The longer I’m in Arizona, the stranger things become. We have lived in 2 houses now, full of ghosts and devils roaming around and now knowing things I couldn’t possible know is becoming a daily occurrence.
We had been in Glendale for less than 6 months when one day I was sitting on my bed listening to some Bing Crosby and writing down the lyrics, making it easier to sing along. While in the middle of my stopping the record player to write down the next line, I had a vision in my head of my father coming home and telling us we were going to be moving, AGAIN!
After leaving the Military life, Dad had gotten a job with a company called, Motorola. That’s when we became “civilians” and for just a moment I thought, we will stop moving and get a place we can call home. Still in my head I knew we wouldn’t be “settled” and would be moving regardless of his civilian occupation. Moving to Glendale was just the first stop on this traveling train.
I went back to my music, as it was becoming such a great escape for me. Even though I could see the music, it appeared as a mirage, flowing out from the vinyl, the tones and movements were magical down to the core of my being. It took me into new realities and journey’s I had never imagined before. I felt as if I was one with the melodies and catapulted by the rhythms, into another world.
Off in the distance, I could hear my mother’s voice, calling me out of my beautiful world, back into reality. “Come get ready for dinner!” She yelled from the kitchen. “Come on girls, I’m not telling you again.” She became insistent and so I had to respond.
“Be right there, Momma.” I could hear my other sisters from their various whereabouts in the house, reluctantly responding. I chimed in, “Be right there”.
I turned off the record player and made my way into the kitchen. As I turned the corner from the living room into the kitchen, I saw the lady with the shot off face sitting at the table. She had not been around as much since I started getting more into music. Still, I looked away as soon as she looked over at me. She appeared to be sadder than usual; I wondered if she knew we would be moving soon?
I walked over to my Mother who was standing at the stove just a few feet away from the dining room table.
Understanding this wasn’t real, I asked mom, “What’s for dinner?” “Spaghe-tti and a meat-a-balls.” Mom responded in her fake Italian accent. “Yummy, extra parmesan cheese for me please.”
As I stood next to her, I could see out of the corner of my eye, that the lady was starting to fade away. Relieved I wouldn’t have to say anything or endure her during the whole dinner, I sat down in the first empty chair of the six chairs around our table.
Once we were all sat at the table, Dad came walking through the front door. “I smell spaghetti!” He said as he set down his briefcase and walked into the dining room.
He sat down and announced, “How would you all feel about moving again?” Moans and complaints of being tired were voiced by my sister’s, in unison they cried, “I don’t want to move again! I’m so tired of packing and unpacking all my stuff!”
Mom and I sat quietly until all their complaints were heard and Dad responded, “Well my job has asked me to move over to the office in Mesa, it’s a promotion for me, so it will be a good move and we will still be in Arizona.” He tried to smile as he looked around the table at all the mad faces.
“That’s ok, I knew we would be moving again, bet that won’t be the last time either.” I said as I took my plate and began eating.
“You think you’re so smart. So, if you knew we were moving, when do we leave?” My older sister said to me in a very sarcastic way.
“You don’t have to be so mean about it. I can’t help that I know we are moving in 2 weeks, unless Dad finds a place to live sooner.” When I was done speaking, I stuck my tongue out at her.
“EEWWW gross! Mom, Sheri stuck her tongue out at me,” she snapped to try and get me in trouble. “That’s enough you two, finish your dinner and then do the dishes, the both of you.” Mom said to reprimand us, it wasn’t even my night!
Before I could protest, my younger sister asked, “Well, is she right? Are we moving in 2 weeks? That’s even faster than when we were in the Army.”
Dad just looked at all of us and said, “Yes, I am going to start looking for a new house tomorrow. They want me there as soon as possible, so I will be driving back and forth to Mesa until we move.”
I didn’t say a word, just finished up my dinner and started to clear the table. I could hear my sister making fun of me under her breathe but tried to ignore her by putting away the dishes in the drainer.
It was a u-shaped kitchen, with high cabinets, so I had to use the step stool to reach the shelf the bowls went on. As I stepped up I could feel someone behind me. Thinking it was one of my sisters I said, “Give me a minute before you walk by. I feel like I could fall off this little step stool.”
“Who are you talking to?” My older sister said as she walked into the kitchen. Just as I turned to look at her, I saw the lady with the half shot off face standing behind me. She startled me because she was so close that I had to grab the lower shelf to catch myself from falling back.
Grabbing onto the shelf in such a way, made my middle finger on my right hand catch a small nail that was barely sticking out. I would’ve never known it was there if I had not had to hold on to the shelf in such a way.
The nail ripped the skin from the middle of my finger back half an inch! Blood started gushing out as I dropped down to the floor in pain. All I could think was, this is twice now I am hurt because of being scared by these dead people!
Everyone ran into the kitchen to see what had happened. Mom grabbed a towel and made her way to me. She looked at my finger and said, looking over at my dad, “She’s going to need stitches. Better take her to the hospital.”
“I’ll stay here with the girls, you can take her.” My dad walked over to me and helped me up off the floor and asked, “You ok to walk?” “I think so.” I was feeling very faint, I don’t handle seeing a lot of blood very well, but said I could make it to the car.
Once in the car, mom and I sped off towards the hospital. She rolled the window down for me so the wind could blow in my face. I must’ve passed out, waking up just as we pulled up to the Emergency room.
Hospitals were becoming my least favorite place to be! They took me in right away and started cleaning up my finger as they asked my mother all kinds of questions.
I was feeling very weak and asked one of the nurses how bad it looked. She tried comforting me, “It’s not too bad, maybe 8 or 9 stitches and you will be good as new.”
I couldn’t tell if I was seeing 2 nurses standing there or if it was just one but when I asked how it looked only one of the nurses spoke to me. Then as the nurse started walking around the room, the other nurse followed right behind her.
I really didn’t want to see anything right now. I just wanted to stop feeling the pain in my finger but every time someone touched me it hurt. “Are you in a lot of pain honey?” The nurse asked me. Laying there with my eyes closed, I managed to say, “Yes, yes I am.” The nurse walked away and came right back with something in a syringe, “This will make you feel much better,” as she injected me with something that made me feel less pain but made me start to see more dead people walking around the emergency room.
I squeezed my eyes shut so hard there were tears rolling down my cheeks. I did not want to see anything! I just wanted this to be over so I could go home! “Just a little bit longer.” I could feel the nurse putting her hand on my shoulder, “Almost done, looks like I was right, 15 stitches and you will be all new again.” “15 stitches? You said 8 or 9, how are you right?” I tried to raise my voice but the medicine made me feel very relaxed.
I didn’t hear or didn’t remember what the nurse said to me after that. I was wheeled out to my mother’s car and assisted into the back seat where I laid down for the ride home. I could hear my mother asking, “Are you okay? Do you need anything?” Slurring my words, I replied, “I’m ok, I can’t feel my finger, is it going to be ok?” “They gave you some pretty heavy medicine, the doctor said that the cut was nearly to the bone, said you were lucky it didn’t tear any nerves.” “Yeah, that’s me, lucky!” I know I was sarcastic but didn’t care.
Hearing the sounds of the car moving down the street made me fall right to sleep.
To be continued…