Persephone Sings

Looking at my life now you would never guess that my teen years were fraught with abuse, victimization, and a series of traumas that few people could come back from. But I am a strong person and I had some help along the way.

My life is good now, but It wasn’t always so.

My name is Emily Forster. It used to be Doussaint, the name I was born with. Doussaint is French, and though I’ve been, I was born in America, In Minnesota. In the present moment, I am in Italy. Rome to be exact. I’ve lived alot in all my years - seen a lot. I make my living writing mystery novels under the name Ken Foster - that is a story in itself. Ever since I can remember, I have wanted to be a writer. I did well in school, and my writing has always been praised by a few people. I have done quite well with my writing in the past few decades but it wasn’t always so.

You see, it’s been difficult, as far as I can see, for women to get anywhere in the work world. It’s gotten better, way better than when I was a kid, but we could still do with some changes. When I was a kid in the 50′s, a girl could expect to grow up, get married, take care of a home, husband, and 2.3 children in a house in the suburbs with a white picket fence. The highlight of her life was when they invented new kitchen tools to make her life “easier.”

I never wanted any of those things. Call me different, contrary, weird, but my goal in life was to be a writer, an author, and to live on my own, travel the world without anyone telling me what to do and how to do it. Or in the case of my own family, a husband who ignored his wife and kids and cared about no one but himself and the wife getting tired of that and bored so she leaves. I mean, why even bother getting married if you’re just going to do your own thing anyway?

I also decided that when I began to write I would use a Nom De Plume. I use a man’s name so I can get further with my writing, and more publishers may pay attention if they think I am a man. Just once I got my foot in the door. After my books started selling real well, it wasn’t even an issue anymore, but I kept the name anyway.

In the beginning of my life, you could say that things were well. Perfect, in fact. My mom and dad met and married in June of 1941. They both lived in Minneapolis, Minnesota and after they married, they moved to Castle Rock because they wanted to be in a small town. Dad drives a big truck and it has him traveling all the time and while he made a lot of money, he was never really home much. I suppose thats why mom started drinking after they had been together a few years and then she was going out all the time and meeting guys. I don’t really have proof of this, it’s just the story I always heard growing up. Dad was a rugged man, tall, slim, with thinning brown hair and a slight limp from a truck accident he had early in in his job. My mother was a little plump, but still a ‘looker’ as she had described herself, blonde poofy hair and curvacious. Many men had turned their heads when we went into town and dad didn’t like it one bit.

The year was 1963, April, and I had just turned 16. I lived with my older sister Janine and my dad in Castle Rock, Minnesota. My mom left us when my sister Janine was 16 and I was 12. My dad had a hard time keeping track of us. I tried to keep to my studies, but my sister was always having fun, going to parties and sometimes she let me come. Dad was always working, so he couldn’t really keep us from going.

I never thought I was really too much to look at. I was short, about 5 foot 4. Mousy brownish hair that actually looked a little red when the sun hit it just right. I usually kept it in a ponytail because it was so long it always got in my face. I had a round nose and brown eyes and fat cheeks that always looked like I had something in my mouth.

Janine I thought was much prettier, and she worked it for all she could. Boys were always calling on her and when she got out of high school and started going to college a town over, there were boys we never even knew about. I don’t think she really liked any of them, she was just in it for whatever she could get. My mom always told her girls like that never get married, they are always ‘sideline’ girls. In other words, mistresses that keep a man happy, but don’t get the ring and the house. She had short black hair that she kept a bow or ribbon in, she was tall and thin and always dressed well. She just seemed to know more about fashion than I did.

It was a small town we lived in so everyone knew our situation, but no one really did anything for us. Or rather, for me. I was kind of an outcast as I didn’t fit the idea of ‘normal’ in society. As for my family, while there are more single fathers who take good care of their kids today, it wasn’t really the thing in the 60′s for men to take care of kids. I guess we didn’t have much of a choice, or maybe dad thought mom would come back, so he tried to keep us all together. Not that that mattered much, he was always driving so we didn’t see much of him anyway.

My sister, Janine, was almost 19 and she was going to Carleton College in nearby Northfield. She was studying to be a teacher, but from the way she goofed off and partied, plus with the way things had gone I would say she was only going to get away from home and be on her own. I do hear that college is the place where you have all that fun, so it’s a surprise to me that anyone actually graduates and enters the work world.

It was at one of these parties that my life ended and yet, it was the beginning of my life too.

It was Spring Break, and a party was always planned for those who could not get away to tropical locations. Janine was going of course, and dad had to deliver stuff, so of course I begged Janine to take me with her. I wasn’t going to sit at home all alone while fun was being had.

Northfield is about a 10 minute drive from us, pretty slow going and boring sometimes, since all there is to see are farms. Just pop into Northfield, cross the 2nd street bridge and there you go. It’s a pretty big campus, not really like a huge university like state college, but it’s a fairly good exercise routine.

