Destiny of Detours

By Amy L. Allison

Amy was born in Columbus, Ohio in 1954. She attended North Central High School in Indianapolis, IN and attended Indiana University, School of Business and graduated in 1977. She earned her Masters in Business Administration from the University of Evansville in 1980.

Amy has been sober since August 21, 1989, and has been in Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) recovery since May 2004. She has appeared in PBS's "Second Opinion" series for an episode on BPD in June 2016. All of her contributions/efforts towards BPD education may be found by Googling "Amy Allison Borderline Personality Disorder".

Amy has been writing fiction and poetry since the age of 8. She has been published in local tabloids in Indiana and nationally in "Lotus: Personal Transformation", but she has been self-publishing since 2003, when web-design became a hobby. The website of her own writings entitled "Rebel Odyssey" may be found by Googling "Amy Allison rebel Odyssey". (without quotes)

Her first published book was "Prepare for the Harvest, which is a 366-day meditation book for people with addictions and/or BPD. It was published in November 2011, and the eBook quickly followed. Her second book, "Destiny of Detours", is a "Roman a clef" novel of her life, her journey, and her recovery. The printed version of this book was published in 11-1-17 through LuLu Books. Amy may be contacted through her websites with questions of recovery, alcoholism, and BPD.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amy L. Allison
• Release date: Sep 28, 2018
• ISBN: 9781532388729

Amy L. Allison

Amy was born in Columbus, Ohio in 1954. She attended North Central High School in Indianapolis, IN. She graduated from Indiana University with a Business degree, in 1977. She earned her Masters in Business Administration in 1980 from the University in Evansville, IN. Ever since she was old enough to hold a pencil, she wrote lyrics to songs, stories, and simple poems. Though Amy always enjoyed the creative writing classes and workshops, she pursued a career in various aspects of business. Her passion continued to be writing stories, essays, articles, and poetry into her adult years. Amy has been published in tabloids Hoosier Sportsman, Hoosier Outdoors, (in Indiana) and a holistic tabloid Branches, (in Indianapolis, Indiana). She was published in national magazine Lotus: Personal Transformation. The introduction of PC’s created a highly efficient manner of putting her thoughts down on paper. Her literary projects can be found at www.rebelodyssey.com. The Rebel Odyssey website was originated in 2003. Here is where she has self-published her writings of five decades. Amy’s meditation book “Prepare for the Harvest” has been her first book published, in both hard-copy and ebook format. It is a book of daily reflections for those people who wrestle with addictions and Borderline Personality Disorder. This book gives 366 snippets of suggestions, recovery tools, humor, wisdom and quotes from famous people, movie personalities, cartoon characters, writers and philosophers. It was published in November 2011, and the eBook quickly followed Amy's second book, "Destiny of Detours", is a "Roman a clef" autobiography of her life, her journey, and her recovery. The printed version of this book was published in 11-1-17 through LuLu Books. a link to the hard-copy is available on this website. The eBook format was released on 9-29-18. Amy may be contacted through her websites with questions of recovery, alcoholism, Borderline. She resides with her life partner Doug Bunch and their cat Ki-Ki.

Book preview

Prologue

The warm filmy water was so comforting to the life form that wandered aimlessly in the tranquil pool, under the surface. I must be in Heaven, or dreaming to be in Heaven, murmured the only female who inhabited the waters, or so she thought.

She frowned, who are these guys swarming around the deep end? Once they spotted her, they swam to her at an almost furious speed. She was poked, prodded, and bumped into by thousands of swimmers of the opposite sex, as they swarmed around her.

Get off me! She fought and screamed bubbles of sound with all her might. Go away! I want peace and quiet! Stop! Don’t do that!

The brethren of idiots seemed to tire of the game of chase and left her alone except one. He paced himself alongside her---but UH-OH! Upside-down they both were thrown by a force that defied any gravity that they had ever known. What was going on?

He reached out for her to steady her even as they were both topsy-turvy. His strength and confidence comforted her, and she gave in to his embrace. Then all went dark and quiet.

The forces of Science and Nature took over the stage of the beginning act of the forming of a zygote. Any remnants of the two separate beings had disappeared, as did the memories of how they met and briefly danced.

