Defying Control: Women Of Change

Introduction to Zona

THE NEWS.  IT HAD BEEN months since I'd even seen a black and photo filled white news paper.  I mean white by the signs of a new day with old insinuation of danger lurking.  But this day it seemed to me to be mostly caucasian's succumbing to the fears of beauty, money,  and I will live forever mentality in planes, trains, and automobiles.  And now the terror of serial killers of the past resurfacing suddenly.  There had been the Las Vegas concert shootings,  Florida deaths, and now this splashed across the front of my screen.  I read the ticker text that recapped a small church in Texas and how someone, a man, managed to disrupt service and kill members of the congregation.  During service.  This is not what I came home for!  It's much to watch disturbing things after spending months away from the humdrum life bought before my way.  I surmounted to nothing more than my own circumstances taking over and me dwindling down to a wimpy girl that camouflaged  life with drugs. 

I left this place and landed in a smoke filled room two counties away.  There bore the stain and stench of my ugly ways.  When I reached my new destination there was nothing but a free ride on a rollercoaster from heaven that became my private hell.  There I'd left everything my ego, common senses, taste in cloths, men, and even food.  On the mantle I could see the picture from years before, i looked pretty dressed and smiling.  I had shopped for days for that outfit for church and the club.  Mostly to show off my hips at the club cause church I attended wasn't into fashion first.  And I knew that trying it on and paying cash that day.  I smiled again, just reliving hanging out with my girls and doing just that.  Then off to dinner at some restaurant for kicks because it was the grown up thing to do.  Ha, I am too thin to even put it one, surely it was in the basement amongst the boxes my folks stashed after I'd moved out. 

Just days back with the sensation of peace and not knowing if I am the needle lost or the haystack itself.  No, No, I swore, now I see the news was clearer after thirty minutes.  Things were bad for everyone.  No color orientation and no mind age or interest.  The neighbor up several blocks had once been incarcerated for a crime and it upset the whole community some time ago.  I remembered it shook all of us and I believe he's still in jail to this day.  Those were the things  I new and remembered most out there drudging and running the streets;  who gone to jail, how long, and what they'd done so as to avoid it all being smarter.  All this other personal stuff left my mind, family,  school,  even bathing from time to time wasn't important enough to remember.  And as the sun sprinkled into the room, I sat upon the deep plush chair back as it all was coming back.  This had been my first home, the place I couldn't wait to leave for freedom sake and to the ohs and ahas over what my planned future was bringing to me.  A job, college credits, and friends going places with me was all it take to make it to the top of 'wherever' was.  But, yeah, so, I'd fallen short and ended with nothing close to all those promises gaining a wealth of misery I'd personally chosen to make. 

Chapter 1  begin again

AS THE COMMERCIAL ENDS the news anchor announced she has an update of the story out of Texas and I have decided none of us are safe.  That my haven in the hills was more secure then this city I've chosen to return to amongst the lavish living.  Amongst the cafes, museums, arts programs and saucy club scene were murky dark people with the worst of intentions toward the rest of us.  It was dangerous outside my front door and I knew for sure I'd probably sleep walked through thousands of unnecessary deaths.

It was a definite 'wow' moment for me.  In my therapy we had wows to that talks shows lightbulb's I recalled from years ago.  Away at the needle in a haystack farm ....feel my pill karma,  money farm,  and chase the man with a tale barn.....I missed the excitement everyday living in a big city brought.  When I first left I had a dogged mentality and virtually no mind.  I stood there in the shadows of midmorning sunlight peering into the mirror then looking back hard at me.  The hardest  vision  I noted as I too thought how did I rate now as a woman.  Idling and seeing myself in whole as I used to in the days of past. 

It was the same paint warn edges around the mirror that gave it a used homely feel I simply loved.  I'd trudged home with it and mother after having begged for it in my twenties and a sound part of their financial statement.

Imagine this, I mouth aloud, "I still fit despite the loss in mass from how plump I used to be. I couldn't manage to gain weight back.  My curves had flattened, god I used to like that feature on me I'd think then turning  to avoid my personal disappointment, to search beyond the two wood doors that closed to conceal my things I'd left from a time of two before on an excursion living home.  This time felt different though.  Somehow, oddly it'd feel more real, more like for sure.  For sure I was in this room at this time and it met something I hadn't known ever. 

