An Education

I don’t remember my mother leaving. I don’t remember a single thing about her house being sold. Don’t remember a moving truck. Don’t remember the day or even how old I was exactly. I don’t know if she took a plane or drove. I can’t recall where my little brother was or if I got to say goodbye.

I remember asking her who was going to take care of me. I remember promising her I would be okay.

I’m not sure how I ended up at my dad’s.  Living at my dad’s was unsustainable. His girlfriend was unstable. She wasn’t much older than me. I loved her and I also hated her. She was beautiful and cool and sometimes terrifying. I remember she took me to get my wisdom teeth out, and then bought me McDonalds and we watched Eraserhead. She tried to teach me how to drive, but I nearly crashed my dad’s vintage Mercedes. It did not have power steering. She had a famous brother. He was a teenager too, maybe nineteen, and a blues singer, and he often lived with us when he wasn’t on tour. Everyone drank all the…