Brandy

"Kissing a Cow"

          When I was seven I was a young, strong, dirty, tomboy, wild young girl. I lived in Vermont and Vermont is the state to have cows! Cows, cows, cows!  They are big, heavy, smelly and good at eating. They taste so good. The big, long dirty road in Charlotte past the trailer park had this narrow, tall to the sky, red barn that sat on the side of the road. I opened the door and there she was. The tall, black and white, smelly, scratch-tongued cow. I had my smelly peanut butter crackers in my hand.

There I went; walking through the sloppy shit like it wasn’t even there. I was getting closer to her, crunching my crackers, and scuffing my boots on the hard cement floor. My dad was in the door way holding the door open, smoking that stinky Marlboro cigarette. I was there, right in front of her, teasing her with my peanut butter crackers. My mouth was wide opened after I had crunched a few. I stuck my tongue out.

 I looked at my dad and he noticed that something crazy was about to happen. I looked back at the cow and she had had enough of me teasing her. She slipped me the tongue and there I was, stuck with a fat, scratchy tongue filled with chopped up grain shoved down my throat! My dad started laughing; he dropped the cigarette, ran over to me, and helped me get the tongue out of my mouth.

It was disgusting! I saw the cow every day after that, but I never brought peanut butter crackers around her again!

School, by Brandy. Read by Brandy.

"School"

I’m at school

My brother is at school

We are both at school

Same hallways, same building

It’s time to eat lunch

I have my fries and my brownies

I have my chocolate milk and two of my best friends

I feel scared, scared but not showing anyone

Afraid to lose my friends

‘Cause I was hanging out with other friends with disabilities

They had trouble walking and the other one like me always needed the extra help

My brother walked closer and closer and closer

Safe now that my brother is at my table

I nibble on my fries, soft, warm and salty

I sip my cold chocolate milk

“Hey sister, thanks for the fries.” 

I never gave them to him. “Yeah no problem,” I say.

“Has anyone given you any problems?” “No not yet.”

“See you later,” he says.

There goes the smell of his strong Ax cologne.

September 3rd, By Brandy. Read by Deirdre Kelly

September 3^rd

Bang he’s gone.

It was the weekend we’d been waiting for. I remember my brother and I would go to our Dad’s every other weekend. Our eyes always lit up when we were getting ready on Friday, happy to leave that place, that place where the monster lived. At my Dad’s, we felt loved and were free to be kids, ride four wheelers and make mistakes. We weren’t stuck inside the trailer with the monster, my Mom’s scary husband.  Weekends at my Dad’s were our fun time to play and get away from being yelled at, screamed at for no reason, any reason.

 I count the days backwards, always starting with September 6^th. The Sixth, then the Fifth, then the Fourth.

 Friday was September 4, 2006. My brother and I finished school, got home and changed our clothes. We waited inside the dark trailer for our mom to get home from work, to bring us to the police station. That’s where we met our Dad every other weekend. The monster was home, and told my brother Brad that if he wanted to go hunting that weekend, he had to stay. That was a really hard decision because he missed our Dad but loved to hunt. Brad decided to stay; it was the wrong decision.

 When our mom pulled up, I ran outside to the tan van because I didn’t want a minute wasted. Get out of the trailer, get to my Dad’s. I told mom that Brad was staying to hunt, and she seemed pleased. This seemed like such a simple decision. 

Breaking News From Highgate Vermont

          A young boy was shot and killed today on Rollo Road. The incident occurred around two pm. The innocent boy’s name was Brad Parker, and according to police investigations, he was shot by a friend. Earlier that day, the young boy was hunting with his cousin. In fact, he had just gotten a deer himself. It appears that a few boys were shooting at squirrels and chipmunks when Brad was shot by his friend Dan. All the boys involved were between fourteen and fifteen years old. Dan told police detective Tom Hango that it was an accident; that he had forgotten about the bullet in the chamber.

What I Was Told at the Table

           Bang. “He’s down, yeah he’s down” said Brad.

           Crunch, crunch through the woods.

          “He’s a good size deer, isn’t he? Can’t wait to show everybody what I got," Brad said to his cousin.

           Mom pushed open the trailer door and asked, “Whatcha got?”