I rolled my eyes and searched the silver plated mirror again.  Maybe I am corny?  I known there was more to me than the glaring imagine before me.  I was funny, well maybe I reasoned?  I still have my jokes which make me, if no other, laugh aloud. 

You are pretty clear, I reminded myself certain.  I knew for the first time in years I am clear, truly awake  and alive to see life.  And, I heard myself and myself talk back.  The news was reminder of my life and the world the way it naturally is.  I knew for sure I've been, asleep, like a caveman for the longest winter I will ever known.  How do I welcome myself back?  How do I propose to do that? 

The phone rang out.  A land line my parent still maintained sounded a bore from the fancy ring tones cells had.  I took a second to recall it was a real phone.  I had an assortment of rings before, one for different callers.  Now I needed to put that on a list of things to do this week.  I had none I surmised putting buy cell phone at the top of my list. Which triggered going to the kitchen to look for a  note and money she promised be there for me to get started on adjusting to home and a life again.  I could actually drag the phone down hall saying hello, waiting for a voice on the other end, and returning to my room to pick through my clothing for an outfit.  It taken fifteen minutes to recount my thoughts and places to go, gather directions, and an assurance that  an envelope was on the counter with money for shopping, lunch, and for keeps over the next week or so.  Be frugal she says half laughing and half hearted.  I knew she was shying away for the notion of how long this sense and strain of sanity would be.

The feel of my own cash managed to bring a strong smile to my face.  It hadn't been this way, free, in over a year.  I let it all go ashamed and afraid things would falter and I would be a failure as I too was building on the strength of being a success.  It was mental double talking that mustered within back then which made me tired.  Now today I had a surge of energy counting my just rewards of sacrifice.  I grabbed the note pad still clingy to the refrigerator door and began writing each place I had to venture to and the items specifically needed.  The bus routes for each I marked in next to it also.  It been a long time sense I'd ridden the bus and subway so that was important to do.  Half dressed and much more eager, I skipped to the top of the stairs, breathed, clearly winded  and rushed to slam down on my bed totally happy.  And sadly to old to be in my parent wallet again.  It was a mixed harmony of good.  But through all the bewildered internal conversation, I dressed, perfumed for the first time in years, and found a purse to throw things into.  I headed down the steps and added, wallet, book and Id's to my list.

The news had changed into a talk show about the election hagging over the new President and the out pour of anxiety it seemed to have brought to the country.  I rationed that it wasn't the country per say but democrats.  A loss for social order and  table talk about jobs, welfare, and spending habits.  How and were you contribute to the economy didn't matter to but as long as you did it and your were gainfully employed while it was done.  That would spurned the economy and bring about growth.  I said it out loud as to be sure I knew  what I was talking about.  The next item was something about the hourly wage increasing to $15  per hour.  Well that was something grand to hear.  It was great timing considering I was getting my life back on track and such a condition would excite my limitation  of employment options.  At least $15 was a hike from the $4.75 I last remembered a decade ago.  This would do until I get my contacts in order and look for a real job in my industry.  Something I battled my mind and mentor about forever in rehab.  He thought grace and a promise of a new future shouldn't exceed greed for what I once had.  Smaller portions is all I could handle especially at first then maybe more as my mind grew dependent upon better things like a home,  things of necessity and a savings I hadn't dreamed of touching.  A car was coming after a job and then a home of my own.  I had order for growth potential myself.  I turned the television off.  After all I reasoned grabbing a jacket and  checking that the house was in proper order for me to leave. 

Shutting the front door I completed my thoughts, it was my life and my opportunity I say owning my personal self again as I concluded in therapy, I never had.  I understood this too recapturing the essence of my historical life up until 30 years of age.

This disease I had overcome had honestly good timing I reckoned again excited at the comfort of $15 per hour offering me life flop-out a smooth chance at rushing back in.  Then I stopped smiling regained a sense of direction for the bus line  and my first stop at the bank positioned perfectly around from the shopping and grocery stores.  I must go to the strip mall for lingerie, shower gel, slippers, and few other personal must haves.  These things always made me feel better.  Then I could breeze through a book store and find a book to take up all the free time the magazines my mom had wouldn't.  Which also reminded me to go by the library for movies a trick I learned hanging out broke after spending on a fix to get high.  The good ole library always would provide a flick or two. 

