It’s Short Story Day (The Red Shoes)

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This short story is nonfiction, and I didn’t write it for sympathy. I wrote it because I wanted to share a taste of what it’s like to live with the disease of alcoholism. It affects millions every day all over the world.  It’s been around since man began making wine many thousands years ago.

Alcohol is as addictive as the meth being manufactured today, except it’s legal. We all know prohibition didn’t work and as far as I can tell the war on drugs isn’t working either.  What is the answer?

I hope you like my story of  The Red Shoes.

I had reached my limit. Leaving was the only option I had. Standing up from the chair, I looked at mama and walked into my bedroom. Retrieving my coat from the closet, a headscarf and the new pair of red loafers mama bought me when we went to town that morning. I didn’t know what to do, but I couldn’t stay at the house any longer. I may have only been twelve years old, but I knew he would hurt me if I stayed.

There was snow and ice on the back steps. When I stepped out, down I went to the ground. Luckily, I wasn’t hurt in the fall. Picking myself up, I began walking down the road. Where could I go? If I went to Bob and Eva’s, he might find me there. I decided to go to my Uncle Charles’s house, on the mountain. It was about four miles north west of where we lived, up in the hills.

We lived fifteen miles west of McAlester on Highway 270 at a community called Cabiness. We ran a small country grocery store and Texaco gas station, called Blevins Grocery. My parents purchased the place before we left California. Returning to the area where mom and dad were born and raised was important, especially for my mother.

The one room store was actually the front room of the house. It had been converted to a store long before my parents bought it. The house now had one bedroom and kitchen, living room and a closed in back porch with a large window that pulled out and up, and hooked to the ceiling. That’s where mom and dad slept. My room was in the middle of the house without windows. It had two doors, one going to the living room and the other to the back porch.

There was a well and pump house sitting on the west side of the house. That water well was the catalyst for my problem. The well was terrible. The water smelled like sulphur, and tasted rotten. It didn’t furnish enough water to run the household. If you did the dishes, you couldn’t take a shower, or if you flushed the commode you couldn’t do the dishes. It was a constant struggle. I would usually go to Bob and Eva’s house to take my bath and do my homework. I would spend the night there at least once a week.

The store and station opened at 6 am and closed at 9 pm. This particular evening we were slow closing. Dad just returned home from spending time at a bar in McAlester. He was in the living room sitting on the piano bench watching me like a hawk. My cousin rang the bell to let us know someone needed gas. I went out and pumped the gas, and while I was talking to Eva, we decided I would ask mom if I could go home with them to spend the night. I asked mom if I could go home with Bob and Eva, and she agreed. I began to gather my clothes and schoolbooks.

”What are you doing, Shirley”? My dad yelled.

I walked into the living room and told him “I am getting my stuff together to go spend the night with Bob and Eva so I can do my homework and take a bath”.

“You sit down in that chair because you’re not going anywhere.”

“Daddy, mama told me I could go”.

“I don’t give a damn what your mother said, you are not going. You go tell them to go on and then get your butt back in here.”

I walked out to their truck and told them daddy wasn’t going to let me go with them. I was angry, but I knew not to say anything more to dad. When I walked back into the living room, he told me to sit down in the chair. I was angry and hurt. I sat very still and quit, while he tried to pick a fight with me. When I didn’t respond he started yelling at me. There was a pair of pliers sitting on the piano I’d left there earlier in the day from doing something that I don’t remember now. The next thing I knew he picked up the pliers and threw them at my head. God was protecting me because he missed by about one and a half inches, knocking a hole in the wall. That’s when I knew I had to get away from him.

Since I decided to go to my uncle’s house, I began walking down the dirt road behind our house. It would take me up the mountain. I had my headscarf wrapped around my head, and was wearing jeans and a long sleeve shirt. I never wore socks, and I didn’t even think about my feet when I left the house. I’d walked about two miles when I stepped in an ice covered hole of water. I knew my feet would freeze if I didn’t do something. I took off my headscarf and using my teeth to start a tear, I managed to rip the scarf in two. I put a half in each one of my new, red shoes to help keep my feet warm. I continued walking down the middle of the road. If a car came down the road, I ran into the woods and hid until it passed. I wasn’t going to let him find me. I didn’t have any intention of ever returning to that house.

I finally made it to the top of the mountain. It was after 11:00 when I knocked on Charles’s door. My Aunt Jerry opened the door after I identified myself.

“What are you doing here this late? Where’s your mama?” Jerry asked.

I told her the story while I sat wrapped in a warm blanket drinking a cup of hot tea. “Jerry, where is Charles? I can’t live there anymore. I want to stay here.”

“Charles hasn’t come in from town. I guess he had a date tonight, but I know you will be able to stay here as long as you need to.”

