Pick Yourself Up, Dust Yourself Off, It's Time To Move! 

I had moved to a new home, and from what everyone in my family kept telling me, I was embarking on the chance at a new life. We moved to a fairly new home that was very nice.  It came equipped with its own fountain in the backyard that lit up at night with the flick of a switch!  I loved it.  There was a glimmer of hope deep inside of me that believed things could be better. I thought that maybe this could be a new beginning, and I could make a frest start.  No one knew me and they didn't know the rage inside of me. I had a clean slate and a second chance.  I was going to try to see if I could control my anger and temper.  The darkness that hung over me didn't seem to be there now. Maybe "it" was gone forever.  Maybe I had left it in St. Albans!  From the moment I set foot in Richmond, Virginia, the Energizer Bunny was born....pick yourself up, dust yourself off, keep beating your drum and start all over again. Moreover, whatever you do, bury your past so no one know your secrets. 

There seemed to be many opportunities in Richmond.  To me, it was like moving from Hooterville to Hollywood.  We had come on a vacation several years earlier but I had no idea I would be living here. 

 My dad’s company wasn’t far from our home.  We would go there occasionally and meet his employees.  We would be invited to some company functions occasionally.  My eye fell on one fellow and I just knew he would not be another acquaintance, or would he? 

             My sister and I knew virtually no one in town.  My dad had introduced us to one of his employees’ sons.  The older of the two took me for a ride one day but he was too touchy feely with me and I didn’t like it.  Besides, I still loved David.  But, would we ever get back together again?  Would I ever see him again? 

 I had always equated happiness with men and I was lonely.  My thoughts were not of fulfilling a destiny or striving after a passion.  They were about the fact that I did not have a guy to adore me. 

 I had been around this particular fellow from my dad’s office on and off for some time now.  It just seemed that we were always being thrown together.  He would be flirty with me, slyly pursuing me, but there was never a concrete date made.  The flirtations were enticing and it made me want to conquer him even more.

 One evening, I gave in to his pursuit.  We had all been hanging out at my older brother’s home.  Everyone was going to bed but he said, “Why don’t we sit up a little longer and listen to some music?”  One kiss led to another and another and soon we were doing more than kissing.  We ended up (reluctantly on my part) having sex.  In the heat of the moment, I gave in to him thinking it would bind him to me, but it turned out that night I was made a fool out of myself and I ended up being a one-night stand.  The conquest had been made, the flirting stopped and nothing more ever became of us. 

  By the time I realized that I had been duped, it wasn’t long before I started becoming nauseated in the mornings and I just knew I was pregnant.  I went to my mom and told her what I thought was going on.  A pregnancy test was performed and yes, I was indeed pregnant.  The conclusion was that it was David’s baby and I didn’t dispute it.  I gave pause about keeping the baby, but after several conversations with family (not my dad, he would have killed me), it was determined the best recourse would be an abortion.  

 A decision was made that I would be taken to Washington, D.C. for an abortion.  Arrangements for it were made through my older brother and his wife.  I recall the shock of it all; I was numb.  I felt like I was a robot.  The program had been keyed into the computer and now I would walk through the motions of an abortion. 

 There were so many women there.  We were sitting in a huge gray room where there was no sunshine present, lined up in rows.  No one spoke.  Heads were hung low or dozing off to sleep, as someone would appear at the door with a clipboard in their hands, shaking them out of complacency.  A mark would be made with a pen and a name would be called. 

  We were ushered from room to room as we were counseled, making certain that we knew what we were doing.  We were questioned and grilled and I felt somewhat uncomfortable about a stranger knowing how I truly felt.  I answered each question in the way they wanted to hear so I could quickly put this whole nightmare behind me.  Yes, I knew it was a mistake and I would never do it again.  Yes, I would use birth control and take account of my body.  Yes, I would be good.  Yes.  Yes.  Yes, was my answer to any question over and over.  I smiled and answered, “Yes.”  Now let’s move on, please.  No one said anything about you making me cry.  I already hurt enough.  Finally, the actual abortion was explained, beginning from the time you undressed and put on a white gown, to the procedure of opening your legs, going up through your uterus and sucking the fetus out with a suction tube.      

