Chapter 16 — Where is your God?

On a cold and rainy afternoon, I was upstairs in my room having stayed home sick from school that day. Then Darren called and asked me if he could bring me some soup. He told me that his roommate could have him here in less than ten minutes.

“Sure,” I said, then minutes later I heard a knock at the door and him introducing himself to Loretta and her taking him up the stairs to my room.

“Here eat some of this,” he told me as he held the cup under my mouth then wiped my chin with a napkin.

“Mmm… Chicken ‘n’ Stars!” I said. “How did you know that it was my favorite?”

“Let’s just say that God told me last night in a dream just like Joseph.”

“Well, I don’t recall them having Chicken ‘n’ Stars back in Egypt,” I smirked.

“They probably did, only theirs had quail and manna,” he said as we both sat and laughed.

“Thank you for caring,” I told him as I finished the soup then reached over and gave him a hug.

“My pleasure,” he said.

We both sat down on the edge of my bed and talked for a while before I finally told him that my dad would be coming home soon.

“Well then why don’t we pray?” he finally said.

“Good idea,” I answered then held out my hand as he took it in his.

We both closed our eyes, then he began speaking in some unknown language, “tongues,” he called it. Then he moved his hand up to my shoulder and started messaging the back of my neck. “That feels good,” I told him as his words were soon interrupted by shallow gasps and long deep moans.

“You know the bible said that prayer always works better with the laying on of hands,” he added.

“Really?” I sighed. “Where does it say that? First or second ‘Balonians’?”

“It’s in James,” he answered as he began removing my shirt, then he stopped, and he chuckled. “At least I think it’s in James.”

Soon all of my clothing was thrown on the floor and he removed his pants then lowered his body down onto mine. The room was filled with the sounds of breathing and moaning and the thump of the bed against the wall—thump, thump, thump… yes!... thump, thump, thump… oh God, yes!... thump, thump, thump, louder… and louder… and louder… until I realized that it wasn’t the bed but the door busting open, and my father was standing inside of my room.

“So, who’s your friend?” he finally asked me.

I’m not sure if I ever did tell him. After that, Darren stopped coming over for some odd reason and pretty soon I no longer saw him over at Fred’s apartment. Then sometime later, he called me and told me that he had just gotten back with his ex. At first, I was hurt, but then I just felt really pissed off. One night, I was sitting up in my room when the telephone rang, and I waited a while before finally answering.

“Look, why don’t you just go fuck yourself!” I shouted. But the voice on the other end didn’t seem to mind what I told him.

“Feisty little vixen, aren’t you?” he said.

“What do mean by that?” I asked him, perplexed. “If you were standing next to me now, I’d kick you right in the balls.”

“Wow, I like you! How long have you been working this line?”

“Wait, you think this is some kind of sex line?”

“Well, isn’t it?”

“No, you pervert!”

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” he said. Then we both just sat there and laughed. “By the way, did anyone ever tell you that you’ve got a really sexy voice?”

“Yeah,” I answered. “Especially after the tracheotomies.”

“The what?” he asked.

So, I told him my story, and after we talked, he soon convinced me that I could make lots of money doing this without ever leaving my bedroom. Furthermore, I never needed to meet anyone, although most men would ask me to describe what I was wearing as they sat there and pleasured themselves by the phone. At first, I wasn’t too sure, you know with me being a Christian and all, but it wasn’t like I was some sort of prostitute since after all I wouldn’t be having sex with these men. A week or so later, I told Loretta what was going on and she helped me open an account at Wells Fargo so I could walk across the street and get my money as soon as the checks were deposited. By this time, I figured that Susie and Michelle also knew, so I paid them off every once in a while, if they promised they wouldn’t snitch to my dad.

That year on Valentine’s Day, I made a fortune as the phone kept ringing and a bunch of lonely old men would pour out their hearts before we got right down to what they were paying for. The next day I walked to the bank and pulled out some money to give to my brother for his birthday.

“Holy shit, Pam, where did you get this?” he asked me.

“What does it matter?” I insisted. “Just take it.”

“I can’t take that much from you,” he said.

“Then would you do me a favor instead?”

“What’s that?”

“Go to Winter Formal with me?”

He looked at me then bowed his head unable to even look in my eyes. “Look, Pam, I really appreciate it, but you know that I’ve been out of work for a while. I don’t really have any money.”

“That’s okay, Ronnie, I’ll take care of it. Listen, bro, I love you. Is that good enough?”

“Well, all right then,” he said. “And, Pam, I love you too.”

The following week, Loretta helped me get ready and walked me over to the limo that was waiting outside of our complex. “Be safe, honey,” she said as she kissed my cheek.