I watch through the windows of the bus the people searching faces and expressions on each one.  I played dress up with the clothing some wore and appreciated the splurge in colors, the changes over the years had shown.  The upgrades on building and modern apartments sky high in rental rates I seen and promised to search for online.  A glimps of my new floor plan might boost my morale to save much more.  I was in practice though from my parents chiding to remain home until I was strong enough and really ready  to bury the chains.  I had earned my speech as a cooperative rehabilitated drug user who if the truth be told, had out grown the want for it all.  I seemed boring despite my senses and urges.  I always felt stronger than it and knew it'd be passe for me.  I just always believed I was in control but also owned the necessary motions of an addict to gain clearance.  The kind of 'approval'  community knew and understand best.  Personally, I been at this stage of reentry for at least two years. 

The  first uptown stop was in front of a cell phone store, perfect so I could price one and see what else I find while comparing services.  My mother warned me to check them out before buying and maybe I'd just get on her plan in case the fees were to high.  So I'd window shop for that.  After a quick peek I found a coffee shop, mixed a latte full of milk and hobbled along to shop for my list.  The cafe a few blocks away had full breakfast meals reasonably so after there I keep moving through stores and travel back to the library and home.  I figured three hours tops settled on being home by three to relax and wait for someone to come home from work.  Gosh, I hardly laughed,  this was so high school.

Chapter 2  evening shame  

BY SIX DINNER WAS READY and my mother admonished me about no guest unless they were my college friends or the old neighbors she felt were safe.  Any hopefully I hadn't planned on speaking with the 'old' boyfriend.

You two could seem to part long enough to breath and now that we know why, make sure he stays faraway, you hear, she requested an answer as I grimaced hearing the lecture of dos and don'ts.  I believe that is not a problem....., I begun twirling my sweat jackets tie. 

I need you to buy my phone, and look over my resume, I think I'll begin job searching tomorrow.  The drive for progress always brought comfort  even if a complete falsity to jilted parentage I remembered.

Well, she paused, I thinks its good idea better than sitting around but try part-time, and  be sure its downtown or somewhere with direct transportation.  By the way, what type of jobs are you talking about?

This was a control move, here we go I think.

I am considering office work and may the convention center or caterers office.  I need to get back in to events and hosting.  She smirked, hummed and breathed.

Okay, thats not a bad plan but  how are you going to explain the employment absence and your state of mind before leaving the workforce.  Are you prepared to discuss this shit you've done.  The choices you have made, Zona?  I quietly laughed.  Oh well, I kind of know that telling the truth is it but I have so much experience behind me it should be smooth, after all  my work record is clean besides a few late's and maybe two no shows.  I did work well as a plus for me when I did it.  Until I lapsed out of everything,  I expanded a few words again checking my cheeks in her mirror.  You pretend people don't know your past.  You subconsciously put you behind that ridiculous crap simply because somewhere out there some people have seen your life.....those drugs. These people hear gossip and know more than even I,  Zona, she turned with her no play face.  I don't know if I want a junkie around, a worthless bitch who is insecure and maybe depressed. Or worse, bi-polar.  She smirked her self getting up and going into the shower.  She yelled, The problem with you is you know nothing about the way others see you, you'll learn.  I 'll be down in a minute for dinner, you set the table please. 

I choked leaving the bed room and forging down our double set of stairs.  My attention focused on each one  as a small flood rose and slowly sank back down inside my eyes. I sat looking at the table stunned, motionless until it seemed my strength returned to my legs.  I knew the drawer full of  utensils opened and soon I began to clink silverware and plates for the dining room.  I'd admired the golden plated forks and knives I seen in houseware departments in stores over the years.  My mother relished the silver short tongued at the minimum value gold had in her mind to eat off of.  Smoothing out the table linen  I noted I hadn't eaten at this formal table in years.  It was sturdy and of a dark wood.  I had something similar in my apartment from a time ago.  I recounted how much I'd spent to almost mimic her fashion.  And now, I swallowed, she chose to dwell on my past, my sickness, and her real feelings. I had the nerve to have thought  participating in family therapy would salvage hearts and defuse any deep seeded emotions either he or she held.  Boy, the therapist never lied, it isn't easy I reasoned as the table was suddenly spinning, I sat closing my eyes hearing and listening to movements above.  I heard her feet there at the top of the stairs.  They stopped, and back to the top she'd gone the sound lost in the carpeted floor.  Then the whoosh of cool air flowed in, it was my father coming home from work I knew still listening intently as I breathed in eyelid darkness for calm and clarity.  What was coming from them gangly, next?  I was learning over the past year to assess and read others intentions not only through words but actions and with this in mind, I figured my mother was back in senior year form.  I knew she was going to make me accountable for everything she wanted out of me a mindset I managed to avoid for years. 

