This is blog of a woman who didn't know what she wanted and so chased after dreams and men in search of the answers...drunken hilarity ensued. Then one day she met a man who was everything she wanted, but he wasn't so sure. Then she did the unthinkable; after they broke up she gave him this blog address and she let him into her mind as well as her heart. Unbelievably, even after sorting through the sordid archives of failed relationships, one night stands and her lusty (and embarassing) pursuit to secure the heart of a certain young line cook, John somehow managed to fall in love with her too. Melina and John were married a little over six months after they started dating, running away to Las Vegas to seal the deal. You can imagine what the over/under bet was to see if they'd even make it a year!! Over a year later and they are still going strong...this blog has become their story. Need to tell me something? Email me at Melinalovesjohnny at gmail dot com
Check out my other blogs:
Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.

Sunday, May 08, 2005
The Other Half Of The Equation
To all the mothers out there, "Happy Mother's Day!" Today, my mom has to work but I'm making her dinner this evening. It really won't be that much of a treat for her because I'm not the best cook in the world but if the weather holds up I'll do some grilling, then perhaps she'll get something edible.

I've written a lot about my dad but I never really write about my mom. It's probably because my dad was a force of nature in my life and my mom, well she was the palm tree that weathered the storm. On the news you never hear about the palm tree, but you always hear about the storm. I guess it's time to pay tribute to my ma. [Do not confuse "the biker" with my dad, the "biker" is just the other half of my double helix]

My mother was strikingly beautiful, like double take gorgeous. Or at least that's what I always thought and today, she's still beautiful. She had me when she was eighteen. She told me she considered having an abortion and going to college; she even went to the clinic...but she never sat down in the seat. She walked in, and walked out (she didn't just openly tell me this, I asked). She hid the pregnancy for several months from her very catholic family and when she finally told them; they told her that she had to leave--and that she was bringing shame onto the family. She packed up only a few things, leaving anything that her family had bought for her and moved almost two hours away from the only town she had ever lived in to be with the baby's father. A decision that she would not have made if she didn't have to leave town.

Gone was the sleepy life of living in an old coal she was living with a biker (at first it was exciting and it was what she wanted). A biker in an outlaw gang. She was surrounded by drugs, violence, guns and instability, but did not partake in any of it. She was subjected to being paraded about as an "accomplishment" for the Biker. Even pregnant, women were envious of her and narrowed their eyes in slits and their men tried talking to her or to touch her whenever they caught her in a room alone. She tried never to be in a room alone. The Biker was a jealous man, and the meth and other drugs that circulated in his system helped him to turn his jealousy into full on rage. He hit her. Often. Usually in the face because he enjoyed the fact that he could temporarily mar her beauty.

My mother was a strong woman, but she was without options. She was eighteen, she had no home, she had no friends, and she was nine months pregnant. She stayed with The Biker. After the baby was born she thought she would try talking to her parents who would never accept her collect calls. The Biker wanted to marry her. Actually, he wanted to keep her and if marriage was the cage to do it, then that's what he would do. My mother didn't want to make him angry so she asked him to wait. Wait until after the baby, wait until their lives "stabilized" (as if it ever could), she was buying time. For what? She didn't know yet. And then it happened.

The Biker was out with his friends raising hell and having a good time. I don't know the details but something caused a bartender to go on a shooting spree. It is said that he mistook the bikers for another gang but I have no idea. He shot six people. The Biker was hit in the spine. My mother went to visit him in the hospital nearly every day. My dad was the man who had to drive her every day (it was his duty as one of the Biker's "bros"). My dad had always liked my mom but he had always kept his respectful distance. He never acted as the other men had. Whenever he came to the house he always had a present for me...a stuffed animal, a bib that said, "Spoiled Rotten" just random little things. Every day that he drove her around, he fell more and more in love with her. He dealt with this secret for months. He was happy with the fact that they became friends. Until one day she kissed him on the cheek good night when he brought her home from the hospital. He told me that his head swam, and that he felt giddy from a kiss on the cheek.

The Biker was in pain. Although he was partially paralyzed there was something else going on (I don't know the details) and he was in constant pain. Whenever my mom went to visit him, he told her that he loved her, that he wanted to have more children with her, that she was the most beautiful woman in the world and that he was sorry for everything that he did. My mother cried for him. She felt pity for him but she found out that she didn't love him, and she cried for herself as well.

The Biker died not long after that. He officially died from a detached blood clot--although it has been mentioned that he decided he wanted to die and that his "boys" brought in enough drugs for him to OD. I don't know the truth, and I don't necessarily care. My mother was again alone, aside from me. The Biker's house was placed into the hands of my grandfather who openly called my mother a harlot and kicked her out (he later decided he wanted a relationship with me--because ironically he lived in the Cornfield too...he was a nice man to me but he very judgemental due to his religious beliefs). She had nowhere to go again. She had given up on the collect calls to her mother. She could stay with friends for a while...she could rely on the Club to support her for a bit. And then my dad stepped in.

He offered her a room in his home in the suburbs. No strings attached. This would not be the kind of offer that many of the guys would be willing to give her, she knew. He told her she could stay for as long as she needed and that he would get me some new clothes and new toys. She accepted. Within two weeks he gave her his mother's engagement ring (which he had been holding onto since she died when he was 13) and asked her to never leave him. She never did.

Together, my parents gave me an idyllic life. Neither went to college, my dad didn't even finish high school--he went to Vietnam instead. I went to a private school. They had a rule that I could take any lessons or classes that I asked for. Because of this I went to swimming and diving classes, ballet, and gymnastics. I played the drums, piano and the trumpet. I took painting, drawing and other assorted crafting classes. I became a scuba diver. I went diving in tropical locations alone at the age of 15. I was loved by two parents who were deeply in love. My dad called us "The Family Unit" and we did everything together. I never had a babysitter, and neither of my parents felt tied down to me. My parent's "first date" was the drive in movie theater down the road from our house. Guess who was sleeping in the back seat? Me.

So thank you Mom. Thanks for being part of my family unit. Thank you for giving me all the opportunities that you weren't given or that you were unable to take advantage of. Thank you for being open and honest with me, and never judging me. We've been through some of the worst times of our lives together and we got through it. Thanks for being my mom, thanks for being one of my closest friends. I admire you every day for your courage, strength and your ability to laugh at the world. You are one of the brightest women I know, with a keen insight on how the world works. You've handled obstacles with grace and you a woman full of calm dignity. You are an example of what is good and pure, and I love you for it--and everything else I haven't mentioned.
posted by Melina at 12:24 AM