Although I could still go outside, it now came with a 30-minute stipulation. Why? Because one of her children may have needed a bottle, diaper change, or something. 3 toddlers? You can bet that in about 30 minutes that one of them would need something. That 15yo that made the decision to run away from home had 3 children by 1973 and was grossly overweight. One day, her husband brought this woman to the house. We knew who she was, her name was Gladys. He told his wife, “You said you were gonna whip her ass, here she is, do it”. He and the woman were having a laugh and almost needless to say, she did not touch that grown woman. She was not Geraldine. She was not me.
One day it was getting to be about bedtime. I was the only one in the dining room. Her husband came in there. I don’t remember the conversation, only that he tried for a civil interaction. I remember he even smiled and exited mannerly. Shortly thereafter, it was time for bed. I went to sleep and was later awakened by her husband. I was disoriented, confused, and a kid. He said we were gonna do something. He said we would have to be quiet, so we didn’t wake anybody up.
It would happen in that back bedroom and also on that washing machine that sat across from the kitchen sink; it was a height that was conducive to his motives as I sat on the edge of it. I was scared. I would say, “Somebody is going to come.” He would say, “no she is not.” Over the years, I can’t tell you how true I’ve come to believe that statement to be. Because sometimes I would approach her bedroom when she was asleep. Let’s say, I was on my way to school and was trying to tip-toe to the door (so I wouldn’t have to go to the store). Before I fully made the attempt, those eyes were open. Or, “I think some food is burning!” Before I could start the sentence, those eyes were open. I find it funny that a 200+lb, 6’1 or 2” man could make it out of that bedroom without those eyes opening. That was my Spring of ’72.