Section I - Ages Birth-10

~~~

You never understand life until it grows inside of you.

―Sandra C. Kassis

Chapter 1 - Early World

Candice was growing impatient. This was the fourth consecutive night of perfunctory sex. She and her husband, Joe Arrington (AIR-ring-ton), had been trying again to conceive their first child. Their second wedding anniversary was almost upon them, and still no pregnancy, only a disturbing miscarriage nearly three months ago.

Joe, Candice said, we have to do something different. Nothing’s working!

With one more valiant attempt at making a baby, the lovemaking session was over in a few short minutes.

Joe grabbed Candice’s ankles, and said abruptly, Can you stand on your head? I will hold onto you by your ankles. Just lean your butt against the headboard.

Candice could see he was dead serious and followed his directions. Joe held her legs up in the air for seven minutes as he watched Candice’s face turn red from her inverted position.

When--can--I--get--down? Candice panted, quite exhausted after a few minutes in this position.

Okay, Joe agreed. That’s probably been long enough for anything to take place.

Candice, to be safe, kept her hips tipped up, and Joe slid a pillow under her butt.

I certainly hope this is productive, breathed Candice, as she closed her eyes for a long moment.

Oh, yes… it worked. Inside Candice, there was a forming of a life-to-be. The conception of their daughter, Analise, had taken place, thanks to the gymnastics undertaken by the couple.

Analise’s birth was uneventful. She was guided into the world by forceps on a cold February day in 1954 at 3:52pm. At that time, the Arringtons lived in Burlington, Ohio in a quaint little apartment building on a quiet street.

She had no memory of her birth, or the christening that was held in August of that year at Analise’s grandmother’s home in Stephensburg, Virginia. Maternal grandparents, Hattie and Clayton Darden, served a magnificent array of scrumptious foods in the backyard of their lovely home. Folks from both sides of the family attended, and everyone was pleased to meet the new addition to Candice and Joe’s world.

Analise, of course, was cooing and smiling…somehow knowing she was the star for the day and loved the attention. There was no inkling in her infant brain that this house--this beautiful yard and garden--this historic Virginia land would become the center of her world and her salvation.

The calendar was rolling towards August 1954. Analise vaguely remembered waking in the dark and not crying for someone to pick her up. She lay there and kicked her legs a few times and felt the presence of her hand close to her face. She smelled her own skin and gurgled a bit at the recognition of self. Finding her world safe and cozy, she slowly drifted back to sleep, dreaming of things yet to come but without the words to describe them.

For two and a half years, Analise was accustomed to only Mom and Dad. It had soon become rather apparent that there was an expectant scurrying of activity centered on getting more baby articles into the house. Candice and Joe were pregnant again, and another baby was due in October of that year, which was 1956.

However, the very first crystal-clear memory that Analise could refer back to involve another baby. The memory stood out so prominently probably because it involved a very primal emotion-- that of frustration. The baby, Micah, belonged to Candice’s brother, Bertrand Darden, and his wife, Alice. All three were visiting from Kansas on their way to Stephensburg, Virginia to see Hattie and Clayton Darden. Micah was situated in the nursery with Analise for a nap that afternoon.

Bertrand had left the door open when he left the room, after settling Micah in the crib. Four grownups were chattering away in the living, about fifteen feet outside the door. Analise took her naps with the door shut.

Mommy! she screamed. Shut door! Candice came and closed the door without a word, irritated at the interruption.

A few minutes went by. Micah started to cry. Bertrand opened the door. What is it? He asked. Then Bertrand remembered that Micah preferred the door open, so he would know that his mother and father were nearby.

Analise, he sternly said, Micah needs to have the door open when he is trying to sleep. Okay?

The two-and-a-half-year-old toddler nodded her head. Being afraid of her stern uncle, she made no protestation of the situation of whether or not the door should be open or closed. She just wanted him to leave the nursery.

This is the very first complete memory of Analise’s, and it was not necessarily a pleasant one. Whereas having a bottle or baby food brought contentment to the toddler, and she was very familiar with that…frustration was a new feeling. She did not like it and did not want to feel it again.

In October of that year, sure enough, Analise was given a baby brother to contend with, like it or not. Candice and Joe had not named the baby yet. Hattie, Candice’s mother, assumed the baby was going to be named Joseph Brightwood Arrington III, after his father and his grandfather. She called the Stephensburg newspaper and made the announcement, without Candice and Joe’s knowledge. This assumption on her part was gospel, and no one argued with Hattie.

Joey as the baby boy was soon nicknamed, was a cute little baby. He had snow-white curls, and his face wrinkled up and was distorted when he cried.

Mrs. Arrington, said the nurse at the hospital, as she brought in the screaming, hungry newborn for Candice to feed, here is your little ‘ole man’!

Candice snapped back rather quickly at the well-meaning nurse, Don’t call him that! Post-partum depression and foul moods were already seeping into Candice’s personality glow that she had throughout the pregnancy, eradicating her sunny mood and replacing it with sullenness.

Okay, Mrs. Arrington, just trying to make some silly conversation with you! You really have a handsome boy here. This cheered up Candice for a minute. She knew that Joey was, in fact, a cute little baby. Yes, he was.

When Joe brought Candice and Joey home from the hospital, Analise was just not too sure about the little bundle of joy. Dad had all of his attention focused on the slightly red, white-haired screamer in swaddling clothes. Analise was just not too sure about the new arrangement with this fourth person in the house. She wasn’t sure about it at all.