So here it is, Friday night and we took our drive to the college because Janine was picking up a couple of her friends. We had an old beat up pick-up truck she used to get to classes. Dad picked it up from a friend who bought a new vehicle. After that, we are going to a farm that some guy she goes to class with lives on.

I anticipated a fun night after begging Janine to let me come, but I had a feeling deep in my gut that this was not what I should be doing. But like most teenagers left to their own devices, I ignored that small voice. And like what usually happens, I should have listened. But what will happen, will happen, and I probably would not be where I am today if it hadn’t.

I sat quietly in the truck as Janine drove, wrestling with my inner voice as it told me not to go, and my lonely teenage mind arguing back that I had nothing better to do and I wanted to have some fun.

As we pulled up to the college, her friends were waiting in the parking lot. I was ‘encouraged’ to move into the back of the pickup so her friends could sit with her. So much for sisterly love. She never really had much for me anyway. She didn’t really pay much attention to me when we were growing up and when mom left, it was non-existent, it was like I was invisible.

We didn’t have far to go to the farm the party was on. It was a large enough property with barns, house, cornfield, the works. There was a huge pile of logs and hay for a bonfire when the sun set, and lots of kids already milling around. My stomach was starting to hurt with the feeling that I had, but I figured I could quiet it with some beer and conversation.

Janine parked on the grass next to some other vehicles and we all got out and headed to the bonfire area. I noticed some people were looking at me and I barely heard Janine explaining that our dad worked all the time, wasn’t home, I begged to tag along, blah, blah, blah. She figured that I would be left all alone while she hung out with her friends and had fun, and I would not only be bored, but perhaps never ask to come along again. Oh, how wrong she was. Oh, I would not ask to come with her again, but not because no one talked to me.

Dusk was quickly approaching and more people were showing up. It seemed like the whole college was there! I wondered if there would even be enough beer for everyone, but it seems like some brought their own, which was nice, I guess.

As the sun set and some of these kids were kind of stumbling around, I was afraid that someone was going to fall over or into the bonfire, which was now burning brightly and high into the evening sky. But everyone seemed to be having such a good time, I forgot about that and walked over to a cooler someone had brought and grabbed a beer.

As I opened it and took a drink, a hand stopped me.

“You know you’ll have to pay for that, don’t you?” I looked up to see a very serious looking boy looking sternly at me as we both held the beer bottle.

He was a college boy of course, he looked old enough to be, tall, a few muscles on him, short sandy colored hair and a smile that could melt you. His jeans lookd just a little big and his light blue shirt looked more for working than partying.

“OH!” I managed to stammer out, “I-I’m sorry.....I didn’t know....I am here with Janine...”

He released his grip on the bottle and laughed. “No, no. I’m just messin’ with ya.” My name is John....John McDonald. This is my folk’s house. So you’re a friend of Janine?”

I looked down at the ground and blushed. “She’s my sister.” I looked back up. He was grinning like the Cheshire cat and seemed friendly. The beer was getting to me and I was loosening up, vocally and physically. I hunched to one side, putting all my weight on my left foot. “She’s nice enough to bring me along for the fun, since my dad works. She’s around here somewhere.” I looked around, feeling a bit nervous, hoping I could see her so she could see me, but I didn’t see her anywhere and since it was getting pretty dark, it was hard to see much of anyone who wasn’t by the bonfire.

John took a swig from his beer and pointed at me using the beer hand. “so, uh.....you got a name, Janine’s sister?” His grin was getting weirder, smaller, but still there. I wondered how many beers he had had since the party started but I dismissed that. After all, everyone was drinking.

I took a deep breath and blurted out, “EMILY!” as I belched at the same time. He started laughing so hard he fell to his knees and his beer spilled on the ground. Some other people who were close to us heard and they started laughing too. I was mortified, but I laughed nervously and held up my bottle. ” Thanks, folks. You’re a great crowd, I’ll be here all week.” At first I was pretty embarrassed, but I was not only getting attention, but positive attention. Well, sort of. After years of mom mostly ignoring us and dad working all the time so he didn’t have to deal with raising 2 teenage girls, it felt nice to have people acknowledge that I even existed.

I liked having positive attention. Especially from a boy. I didn’t get much attention at school either, since I was kind of a bookworm. Boys don’t really like smart girls, at least that’s what I have been told. And I figured I had better keep up my studies, it might be the only way I was getting out of this little town.

I was about to do an encore presentation of my act when Janine came stalking up to me and grabbed my arm. “What do you think you’re doing?” She hissed into my face, wrenching my wrist so hard It was already bruising. “These are MY friends! Understand? I didn’t even want to bring you here and now you’re acting all crazy and they are laughing at you and they know you’re MY sister!” I pried her fist from my arm and pushed her. “What the hell is wrong with you? I’m not even bothering you and you don’t own ME or these people! I can talk to who I want and DO what I WANT!”

