Ingrid Ricks - Hippie Boy: A Girls Story

HIPPIE BOY: A GIRL'S STORY

A Memoir

BY INGRID RICKS

Hippie Boy: A Girls Story

Copyright 2011 by Ingrid Ricks

All RIGHTS RESERVED

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form electronic, mechanical, or with any others means, including photocopying without the authors written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Cover design by: Juli Saeger Russell

eBook Formatting by: Thea Chard

Published by Ricks Communications LLC

www.ingridricks.com

DEDICATION

For Connie

Who was there then, and continues to be now

even from three thousand miles away

CHAPTER 1

DECEMBER 1979

I SHOULD HAVE slammed the door in Earls face.

Its what I wanted to do the minute I saw him standing on our porch, snow clinging to his greasy black hair like dandruff.

He was thick and short, five feet seven at most, with pasty white skin and a bulging gut that pressed against his plaid shirt and hung in a lump over his giant silver belt buckle.

I noticed that his fingernails were stained and filled with dirt, a dead giveaway that he worked as a mechanic even if Mom hadnt mentioned it. But it was his eyes that bothered me most. They were icy-blue and hard, magnified by thick glasses that made them look like they were going to pop out of his head.

Is your mom here? he asked.

I stared at him, wondering what she could possibly see in him.

Yeah, shes here, I said finally, reluctantly stepping out of the way so he could come inside.

By now my sisters Connie and Heidi had ventured in to check out Moms date and I saw the same disgust in their eyes. My brothers, barely eight and two, were too young to care and stayed hidden in the playroom.

As soon as Earl entered, a smell that reminded me of rotting hamburger meat filled the air. Mom appeared a minute later. She was dressed in her standard date attire: a bell-shaped white skirt that hit her mid-calf and a ruffled polyester blouse covered in a tiny purple floral print. Her wild flower Avon perfume trailed behind her, competing with the odor coming from Earl.

Connie and I both shot her imploring looks, but she ignored us and headed straight for Earl.

Okay, children, Ill be back later, she said. Then the two of them were gone.

In the six months since her divorce from Dad, Mom had dated her share of losers. Connie and I figured it was a phase she was going through until she got back into the swing of things. But Earl was an all-time low. He was a homeless Vietnam vet who lived in the back of his Chinook mini-camper in a trailer park near the edge of town. He had been divorced three times and had four kids from other wives. He was Mormon, but he hadnt been practicing for several years. His last wife was a Lutheran, and he had been a drinker, a huge sin in the Mormon religion.

Then there was his smell. Mom said it was because he ate only meat, a habit hed picked up while serving in Vietnam.

Dont worry. Theres no way shes going to marry him. Hes not even a good Mormon, Connie assured me, even after Mom ignored our initial demands that she stop dating him. Connie was fifteen and the oldest, and she was so confident in her prediction that she had me convinced.

A month later, the day after my birthday, Mom called us all into the kitchen for an announcement.

Earl asked me to marry him, she declared with a smile. I said yes.

I was stunned. Just two weeks before, on Christmas Day, she had told us she was through with him. Wed all been gathered around our plastic, fold-out kitchen table, savoring our Christmas lunch of Sloppy Joes, potato chips, and raspberry Jell-Oa meal I looked forward to all yearwhen Mom had made the surprise announcement. Shed realized that Earl wasnt right for her and was going to tell him it was over. My sisters and I had all cheered at the news. I was so relieved Id almost hugged her. Now she was doing a complete flip-flop, and acting like it was perfectly normal.

But I thought you said you werent going to date him anymore, I stammered. I could feel the panic building inside me and though I wasnt sure why, I was scared.

Why? Connie added. You know we dont like him, and you hardly even know him!

Mom shot us an exasperated look. Hes going to be my husband, and I want you to treat him with respect.

But Mom, hes not even a good church member, and he used to drink. I was desperate to change her mind. It just didnt seem possible that she could actually want to marry that creep.

Moms face turned flush. Whatever he did in tee past is in tee past, she said in her thick Austrian accent that made all of her th sounds come out as t or d sound. Hes a good church member now, hes a priesthood holder, and hes going to be my husband.

Dont worry, she added, looking directly at me. Hes not going to try to take the place of your dad.

Of course he wasnt going to replace Dad. The fact that shed even mentioned the word dad in conjunction with that smelly, disgusting excuse for a human made my blood boil. I felt my face getting hot and red.

Believe me, hes not going to be anything to me, I hissed, glaring at Mom hard for effect.

She stared back at me with the righteous glow I hated.

I prayed about it to Heavenly Father, she said smugly. I know this is the right decision for our family.

Mom, who had converted to Mormonism as a teenager while still living in Austria, was convinced she received revelations from God and prayed about every little decision she made. It drove me crazy that she acted like God was calling the shots for her because it made it impossible to argue with her.

I wanted to scream at Mom. Instead, I shot her a final glare and stomped out the room.

I may have just turned thirteen, but I could see the situation for what it was. Earl was a homeless, smelly fake who was pretending to be a practicing Mormon so Mom would marry him and he could mooch off of her. I knew Mom was desperate for a husband and for a temple marriage to a priesthood-holding Mormon man, but this was insane.

They set the date for March 1st, the soonest they could schedule a marriage in the Mormon Temple. Earl started spending evenings and weekends at our house. He didnt say much to us kids and we didnt say anything to him. Most of the time, he and Mom stayed locked in her bedroom reading scriptures together. I knew it was all part of his ploy to make Mom think he was as religious as she was, and it made me sick.

The first Friday in February, Dad dropped by for an unexpected visit. It was early evening, and as usual, Earl was hanging around, his grimy, yellow home-on-wheels parked on the dirt strip in front of our house.

I had told Dad all about Earl during his weekly phone calls, but my words clearly hadnt prepared him. The shock on his face when he walked in the door and took in Earl and his stench was so funny I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

Earl stood next to Mom in the foyer, tightly gripping her hand with his grease-stained, stubby fingers. He had just come from the motorcycle shop where he worked and still wore his navy blue mechanic jumpsuit with the name Earl embroidered on the pocket.

For what seemed like minutes, no one said a word. Then Dad jumped into action.

Well, hello, he said in a booming, playful voice. Im the ex. You must be my replacement. Hope youre better at obeying than I was.

Earl didnt speak; he just tightened his grip on Moms hand. Mom glared at Dad, who grinned and shot her a look that I interpreted as a you traded me in for that? glance.

Dis is Earl, she said finally. Watching them interact reminded me of how Dad used to tease Mom by having her repeat the words, Thirty-Third Street, where they used to live, because it came out Turty-Turd street. But that was back when they still got along and laughed together.