Drift Away: Chapter 2

Copyright © 2021 by A. R. Shaw

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This is a fictional story. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Chapter 2

But that’s not where this story starts. To start at the beginning, we must go to Caracas, Venezuela. I was born in Texas, at least, that’s what my birth certificate says and though I don’t remember much before Venezuela, I do remember living in a jungle, where monkeys flew through the trees like on an episode of Tarzan. The memories are hazy now, but a few things stand out.

I remember running through a big house, my bare feet slapping against wooden floors. The ceiling fans churning the humid air. I remember maids chasing me down. I remember giggling as they imprisoned me into frilly dresses that had me tugging and scratching in no time. I remember knocking over a vase on purpose, sending it crashing to the floor, and then beating it back to a bedroom and dove under covers. They found me of course, and then whacked me with a switch repeatedly. It was an experiment that my older stepsister concocted. Angela wanted to know if a spanking would hurt if you were under the comforter. So, she set me up. In case anyone’s wondering…yes, it hurt.

I remember a tarantula climbing up the center of a mud wall and my father walking in and stomping it into mush. I remember swinging from my dad’s hairy arm, the one with the wide silver watchband that when I listened, it ticked and ticked and ticked. He smelled of Old Spice, cigarettes, whisky, and oil. Always oil…