Then the car crash, the close personal encounter with an enormous Mack
truck, weeks in the hospital, treatment for internal injuries, and a return to public school.
In the ambulance ride to the hospital, I prayed: “Dear God, please let me die. Dear God, please let me die.”
He refused to listen.
My survival was a miracle; the Vista Cruiser station wagon was completely demolished.
My parents stopped by daily at the hospital for about ten minutes on their way to their restaurant dinner.
The nurse yelled at my mother: “You are a terrible mother! You brought nothing from home that your daughter needs—her own pajamas, robe, toothbrush, hairbrush, some books—anything to make her feel better!”
My mother refused my opportunity to speak with a psychiatrist. She was afraid that I would reveal some of the family secrets.
The gossip. The rumors. My boyfriend dumped me because he wanted to date other girls. My horse died from colic.
My defeat was complete.
My seventeenth year was HELL, and it took its toll on me.
Nancy never told me anything about boys or sex.
Without any explanation, one night she dropped off a classmate and me in front of a movie theater….
Albert Finney in the role of Tom Jones cinematically introduced me to carnal pleasures.
Come to think of it…just about everything I knew about life as a young girl, I learned at the movies.