Underneath It All Read Free Page B

toys and being around my family made me forget about everything I had endured in that house. If I had to pinpoint a time, I think that was when my walls went up. That was when I learned how to channel different things as defense mechanisms and force all the bad out of my mind.
                  It took a minute for me to get over certain things and when I kicked and hollered when my mother tried to put me in a highchair she went out the next day and bought me a kiddie table to sit at instead.
                  The nightmares were another thing, I was afraid of the dark for a long time and even though I knew in my mind that I was safe, when the lights went out I was back in that house and I thought he was going to come out of the closet or from underneath my bed.
                  I would crawl in the bed with Jason and hold him between my legs as if I were protecting us from whatever was on the other side of the door. Eventually I grew out of it, or at least comfortable enough to sleep in my own bed and I began to feel safe. I was finally where I was supposed to be, I was with my family, and I was one of them.



Chapter Three
                  Alex
    and I met in the fourth grade and we’ve been friends ever since. As superficial and shallow as this may sound I wanted to be her friend from the moment I saw her. She was and still is so pretty but back when we were kids she reminded me of a little baby doll. Alex is Puerto Rican as well and has long, straight h air that hung down to her butt. She was always bottom heavy and very mature in the way that she dressed. She would wear these printed Keds that matched whatever outfit she was wearing for the day and she walked on her tiptoes, which I thought was the cutest thing. The truth is she was everything that I wanted to be, and since it was impossible to literally step in her skin; I stuck to her like glue.
                  I always wondered how she got away with wearing the things that she did. In the summer she would wear pretty multi colored leggings and belly shirts, or short shorts and a tank top. My mother would’ve kill me if I tried to put on something like that. Not only that but I would’ve had to make it past Lisa and Linda first.
                  The one thing I admired and envied about Alex the most was her relationship with her father. Every time he entered the house from being at work or just away for the day she would rush into his arms and he would pick her up and twirl her around while hugging her tightly and placing kisses on her cheeks. He was like her superhero. His eyes always held so much adoration for her, a look that seemed to tell her how special she was and how much she meant to him. I would sometimes imagine my father doing those things for me and looking at me that way but that never happened.
                  The earliest memory I have of my father Orlando is him bringing me a bag of candy, staring into my eyes as if he was looking in a mirror and patting me on my head before he left. He treated me like I was a stray dog who begged for a treat.
                  I used to ask my mother for stories about him but they weren’t always good so eventually I stopped asking. I wanted to ask him where he had been when I was born. I wanted to know what was more important than being at the hospital with my mother. I wanted to know why he always seemed to have nice, shiny things yet he would never come and get me and take me places. 
                  The only thing I knew was that I looked like him. I have the same long fingers and toes, and I’m tall like him. At one point I would like to believe that my parents were in love and sometimes I thought I could hear some of the attraction that she once held for him when she would describe him to me but those moments were short lived.
                  The first rule about drug dealing was to never get high