Nursery school for Analise was the next big event to occur in the Arrington household. Analise was introduced to yet more children in her world. The nursery school experience was positive, and the scent of Play-Doh permeated her days there. Analise loved to make shapes, and her designs were attempts to match articles in her world. What was observed was this: faces of her parents were fashioned in a crude manner--the only difference being how much Play-Doh Analise used for the hair on their heads. Her nursery-school teacher noticed that Analise had portrayed her teacher in much more detail. Red lips, a smile, and even a dress with all the colors that Play-Doh made were all attached to the nursery school teacher’s form.

After taking a new job, Joe Arrington moved his family from Burlington, Ohio to Columbus, Ohio. Ohio’s capital was a metropolitan city, with a large downtown area full of bustling pedestrians. This was a large Midwestern city with suburbs stretching out in all four directions. Joe and Candice found a home to rent near a village-like part of Columbus; it reminded them of Burlington so there wouldn’t have to be a major adjustment for themselves or their young children. The move meant more jobs for Joe’s company, more income, and possibly moving Joe into a partnership position.

Joey and Analise seemed to adapt well to the move. Their new home was in a neighborhood of sidewalks and mature trees and was two blocks from the village. Afternoons found Candice pushing a stroller with Joey seated, and Analise holding onto the stroller. Her little legs tired quickly as Candice walked with a brisk clip.

Mommie! protested Analise, I can’t keep up! Slow down! Mommie! Candice looked down at her daughter, sized up her situation, and slowed her pace. Joey just sat in the stroller and looked cute. Analise was miffed at both of her walking companions. Joey didn’t have to walk, and Candice seemed to cater to his every comfort.

One day, the three of them strolled into the large and popular five-and-dime store in the village, Nickels. Looking at some intriguing pliable dolls, Analise brushed away Joey’s flailing hands from the counter, as he was below eye level and could not see what Analise was touching. She peered longingly at the doll of her dream--a fairy princess. Analise just adored the doll in the colorful dress on the display. Measuring her words, as she knew she needed to be careful, she remarked to her mother, Mommie, can I have this doll after Pay Day?

Caught off-guard, Candice spoke the words, I don’t know. Maybe. We’ll see. Analise knew that her mother had not said ‘No’. That was a good thing. There was still hope.

Their rented home had an apartment behind it. The couple who owned the house also lived in the adjoining apartment. Their names to the Arrington family were Mr. and Mrs. Colter. They had to have been in their young 80’s. Both of them had hair that was white as cotton. They seemed to enjoy the young family to whom they rented their house. Analise liked to visit them in their apartment. A big wooden bar bordered their tiny kitchen, and that is where Analise enjoyed snacks with the older couple.

It was in this house that Analise and Joey caught the measles, and big sister also got the mumps. These normal occurrences kept Candice busy for several weeks while tending her children. There were no walks to the village, and everyone was tired of being cooped up in the house. Life went on.

Joe came home from work one day and announced to the family that it was possible that they may be moving to a new house. Joe and Candice would purchase, not rent, the new home. Candice and Joe both picked out a little two-story house about three miles away on Penny Drive.

Joey’s eyes got big when they pulled up to their new home. Mommie…houth? he pointed with a cute grin on his adorable face.

Yes, chickadee, Joe chuckled, this is it! This is our new house!

The children ran inside and scouted it out. It had a small kitchen, a breezeway leading to the garage, two bedrooms downstairs, a full bath, and upstairs was a long room that stretched over the entire house, all of knotty-pine paneling. The floor was comprised of rust-and-cream colored tiles.

The decision was made that Joey and Analise would sleep upstairs, and a family room would be in one-bedroom downstairs, and the other bedroom would be Candice and Joe’s. Moving Day was over in about ten hours, and things needed to be unboxed and put away. A very tired family settled into their beds that night in their new home.

The Arrington’s were greeted by new neighbors on their little street. Joe and Candice became friends with the families in the two houses just west of them, and they quickly included Candice and Joe in their circle of friends and the weekend impromptu dinners.

There were kids all around the Arrington’s house in neighboring homes. Kickball games could spring up on a moment’s notice. Analise and Joey enjoyed their new lives along with the awareness of their expanded world.

One particular couple who included Candice and Joe into their social circle was Hamilton and Becky Burns. They had a daughter, Jane Burns, who was six months older than Analise. Jane became Analise’s first friend, and the two kept each other company. Jane was a last-born and eight years younger than her brother, causing her personality to be that of an only child. Analise, even though she was a first-born child, deferred to Jane, and looked up to her for being worldlier. At this time, the two girls were only four and five years old. This miniature world of the two chums, however, did propel the early growth of Analise’s personality development.

One sunny day, Jane knocked on the Arrington door.

Can I see Analise? as Candice opened the door for the blonde, curly-haired child with blue eyes who lived next door.

Upstairs, motioned Candice, without even a glance at the child.

Jane’s little legs pumped up the stairs to Analise’s room. Hey look, prompted Jane, I got a new wallet yesterday!

O-o-o-h, that is so pretty! Analise replied. Why? You have a wallet. I saw you with it the other day.

