I remember he took us to Summersville, where we ate at McDonalds. Afterwards, we got ice cream from Dairy Queen, and he took us to Summersville Lake. I can't remember what we talked about or even what we did. I just remember feeling so happy that my dad was spending time with us. My dad was always my favorite, and I'd like to think I was always his. I couldn't wait to get home, though, and tell my mom what a wonderful day I'd had.
However, when we got home, my mom was not there. I went to my grandmother's to find her, but my grandmother said she had borrowed the car to pick us up. I knew my mom knew we were with my dad, and even then, at only around nine years old, I knew this was bad news. I started calling all of my aunts and uncles asking if they had seen my mother. My dad didn't seem concerned.
I remember I was frantically worried about where she was, demanding to my father that we find her, while he smoked pot in the living room of our home with his friends. He told me not to worry, be quiet, and go to my room. Despite my dad's size (350+ lb), and generally scary appearance, he didn't scare me, and I wouldn't let this go.
Again, at nine years old, my dad said to me, "Liz, your mom cheats on me. She's probably with another guy right now."
I was devastated. I screamed at him that he was lying. She was probably hurt--in a car accident-- maybe she was in a hospital. She would never do something like that to him. She couldn't do that to us.
He responded with specific examples, "Liz, I walked in on her on the couch with Ronnie, kissing him. She said she got lost."
I couldn't believe what he was saying. I just became more hysterical. I knew my mom couldn't do this. She was my mom. She wasn't capable of doing those things. They were my parents; they were still perfect. I couldn't understand...
He said, "Liz, she's probably at a bar with another guy. You need to just go get ready for school."
After enough crying and fighting, my dad decided to prove it.
I got my brother, and we climbed into the truck. I was still convinced that she had been in some kind of accident. Driving from Camden to Craigsville, I watched over the hill looking for tire tracks. We drove towards Richwood, and as my dad turned into a bar to turn around, our headlights shined into the windshield of my grandmother's car, where my mom was engaged in a deep kiss with a man who often bought drugs from my father.
My dad was infuriated. He jumped out of the truck, and punched through the passenger side window where the man was. He started cursing, trying to fight the man, and then crying asking my mom why. My mom was drunk. The man ran out of the vehicle, and over a hill into the woods. I stood, staring and crying. My brother, only seven, was crying and punched the gutter. My dad actually dented the gutter with his fist. He kept asking my mom why? Why, Lorrie, why?
She pulled out of the parking lot, while my dad screamed something like, "Yeah, go get your fucking boyfriend."
I thought my dad would kill that man, and I felt so guilty for calling my dad a liar. I kept saying I'm sorry. I remember looking at the speedometer and seeing the needle race past the 100 mph mark, and to the 110. The song Just Died in Your Arms tonight was on the radio was on. It was years before I could hear that song without feeling like I was going to vomit.
That night, my dad took my brother and I back to my grandmother's house. She put us in the back bedroom, and told us to go to sleep. Even then, despite having the exact same experience, we were unable to comfort each other. I remember saying, "I love you, Joey" and he replied, "I love you, too, sissy." I don't think either of us slept that night--and knowing that we loved each other didn't make anything better.
My mom called and I talked to her. I can't remember why I wasn't mad. I think it's because I was so scared. She told me that she was in a safe place, and that she would talk to me soon. She said that my dad just needed to calm down.
It was shortly after that when my mom checked herself into rehab for the first time. It was the next day that my teacher, Mrs. Leslie, hugged me during a bathroom break, and said, "I heard you had a rough night, Sweetie. It will get better."
I hope she knows how much that meant.
Oh I, I just died in your arms tonight
It must have been something you said
I just died in your arms tonight
I keep looking for something I can't get
Broken hearts, they're all around me
And I don't see an easier way, to get out of this
Her diary sits by the bedside table
The curtains are closed, the cat's in the cradle
Who would have thought that a boy like me could come to this
Oh I, I just died in your arms tonight
It must have been something you said
I just died in your arms tonight
Oh I, I just died in your arms tonight
It must have been some kind of kiss
I should have walked away
I should have walked away
Is there any just cause for feeling like this?
On the surface I'm a name on a list
I try to be discreet, but then blow it again
I've lost and found it's my final mistake
She's loving by proxy, no give and all take
'Cause I've been thrilled to fantasy, one too many times
Oh I, I just died in your arms tonight
It must have been something you said
I just died in your arms tonight
Oh I, I just died in your arms tonight
It must have been some kind of kiss
I should have walked away
I should have walked away
It was a long hot night, she made it easy
She made it feel right
But now it's over, the moment has gone
I followed my hands to my head, I know I was wrong
Oh I, I just died in your arms tonight
It must have been something you said
I just died in your arms tonight
Oh I, I just died in your arms tonight
It must have been some kind of kiss
I should have walked away
I should have walked away
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