soulsearching

Well, I'm still without gas, so no hot water. We have been boiling water to take showers with. Hombre is working this week, TTG! But how long this will last...eh, who knows?

He was being grouchy last night because there is no money for beer. He had taken the last of the empties for refund on Sunday, so now he has nada. Of course, we will be the ones paying for that one. I spoke with Mr. Man yesterday. He had me laughing, and feeling all giddy. The things he says to me sometimes. Now why does it turn me on when Mr. Man talks to me that way, but when Hombre tries to do the same, I just want to smack him? I already know the answer to that. I don't even have to think about it. Because the only time Hombre talks to me that way is when he is drunk, and it just is not sexy in the slightest when he's drooling, and slurring his words. It just makes me think of a pervert! Like a dirty old man trying to take advantage of a young girl. Not that I'm a spring chicken, but that's just what comes to mind. I think anything that has to do with drinking just turns me off.

When I was barely sixteen, my father had brought to Michigan a lady from Mexico. She was a lesbian, and she was cool as hell...when she was sober. I mean she would tell me stories of growing up in Mexico, and how she had to compete with her brothers (she was the only girl) to keep up with them when it came to doing chores on their farm. But when she drank, she was just mean as hell...but mostly towards my dad. That shit would piss me off when she would start saying to shit to him about being a worthless man, and that he didn't know what hard work was because he lived in the US all his life. Just talking never-ending shit, ya know?

One night, she and my father came home after an evening at the bar (remember, my dad was an alcoholic, too). It must have been around midnight, and I was in the living room watching the tonight show. Dad goes into the kitchen to start cooking something to eat, so Millie came and sat on the couch next to me. I had to translate what they were saying on the show, and I think it started to irritate her that I was laughing, and she didn't know what I was laughing at. Anyways, she starts trying to talk to me, but I just wanted to watch TV, and then go to bed. I used to wear one of my dads short sleeve button up shirts to bed, which is what I had on...I mean I was going to bed in a few minutes, ya know? The next thing I know, Millie puts her hand on my thigh, and starts running her hand up and down my leg. I didn't know what to do, so I just pushed her hand away. She laughed quietly. After a couple of minutes she did it again, and I tried to push her hand away again, but she grabbed it between her own two hands, and wouldn't let me go. I told her in Spanish to stop, and again she laughed at me. For some reason, I did not want my dad to hear what was going on. I thought he would get mad at me, and someone it would be my fault.

She pulled me towards her, and her face was about four inches from mine. I could smell her damn beer breath, and she told me, "Que bonita, eres, Chiquita!" How pretty you are, little one. I yanked my hand out of hers and jumped up to go to my room. She jumped up, too, and started yelling at me in Spanish, "Oh, you think you're too pretty for me? I'm not good enough for you? Who the hell do you think you are? You're nothing, your shit!"

I started crying and ran to my room. I then heard my dad arguing with her, telling her to leave me alone. They were both yelling so loudly, I couldn't hear everything they were saying. I picked up my phone, and called my sister. She lived out in the country about half an hour away, but I didn't know who else to call. She answered the phone, and I was sobbing so hard that I could barely speak. I finally managed to get Millie name out, and I said something about her touching me, and fighting with my dad. The next thing I knew my sister had hung up on me. Suddenly, I hear my dad yelling at Millie to give him the knife. I screamed, and then she kicked in my door. My dad pushed her against the door jamb, but she was fighting him with all her might. I screamed like crazy. The knife was a medium sized pocket knife, with a blade about two inches long. My dad yelled when she cut his hand between his thumb and forefinger. I don't know if that pissed dad off and gave him more strength, or if the site of blood brought Millie to her senses, because he was finally able to get the knife away from her, and pushed her back into the kitchen. Suddenly, I hear my sister's voice yelling for me. I shit you not, she got there in like fifteen minutes!!! I pulled some pants on and peeked out into the kitchen. My sister had a gun pointed at Millie! She told me to get my shoes on and get in the car. I started crying again, and told her I didn't want her to go to jail...please don't do anything. She yelled at me to get in the car. She bitched at my dad for bringing that bitch into his house, for drinking, for not caring about what happens to me. Millie started yelling shit to my sister, telling her to shoot her. I sat in the car crying frantically, waiting for my sister, and finally I saw her backing out of the house with the gun still pointed at Millie. She told Millie that if she ever touched me again, or even came to the house, she would fucking kill her!

I don't know what happened after we left that night. I stayed up all night worrying about my dad, hoping Millie didn't stab him in his sleep, and that all this was my fault. My dad never talked about that night, and we never saw Millie again.

I don't know what the hell made me think about that!

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