Most of the kids had backed off while this was happening and I could also tell that Janine was drunk. So drunk she probably didn’t know what she was saying, but that didn’t matter. It still stung. She was supposed to be on MY side, helping me, protecting me. But she was just like mom and dad, didn’t want to be saddled with responsibilty and just wanted to have fun. We were pretty much on our own and now - I was on MY own it seemed.

I was even beginning to fantasize about what it would be like, out on my own, no one to answer to but myself when John put his arm on Janine’s shoulder. “Hey - We’re ALL friends here. You need to cool down, girl. This is no way to talk to your sister. Maybe you should go sit down for a bit.” She moved back and threw his arm off and stumbled back over to a picnic table and sulked, nursing another beer she had grabbed. A few other people sat with her, some to try to calm her down, and some to agree with her that younger siblings were pests and they wished they didn’t follow you around.

John turned to me and put his hand on my hand. “I’m real sorry you have to deal with that. I understand how older sisters can be. She’s just had too much to drink. Everything will be better tomorrow, she will apologize, you’ll see.”

I shook my head and sighed. “I don’t know. I think she’s jealous because I seem to be making friends and she considers you guys to be her friends, since you all go to college together. She doesn’t pay any attention to me when we’re at home, either. I thought she was MY friend, that she had my back, y’know? Like my life doesn’t suck enough.”

I was starting to feel the effects of the beer and I felt so bad about the way Janine had treated me, in front of so many people, I just didn’t understand why she would do that. Tears had started to form in my eyes and slide down my face. I leaned against a tree that had a tire swing hanging from it. John was still there, listening to everything I had to say. He was so nice to listen even though he didn’t have to. I let my guard down and I felt like I could trust him, though I didn’t have any experience with many trustworthy people.

“I’m sorry,” I sniffled, wiping my eyes with my shirt. “You don’t want to hear about my life.” “Actually, I do. It’s partially a selfish motivation.” He said, looking down at the ground then back up at me. “You see, I am a psychology major and I would love to analyze what you have to say about your life.”

I smiled and sat on the ground, and he sat next to me. For the next hour, or it could have been longer, I recounted my whole life. How dad worked all the time to avoid us. How mom walked out on us after years of cheating and ignoring us. How my sister seemed to be treating me like a responsibility to be avoided at all costs. Sure, I had a few friends at school, but mostly, if you have severe problems at home, people usually look the other way and try to avoid you. Because after all, if bad things are happening to you, it might rub off and cause bad luck for others. That’s about as stupid as the whole ‘you’re a witch, she’s a witch, everyone’s a witch, let’s burn them’ craze in Salem in the 1600′s. (I read as much as I can find on unusual history. The stuff that deals with witches, demons, ghosts, aliens and all that. That and my eventual mystery writing was what I tried to learn about).

Having lived through all that, I can tell you I wished that there had been support groups and information for people who needed help, and I am so glad that they have them now.

But, as with everything else, every generation and every era has its own problems to deal with. This was just mine, at least for now. Soon I would have many more problems to deal with. Much more than any person should be expected to handle.

“I gotta go hit the little boys room.” John said, using the tree to help him stand up. It was obvious he enjoyed a few too many beers, just like everyone else at this party. I wondered what his parents thought of this, if they were even home, but hey, my parents didn’t care about me, so it was hard for me to believe that some parents actually care about their children and what they do.

Janine had been pouting over having been told to cool down, and I wondered how she was doing so far. I looked over and saw her in the middle of a group of boys, and she seemed to be happy. She caught a look at me looking at her and she raised her beer can and smiled smugly at me. She got what she wanted after all, the attention that I had been getting. While I liked the attention, I wasn’t trying to steal it from anyone else, just trying to have fun and be nice. That’s what you do at parties, right?

I was starting to get a little nervous and I was hoping that John would be back soon. I kept looking for him, but I still saw no one coming from the house. It was very late and I wanted to go over and ask Janine when we were leaving, but she was still surrounded by a bunch of people.

When the crowd left her to go do other things, I walked over to her. “Umm....Janine? I was just wondering how much longer we were staying? We should probably be getting home.”

Janine glared angrily at me and started to read me the riot act again, but then she got a strange look in her eyes and stopped. It was as if she still was mad at me, but then suddenly remembered something. I could tell she was still drunk, though. Somehow, I didn’t feel like everything was right. I still felt the uneasiness I had felt all evening. And it was getting worse. I just wanted to go home, crawl into my bed and get some sleep.

I was going to walk away and see if I could find John, maybe talk to him for a while until she was ready to go when she grabbed my arm.

“I am almost ready but I need to get my stuff out of the barn. Come with me.”