“Auntie, do you remember I’m going out with my brother?”

“Well have fun then,” she said as she closed the door behind me.

I remember the look on Ron’s face when we got to my mother’s apartment and he walked out the door.

“My God, Pam, you really went all out!” he exclaimed as he sat down next to me in the back. “And by the way, you really look beautiful.”

“And you look pretty handsome yourself,” I told him when I noticed that he was wearing a suit.

“This is getting creepy,” he finally said. Then we both laughed then sat there in silence until we pulled up into the Black Angus parking lot.

Ron was trying to flirt with one of the servers as she walked over to bring us our drinks.

“You better make sure and tip her well,” he insisted, but I cut him off.

“Hey, you’re supposed to be on a date with me!”

“Sorry, Pam. Can you forgive me?” he said, then he held up his glass. “Here’s to my favorite younger sister.”

“And here’s to my favorite older brother,” I said as my coffee and his tequila clinked together in an awkward but melodious resonance.

After dinner, the limousine took us to Casa Bonita in Fullerton, and I can honestly say that my brother was one of the best dates that I ever had. Aside from the fact that he mostly talked with all of the girls I knew in Drama, he was always the perfect gentleman. He even danced with me when I asked him despite not having very much rhythm.

“I’m more of a rock ‘n’ roll kind of guy,” he said when I’d tease him about it.

“Yeah,” I said but you’re still a Vasquez!”

When the night was over, he leaned over and kissed my forehead and thanked me for a wonderful evening.

“Best time that I’ve had in while,” he told me.

“Me too, Ron,” I said.

“And besides,” he added, as he pulled a napkin from out of his pocket, “if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have gotten Heather’s number!”

“You sly dog!” I teased him as he got out of the limo and made his way up to the door. “You really are a Vasquez!”

Later that year things got even better as Susie announced she was moving in with Don and Veronica since they needed a babysitter now that their daughter Ashley was born. I don’t remember what ever became of Michelle. I think she moved back in with her parents, or it could have been with some guy that she met, but anyway they both were gone and out of my hair. Loretta stayed for a few more weeks, then she left to move in with some guy she was dating. She asked my dad if I would be safer if I stayed with my mother again because of the stairway and all.

“At least if she falls down the stairs, there’s a better chance of her surviving than if she lived with her mom,” he said.

I spent most of my days after school over at Fred and Carol’s, then on the weekends, my friend David would pick me up and we’d go to “big” Calvary over in Costa Mesa for concerts. I was spending less and less time on the phone talking to men and more time rededicating my life to the Lord.

One night after I got home from church my dad was on the phone with Veronica.

“So where is she now? I see. Is she able to breathe on her own?” Then he held the phone away from his ear while my sister’s voice screamed back through the receiver. “Calm down! Will you just calm the hell down! All right. All right already! Look, I’ll be right there. Yeah, bye.”

“Daddy, what’s up?” I asked him. “Is something the matter?”

“It’s Susie. She’s in the hospital,” he said as he went to the closet to grab a jacket. “Your sister told me she thinks she OD’d.”

“Oh my God! Is she going to be okay?”

“How the hell would I know?” he snapped. “Veronica’s freaking out on the phone. I don’t know what the hell’s going on.”

“Well tell my cousin I’m praying for her.”

“Yeah, some good that’s going to do,” he retorted. “Just wait right here and don’t go anywhere.”

I never asked my father what happened. Veronica started telling the family about it when it was apparent that Susie would live. She said that she came home that same afternoon and found Susie passed out on the couch, heart racing, sweat running down all over her face. Then she explained how she’d pulled off her clothes, stood her up in the shower and set the dial all the way over to “cold.” She told him that the paramedics said that was probably what saved her…that and the IV they gave her of glucose and benzodiazepine.

As I sat in my room, I couldn’t help thinking it was all my fault. Susie remained conscious throughout the whole accident. Sometimes at night she would wake up screaming then her door would burst open, and she’d step quietly into the hall trying to avoid the severed heads that lay all around her blood covered feet. Sometimes, the Valium would help, and when that didn’t work it was Xanax and weed. But this time, the doctors found toxic amounts of cocaine and tequila—enough to kill an elephant, let alone a hundred-pound girl. Somehow, she made it through the night, then a few days later, she was released into a rehab facility where she spent several weeks before she enlisted into the Navy. Yet, that night it was only a matter of seconds before the accident had nearly claimed its third victim.

Sometime after Susie’s ordeal, my dad started going out with some girl that he met at the Foxfire. Her name was Karen, and she had a four-year-old son, Evan, who asked me if I would be his older sister if “your dad and my mommy were to get married.”

