Free The Lost Daughter: A Memoir by Mary Williams Page B

seeing them each year.
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    School was the closest thing I had to a safe haven outside of Laurel Springs. But it too became dodgy when I entered puberty. I was tall for my age, and to my abject horror I was developing sooner than the other girls. When I started growing breasts, the few girls I called friends singled me out for bullying because of it. On more than one occasion my hall locker was set on fire. The arsonist would squeeze lighter fluid between the air vents in the locker door and follow it up with a lit match. I got into physical fights with the boys, too, who made fun of my developing body. One boy made the mistake of copping a feel in the hall between classes only to find himself gasping for air in a headlock after I wrestled him to the ground. A male teacher also took notice and I had to look out for his groping hands and scanning eyes. I resorted to wearing baggy clothes and a jacket even on the hottest of days to hide the hateful new body that I believed was out to destroy me.
    I envied the girls whose bodies remained as curveless as a boy’s. They didn’t have to worry about being betrayed by boobs and hips set on drawing negative attention like a picnic drew ants. My new wiggly parts prevented me from participating in games I loved, like baseball and basketball, because that involved running and jumping. The worst part was feeling that I could not talk to anyone about my problems. Personal problems were not shared in my family, especially if they were related to sex. Having problems that one couldn’t solve on one’s own was a sign of weakness, and I’d learned from an early age not to show weakness. One of the worst things you could be called in my neighborhood was a punk, which was someone incapable of defending themselves.
    Mama was drunk nearly every day and I did my best to stay out of her way by heading straight to my room after school or visiting Uncle Landon and Aunt Jan. My remaining sisters looked for more permanent solutions to the problems at home. Teresa was enrolled in college, Louise devised a different plan. When home became unbearable for Louise, she moved out and, in the process, dropped out of school. I didn’t know where she’d gone and pined for her because she was my best friend. About a week after she’d gone, she showed up at school one day and told me she was living in the basement of an empty house. I could see she was quite proud of herself for finding her own place to live even though it was a basement. I was glad to know she was OK and eagerly accepted her invitation to visit her place after school.
    I was expecting a dank, dark basement in a run-down, abandoned house but it turned out to be in a newer home that for some reason was empty. The room was dry and had windows that provided natural light. The floor was smooth concrete and she’d managed to furnish it: stacked cinder blocks and a piece of wood with a cloth over it was a table, a few beanbag chairs to sit on, a piece of carpet remnant for the floor and several layers of comforters on the floor for her bed. I was actually jealous of her setup and would have moved in with her, but I was scared of sleeping there at night because she had no electricity. She only lived in the basement for a few weeks, after which she enrolled herself in Job Corps and moved out of state, where she eventually would work for a GED and learn a trade.
    I had no plan of escape. It was my summers at Laurel Springs that enabled me to get through the stresses of my life in Oakland. Even when I wasn’t attending camp, just looking forward to camp each summer kept me motivated. I was also staying in contact with Jane and my camp counselors via letters. Their communiqués were always encouraging and I relied heavily on them to keep me feeling good about myself because they were always full of praise. They helped to keep me from internalizing the verbal abuse I was receiving from my mother, who was keen to call me worthless,