Okay, so back to the van and Amanda sitting in the back seat with me, her friends willing to drive me anywhere I wanted. Even Dublin, if I so chose. The problem was I didn’t want to go home. The abuse was too much for my teenage mind. I couldn’t take another day of Bev deciding whether or not she wanted to beat up on me, attempt to love me, then abuse me again.

               I don’t know that anyone understood what was going on. I don’t know that I fully grasped what was occurring. Dad and Mom did, but Bev wasn’t about to accept the responsibility for the abuse she was heaping on me. 

               Amanda didn’t know any of this, but she was in school with me. I don’t know if her parents were counselors or what, but she did get away with a lot, considering this was the late 1980s. So many kids did things that their parents had no idea what was going on. I doubt they’d want to know.

               She climbed into the back after I made my way there. I didn’t feel like being people, even though I was an extrovert back then. I loved to be around crowds of people, even if I wasn’t the center of attention. I loved the energy. Unfortunately, I was in a dark place at this precise moment. I was depressed, sad, and felt totally alone. That wasn’t true, but it sure felt like it. It was accurate enough for me to believe it. And believe it I did.

               Amanda did her best to talk me off a ledge despite being in a committed relationship. I say she had a boyfriend because that’s what she told me that night. Her girlfriend was in the van’s passenger seat, letting her boyfriend drive. I don’t recall their names, nor did I care who they were in the first place. Amanda made a point of connecting with me, not her or her boyfriend. The dude was a bit of a dick anyway. He was your typical rocker, stoner dude. Anyone even looking in the direction of his girlfriend would face his wrath. Like it or not, that was the tough guy persona that every stoner dude had to live up to. It was total bullshit. I knew it. He knew it. But the persona was enough to solidify his reputation at school. And he built that persona with super glue. Nothing was strong enough to penetrate it. Not even the love of his girlfriend, who worried about his abusive behavior to other people. But she was never abused. He never hit her in anger. Well, not often. And never in mixed company, so it was okay. At least, that’s what she thought. So said the frightened look in her eyes when he eyed me a few times like he wanted to beat the crap out of me just because I was there.