All of this must seem so sensational and quite unbelievable; this is how my life has been with my mother since I can remember. I was born on April 29, 1965 at Children’s Hospital in San Francisco, California. My father and mother had two other children, by older sister Tammy and my brother Eddie. We lived in an apartment on Hemway Terrace a couple of blocks away form the Pan Handle. We moved to 815 Balboa Street an old two story shingled house. They split up not to long after I was born, I remember my Dad when he used to leave for work. The bus stop was right up the street, he used to get on and the bus would stop right in front of the house and he would yell out the window, see you later alligator and I called back in a while crocodile. He was a funny man, who used to make me laugh. Before they broke up I remember these parties, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. My brother, sister and I would sit at the top of the stairs just before they made a turn to go up to the second floor and watch what was going on. They would talk back and forth and I got to watch. People would come in the door and right by the door was a skinny table with a round large glass gold fish bowl. They would drop their keys in the bowl and come into the house. We had a pretty good view of the front room, people bustling around with Martini glasses in their hand. I would ask the occasional question and my sister would hold her finger to her mouth and say SSHHHHH, she always kind of spit when she did this. We would always be shewed off to bed so we did not really see much more of what would happen after that.
The next thing you know they are fighting, yelling and screaming, banging, slamming. My sister grabs me and sneaks me off to our hiding place, well one of them anyway. I was in this enormous linen closet, at the other end of this closet were these huge drawers but instead of pulling them out they had a door that would swing out. The hinges were across the bottom part of it, she would pull it open and push me in and then climb in herself, and she would then pull the door shut. It was very cozy, she would make sure we had quilts to sit on and I always had a pillow. She would say be quiet and I would say why, I must have been terrible at whispering, because again with the finger in front of her face, Sshh, Why? I would say only to be followed with a louder Sshh and the second time always had more spit, I remember the smell of the cabinet, thick with the smell of wood, I thought it was redwood, but that’s because the wood was red. The screaming and yelling continued but was more muffled except when the closet door opened, then it would slam again. They never found us, I used to think my sister was the best at hiding; most times I would fall asleep. I think that is when I first recall my sister shaking, like she was cold but I knew she wasn’t cold. I never really knew what we were hiding from, I mean what would have happened had we not been hiding, she seemed too though.
My Dad was in his room packing his bag, I asked him where he was going and could I go with him. No FooFoo, you have to stay here but I am not going far, just around the corner. Why? Your Mommy and I need some time apart but I will be back, don’t worry. He never did come back, he left and the yelling stopped and turned into preaching. I was not allowed in my mothers room anymore, but I had learned how to hide, as I had an excellent teacher. Mom had this huge closet, she hung her clothes on either side of the door and if you pushed through the clothes on the right hand side there was a pocket of space that I fit in. You would never know I was there looking into the closet but I could see through into the room, the side of the door that had hinges allowed just enough of a crack to peer through. I used to make sure I was tucked behind the shoes that were on the floor so I blended with them and the dirty clothes just in front of them hide any sign of me.
This one time that I had hidden any Mom’s closet I saw a sight that I had never seen before. I was waiting for it to be quiet enough for me to be able to take a peak and see if the coast was clear for me to leave my hiding spot. Normally I would hear Mom talking to whom ever it was that day, she was normally in her bed propped up with her head against the headboard of the bed. The man or woman she would be speaking to, would be sitting on the edge of the bed or knelt beside it. Sometimes there would be more than one person but not often. This one time that I am speaking of was the exception to the rule. I immediately new that I had made a mistake to hide on this day, because I heard so many different voices in the room. I was afraid because the voices were coming from right outside of the closet door, which meant their was someone very close to me, one wrong move I could be discovered. The shuffle of footsteps and then I heard Mom talking and going into the sort of chant/prayer, I knew that I would be in there for a long time. I am not sure how long I was in the closet before I decided to take a look, to see if the coast was clear, seemed like forever. I leaned forward trying not to make noise and peered through the crack in the door
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