           The young boy said proudly, “One shot, its right here in the back of the truck.”

           “Mom is it okay if I go get Dan so he can see the deer?”

           “Yeah that’s fine.” As Brad walked down to see his friend, his Mom and Todd heard it. Bang, a gunshot rippled through the trees. They thought nothing of it; it was hunting season in Vermont.

 Half hour later a police man knocked on the front door and asked, “Do you have a son that weighs about 175 pounds and is fifteen years old?”

Mom said, “Yes, what’s wrong? Is he ok? Is he in trouble? What’s going on?” The police man paused and then said, “He’s been shot. He’s going to the morgue.” She broke down into tears.

“I’m so, so sorry about what’s happened” the policeman told her.

This Is What I Remember

I always had fun at my Dad’s, but too quickly it was time to go back to the police station and back to the monster; back to the place I hated.

“I don’t want to go back, I want to stay with you” I said.

“I don’t want to go back to Mom’s. We’re always yelled at for things we don’t even do, we get called nasty names and it feels like someone is tearing me apart, ripping my insides out” I said.

“I know you want to live here; you will someday,” said my father.

“Hey look, Nana’s here to pick me up. I wonder why?” I asked. “Okay pumpkin, love you.”

“Okay, love you too Dad.”  

“Hi Nana,” Brandy said. We were sitting in her purple, soft top convertible. Nana always sat on a pillow; she was short. We were listening to ‘Boot Scoot and Boogey’ and she asked, “Hey Brandy, how was your weekend?” “Your mama called me and asked me to come get you, I think something bad happened” said Nana. She thought something bad happened to Brad. We were just getting on the interstate, a lot of trees spun by us. Trees going by and my stomach sank in.  I felt a sharp pain in my chest. All I could picture was my brother getting shot by a bow and arrow. I kept saying in my head, my heart, “This can’t be true.”

I remember sitting down at my Nana’s kitchen table.  My Mom sat next to me, Nana stood bent over with her elbows on the counter. The monster leaned against the cupboard doors. They all knew, and were waiting for our reaction.

That’s when my Mom told us what was wrong. “Brad was shot” she said. I thought she was joking. After she told me, I pushed Mom out of the way and ran to the bathroom. I cried with my face in my hands; I was scared and shocked. I remember heating up, heating up really fast. Mom came over to the bathroom and gave me a hug. Then she started laughing. I still don’t know what was funny. 

It hurt so bad I couldn’t eat for three days.

I count the days backwards, always starting with September 6^th. The Sixth, then the Fifth, then the Fourth, and finally the third.

Angry Even More

Mom told me she got a phone call and had to make a decision right then and there. Someone called her at work, where she took tags off clothes and hung them up. He had some hard questions to ask her. He told her that Brad had lived after the shot but he would be in a wheel chair for the rest of his life. He would need to be fed by somebody, and that he would need special help every day.

Then he asked if she wanted him to stay or should they put him down. Do you have the extra time to spend with him Mom? Did you have the extra money to spend on his medical supplies? Mom, why did you let him go? Wasn’t there a way to find the extra time, the extra money to keep him with us? She told him that she did not want to see him in a wheel chair. She said in a loud tone, “Just put him down.” I’m still not sure if they put something in him, or pulled a plug. 

Innocence Taken Right Out From Under Our Feet

You need to know Brad. You need to know what kind of boy he was. Very smart, loving and caring. He was always there for me, whether I needed him or not. I looked up to him and really he was my only real sibling. Brad was all about sports; basketball, golf and track. My big brother taught me how to shoot the basketball without using “chicken wings.” That’s what elementary gym teacher called it when I put my arms out on the side while shooting a basketball. Brad knew how to shoot, how to tuck his strong arms right out in front, elbows pointing down, swoosh. Even with our fights, Brad and I were close.

But this is very complicated. Dan and Brad were good friends. They always joked with each other. I remember seeing Dan joke with Brad on the bus. On the back of the bus were four seats with papers above the windows. Every time Brad wrote his name on it, Dan would cross off the name. They’d punch each other on the shoulders, laughing. Dan was devastated about what he had done. It was months before he went back to school, and when he did, people’s love for Brad made it hard to forgive Dan. He couldn’t stay on Rollo Road anymore; his family left their nice home and moved into their camp.

