Dear Amos-Paymos, Who Doesn’t Make Her Payments

Dear Amy,

Do you remember that weird nickname your dad gave you? Or the other one, Amos-Moses? Randomly tacked on one evening by a man deep in his cups, it made no sense to you. But he was in a rare jovial mood when he blurted out the slurred acknowledgment as you made an equally rare pass through the living room. You turned and happily responded to the new name. You would have given anything for him to see you. To be able to crawl up in his lap.

But no conversation ensued. He just continued to repeat the moniker like he had made a funny, and it turned into something of a taunt. He laughed his deep laugh and you smiled wanly…not sure what to think, so you asked if he wanted something, just to be sure. And he slobbered, “Yeah, make me another drink.”

You were a well-versed bartender by the age of 8. Eager to get any attention, from either parent, and learning how to make their cocktails was one way. Your dad liked bourbon and ginger ale, and your mom liked brandy alexanders: brandy, crème de cocoa, and milk. At least there was always milk in the house.

Remember when your dad would tell you to “show them your mouse tracks!” and that meant you had to pull up your shirt for a stranger to see the full-width misshapen scar across your middle from a surgery that saved your life…from your parents’ neglect.

Do you remember when your older sister would make you and your little sister fight for a Twinkie? And that while you were trying to kill each other for that valuable treat, your older sister was eating all but one bite? Oh, but that Twinkie bite tasted so good! You used to win at first, but then your little sister got strong, huh?

Do you remember when you got hit by a car on your bicycle when you were 10? And you got in trouble because your bike was wrecked. Then when your older sister tried to clean the road rash on your leg and there wasn't any first aid stuff in the house, so she really couldn’t do much. She called your mom at work and was just told to borrow something from the neighbors up the street, but didn’t come home. Remember when it got all infected and gross for a while. Thank goodness for the neighbors who helped you take care of your leg!

Oh! Remember being in the Christmas program at school with white go-go boots and a Santa’s Helper mini-skirt and everything? You got that picture from your friend’s parents because your mom and dad couldn’t make it. You felt like a real Go-Go Girl!

Remember when your granny said that you were going to get braces because she said, “No granddaughter of mine is going to have teeth like that!” Man, that was hell, wasn’t it? But you didn’t have a lisp after that!

Remember making the drill team in Junior High and your mom made all your costumes because she was such a good seamstress? Two school years you did that! You even lettered! Your mom and dad were too busy to see any of your performances, but at least they let you be on the drill team.

Remember when your little sister got beat up at school that she came home and tackled you and was beating you up? And you had to kick her hard in the stomach just to get away? At least your mom came and got her after you called her at work. It gave you time to come out of your room and clean up the deep scratches and bite marks. I remember she also got McDonalds and your mom didn’t buy you any. I know that made you mad.

Remember how you and your little sister seemed to always be in a fist fight? How she was always so mad and just kept trying to punch you? She was an athlete at school and was very strong. I remember your mom always blamed you because you were older, even though it was less than two years difference.

Remember when your older sister came to visit you a few months after she mysteriously left the house? And she took you to Alateen? You started to understand then that what your mom and dad were doing every night wasn’t normal. You were told that you had to love them and not the disease they had. That was a tough pill to swallow, but you tried. They were your family. It was good to know other kids who had the same kind of parents you did.

Remember that one Christmas when your mom said you wouldn’t even have a Christmas tree? You were so sad that you told your friends at Alateen about it, and they showed up at your house on Christmas Eve with the biggest tree you had ever seen? Remember that was the only time you saw your mom cry?

Remember when your mom told you she was “leaving”, and that you could stay with your dad or go with her and your little sister to California? That was such a hard decision, but your dad was in a bad way because he hurt his knee and didn’t have a job, so you decided to go with your mom.

Remember starting at a new high school on Valentine’s Day! Ugh! That was the worst day ever!

Remember thinking that your sister might be better in a new place, but she wasn't. You made new friends and were able to stay away a lot, but she still started fights all the time.

Remember when you graduated from high school early with a 3.8 GPA and couldn’t wait to move away for college? Remember how you finally got the courage to yell at your mom because you always got blamed for your little sister fighting with you? And you moved out two days later? I know you were scared.

Remember your mom telling you that she was selling her car and you asked if you could buy it with your savings? And she said no. And then she gave it to your little sister?! I remember you were so angry and swore to never ask your mom for anything again.

But then remember when your mom came to your work one day to take you out to lunch, which she never did, and you knew something had to be wrong? Remember she said she had brain tumors from malignant melanoma, and you had no idea she had been sick because she never called you?

Remember when she died and all you could think about was going back to Colorado? So, you dropped out of school and got a 2nd job and went back home. And then a year later your granny died, and then another year later your dad died? You weren’t even 25 yet! Remember when you signed up for psychotherapy because you didn’t know what to do.

Remember your therapist telling you that just because they were your family, you didn’t have to love them even though that’s what everyone told you before? That was amazing to hear…like you had just learned a great mystery of life and were astounded that you had been blessed with this sacred knowledge.

Remember that one night when you had a little too much to drink and this guy you had been dancing with followed you home and raped you? I remember you blamed yourself for your poor judgement.

Remember when you got married and had a little baby girl? She was so beautiful! Remember when you realized your new husband was an alcoholic/drug addict after only 3 months? I know you tried, but I’m glad you got out of that marriage after just a couple years.

I remember how you became a single mother and vowed with every ounce of your soul that she would not have the life that you had. You told her you loved her and hugged her every single day. I know you did the best you could and helped her to grow up strong and ready to be in the world.

Remember when your little sister got Multiple Sclerosis and had to go into a nursing home at 27? Remember that time when your grandma told you how horribly your little sister had treated her? And that she didn’t want her to come to her funeral when she died. I remember how that shocked you. But you understood how awful your sister was.

Remember when your grandma died, and you had to go to California to help with the arrangements and that the rest of the family was grateful to you for doing it?

Remember when your little sister died, and then your uncle, and then you got diagnosed with breast cancer, then melanoma, then the breast cancer came back? And your older sister, who was the only one left in your family, told you that if she had to take care of you she would explode? I remember when you told her to fuck off. That was so brave.

I remember the two men you fell in love with. One moved away without telling you and the other was kind and helped you during your cancer. I also remember that they both broke your heart so, you gave up on love.

Remember when your best friend ruined the 50th birthday trip you both took to Hawaii? A trip you couldn’t really afford but you went anyway. Remember how she sweet-talked you out of $1000 and that she would pay you back, but never did. “What’s the big deal?” she said, “It’s not like I slept with your boyfriend or anything.” It took you years to pay off that trip.

I remember all these and so much more. I also know your trust is broken, maybe forever. But you have persevered and can still smile at kittens and puppies and children. You still bake cookies and help others when you can, but you prefer to be alone.

I know that you still see the same therapist to try to make sense of your crazy life. That you keep digging to root out the hurt. You do the really hard work of learning about what the trauma, and abuse, and neglect you endured meant for your adulthood. She told me that you are breaking generations of cruelty and torment. That you have faced this beast by yourself head-on without a shield or weapons. You have cleared the way for your daughter, and now your granddaughter to know love, and safety, and happiness, and hugs, and kisses, and laughter. I see you.

Well done, little Amy, well done.

Love,

Big Amy