5. The Liminal Life

I decided to live at home with my mother and little brother (then 16) when I came home from Australia. I almost signed a subletting agreement for an apartment in Burlington but backed out after “creeping” the roommates facebooks. They were sorority type girls. I didn’t want to even try to make it work there out of fear of rejection. There was a two week time period I told her I would live there before I backed out - months before I was supposed to actually move in. I felt really guilty about this, but took the advice from friends telling me I didn’t sign a lease yet so I don’t owe her anything. My family guilted me about backing out, my grandmother asked me “Do you ever see her around campus?”, referring to the girl I screwed over. I’ve been in a situation trying to find a sublet since then and I get it, it’s really stressful. But I was not about to move into that place and risk having the same situation happen all over again. I wasn’t sure I could handle that.

I should note that after my Freshman year of college I lost all of my financial aid. I couldn’t figure it out. I thought that it was a scam that Universities pull. They offer a lot of aid and grants, work study, etc. the first year and then take it all away after you’ve been there for a year. So, with each of my parents still paying $5,000 a year for my school I had to take out more loans. Living on campus didn’t make much sense anymore. Because I had no friends to live with, and I had the experience of living in Australia where most people live at home while in college I thought I should just live at home, even if there was conflict.

My mother and I have had a fraught relationship ever since I hit puberty. Before that we were fine roommates. I was a very emotional child and she did her best to meet my needs as somewhat of an emotionally stunted person herself. Now, the conflict, or tension that I could cut with a knife, was the fact that for her I was a constant reminder of her fading youth; her regrets of marrying my dad so young and getting engaged to him so quickly. Now as a divorced woman in her 40s, she had a need to figure out how to be a sexual person in the world approaching middle age. My father was a very hard person to be married to, and I never faulted her for getting divorced or grappling with her life choices. However I did hate how much she resented me for being a 21 year old woman with her life ahead of her, and for having boobs that hadn’t sagged yet and a fast metabolism. She resented me every time she looked at me. I wanted my mother to be happy for me, and to be excited for my life ahead of me. Instead I just felt guilty for existing and reminding her of her regrets.

She would constantly compare herself to me. I would be shaving my legs and she’d state she needs to lose weight. She would walk into the kitchen and tell my brother and I “I am about to go on a date with a 35 year old”. She would make it a point to make sure I knew she could date men in my dating pool. I hated this, and I was terrified about what would happen if I brought a boyfriend home, however low of a chance of that happening. How long would she wait to hit on him? However, that wouldn’t be a problem, I could never date a man.

Our car mechanic was probably around 30, and loved the attention my mother gave him. She would bring her minivan to the mechanic for “a weird noise it’s making”. He’d bring it for a drive and return it to her stating it is in fact not making a weird noise, and flirt with her some more. We dog sat for him at the drop of a hat. He had an English Mastiff, named Dozer, who was the BEST DOG IN THE WORLD. I’d watch as he dropped his dog off at our house and my mother would look at him with her doe eyes and say “it’s no problem, anytime”. I did love that dog though.

One time when he dropped his dog off I was smoking a cigarette outside of our garage and he was talking to me about how he used to smoke and he thinks it’s disgusting now. “Cool, that’s great” I responded. My mother loved this. She then walked by me and said “gross” with a smirk on her face. I was just silent and returned the half smile.

My little brother had a more difficult time with my parents divorce. My dad decided he could go in and out of my brother’s life whenever he pleased. They went years without talking throughout my brother’s childhood. I tried so hard to tell my dad he was being terrible in the most gentle way I could. If I wasn’t gentle then he would hate me too. Now, as a 33 year old woman I say fuck that, this guy is being an asshole. But when I was a teenager I didn’t have anyone saying this to me, and I tried to placate him so he wouldn’t hate me too. I went a couple years when I was a teen not speaking to my dad because he wouldn’t see my brother. I wasn’t ever sure and am still not sure how much my brother knew the truth about what was happening. I tried my best to look out for my brother and make sure his needs were being met. I also told myself that was part of the reason I went to college so close to home, but maybe I was just scared of leaving. 

At this time in my life I spoke to my dad because I needed him to pay for my college. I could not tell him I was dating a girl because I was afraid he would stop paying for my school. It was a delicate balance. Weigh his needs with the dynamic with my brother, not share too much about my life but give him enough, make sure he agrees to pay for school. It was exhausting. 

It is interesting how much we hold women accountable for parenting and not men. My mother lived with us, fed us, and did the everyday parenting things like drive us to hockey practice and grocery shop. While my dad did nothing but pay child support and get drunk in public. I felt for her so much. 

While I felt for her, it was hard to not tell her what I was thinking all the time when she said fucked up shit. Also not fair to her, because I wouldn’t even dream of telling my dad what I actually think of him, he would drop me from his life in a second. She had huge ideas, like wanting to move her and my brother to St. Johnsbury - a town two hours away from where we grew up, for the last two years of Cieran's high school. She wanted to be a cool farm woman, because the man she was dating at the time lived there and had a farm. I told her she can absolutely not do this, everything and everyone Cieran knows is here, and he has two years of his high school left. “I just always remember him being so good with animals” was her response. Then she would talk about moving to Colorado, and started crying because I told her she can’t right now, she had children. I felt the resentment that we were the ones holding her back from living her best life. She told me that I wasn’t looking out for Cieran, this was about me wanting her there for me. Maybe that was true, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that I felt like my brother’s world was crumbling around him. This felt like torture for me. I felt so guilty for existing and being the one to crush my mothers dreams. I also felt it was a huge burden to make sure Cieran was cared for. Other 21 year olds I met didn’t have these worries of being unwanted, and I hated feeling alone.

Ryan had a friend, Toby, who’s older sister was in my class in grade school. I didn’t know much about her other than that she moved out west in middle school. Toby and his mother were homeless and needed a place to live. My mother offered them a place to stay, no questions asked. We had a spare bedroom and an extra bed in Cieran's room. This type of giving is something I’ve always admired about my mother. She would talk about how friends would stay at her house during her childhood when things were messed up in their lives when she was growing up, and she wanted to do the same.

The dynamic however turned sour when my mom agreed to let Toby’s mother, Susie, help out around the house. It soon became Susie who did everyone’s laundry, cooking, and cleaning. It felt like we had a live-in maid. I asked Susie how she was feeling about everything and she would brush me off with gratitude that my mother is giving her a place to rest her head.

I was ready to leave by the time summer was approaching. I decided to move to Chattanooga Tennessee with Clara for the summer.