  I knew this wasn’t right but thank goodness, this was just a fetus and not a live baby.  The abortion was performed and I was shuttled home to recuperate for several days.  Without any fanfare, it was shoved under the rug and never spoken of again.  I secretly made a vow to myself that I wouldn’t ever get in that position again.  It was time to pick up and move on… again.   

  I was soon to be eighteen and I replaced the memories of my “you know what” with dreams of a new car but not just any car.  I wanted a little red convertible just like one I saw in an Elvis movie at the Alban Theater.  I could just picture myself riding down the road with the top down, a scarf around my hair with the ends of it flying in the wind.  Now that would make me feel better! 

  There was a car dealership on Broad Street in Richmond that sold British Leland cars.  My dad was very willing at that time to do most anything for my sister and myself.  He told me if I had a job and would agree to make the monthly payments on a car, he would take out a loan and pay the yearly insurance.  Responsibility?  Okay!  Whatever it takes to make this car happen, I will agree to.  I wasn’t working or doing anything else, so he literally bought me a job in a bank where his company had their business account.  I was hired as a drive-in teller.  I liked being the banker when we played monopoly so it sounded good to me.  Maybe it would be fun, I thought.  I had also posed for a few pictures in the local paper back home and I had aspirations of becoming a model.  Dad allowed me to sign up for modeling school.  Of course, my hidden dreams were to be an actress in movies and plays!  

 September 11^th came.  It’s my birthday!  I was so excited.  I just knew I was going to get a car.  Not only was I getting a car, but also, I was getting “the car” just like in the movies!  I had it all planned out in my mind.  My dad was taking Mom, my sister and myself to dinner to the best restaurant in town.  When he came to pick us up, he said he had some bad news.  He said, “I don’t want you to get upset (who me?), but I was not able to get the car for you.  Due to your age and the fact that the car you want is a sports car, I wasn’t able to get you covered with the insurance company.”  What about the picture I saw in my mind of me riding down the road in my convertible? 

 The twenty-minute drive to the restaurant that night seemed like an eternity.  How could this have happened?  I was already in a deep, dark place, and to top it all off, I had to give up my dream car.  We pulled up to the restaurant parking lot and drove around scouting a place to park.  I lifted my head up off my chest, looked outside the window and noticed a car just like the one I wanted.  I said, “See, Dad, that is just like the one I want.”  He said, “Well, let me park and we’ll go take a look at it.”  His response caught me off guard.  My dad was not usually so attentive to my whims.  The question of my having a car had been settled, so why would he buy into this little discussion any further?

 We proceeded to walk over to the car that was parked in front of the restaurant.  Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed a huge card with a bow on it in the passenger’s seat.  It was for me!  What a thrill!  Look out, Elvis, here I come!  I couldn’t believe it.  I was all shook up!  He had gone to the car dealership after all and purchased the car from Ned Kidwell.  God bless you, Ned.  Dad said, “The car is a stick shift.”  I replied, “I don’t know how to drive a stick shift!”  But, who cared?  I would learn.  We went inside to have dinner and my dad was grinning from ear to ear.  In one fell swoop, all had been forgiven.  Who says you can’t buy love? 

  We all walked out of the restaurant, my stomach filled with filet mignon, birthday cake and a glass of champagne to top it off.  I was eighteen, thin, my dad loved me and I had a red convertible to show it.  What more could a girl ask for?  Dad said, “Hop in, let’s put the top down and take it for a spin.”  I asked him if he could drive a stick and he said it had been a while but he thought he could remember.  The gears kind of grinded into position as we started out but once we got going, the sound became a lot smoother.  We didn’t say much on the trip home.  I tried to make small talk to say thank you for making my dream manifest but the words just didn’t come.  I sat there beside my father and would look at him from time to time.  My heart was saddened that I couldn’t think of much to say to him.  I wanted to tell him how much I loved him.  I wanted to open up to the man whom I called my dad whom I had been with all of my life.  I loved him and I felt a sense of deep sadness for the life he had lived.  He tried hard for me but I just couldn’t bring myself to talk to him.  It was as if there was an impenetrable wall between us.  The worst part of it was we both knew it.