There were many other families that lived in the little cove of those garden apartments. There was Felicia. Goldman…. I think was her last name, ….maybe. She wasn’t so much a friend, but more of a babysitter for me, someone I was entrusted to, to get me to school and back safely. Actually, there was a group of us who walked to school but I was made to knock on Felicia’s apartment door across the courtyard every morning and walk especially with her.
P.S. 188. That’s the public elementary school I went to in Bayside. I was a victim to the snobby girls at that school but that’s another story. The school was about a mile or two walk from the garden apartments and it was a chance to talk and joke around before we made it to school. I don’t remember the walks to school so much as the walks home. The mood was happier, more relaxed, at ease since it was the end of the school day and there wasn’t that much of a rush to make it home before some bell rang. On nice days, the walks would take us up Hillside Avenue to the candy store on the corner of Union Turnpike and Hillside. There was always one of the walkers who had a little money and we would go in the candy store and get penny Bazooka pieces, or some other penny candies that would get shared around. I was the youngest, newest to the posse and the one without any money, ….ever.
One morning when I walked across the courtyard to Felicia’s apartment, the front door was already open and her mom just yelled for me to come in and sit and wait. I did. As I sat there alone, I just viewed my surroundings. They had unusual furniture and a little mock two seater bar. Pretty cool. On the couch next to me was Felicia’s mom’s pocketbook opened wide and in it was a wallet. I’m trying to remember exactly how old I was or what grade, I may have been 8 or 9years old, in 4th grade? I’m not exactly sure, but I do remember the events of that particular day. I’ve asked mom for money before. The answer was always ‘no, we don’t have money to throw around’ . End of conversation.
That morning, I sat next to the open pocketbook with the wallet inside for so long. I began thinking I could just open the wallet and maybe take a dollar, so that I could be the one that day to buy and share. Was I nervous? Hell yeah!!! But, the thought became so strong and so I opened the wallet. Did I know I was doing something wrong? Yes, but I did it anyway. When I unclipped the closure to the wallet there were a few bills in it and then I heard movement from another room and I grabbed what I could and shut the wallet up quickly and moved to the other side of the couch. We went to school as usual and on our walk home from the candy store, I was the big man that day. What I pulled from the wallet was a $20.00 dollar bill and so we had a feast of candy. Everyone was happy and excited and I felt great and like I belonged.
It wasn’t until later that night that I would suffer the consequences of that days action. With the good, there’s always that bad. From my room, I could hear whisperings. I didn’t know who was whispering or what the conversation was about so, I snuck in closer to the living room. What I heard was “I’ve worked with children like this before and its a cry for help, maybe she needs someone to talk to……” I recognized the voice. I heard her being led out and I knew I was in for it. I just didn’t know how bad it was going to be. I was prepared for the yelling, preparing myself for the smacks. What I wasn’t prepared for was the severity of the yelling or the hits. I was called out of my room. MARIAAAA!!!!! There wasn’t even a question. There wasn’t an “explain to me why?!” Just the instant thundering voice and the backhanded smack and then I’m on the floor with coins being rained down on me. He was taking the change out of his pockets and throwing them down at me. I heard his voice but I don’t know what he was saying and the sound of the coins hitting the floor. I don’t think I was even crying at that point because it just all happened so fast. The boys were only 1 and 2 years old and as I tried to look up to see if my mother was going to save me, from the floor in my fetal position as he kicked me with his boot, I glimpsed her just sitting in the sofa chair with one boy on each arm of the chair watching. I may have been crying all along, but seeing them there, just watching as I’m on the floor trying to cover up as much of myself as I could from the belt, the coins and his boot, that’s when the real sadness came. It’s the realization that there was no help coming to me that did me in. It was the realization that we was just going to sit and watch as I cowered on the floor like dog.
I know I had done wrong. I know I deserved punishment for it. The events, feelings, anything else that happened after that, I no longer remember. I just remember that beating and the reason for it.
There have been other beatings similar to that. One particular one, I can’t remember what it was for, but it was as severe as the one I got for stealing money from Felicia’s mothers bag, just no kick or coins to top it off. The swings of the belt were hard enough that they left these beautiful black, blue and purple raised marks all up and down my legs and backside. One swing of the belt even caught a part of my arm when I tried to protect myself.
I remember after that beating, I was allowed to go on outside!!! Odd right? I cant remember what it was for, but I was allowed to go out after it. I didn’t even want to go out. There was no one out there to play with, but I went because they wanted to talk in private. I remember riding my bike and I remember I couldn’t quite sit right on it because my ass was so bruised. I also remember that though it was a cloudy day, it was still a warm day for October and I was made to wear long pants and long sleeves.
I cant say I never stole anything again because that would be a lie but I tried to be as good a girl as I could possibly be, …for awhile.
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