The Struggle is Real, but So is Jesus. Tessa
One guy showed up with his parents’ car and beer. You would have thought that was the happiest day in my life; it felt like forever since I had any real fun.
Six of us ended up cramming into his mom’s Buick and going to a field to party; of course, we lost track of time and were an hour late getting back. I was sweating, I was so scared. I was never afraid of my parents, and he never whipped me or anything, but he didn’t play around. When he said jump, I said, “How high?”
So of course, he wasn’t there, and I had to call him. He wasn’t the yelling type at all either, which made him scarier. He didn’t even ask questions, just said he’d be right there. I knew he was pissed, though. All of a sudden, a cop car showed up, and he was looking for me! Oh, man, I thought I was going to jail. It turned out he was a friend of my uncle’s and came to escort me home and probably scare the other kids away from hanging out with me anymore.
I walked in, and he just told me to go straight to bed and we would talk in the morning. I already knew what was coming, though. This was strike 2.
I got up the next morning and basically was told to pack my bags, I was going home. I was pretty happy inside. I really wanted to go home, but I was really sad that I disappointed him and embarrassed my mom. That was her baby brother, and he was my godfather.
That would be the last time I was in Ohio, and that’s where all my relatives and cousins are. It was just Mom, Dad, and my brother back in the mile-high state.
Chapter 8
1982
As soon as I got home, my parents enrolled me in a high school two blocks from our house where I could walk every day. I would go to one or two classes, find some friends to party with, mostly guys, and go home while my mom and dad were at work. I was almost seventeen now and had my driver’s license, but they rarely trusted me to drive their cars after the first one I ruined.
I met a guy who lived about thirty minutes away and would take off in the middle of the night and hitchhike to see him. In the morning when I came home one day, my bedroom window was locked. Obviously, I was busted and had to go ring the doorbell to get in. I wasn’t allowed keys to the house either for obvious lack of trust.
I didn’t stop my behavior. I continued to sneak out at night. Another time I came home in the middle of the night, I snuck around the back to go in the sliding glass doors. It was pitch-black, and I was really quiet opening the door. As soon as I stepped in the living room, a light came on, and my mother was there waiting on the couch for me. She was furious. I was very lucky to have the parents I had, they could have kicked me out at anytime, but they never did. They just didn’t know what to do, they kept trying, but I just did whatever I wanted. And they just kept praying for me.
Eventually after skipping school too many times, our school counselor made an appointment to come talk with my parents. He told them I was never going to graduate the way I was going. He suggested I drop out and get my GED. He even gave them information and helped me get into a community college to take classes for my GED. I was beyond thrilled. My parents, I think, were relieved. This was something I knew I could do. And I felt so cool that I was going to college even if it was only to get my certificate. It was mainly studying for the exams I would need to take to pass. I enjoyed it.
In the meantime, I was still sleeping around with a lot of different guys. The main reason which I never explained earlier: I wanted a baby really bad and didn’t care who the father was. I wasn’t looking for a husband, I just wanted a baby since I was old enough to have them. I never got pregnant, though.
The last guy I was with before I met my first true love who would end up being my first husband was this redhead kid with a twin sister. He was friends with my soon to be and took me over there a lot to hang out and party. We weren’t really serious, and eventually, I just started showing up at my future husband’s house by myself, completely unannounced. He was twenty-three; I was seventeen. I was immediately in love with him. And he didn’t seem to mind me just showing up, he always let me in, and we’d hang out for hours before he had to go to work. He worked nights at the newspaper. I was really impressed. He had this cute mobile home he owned and a good paying job he loved.
Eventually, he started calling me to invite me over. I would take the bus to his house, and he was always waiting for me at the bus stop. He was so sweet. I had never been on a real date because I never really had a boyfriend except for the eighteen-year-old when I was fourteen. So he would take me out for lunch. I was embarrassed the first time. Like most girls, I just ordered a salad. I didn’t know how to accept someone treating me good, respectful, and like they liked me.
We ended going on a lot of dates. He took me skiing for the first time. I was kind of scared to ask my mom (like it ever stopped me before). Maybe I was growing up. I had to tell her how old he was, which was the scary part. She didn’t say anything, except as I get older, that age didn’t seem to matter as much, and she really liked him.
He picked me up one morning to go skiing. I didn’t have anything, so I had to borrow some snow pants and coat from my brother. He rented me the equipment and took me my first time on a green hill, which for my first time was scary. He didn’t let me try the bunny hill first, but I wasn’t going to complain.
I had a lot of trouble. He tried to show me how to snowplow, and I kept falling and losing a ski which he kept having to crawl back up the hill and get for me. I was completely embarrassed and could tell I was holding him back. He was a really good skier, and I sure want to go on the black hills that he was used to and I was just not catching on. The hill seemed to have no end, and I couldn’t see the bottom. I finally started crying because I was scared and asked him to call ski patrol to come get me. He tried to talk me out of it; he was probably embarrassed, but I just couldn’t do it. He finally gave in and called. I told him to go have fun and shred some snow. He laughed. I told him I would just wait in the bar and to take as long as he wanted. I wasn’t about to ruin his day and waste his money.
He gave me some money to get some food and drinks. I was really tall and looked older than my age, and back then, they weren’t that strict on checking IDs. So I had no problem getting alcohol. I really enjoyed myself—sitting in the lounge, drinking beer, and listening to a guy playing guitar and singing. There was a large fireplace, and the view was incredible from the huge picture windows behind the bar.
He stopped to check on me a few times and have a beer. He was so nice. He asked if I wanted to go; I told him no, I’m fine, I wanted him to have fun and enjoy the day. I felt I already ruined it for him and caused him some embarrassment, but he didn’t say anything. I could tell he was happy with me, maybe most girls would have complained and wanted to go home. I was never that type. I could tell he was impressed at this, me being seventeen and all.
My parents noticed the difference in me. I wasn’t running away anymore or staying gone all night. That was probably because he worked nights, but I wasn’t interested in other guys anymore or parties. I was in love, head over heels.
So my mom finally trusted me to start using her car. I had tickets to go to a Fleetwood Mac concert one night with one of my girlfriends. But she let me take the car to go see him while he was home during the day.
On the way home, I rear ended someone. I was in shock and didn’t know what to do. I think I sat there for a minute then took off but was obviously there long enough for them to get my plate number.
As soon as I got home, I pulled the car in the garage and ran inside. It must not have been more than a half hour and the cops were knocking on the door while I was hiding in my room.
My brother answered the door and called out my name, telling me the cops were there. I came out shaking and crying. I thought for sure I was going to jail.
They talked to me. They were very nice and said I wasn’t in trouble but did need to go back with them to the scene of the accident to take a report.
They drove me there and back after. My mom’s car wasn’t totaled but had some significant cosmetic damage to the front. To say the least, she wasn’t happy, but she also knew I had tickets to the concert and she didn’t