Karen was also half my dad’s age, not to mention really skinny. My mother and each of my siblings all thought that she was on drugs, but it wasn’t like he paid it much mind. Before too long, my father gave her a key to our condo, and my dad and her would be up in his room while I played with Evan downstairs at the table. Sometimes, she’d leave him at home with her mother or drop him off to stay at his dads when my father and her went out to the club. Then there were days when my father would take us all out for ice cream then out to the park to feed the ducks. On one of those days, Evan put his arms around my neck and told me he loved me.

“I love you too, punkin,” I calmly assured, kissing him on the top of his head.

One day, my father was up in his room getting ready when I got back home after church. I went up the stairs, opened my door, set my bible down on the nightstand, then called out to him in his room.

“Hey dad, I’m home.”

“I’ll be out in a minute,” he said.

I could already smell the cologne even before he opened the door. Then a deep musky vapor poured out in the hall as he grabbed a coat and walked out of his room.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Out,” was all that he said.

“You know,” I thought for a second. “Maybe Karen and Evan would like to come to church with me sometime.”

“Fat chance,” he said. “Karen doesn’t believe in that shit either.”

“I was thinking more about Evan.”

“Don’t bother,” he said. “Karen’s my friend and that’s all. You need to stop trying to play house.”

“Well just because you don’t give a shit about him, doesn’t mean I don’t!”

“Look, Pam, you need to mind your own business!” He said then turned and walked back in his room.

“So that’s the way it’s going to be?” I said as I followed him in through his door. “Every time I mention God or going to church, you just ignore me?”

“What? I can’t seem to hear what you’re saying,” he said sticking a finger in both of his ears.

“I said,” I began to explain myself all over again, but then he just started to hum until he finally accused me of acting immature until I pointed directly at him and laughed in his face. “Now look who’s acting immature!”

With that, he began shouting and waving his hands, his veins nearly popping out of his head. “You’re going to lecture me about God? You think I don’t know what you’ve been up to? That phone sex line you’ve been running right here in my house? That guy who was fucking you right there on your bed? And YOU are going to lecture ME about God?”

“But, dad, I already asked God to forgive me.”

“Bullshit! I don’t want to hear any more of your bullshit!

“But, dad—”

I never got to finish my sentence. The next thing I remember were his hands on my neck as my body lay at the foot of the stairs. His face was red, and his eyes glowed like tongues of fire as he stood above me pushing my head down into the carpet.

“God help me!” I began to shout then started to gasp as his hands closed tightly around me. “Please God, please…”

“Where is your God now?” he began to shout, his voice now quaking with rage. “WHERE IS YOUR GOD? Oh, I’ve got it, he must be asleep! Or he just doesn’t care! Or get this, MAYBE HE JUST DOESN’T EXIST!”

I looked up into the ceiling as the light above started fading to black, then back into a dim yellow blur as I momentarily regained my breath. “Angel of God, my guardian dear...” I began to pray to myself as each heightened gasp escaped through my lungs. For a moment, I believed I was going to die, until the sound of a doorbell tolled like the bells of Saint Mark’s Cathedral born on the wings of my guardian angel.

“Ron, Ron, are you there?” My father’s girlfriend called out as she turned the key and opened the door.

“Just stay right here and do what I tell you!” he warned me then stood up and called her over. “Honey, come here! Pam had an accident! She fell down the stairs and I’m trying to help her!”

I’m not sure if she really believed him, she had to see the marks on my neck reddened by the force of his hands, yet she did as he said and helped me to get back up on my feet.

“It doesn’t look like anything’s broken,” she said holding my head in both of her hands. “Ron, please go and get her some water.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I repeated over and over just like my father had told me. “I got really dizzy and fell down the stairs.”

“You’re going to be okay now, honey,” she said stroking the hair from out of my face. “God must have sent you one of his angels.”

“He did. He did.” I assured her. “And she just walked in through our door.”

Karen insisted that my father take me with them to dinner that night and so both of us just sat there and talked. She told him, “what a brave little girl you have,” and that “God must have been looking out for her.” My father mostly just sat there and nodded while I managed to keep my thoughts to myself.

But within a few weeks she stopped coming over and I heard from my siblings that she’d died in her home while snorting cocaine. I asked my father about it, but he shrugged it off. “They’re crazy,” he said, but he didn’t deny it. I prayed to God to look after Evan and keep him from harm, but I never found out what happened to him.

Sometime later my father came home singing an old Michael Jackson song. He said that it was also the name of a woman he met at the club and was starting to date. Within a month it wasn’t just dating, they were already speaking of marriage. Yet after getting to know her, I soon came to realize the only reason he loved her was because of her name. But unlike the song, this Billie Jean was no beauty queen.