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I hate my voice on tape recorders. I sound like a little boy.
The sisters were the first people I ever talked to about stuff like that. In my family nobody talks. They just fight. Like last week I came from gymnastics. Right? And my brother was in a bad mood or something, so he pushed me. I got mad and I pushed him. We ended up in the kitchen, and he threw me against the window, which cracked, but I didn't fall out. And my mother started screaming and pushed me to one side, and I started screaming, and my other sisters started screaming. It's always like that. When we lived on 39th Street, my brother put his finger in my eye. I had an operation.
My father's worse. He's the worst. He drinks. He hits me. He's stupid. Yesterday, he came home and started fighting with my brother. I got mad at him. He says he was at my brother to give him a lesson, but he don't give anybody any lesson, doesn't; he's just mean. I smelled his breath. Smelled like liquor, and I told him. He said, "You shut up before I step on your face and throw you out of the house." And I say I'm going to leave the house on my own. And he asks, "Why would you do that?" He's so stupid. He almost broke my back once, punched me. Geraldine wants me to go to college. I'm applying to Purchase and Queens. I can't wait to get out of that house.
And my mother takes his side, you know? She hates him for hitting us, because she loves us. Right? But she likes him too! Like last Christmas they kissed, and I never seen them kissing, and I got embarrassed and I left. I didn't know they did that.
I think he's depressed like me. But he doesn't take depression like me. You got to take it and face it, you know?
He messes up everything. I know he's going to mess up Christmas again. Year before last, we were driving to our cousins in the Bronx. It was raining, and he gets in a fight with another driver. Last Christmas the same. We were in the car, and he's driving drunk, putting us in danger. And he starts fighting with my big sister, who can't take it. She keeps her unhappiness inside. She ; tried to kill herself one time by swallowing all my grandmother's asthma pills. My other sister tried to kill herself too. They had to clean out her blood in Lutheran. My friend and I went to visit her. I said, "Hi." I was scared to kiss her. I took her hand, and she pulled it and kissed me. A lady psychiatrist was looking at me. She was wearing red high heels. I didn't like her. She was looking at me as if my sister was my fault.
You got kids? You like your kids?
He's always calling us pieces of crap. He's garbage. I hate him. When he hit my back, he took my jacket and put it over my head, and banged me against the floor. After that I thought he was finished hitting me, but yesterday he said he was going to step on my face. You want to dial the cops, but you can't. I never talk about him to my boyfriend. I didn't even want to talk to Geraldine at first. I didn't like her at first. I liked Mary Paul better. I thought Geraldine, you know, wanted too much. Then I wrote her letters. That helped. You want to see the letters?
I think two people are here. You're looking at me, and the tape recorder is looking at me.