What My Mother Never Knew #9: Moving at Light Speed

Catholic school was a bit weird considering that I'd never been to church. I went along with the expected rituals, buying a white dress for my first communion and confirmation. I had no idea what it meant although I did attend the orientation session explaining what I needed to bring and how I should act. The Italian and Portuguese kids must have found out what it really meant from their parents. And I didn't bother with the first confession - I saved that for here...

It wasn't long after, that my mother accepted a job out West. We were moving to BC. I knew what that meant: better looking guys (we'd seen a BC baseball team and were convinced), lots of easy access to weed and great skiing. I was thrilled to be leaving small town central Canada.

It never occurred to me that leaving my father would be difficult. I was so busy focusing on the excitement of a whole new life that I really didn't consider what I was leaving behind. My mother flew ahead to find a place and get things set up and my brother and I stayed with my dad.

I'd only seen my dad cry once - a few years earlier when my six year old brother sacked him accidentally. He immediately fell to the floor, turned all red and went stiff, with tears streaming into the carpet. Seeing his face that morning at the airport, as he hugged us in the boarding lounge was heart-wrenching. I didn't know how to tell him it would be OK, or how to comfort him at all. The image of tears streaming down his face stayed with me forever - a strong, normally somewhat stoic man. I know this might sound like a contradiction to my last chapter - feeling such strong love for someone who'd hurt me, deep in my soul. But I did love my dad a great deal. I still do. And at that time, I hadn't really put two and two together around the sexual abuse (it had happened at a much earlier age). Walking down the tube leading to the airplane, all I knew was that he loved my brother and I immensely and must have hated my mother for moving us away. I cried too, but I knew we'd be back for visits. And what lay ahead quickly captured my attention.

Landing out West was amazing. I'd never seen so many sea gulls and the smell of the salt air and sea weed was invigorating. We rented an old house which turned out to be full of spiders and next to a practice pad for a rock band. I loitered about outside, hoping they would invite me over to listen or indulge in some of the atmosphere enhancing odours drifting over to my yard. I guess they weren't interested in getting 11 year old girls high for some reason! I'd even tried turning up my Meatloaf and Boston LPs full volume, just to show I had good taste in music...

I ended up hooking up with a girl a few years older around the corner. She invited me to go to a roller-skating rink with her and that became my source of summer fun. We were wild, a hoard of kids, most in the 15-17 year old range. We frequently did our skating outside of rink, along waterfront, in cemeteries or on the streets. Times were fast and I did my best to keep up. The girl I'd hooked up with wore the shortest short shorts I'd ever seen and talked me into making mine a little more revealing. The attention we got from passing cars as we skated in the sun intoxicated me (but still made me blush with embarrassment too).

Sometimes, if we were too tired to skate home she'd call a cab and we'd get a ride. I was always dropped off first. It wasn't until quite a bit later that my friend confessed that the reason we always had the same driver was that she requested him specially because he gave her free rides in exchange for her giving him head! I had to work really hard not to look shocked when she told me. I wanted so much for her to think I was more grown up than 11. But I guess the truth is, I was growing up at break-neck speed. The friends I'd left behind out east would never believe some of the crazy stuff going on out here.