Dan I still don’t understand it. I have questions for you. I wonder why you had the gun in the first place. You weren’t supposed to have the gun without your father there. I know it was an accident. I know you didn’t mean to do it, but why was your finger on that trigger? I wish I could change the direction of that gun. Change the direction of the barrel away from Brad, toward the opposite side of the driveway. 

Making My Own Footprints

I count the days backwards, always starting with September 6^th. The Sixth, then the Fifth, then I arrive on the Fourth.

There’s a part of me that’s no longer here. It will never be filled in again. Brad was my body guard. A few weeks after he died, I decided to run away from the monster, the trailer, the screaming, the pain, the loneliness, the shoving, the hitting and the hurt. When I left, I couldn’t look back. It felt like I had two hands on my shoulders pushing me to the neighbors. These hands were pushing me away from the darkness toward a light; a light where I would be less lonely and more safe. Now that Brad is in heaven I am making my own footprints and trust me, it’s hard.

    

Monster, by Brandy. Read by Katy Young

Monster

            Do I change my name?

         Before I started school, my brother and I were asked by Mike if we wanted to change our last name from Parker to Oliver. “No” we told him. He said, “If you change your last name, you wouldn’t have to see your real father.” We both told him no, again. After this, something changed. He was done with us. We wouldn’t take his name; it was unforgivable. When my Mom went to work, he would throw us out the door for hours. He couldn’t stand the sight of us. I was five years old. Ever since that day he has been a monster.

         In December, Mike got his snowmobile stuck, and he had to dig it out with a shovel. In the fall he never put the shovel back under the shed. Instead, he left it in the middle of the lawn. That night it snowed, a heavy wet snow, and the shovel was buried. The next day he didn’t want to go out and look for it. He sent me out in pants and a t-shirt. I had no socks or shoes on; my eight-year old body was so cold. It was a stinging frozen feeling that burned through my skin. He is such a monster.

         Still very cold, walked back to the living room where everybody was. I had almost forgot it was Christmas. I noticed that last Christmas we had a lot of presents but this year it was different. I was wet and cold and said, “ We got more presents last year.” Mike’s words came at me, heavy and mean. I was punished-no supper for a month. I only ate when my friends gave me food. I was trapped inside the trailer at eight. He is an asshole who is a monster who doesn’t deserve to live.

         Summer is here, the weather that I love. I went outside to play with the youngsters and smell the fresh air. Mike had his friend over with his two sons. Mike called me over to meet the boys. It was casual and unsuspecting. “Tackle her to the ground ,” Mike said. Guess what? He got me to the ground; dirt, grass, not remembering and light. Mike walked over and poured Budlight on me. It happened so fast like a blast from a hot mustang. You don’t see it coming but you hear the roar of the engine after it passes you by. The monster got me again.

         It’s eight o’clock and time for bed. The shades are down and closed. The TV is off, the lights are off.  My eyes are wide open hearing Mike and Mom fight; the kind of fights that lead to spitting on each other. My bedroom lights up from headlights that pull into the driveway. I get up to let them know. But instead of “Thank you” Mike shoves me into the washer and hits me. “Liar, liar you had your shade open!” My eyes are shut tight. Where is that awful monster that appears out of nowhere?

         The monster is coming. I guess I will stir up some ice tea to make him nice to me. When he walked through the door, he was his usual ass. He’s saying, “You are stupid. You are fat. You need help.” The name calling, the hitting doesn’t end. This is ongoing. This is every day. I threw the ice tea and shouted, “All I was trying to do was be nice to you”. All I got in return were insults and shame. He never liked me. For the one thousand seven hundredth time he told me, “Pack your shit and get out”. He got in my face and screamed it. I ran to my bedroom, grabbed money (five hundred dollars in cash exactly), two pairs of pants, a couple of shirts, underwear, bras, socks, my school notebooks and homework, and my big white polar teddy bear.

         I left the monster. I went to my neighbors and as I ran to their house I felt something pushing at my back, something keeping me going. I called the one person who cared about me, who showed me he was going to be there no matter what. I called my real father. Super Daddy saved me at last. The monster is gone, gone, gone.