The three of us were sitting on a brick wall. It was a low wall, short enough for my 9-year old brother to hop onto, yet tall enough that all of our feet dangled as we sat. The park that surrounded us was nondescript – a large grassy area, the street adjacent, homes on three sides. The evening was quiet, dark. There was a dampness in the air that seemed to muffle sights and sounds. My older sister''s comforting voice penetrated the quiet air and rested soothingly on my brother and me.
Looking into the darkness over the green grass, I knew my mother and step-father were out there somewhere. But, it was no longer important. I was 16-years old and spending the summer in Europe. I was with my brother and sister. I was now relaxed. I was no longer thinking about what had happened 15 minutes before.
Fifteen minutes before, we were driving through a quiet French neighborhood outside of Paris. Our mustard colored Volkswagen camper van had been home to the five of us for the last six weeks. My step-father was driving and we were lost. Again. My mother was sitting in the passenger seat; an ineffective navigator futilely directing an egotistic pilot.
My European journey started in London, England. My mom, step-father, sister Sue, and brother Travis had arrived a week earlier and had already been to Germany to pick up the van. We spent our time traveling from country to country (13 in all), visiting people we knew (or had just met) and seeing the sites. Although we occasionally stayed at someone''s house, most of our evenings were spent in the van eating cheese and bread from the local bakery. It had seemed so romantic at the start, and then reality set in.Traveling in close quarters for that amount of time would be difficult for anyone. Add a step-father who rivals any fairy tale step-mother and it''s even worse.
On this particular evening, we were headed to Paris and seemingly driving in circles. We''d been driving for a long time that day. We were tired, hungry, and just plain worn out. Sue and Travis were sitting in the back seat. I was sitting on the floor between the front and the back seats. Travis was quietly crying to Sue, who, as the oldest sibling, was always the caretaker, the peacekeeper, the compassionate one. Travis, the baby of the family, was sad because he''d been away from home for so long. He missed his home, his friends, his routine. Sue was letting him talk, and comforting him with her presence and her words.
Suddenly, my step-father snapped back at Travis to be quiet. He was almost yelling, as if Travis'' crying was why we were lost. According to my step-father, one of us was always to blame for something, and yelling was his most common form of communication.
I am the baby girl of the family. I have two older sisters. I''m the quiet one, always keeping to myself, not letting my emotions show. Tonight, though, enough was enough! I told my step-father to leave my brother alone.
He''s just a kid and he''s sad. My step-father then started yelling at me and telling me to shut up. I refused – I had to defend my little brother.
"EITHER SHUT UP OR GET OUT OF THE CAR!"
"FINE, I''ll get out of the car," was my defiant reply.
My step-father jerked the van to the side of the road and said, "GET OUT."
"Fine!" I got out of the van. My step-father got out of the van and came towards me, yelling. My mother got out of the van, yelling at my step-father. My brother and sister got out of the van, crying. Believe me, I was crying too, but I was ready to hold my ground. My mother got my step-father''s attention and they started yelling at each other. They were standing alongside the van. Their voices got louder, our tears got wetter. I watched as my step-father raised his clenched fist. It started shaking, shaking, ready to strike. He swung –his fist made a last-minute detour and it hit the side of the van. BANG – BANG – BANG.
The next thing I knew my mother and step-father were walking into the darkness. My mother was trying to talk some sense into him. Even if I could hear them, I wouldn''t know what they were saying. I was shaking, crying. Travis was shaking, crying. Sue was crying – but quickly went into protector mode. She walked us to the nearby wall where we sat and talked. I have no idea what we talked about. I do remember, though, my sister telling us it would be alright, calming us down. Eventually the conversation turned to happier things. Trivial things. Forgettable things. The sadness, the anger, drained away and we were just three siblings spending time together. Fifteen minutes had gone by.
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