Judgement Day

(This takes place when I am fourteen years old. My father has full custody of me, and for good reason. I’m visiting my mother, and she and her boyfriend take me to the mall with them. I’m a huge lover of animals and always want to stop in at the local pet shop that has puppies and various other critters up for adoption. All the animals, except for puppies, are kept in unlocked cages so that customers can handle the animals, so long as they’re 18 or older. I can’t wait until I am old enough. I stand by as my mother lifts a ferret out of its cage, and I start petting it along with her.)

Mom: “Oh! You’re so cute! I wish I could take you home.”

Mom’s Boyfriend: *laughs* “Do it. Just stick it in your purse.”

(It’s obvious that he’s joking, but my mother does a quick look around and really does shove the ferret into the large purse she’s carrying!)

Me: *completely shocked, but keeping my voice down* “Mom!”

Mom: “Come on; it’s time to leave.” *starts heading for the exit*

Me: “You can’t!”

Mom: “Shh! Let’s go.”

(I glance at the employees, but they’re all busy. I’m about ready to shout and cause a scene, until a conversation I had with my father just a few weeks ago pops into my head and I can practically hear him shouting, “We don’t turn in family!” At the time, he was referring to some issues with my cousin stealing from us, because he is not a fan of involving the police. As I am now, I’d make sure my mother was caught for this, but at fourteen, I don’t. I storm off ahead of her and make sure she knows I am angry about it. A huge fight ensues, during which I hear some great gems from her.)

Mom: “Do you want me to turn it back in and get caught? Do you want me to get arrested? If that happens, I’ll never get your sister back.”

(My half-sister — not my father’s daughter, just to clarify, as people have asked why he didn’t have custody — was taken by CPS just a couple months ago.)

Me: “If you want to get her back, how about not breaking the law?! This is why they took her from you in the first place!”

Mom: “You’re judging me the same way your aunt judges you!”

Me: “My aunt judges me because I dress like a goth, not by what I do!”

Mom: “Well… Because of the way you dress, she thinks you do bad things!”

(I stopped arguing with her, because I figured that if a fourteen-year-old could see the major hole in that defense, there was no point in explaining it to an adult. My mother continued on with her own tirade, though, during which she took the cell phone from me when I tried to call my father to explain why I needed to come home early and announced that this must be the end of our relationship. Sadly, it wasn’t. I put up with her for several more years before I finally cut her out of my life for about a decade. Now that I’m thirty and better able to handle her, we’re speaking again on a superficial basis, mostly to help myself to move on from some unresolved issues and anger I’ve had towards her. And by the way, I’m pretty sure she’s the reason why that pet shop now has locks on all their cages.)