Cyn, how did things go today?   he asked standing in the living room removing his jacket and hanging his winter coat in the closet.  Some things never had changed.  It was so blah seeing his disrobing as a dramatic still life portrait.

Well, I shopped, ate, and checked out all the changes downtown.  It is like amazing to see this city and its new life.  Especially from the bus perspective, I chuckled. 

I found a gym even to maybe join on down time to keep fit.  And, how was your day?   

Fine, Fine, he hurriedly says , I must of stirred the developers in the right direction then.  Did you see the line changes, extention, new rail services, and  buses, etc....., he asked waving his arm through the air.

Come on Cyn, tell me more than that  lame tale.  I worked forever on upgrades and route suggestions and the new lines for the trains?  Did you notice anything while you were out there about town, he was half laughing  and with a tone of pride. 

I am so sorry to simply dis your progress, knowing how dedicated you are to the whole transportation thing around here but yes and no. 

Yes, I saw the changes and buses are great , I haven't gone onto the train and I've read about the line upgrades. So I hope that makes you feel better about my slighted ignorance?,"  it was half hearted and half laughing at him and his ego tripping.

He always had these projects for which I and my siblings were wards of its success seemingly so.

Cynsia's phoned by now to tell you something stroking your ego as much as she rides that darn train.  The only question I have is when is she getting a car?  Coming to borrow yours soon I'm sure?  She is so expressly cheap.

He sat down as if thinking over my question. Are you still canceling your plans for her or taking moms car?

I laughed walking back into the kitchen and waiting for mom to come down.

He got up stretched and says, I don't blame her, it is expensive and she has friends galore that drive but there are times you just want to be on your own and well to this day, my car's it. There is no need for her to put money into a rental either.  It's fine once in a while.  It gives me time to lock into something from work or diddle around here.  It's down time I never would take on otherwise,  he had stumped having honestly convinced himself it was a great thing to do for her. 

I'll be back,  he adds as he rushes the stairs.

Minutes later as I am stirring the potatoes I'm startled with, My do you sound jealous.  I don't think you are but really Zona, the car is an issue?  It's scary that you even remember, then again, he'd never let you take it. 

She grimaced with a smile helping me put things onto plates assured he was on his way back down. 

Yes, he has before but then you knowww...... I say, things change and so do we at times.

I felt it lighter than her mood. 

This change you talking about is what worries me still and it rattles my cage a tinge or two.  I thought it best to keep her going.

What cage you talking about? 

She  laughed,  The one I've been living in for over thirty years.  The one that keeps opening the door to more stuff and more stuff  that finds it way inside of it with me and my guest, Jesus and your father. 

I was now being downsized to a stinking bird that doesn't talk but chirps all day.  Are you referring to your family as having you caged or chained into this life?  Because I think you began all this with him.  We had nothing to do with any of this.  In fact, we've all left the door wide open for quite some time, I said without one thought for what I was saying.

You know, for real, the only trap you have is this city and it's crime of which we all share in the reality that we are all possible victims.  Then there is Cynsia taking your car, money, and whatever else.  This home can even be sold and bring in profit for a brand new one. No trap here either mother. 

By now we're both gathering drinks from the pantry, crushed ice and going back to the dining room table.  You talk alot and while that is good, it is bad for me and you.  First, you lost you access to the car because you were not trustworthy, next I live in a cage because though this is my life reflective of my choices, if I leave all of you will be lost and fall apart, at least somewhat.  I've done a fair job raising you all with just your isolated adult acts bringing the question mark to tap on that.  I have raised all of you well enough to be good citizens. So within my staying put in this house and city, I can maybe help fix what has gone wrong.  If I shut down and move away forever you  will never find out how wrong or right you're living and how much of a mess you've become.  So I am responsibly trapped in this cage dear, that I built by choice.  You on the other hand must  learn to fly far away again just so I can forget that I'm living in the damn thing at all.  Clear, she asked sternly but jokingly, Crystal clear, I say seating myself as my father already done.