Closing her eyes and raising her chin, Jane said with a tone, which was foreign to Analise, Analise, the coin-holder was beginning to rip. What if the coins fell out? What would I do then, Analise? said Jane, impatiently explaining to her younger friend.

The younger girl thought for a minute and nodded. Then an idea came to her, and with hesitancy and shyness, she nervously asked Jane, can I have your old wallet, since you don’t want it now? Jane opened her eyes, and then slowly considered what her friend had asked of her. We’ll see, was all that she said.

Analise felt a new feeling, but it was similar to her mother’s we’ll see when Analise asked her for something, and Candice just needed to consider it for a while. There was a certain power that Jane was holding over her younger friend. Jane had something that she didn’t need, and Analise had requested her cast-off wallet. It would have been Analise’s very first one to call her own.

A few days later, when the two girls were playing in Jane’s bedroom, Analise approached the subject of the wallet. I don’t know where it is, explained Jane. Jane, however, was not going to extend any generosity to her friend. The subject was never brought up again by Analise. Analise carried bad feelings about this for quite a while. She couldn’t understand Jane’s behavior. Not at all.

Candice had had a nerve-racking day. Joe was late leaving for work because his wife burned his breakfast, and it had to be prepared again. She was having difficulty toilet-training Joey. Joey, therefore, had been purposely annoying Analise, much to her dismay.

Analise wandered into her parents’ bedroom. Mommie! she wailed, "Joey is bugging me.

Just ignore him, Analise! Can’t you do that? Candice said with no patience to in her voice. Analise turned and left.

A few minutes passed. Candice could tell that Analise was not taking her mother’s advice. In stomped her daughter, MOMMIE! Joey won’t stop! she cried, as Candice spilled her nail polish all over the floor. Candice turned and whacked her daughter in the area of her butt, which pushed Analise into the bedroom dresser, whose sharp edge and Analise’s head met with a loud thud!

See, Analise! See what happens when you don’t listen? screamed Candice. Analise scurried out of the room, being stunned by the sudden reaction of her mother, and the fact that she was bleeding. Her mother didn’t seem to notice.

All was quiet in the other room. Candice muttered to herself as she cleaned up the nail polish, which had begun to dry on the hardwood floor in the bedroom. About that time, Analise reappeared in her parents’ bedroom. Candice glanced up, saw that blood was streaming down Analise’s forehead from an obvious cut on her head, masked by her hair. What did you do? screamed Candice.

Analise was crying. You did it, Mommie! You slapped me, and I hit my head on your dresser! Candice jerked her daughter into the bathroom, wiped away the blood, and determined that the cut was not life threatening but was still bleeding.

When Joe came home from work, he immediately questioned the bandage in Analise’s hair.

What happened to you, Kiddo? asked Joe, waiting for the explanation from Candice.

Analise blurted out, Mommie got mad…. and her voice trailed off. Candice interrupted, a spanking for whining turned into a run-in with the dresser for Analise. Joe was content with the explanation, and Analise withdrew into a sulky and silent statue. Later, she wouldn’t eat her dinner.

Preparing the kids for bedtime was usually a task that was part of Joe’s job description…but he enjoyed the ritual as it gave him a chance to ask his kids about the day.

What happened when you got that bump on your head? questioned Joe.

Daddy, Analise began, why does Mommie get so mad sometimes and make those angry faces? Sometimes nothing really bad happens and she still starts yelling!

Joe, who fully understood what his daughter was saying, explained, Analise, Mommie has a lot on her mind. She has so many things to keep track of. Joe tried to put it in words that his daughter could understand. We have to be extra careful sometimes with Mommie, she’s nervous sometimes, Sweetie. That’s all, Joe finished.

Oh-h-h-h, the young girl said. But I can’t be like that, can I, Daddy? I am not ‘posed too. Right?

That’s right, Analise. Mommie is old enough to do that. Little girls are not supposed to be nervous. You understand that, don’t you? Analise, who adored her father, nodded obediently.

It was the late in the summer of 1958, and Jane was due to start kindergarten in September, and Analise would not be starting until the following September. Wishing to mimic the lessons (Jane had described to Analise) that were used to teach Jane how to write, Analise got some paper from Candice, a pencil, and one of her storybooks and proceeded to sit down at the dining room table. Analise started writing. Actually, she was copying word for word, letter for letter right out of A.A. Milne’s book Now We Are Six. Analise worked with great determination for about twenty-five minutes. Candice kept looking in on her daughter but said nothing.

Finally, Analise took her three sheets of paper and searched the house for her mother. Candice was upstairs in her little sewing area. The young child proudly said, Mommie, look what I have been doing. I have been writing! Can you tell what this says? Analise excitedly asked her mother.

Candice glanced at the papers and went back to her sewing. Analise waited a few moments, figuring her mother was somewhere she couldn’t stop her work sewing on the dress that she was making for Analise. Mommie? Will you PLEASE look at what I have done? Can you read it? I worked really, really hard! exclaimed Analise.

Candice put down what she was trying to seam together, took the papers from Analise, and studied them. All I see are a bunch of scribbles, certainly nothing that I can make out and read, said Candice. She turned back to her sewing, handing the papers to her daughter.

Don’t fret, Analise! It will get better when you get in school, said her mother in the off-handed, disinterested voice that Candice often used.

Analise’s lip began to quiver. She took the papers and turned away. She just knew that her mother could read what she had written. She had been so careful when forming her letters. ‘Couldn’t Mommy see how hard I tried?’ she thought, with a pang of disappointment in her heart.

Back to Table of Contents

