bring my yearbook and we could go through our memories of our past school year together.
It seems like only yesterday that we sat on the front porch swing at her house and flipped through the pages of my yearbook and enjoying sharing many memories. I already knew that first day of our reunion that she was the girl meant for me. That day lead to many other days that I’d ride my 10-speed bike over to her home. Her mom and sister Linda would always be there and sometimes her brother Tim would pop in and out. He was already living on his own as well were Zina and Joan the older sisters of Phyllis.
During the nice weather of summer Phyllis and I would sit out on the front porch of the house on what her mother would call “the sparkin’ bench”. Some days we’d go for walks down her block and over to the campus of the Sacred Heart school where there was an old cistern under a tree that was covered with a large concrete slab and we’d sit there on the slab and talk. We fell in love. I could spend hours not even talking, but just gazing into her eyes.
For Christmas 1978 I bought her a Krementz gold bracelet for a gift that symbolized an engagement ring that fit over her wrist instead of her finger. I was too afraid to buy a ring just yet, even it was a promise ring so instead I gave her a promise bracelet.
The following spring my mother did something nice for us for my 15th birthday. She took took Phyllis and I out for my birthday dinner at a find hotel across the river in Indiana. Phyllis and I sat at a separate table from my family. It was like our first official chaperoned date. I remember that night so well, sitting there with her in the warm glow of candles the the table and how grown up and beautiful she looked in her dress. I felt grown up. I guess at age 15 we were. While times and customs change over the years I realized that in the older days many people married at age 15. I wasn’t there yet. I had a plan though.
I could already see our future together. My plan was to finish high school and then we’d be married. We’d both go to college together and then 5 years into our career we’d begin our family. I was so happy and so was Phyllis. She fulfilled me with the love that made up for all the ugliness of my childhood growing up with an abusive alcoholic mother who never loved me. Everything seemed to be going along perfect and then my mother suddenly met a man and remarried and announced we would be moving to Florida. I was in shock.
Looking back now, I felt so helpless. There was nothing I could do but to go along with my mother’s plans. Had I not been such an abused and beaten down boy that was afraid to even imagine rebelling I would have probably thought of getting Phyllis pregnant so my mother’s plans to move us to Florida would have been stopped and my relationship with the girl who had won my heart would have remained to this day.
When you are the child of an abusive alcoholic you become mentally trained to NEVER step out of line and cause your mother even a hint of trouble or the next time she gets drunk she is going to take out all her wrath upon you. This happened to me over and over as a child as long as I can remember. I have a memory of when I was 6 years old when she was blaming me for all her troubles. I remember we were in the kitchen of our home at 3107 Verne Court where I grew up. She angrily told me she could see my father in my eyes when she’d look at me. Apparently she must have hated my father because she divorced him the year earlier. I’ll never forget how rejected and abandoned I felt as I stood blocking the front door of our home so my Daddy wouldn’t leave. As he was coming to the door to leave for the last time I pleaded, “No Daddy, please don’t leave me!” He said, “Get out of my way boy!” as he shoved me away from the door and I never saw him again. It wouldn’t be till 7 years later when I was 13 that my drunken mother who was beating me over the head with a bottle would reveal to me that he was not my real father, but another man was and she proceeded to drunkenly try to contact him on the phone to reveal for the first time that she was pregnant when they divorced and she’d had a son by him. My eyes memoried the page number and the the family name and address in the phone book. She spoke to his mother telling her the truth, but never spoke to my dad David on the phone. The next day, of course, when she was sober I dared never bring up what she’d told me while abusing me the night before. When you are the child of an abusive alcoholic you know if you are to dare to bring up anything up to them when they are sober that they did while drunk you are going to have hell to pay the next time they get drunk so I forever kept my mouth shut and I never sought out my biological father till another 12 years. I was so happy when I did meet him and got to have a relationship with him for the next 15 years before his death because he was a loving, kind, and humorous man. I missed out so much on not getting to grow up with his love and guidance.
Well, um…alright…dry my eyes and lets get back to the story at hand. Phyllis and I knew we were helpless against my mother’s plans to go to Florida so we spent the next few months saying our slow goodbye till we left for Florida in July of 1979. I was very heartbroken and I know it sounds extreme, but I poured out my heart to Phyllis everyday in letters that were never less than 7 pages back and front. I lived to go to the mailbox everyday when I got off the school bus to see if there was a letter from Phyllis for me. Back on those day of 1979 phone calls cost a large amount of money that you are charged by the minute and an hour phone call would put another $20 dollars onto the bill so letters were the mainstay of our continued relationship.
Apparently, I’d committed a cardinal sin by describing the figure of a girl that lived in my neighborhood that waited for the school bus with a group of other kids from the neighborhood. I thought nothing of mentioning her, but I guess I was blind to understand it made Phyllis feel insecure. Before I knew it Phyllis had begun telling me in her letters about a Native American guy who would come into the ice cream parlor job she had and he’d talk to her and try to ask her out on a date. I thought nothing of it because I had complete faith in her love for me. Then one day she wrote to tell me he’d asked her if he could take her to a carnival nearby and then I began wondering why she was telling me this. To my horror it wasn’t much longer after that when I received a letter from her that said she wanted to break things off with me. I immediately called her on the phone, but she refused to talk to me. I called back begging her to talk to me numerous times, but she would hang up on me. I didn’t understand and couldn’t understand. The only person that had ever loved me had now abandoned me. That day I became emotionally devastated and tried to commit suicide. While I was in the hospital recuperating my mother called Phyllis’s mother to tell her what her daughter had done to her son. After returning home from the hospital Phyllis finally agreed to talk with me. I assured her I had no idea that mentioning some girl had upset her and that there was no other girl for me but her and I begged her not break things off with me. After several days of pleading phone calls she finally agreed to take me back and hope returned to my heart.
To be continued…..14 September 2020