You  remind me of  one of your cousins out west.  She used to drink and my aunt would get so angry, telling her she disgraced the family and was a local embarassment hanging out and partying.  We all did but she managed to get addicted to alcohol.  Luckily that's mostly what prevailed back then was drinking.  Then we  also knew it was unavoidable because  our relative owned a distillery.  It was almost like supporting them or us was deteriorating her.  That sense of responsibility can blind you if you take it to far or adhere to others ragging you on. 

I had never heard much about his side of our family.  He always shied away from saying to much outside visits irregularly  out west to keep up with the cousins living . We had driven there back some years before I finished high school.  The long roads were a compliment to my music endless and the funnel of goodies we had  stuffed in bags and a cooler in the back of the  cosmo truck my father purchased.  I slept, thought about  what I was missing besides my friends and boyfriend on this bling journey in between texting back and forth the whole while we were out there on vacation.  I think we had text phones then and it was a subtle comfort piece of technology compared to my smart  phone.  But I too was in a tad of heaven.  It aided me through off times when we kids weren't  eating or talking amongst ourselves becoming familiar.  I rode in the car escaping the adults with some cousins out in their city basking in country, cattle, and the freedom the Western communities bought.  But yet, they had their own brand of funk and fun.  Criminals,  street elements of sort, the popular places at which we met a few 'who to knows' for sport.  It was okay going skating, going to the pond to hang at their private spot or the mall for casual innocent good time.  Everyone loved movies so we were challenged to outside theater once or twice I recalled.  It wasn't so bad.  I in tokenism, promised to keep in touch and did until college when things just spiraled into a mist of nothingness.  I know now the state of consumption I lived in. 

His mentioning them made me imagine sending a letter or email to rekindle that part of my past wasn't a bad idea for the weeks list of important things to do.  I made a mental note still preoccupied with dad  smart smile and happy thinking over the past life he kinda missed living. 

These people used to drink like fish and we'd take one another home sneaking in back doors and sometimes, he chuckled, leaving who ever on the porch to their own home safe but with opportunity not to get told to go to hell.  Parental hell that is for being a drunken disgrace, they'd render us as about that.  The town was small, populated but it was easier then to find out the trails and trials of other, if you know what I mean. 

After a few bites and mother assuring him he was blessed to of escaped such a mundane life, he continued. 

See,  the distillery made money hand over foot.  We were quite renowned around the area as fas as word of mouth and a supply of gasoline would carry you for the beer and the gardens locals established about for simple delivery.  It was business and very profitable.  These were highlights for us then and it seems they're making more 'breweries' classic hits around the country these days.  Thats was how I made money over weekends and summers,  driving and tagging along as a hand  across at least three stateline's.  We made our own history back then and to date I know places and recognize things are like glasses,  metal signs, stuff like that around.  The older kids left after some years for school and to tell you the truth my cousin just said business fizzled away and that along with  politicians imposing fines, and  other expenses he really didn't want to be bothered with.  Today things are so much stricter and monitored for taxes you know.  Then wow!, I know he cleared and pocketed most of  his revenue.  As long as tuition was paid my folks weren't concerned where it came from or how much he set aside to help out.  Lucky as they were to have him.  I guess so were we all.

Dad ate a fork full.  People of color seemed to me were safer in the far out place where know one knew for sure who made all that cash.  Maybe it was God or solid bit of luck.  The right friends and connections, you see, mattered to me  most of all to his success. 

Alright, honey, now that she knows for sure your contribution to alcoholics anonymous,  that  about makes it even for her to attend substance counseling.  I know it was such a high-life for you and  your family but really, the effects weren't always so great if I recall your saying so yourself.  she sipped her juice.

The people out there like you when it's good but once things happen I am not so sure they can handle their own choices.  I mean as angry as they were blaming him for drunkards; those church people fussed mostly when no body else was looking.  If I remember correctly your tales, she smirked. 

Threatened to bust him up at some point, right?  And the others wanted in on making money or free money for something the Lord showed favor for. They fancied the Lord lighten his opinion of him for his donations. 

He laughed looking at me comfortably chewing on the food and conversation.  I had'n't missed my mothers sarcasm either.  She always snuck it in for me to feel her emotional state.  Things haven't change out their in the world much since then either. 

With that finish she ate as I too waited for the next wave of conversation to enlighten or chastise my poor sense of judgement  or my past sins. 

The rest of evening my father seemed to have ignited a familia fuse.  Hes eyes lighter an voice energetic as if he mastered a fantasy of the past as a poster child of this so called life we were fortunate to be living.  It wasn't history but