~~~

"It was one of those happy days that God grants us sometimes on earth to give us an idea of the bliss of heaven."

―Johann David Wyss

Chapter 2 - Heaven on Earth

That early September, the Arringtons embarked upon a trip to Virginia. Both Candice’s and Joe’s families were from there. Candice’s mother and father were, of course, in Stephensburg, and Joe’s mother and stepfather were in Pig’s Holler. Analise had made up her mind, Mee-Maw and Grand-Daddy Darden were rich, and Grandma and Grandpa Biddle were almost poor. Of course, this was a bit vague in the child’s mind.

The Darden’s home was in town in Stephensburg. The address was 1109 Harrington Street. Built in the early 1900’s, it was a fancy house, with oak trimmed doors and bookcases, and stucco walls of subtle colors. Wall sconces adorned the walls of each room, casting such a pretty glow at night when Mee-Maw turned many of them on. Pretty statues were everywhere, and wall hangings adorned the walls. A huge painting was in the living room with a reclining woman in a flowing garment. Her name was Lady Pompadour, Mee-Maw had told Analise. Analise was sure the eyes of Lady Pompadour were following her wherever she walked in the room. Mee-Maw said it was certainly true.

Floor length drapes covered all the windows of the two-story house. Ornate lamps and furniture were tastefully placed throughout the home. The scent of fresh-cut flowers was everywhere, as Mee-Maw always had them in vases throughout the house. Many fine linens covered the tables, chests, and sideboards; the décor was well thought out, and maintained by Mee-Maw’s maid.

Stepping out the back porch, one was greeted by a yard of slate stepping stones, a patio, a huge rose garden with an arbor, and two trellises. Statues of gods and goddess were strategically located in the yard. A few steps down took one to the lower yard, where there could be found a couple of fountains, boxwood, flowers and the wonderful aroma of several mimosa trees. Analise enjoyed being outside in the garden. It was so very beautiful to her. Nothing like it was in Ohio where she lived.

Analise knew that she had been to Mee-Maw’s house before…she had been told that by her mother and father. Now for the first time, she was old enough for sounds, smells, and all sensory intakes that left an impression on her young mind. As she came into the house again after being in the backyard, she noticed distinct scents, and she tried to separate them as to their sources. She could not.

She walked over to the glassed-in bookcases that were in the living room. She loved to turn the old keys that opened the doors, releasing a smell of the musty pages inside these books. A lot of them were books from Candice’s and her brothers’ childhoods. There were old history books, textbooks, and Bibles from other family members in prior generations. These did not interest Analise as much as the books from her mother’s childhood. Candice had pointed them out to her daughter when they first got there. As Analise could not read yet, she still loved to open the books, smell the pages, and wonder about the stories they told.

The drive to Pig’s Holler to see Joe’s parents took about thirty-five minutes. It was out in the country. The road that turned off to Pig’s Holler was practically a gravel road with most of the gravel scattered so that dried mud ruts comprised the path back to Grandma Biddle’s house. Joe pointed out their simple little one-story house out in the middle of nowhere. Analise could see a big white tank out behind the house.

What’s that, Daddy? inquired Analise.

That’s the tank which holds the propane used to heat their house in the cold weather, explained Joe.

They drove a few hundred yards, and approached a white-painted cinder block building that said Biddle’s Country Store. That’s your grandpa’s store. He sells groceries, some tools, and household things…items needed daily by the folks out here. The nearest shopping area is many miles away, Joe told his children. Joey made some unintelligible sounds in response, but Analise was hanging on to every word.

Does he have candy and soda pop? she asked.

Yep! He does, said Joe. Joe’s face was telling Analise that he didn’t like talking about the store. As Joe was turning into the driveway of the house, he continued, There is a walking path between the house and the store, he said, we can walk over there in a bit.

Grandma Biddle was glad to see them. Analise walked through the house. It smelled a little stale, and the two bedrooms were small. An iron-railed twin bed was in each of the two rooms. There were shades at the windows that had turned yellow from the hot Virginia sun that had beaten down on them for years. Braid rugs were in every room. The kitchen had an icebox, as Grandma called it, and a farm kitchen sink. One had to walk through the dining room to get from the living room to the kitchen.