We heard the truck drive up to the front of the house. Jerry told me to go to the barn and hide in the hay. I took off out the back door towards the barn. I was almost there when Jerry yelled, telling me it wasn’t daddy, and to come back to the house.

When I got back in the house, there sat mama with a neighbor of ours, Donnie Elliott. Mama began to cry. “I tracked you in the snow. I knew you would either come here or go to Bob’s house. I want you to come home.”

“I’m not coming back to that house. I hate him; he is not going to hurt me. I’ve begged you to make him leave, and you wouldn’t, so now I’ve left and I’m not going back. I’m going to stay here, and if I can’t stay here then I’m going to go back to California and stay with Jim and Bobbie.”

“Please, honey, come back home. I promise you, it will be different, and he won’t be there. Come with me now and spend the night with Donnie. You can stay with her until he leaves the house tomorrow.”

Donnie sat there nodding her head up and down as mama talked. I loved my mama, and I couldn’t bear watching her cry and listening to her begging me to come back home.

“All right, mama, I’ll come home if he’s not there.” I got my coat and put on my new red, now wet and covered in mud, shoes. Jerry had given me a pair of socks, so my feet wouldn’t freeze off. Donnie lived about a half mile from us on the dirt road behind the store building. Mama promised me again that daddy would be gone the next morning.

She kept her word, and he was gone. I came home, and I was happy with my life for once. I could bring a girlfriend to the house and not be afraid of what dad would say or do. It was a peaceful time for me. Mom didn’t do so well, but that is another story.

Alcoholism is a terrible, terrible disease. It doesn’t just destroy the one drinking, but his or her family as well. It took many years for me to forgive my father, but I did. He is 85 years old now, and mama is gone. He doesn’t remember a thing about the trauma he caused his family. He and mom reconciled a year later after he had stopped drinking. That lasted a year and then it started over. That doesn’t matter now. He is a good man with a good heart and I can say I love him very much. He is and always will be my daddy. I survived and so did he.

12 responses »

  1. Wow, Shirley! I assume this is a true story? I’m so sorry for your childhood. No child should have to live in that fear. It just makes me cry. I’m so glad all is forgiven. I know that is so important for your own peace and happiness. Unfortunately some parents don’t mature as fast as their children do. You’re a strong woman!
    Nina
    http://over50andhappy.com

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    • Yes, it is a true story but just one of hundreds of thousands being told every day. It was very important for me to forgive my father. I didn’t want to go though life with bitterness and a chip on my shoulder because daddy treated me badly. I was lucky that I had a supportive family around me. There are so many who don’t. I really wish I could take my magic wand and fix everyone, but I can’t. Thank you so much for your kind words. I do appreciate them very much. Shirley

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  2. Thank you for sharing your story, Shirley. I enjoyed it and can relate as I was married to an alcoholic for 10 years before I came to my senses and divorced him. We had two children and I was tormented with the thought of taking them away from their father, but fortunately I realized that they would be better off. He was never abusive toward them, thank God, but seeing their father drunk night after night was abuse enough. It was a struggle for us, but like you, we survived.

    You story is an inspiration! Keep up the good work!

    Tami

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    • It was very important for me to forgive my father. I didn’t want to go though life with bitterness and a chip on my shoulder because daddy treated me badly. I was lucky that I had a supportive family around me. There are so many who don’t. I really wish I could take my magic wand and fix everyone, but I can’t. Thank you so much for your kind words. It’s a tragic thing what kind of problems living with alcohol can cause. I am a strong codependent woman. I can fix everyone’s life but my own. I do appreciate your comments very much very much. Shirley

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  3. I didn’t realize it was your story, Shirley. Oh, how sad and awful. I am glad that you made it out of an awful situation. I have brothers who drink and get belligerant. I usually don’t see them often, though I try and educate my children on the subject. My dad drank but he could hold his liquor. My ex was another drinker although it mellowed him out from his usual abusive nature. It is nice that you were able to make peace with and forgive your father.It is hard to do that with those who hurt us but it is better for us if we do. Hugs.

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  4. I just want to tell you that I am all new to weblog and really loved you’re website. Likely I’m want to bookmark your blog . You really have awesome articles. Thanks a lot for sharing with us your website.

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  5. I tend not to leave many remarks, however after looking at a few of the comments on It’s Short Story Day (The Red Shoes) Shirley McLain. I do have 2 questions for you if you do not mind. Could it be simply me or does it look like some of these responses appear as if they are left by brain dead visitors? 😛 And, if you are posting on other online sites, I’d like to keep up with everything new you have to post. Would you list of all of your public pages like your linkedin profile, Facebook page or twitter feed?

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    • I think some of those statements that are left are automated responses. I will put all of my other pages that I’m involved with on my site. I have a website at shirley-mclain.com. I’m bad at updating but I try. Thanks for stopping by your welcome anytime. Shirley

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