It was Friday the 13th but I wasn't superstitious. Rob and I had waited for my mom to come home from work so she could be there for the ceremony. Well that and I needed her to sign the "permission slip" and be the official witness. She could do double duty. Mom brought along a friend but I don't remember who or why. Moral support? I wasn't pregnant or anything, just a good sales person.
"Why don't you wait until after you graduate from high school?" Mom had asked.
She and I were seated at a small dining table in our newly rented apartment. We had moved in a hurry since we got evicted for "excessive noise disturbance" for all the ruckus Dad caused when he was trying to kill Mom a few weeks earlier. Our old dining table was too big for the new place so it had to go.
"That's only a few months from now! The Navy will pay Rob more if he's married AND he'll get to move off base which means they'll pay us housing money, too."
It didn't take much persuasion really. When you have nearly been killed by your husband, then are stalked by him and are in the midst of filing bankruptcy, I guess you aren't wearing your "#1 Mom" hat when your daughter --the only tie left binding you-- offers you a "Get out of jail free" card.
So on Friday the 13th of January, Mom, Rob and I piled into her blue Dodge Omni and drove to the court house. Six years later when my divorce was final, I got a letter from Dad:

I'm not sorry for you get divorced because I told [your mom], I don't want you get married to Rob., I know that was too young for you and I hope that you could go to College without ties to Rob. I gave up. She let you get married without me know. you remember it. Now [your mom] get shit in her pant. But forget it. Now it is past.I had hoped to go to college, too, without ties to a husband then Dad had to go all OJ Simpson on us. Guess he forgot about that part. Details, details.
Watch out with aids. no trust with men who are neat personal But They can fool you with aids. you better care with dating with men. (use condoms!)
No comments:
Post a Comment