A table dominated the dining room. Walking into the living room, Analise noticed all the doilies adorning the tables and on the arms of the furniture. Even though they were a tan color, stains appeared on a few of them. The front door to the house was open, and the screened door had some small holes in it, letting in a few stray flies, as it was still muggy outside that time of year. Suddenly, a whistle sounded in the distance.

Analise turned a questioning face towards her father. That is a train coming, kids! said Joe. The track passes about three hundred feet from the house out back, he added.

Grandma Biddle said, We get about eight to ten trains a day out here. I declare! Never a dull moment!

Analise and Joey ran out the kitchen door into the backyard. Sure enough, the train whistle was getting louder. They could feel the house begin to shake just a bit from the vibrations of the train on the tracks. This was so very exciting to the kids.

Who wants to go to the store with me? asked Joe.

Analise said, We do! Joe put his son up on his shoulders. The footpath to the store had wildflowers three feet tall, and Joey might get overwhelmed. Analise walked in front of her father.

When they reached the store, Joe called out to Harold Biddle. Harold appeared at the door. Come in, come in, he said with a slow drawl. You kids want sumpthin’ to drink? I have Nehi pop, Harold offered.

Nehi Grape, please, said Analise. Joe got his son some milk. She wandered around the store touching everything. Harold was watching her like a hawk.

Analise, Joe warned, don’t touch anything. Just look.

The kids and Joe headed back to the house soon after that. Vilma Biddle and Candice were chattering away when they returned to the house. The visit ended in another hour, and they headed back to Stephensburg to Mee-Maw’s home in town.

The rest of the week went quickly, and it came time to pack up and head back to Ohio. Analise stayed in Mee-Maw’s embrace for a few moments. I’ll miss you, Mee-Maw, said Analise with tears in her eyes. Hattie Darden swallowed a lump in her throat. Analise climbed into the backseat of her parent’s car. With her face pressed into the partially rolled-down window of the car door, Analise mouthed the words I love you, Mee-Maw, as tears rolled out of her eyes. Hattie bowed her head so that her granddaughter would not see her own tears; Analise was such a bright spot in Hattie’s life. Analise could not bear to watch the receding image of her grandmother. Her Mee-Maw.

