To Vicki's Anger

Vicki stood so close I could feel her breath.Her anger electrified her: eyes bright, cheeks flush, and her arms trembling beside her. She’s taller than I, but she’s only 15. She’s my favorite.

I graduated from college 4 months ago, spent the summer waiting tables at the Olive Garden, managing to lose money some nights because I was so bad at it. I needed another job, one that didn’t require having to be nice while trying to remember which is the diet Coke and which is the regular. I could not multi-task. So I got a job as a houseparent at a group home for teenage girls who had been taken away from abusive parents. I was 22.

It’s Friday and Vicki was invited by girls at school to go to a movie. It’s against the rules. And she doesn’t have a dime to her name. None of the girls do. I tell her no as if it’s obvious, and I see it start. Vicki’s anger is legendary: focused, sharp, controlled but just barely. She is speechless and I all I want is for her to say something.

Brenda walks in. She is younger than Vicki and even younger than her age. She will always be just behind. Brenda’s mom is an addict and always chooses drugs and the man they come with over Brenda. Brenda still loves her mom, though. They all do.

Nothing surprises me more about working here than this. One girl was abused by both her parents, repeatedly. One girl has scars. One has known mostly foster parents, the last one out in the country, and by the time the social worker made it back out, she was starving. They have been slapped and beaten. And still they dream of going home, that mom is sober or dad is working. It was all a mistake and everything is really fine.

Loren, the co-parent tonight, touches Vicki’s shoulders. He takes her for a walk and ignores her when she grabs one of his cigarettes, lets her smoke. She comes back smoother, calmer, but only just. She agrees to join us instead for the regular Friday night trip to KMart and the video store. Every girl will get $3 to spend as she wants.

Steven Tyler
Mick man34 at English Wikipedia [G
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or CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)],
via Wikimedia Commons

After dinner, we cram into the station wagon: 6 girls, me and Loren. Loren flips through the radio station until they yell at him to stop. It’s Aerosmith’s “Janie’s Got a Gun.” They all sing along, looking out the window, each singing to herself. They would never hurt their dads. They would never hurt their moms. But they can understand it. They can sing it.