Dinner in my Car

The year is 2013, my marriage was failing, I was living in a camper in my parents backyard because I rather become homeless than actually live in their house. 

And we were gloriously close to having our cousin live with us due to a DCF issue and no other family members stepping up. 

It was February 4th 2013 and we sat down for dinner: I suggested steaks grilled at home with a cheesecake for dessert.

I’m a fairly simple creature who loves the same things back then, that I do today: a medium-rare steak, a good book, and people leaving me the F—k alone. 

My husband at the time was in Texas for pre-deployment training so we didn’t really talk. 

Which was purely beautiful. 

As bad as it sounds: I was enjoying not talking to him. Or being around him. Or having to fight off unwanted sexual advances.

I could literally go to bed at night and not have to fear sexual intercourse. 

Segue to my birthday.

The peace is shattered when my brother complains that his steak is too cooked for his liking to an extent that makes dad pissed off, which makes mom mad. So three people are yelling and screaming while I heft my plate and walk my happy ass out to my car and start eating in it. 

If you don’t see a connection yet; I have zero issues going and sitting in my car once I’m emotionally spent. 

I always bring a book. 

My sister followed shortly after, then our brother and then mother came out to inform up that she was thinking of divorcing dad.

I’m sitting there like: fucking do it already! It had been yacked about since day one, stop threating him and just do it.

Shit on a cracker, you underachiever. 

All of us spoke up and basically told her to just do it, that she had talked about it so much it was getting old. 

At this point in my life, I was beginning to see how truely messed up our family really was, but it wasn’t until years down the road then I really noticed the magnitude of the abuses. 

All the truth in my apartment 

There was another inter spousal fight between mom and dad to where mom called me a few minutes before getting to my apartment. 

The woman never shows up to where I’ve lived, just this night, randomly, seemed like a good night. 

I was divorced from my ex at the time and with my new boyfriend (my husband of 6 years now) when she comes in, I fear already half a bottle of wine deep and bringing another bottle. 

She was on the divorce train again, unhappy, drunk, overly truthful. I just wanted them to piss or get off the pit so I could stop hearing about their miserable lives. 

The normal for her: bitter, drunk, high on her ego.