Back to Table of Contents

~~~

"Fairy tale about a little girl, who wasn’t afraid of death. Her fragile bones looked as white coffins where birds used to sleep."

― Laura Makabresku

Chapter 3 - Life Is Fragile

In the spring of the following year, Candice and her two children ventured out to another shopping center a little father from the village, called Glen-Meadow Shopping Center. It was an open-air shopping area. Many stores in a zigzagging sprawling configuration comprised the retail area, as well as expansive concrete sidewalks. It had a very festive atmosphere, and Candice was in her element with so many offerings of wonderful clothing and household items.

It was a habit that as soon as they reached a five-and-dime store, Analise would race to where all the gumball machines were, and Joey would patter along after her. Candice would make sure that they had the right coins so they could each get a gumball--a small one for Joey, and Analise could have the large jumbo balls.

Within a few minutes after the kids re-joined Candice in the dry goods area, Analise got a very unpleasant sensation. Immediately, she realized that her jumbo gumball, which she had been sucking on and not chewing, had slipped down into her throat area and got lodged. Stuck. Analise tried swallowing but couldn’t. She was having trouble breathing.

She tried to say something to Candice, who was talking to a sales-lady about some material. Analise beat on her mother’s waist and tried to speak and couldn’t. Candice began showing irritation at the insistent clamor for attention from her daughter. The salesperson grasped the seriousness of the situation immediately. Something was stuck in the young girl’s throat! The sales-girl immediately grabbed Analise by the ankles and turned her upside down. She let go of one leg and began violently hitting Analise on the back. Within seconds, out popped a blue gumball with a partially dissolved outer shell. It was covered with blood.

Joey started to cry, and Candice had a look of disbelief on her face and started to feel queasy. How did you know what was wrong? Candice asked, sitting down on a nearby stool.

The sales clerk said, It’s happened before with kids and those big gumballs. Parents need to tell their kids that they should bite into them right away, she explained, then their children choking on the gumballs couldn’t happen so easily.

Candice slowly began to grasp just how close a call that could have been for Analise. Analise, don’t ask me for change for gum anytime soon, because I won’t give it to you! At that moment, Analise did not care.

The time finally came for Analise to begin kindergarten, and she was excited. She loved her teacher, and the schedule only required half-day attendance. One day while in kindergarten class, her teacher asked them to all put down their heads on the desks. She asked them a series of questions and had them raise their hands to vote their answers. Analise thought, ‘this was fun.’ One of the teacher’s questions was, Who in this class do you think is most likely to become a fairy princess?

The teacher started naming the girls names in the class. Analise was sure that she would never be chosen. When the exercise was over, Analise asked to be excused to use the bathroom. What she didn’t realize was that the results of the voting were to be given out by the teacher right then. A five-year old’s attention span isn’t very long, and class was soon over for the day. Analise never thought to ask about the voting after that day. It was just one of those things that was never brought up again.

Weeks and months elapsed. A nervous tension in Analise’s mother was becoming more and more evident to the young girl, as she struggled to make a connection to her mother. Repeated events were bringing this to the forefront.

Analise and Joey were in the breezeway dining room eating lunch. Candice had left a gallon of milk from the refrigerator on the table. A sudden phone call had required Candice to walk into the kitchen to answer it. Analise could see that the long, black coiled cord to the receiver and her mother had disappeared behind the basement door. Her mother often situated herself there for more privacy in her conversations when the children were within earshot.

In a split second out of the corner of her eye, Analise saw Joey picking up the gallon milk jug. Being only one-third full, it was light. Analise went back to her sandwich…but uh-oh! The milk jug had slipped from Joey’s grip, and its contents glop-glopped out of the jug and ran all over the table and onto the carpeted floor. NO! W-a-a-a-h! NO! wailed Joey.

Analise quickly assessed the situation, tore from the table, and streaked past the basement door behind which her mother was sequestered. Candice was talking to a girlfriend. She had to get out before her mother discovered the mishap. She frantically tried to find somewhere to hide from the storm that she knew was coming. She hid behind the bedroom door of her parents’ room. The room was dark, and Analise crouched where the door met the closet door to form a little triangle.

The girl looked fearfully out of the crack at the door jam. She could hear her mother yelling from the kitchen, Analise! Where are you? as she moved towards the hallway. Young Analise spied her mother as she appeared in the child’s eyesight. Her mother’s eyes fell on the space where Analise crouched. Candice’s eyes slowly moved up the door jam, and then met with her daughter’s frightened eyes. Candice yanked the door handle as she entered the room, exposing Analise’s cowering form. She jerked little Analise from her crouched position and spanked the crying child with all her might.

I didn’t do it! Joey did! Joey lifted the jug and dropped it! Analise shrieked. Mommie! Stop! Analise was almost hysterical in her pleading.

Candice spanked Analise mercilessly. Candice sent Analise to her room for a couple of hours. The girl could not understand how things had turned out the way they did. The unfairness of the situation washed over her; she had come to know that emotion quite well. Her mother or father had always explained it away. Analise felt that unfair meant that she had done something wrong!

When Candice repeated the accounting of the day to Joe during dinner, Analise still protested her innocence. Her manner was weaker, as she felt defeated. She glared at Joey, who never spoke up and confessed his part in the scenario. According to everyone, she was the guilty party.

One very bright spot in Analise’s life was the kindness and gentleness she received from her Sunday-school teacher, Vivienne Bergan. The woman was in her thirties and had almost-black hair. Mrs. Bergan spoke with a soft, Southern drawl, and she cared deeply about Analise very much. Analise looked forward to the times she was in her company. The girl felt cared for by her teacher.

Another annoying irritation that developed between Analise and her mother was something that Analise could not avoid. When they were out shopping, in a store, or just walking---Candice and the two children---Candice’s rule was that Analise was to walk in front of Joey and Candice, who held hands.

Her mother walked much more quickly than Analise, and Analise dreaded the single file walks. Analise could not stay paced four or five feet in front of her mother. She tired quickly, as she could not keep up the quick clip of her mother’s stride. Inevitably, Analise felt her mother’s hand on her back at the base of her neck, pushing on Analise to quicken the pace. This was done without any words spoken by Candice. Often times, the pushes came with more force, and the child’s head would often snap back a bit. Analise would often race up ahead with tears in her eyes and frustration in her heart. She would glance back at her mother when she would speak softly to Joey with a smile on her face, and wondered why Joey got her smiles, and she got the sharp pushes on her back.

Analise was brushing her teeth one Saturday afternoon, and her father walked into the bathroom to use the toilet. The toilet was between the sink and the bathtub. Instead of angling himself so he had his back to his daughter, he faced the sink and his daughter instead. Analise turned and gawked at her father as she brushed her teeth. She had never seen a penis before. Joe’s genitalia were about four feet away from her, and her scrutiny was unavoidable. Joe made no move to turn from her. Analise was fascinated by the forceful stream of urine and how bubbles were forming in the toilet. Joe, catching her eye said with a sardonic tone, What are YOU looking at, Analise? Analise spit into the sink and threw her toothbrush into the medicine cabinet. A very awkward situation could have been avoided, but Analise couldn’t crystalize that thought in her mind.

A decision was made by Joe, Candice and Mee-Maw that Analise could be put on an airplane and flown out to see her Grandmother Darden by herself. Analise had wanted to see her Mee-Maw, and Hattie was very excited at the prospect. The flight attendants on the TWA flight destined for the large airport near Stephensburg loved having young Analise in their care. Analise, with great pride and a big smile on her face, helped the flight attendants serve drinks and snacks on the flight. She was given her own TWA pin to wear and keep. Grandma Darden was so excited to see her little granddaughter when the flight attendants ushered her off the plane. Analise threw herself into Mee-Maw’s arms. Thus, another visit with her favorite relative in that beautiful house was about to commence for Analise.

However, a few days passed and Analise was feeling listless and not herself. She felt a pounding starting in her head and dizziness to her brain. A wave of nausea rushed over her as she went to the bathroom where Mee-Maw was cleaning.

Mee-Maw, I don’t feel good, whimpered Analise, then bent over and vomited with such a force that she fell to the floor.

Grabbing a towel and a wet washcloth, Hattie swept up the crumpled form of her granddaughter, carried her to Hattie’s four-poster bed, and gently laid her down. Clayton, Hattie yelled for her husband, Analise is very sick! Call Dr. Cook, please, now!

Analise was moaning and crying and began vomiting again, the contents of her little stomach were a dark brown in color. Hattie undressed Analise and washed her down. Clayton, Hattie yelled again, Now!

Dr. Cook arrived in about thirty minutes. Analise had been retching off and on the entire time. Hattie was frantic, and Clayton stood helplessly by. What’s wrong with our granddaughter? asked Clayton.

Dr. Cook shook his head, It appears that she picked up a virus. Here is some medicine for the nausea if she can keep it down. Give her children’s aspirin for the fever. Do you have any?

Hattie shook her head and turned to Clayton, Could you go to the drug store and get some? Clayton turned to leave.

That’s about all there is to do for her, finished the doctor. Call me in the morning and let me know how she fared during the night. It was a rough night for Hattie and Analise. Neither one got much sleep. Candice and Joe had been called and notified of the latest development in Analise’s health. Everything was taken care of.

Two weeks went by. Analise slowly improved, but not before she lost weight, and her little face looked pale from the toll that the virus had taken on her. During that time Hattie washed numerous loads of towels, all soiled from the black vomit that Analise had begun to produce.

One day Analise awoke and felt better than she had in days. Granddaddy strolled into the sickroom as Mee-Maw called it and produced Analise’s school shoes to her. See what I did for you, Analise? I had your shoes polished at the barbershop. They look all brand-new for you. What do you think? he proudly asked.

Analise clapped her hands weakly. Grand-Daddy, they’re beautiful! I hope I can wear them soon, she softly said.

That night, there was a familiar tune on the television, which Analise could faintly hear from the upstairs sickroom. Lassie! she cried, Lassie is on television. Now! Oh, Mee-Maw, can I watch it?

Okay, Honey, Mee-Maw acquiesced, let’s see if you can walk down the stairs.

With Hattie firmly gripping Analise’s arm, the two of them slowly crept down to the living room where the television was. Analise noticed how weak and shaky her legs were. She had never felt that feeling before, and thought her legs were going to buckle underneath her. Analise made up her mind that she had to get strong again, so she could go back to kindergarten at home in Ohio.

In a few days Candice, Joe, and Joey arrived at Mee-Maw’s house to pick-up Analise and take her back to Columbus. Once again, Hattie’s face and throat were tight as she hugged and kissed her granddaughter good-bye. She was grateful for all the wonderful practices Dr. Cook had done. She was, also, thankful for Analise’s strong constitution. She felt that both had contributed to Analise’s recovery and to her clean bill of health. The thought of losing her loving granddaughter through a tragedy put a fierce chill in her veins.

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"Awareness is the enemy of sanity, for once you hear the screaming, and it never stops."

― Emilie Autumn

Chapter 4 - Greater Awareness

Summertime of 1960 brought the normal neighborhood kids playing flashlight tag, kickball, and Blind Man’s Bluff. Analise, however, developed a problem with her digestive system; she didn’t know what the problem was, and she kept it to herself. All she knew was that she could not go to the bathroom and empty her bowels without a lot of straining. She finally got so impacted, that she went to her father and told him, crying in pain. Joe immediately conferred with Candice, and they tried a children’s laxative. Things got moving to the relief of everyone. However, the problem kept recurring. Joe would walk in the bathroom when Analise would call him, doubled over on the toilet...straining.

Joe said, Analise, here, squeeze my hand. This may help you. Analise would squeeze his hand until it got numb. Sometimes this helped, and sometimes it did not. Laxatives and stool softeners became a regular solution to Analise’s chronic problem. Analise ate cheese with great frequency and a lot of raisins and chocolate. Candice never figured out that these foods could be causing the problem, and therefore never regulated Analise’s diet.

September of that year brought the start of the 1st grade for Analise, with a new teacher named Mrs. Hilliard. The school year progressed exceptionally well. Analise got A’s in all of her subjects. One particular assignment brought to light an ongoing occurrence that was part of the norm in the Arrington household. The assignment given to the 1st grade class was this: Draw a picture of what your father works at.

The class was given thirty minutes to complete their drawings. Analise worked hard sketching then coloring the picture she had drawn. She noticed that the other students were slow to start, having to really mull over in their minds what their fathers did. The teacher collected the drawings, graded them and returned them to the students at the end