Point of Origin Pt. 4

During the courtship rituals of coffee and tiny sandwiches, Tati revealed numerous concerns with regard to her family. In particular, her mother and the strange relationship between her mother and Tati's younger brother. The man that I had met and was signing my checks was not her paternal father. That man resided in Connecticut and had worked for Harley Davidson. Tati's step father produced major racing engine components for nationally well known racing stables. (Generic enough? I think so). The income from such enterprise was reflected in the home and lifestyle. It was something Tati had grown up with, and reviled. I'll come back to that a little later.

But because of the radio interference Tati felt our relationship was in danger of being crushed out before it began. She told me I didn't understand how powerful they were, and that her mother had ruined relationships in the past. She deemed it necessary, therefore, to keep our trysts secret. She had a plan to meet me one night, in the new stable. I think I arrived near the property at about 11PM, making my way across the field to the stable. Once inside I could see warm light from under the door of the tack room, I could smell incense. She had the place decked out in candles. A bed was made in the middle of the floor. Again, this is where I have to stop, never mind this is among my favorite parts of any story. Sweet, wonderful, and I think epic would not be completely out of place here. And it went on like that from there.

A couple of months passed and she frequented my house more and more. I cannot remember exactly what day it was, we were in the tiny kitchen and I was holding her. Something had changed. I quite literally smelled it. A couple of weeks after, she sat me down for the serious talk. She had missed her period. We had some decisions to make.

I think it important to understand the circumstances she was facing at the time. Her mother literally hated me. I just didn’t give a fuck about their money and I was obstinately uncontrollable as a result. Her brother, in my opinion, was an emotionally retarded funster, if not an outright sociopath with a penchant for abusing nearly every female he had contact with. He also had a significant problem not stealing money from the family business, and a long history of celebrity attorneys hired to defend him whenever he stepped over the line with people outside the family.


Tati was the hall monitor. Her defense for growing up in insanity was to read. It was a gift from a neighbor when the family was still in California. They saw what was going on. She received her first book. She set about learning how to combat the sweeping psychological and sometimes physical violence, as best a 12 year old girl could. 

My lifestyle as an often unemployed redneck kid with a high school diploma contrasted sharply with the Anaheim Hills home, Jaguars and Izod clothing. The hot water heater in my house didn’t work with the old plumbing. The toilet needed assistance to flush. My car was an absolute pile of crap. One of the more important cultural clashes resulted over the issue of hunting. I did hunt. I had since I was a child. All my family had. It was, for lack of a better justification, my heritage. It terrified Tati. It scared her that a human could do that. Later, the issue would become pivotal in our relationship.

For now though, we sat on the sofa and talked. A long one. We talked about and eliminated the option of abortion. That meant we had to talk about what it would mean to agree to raise a child. She lined out the commitment, what it would mean in terms of years and the effort we would be putting forth to raise a kid that wasn’t the product of the home she grew up in. She wanted our kid to be mentally healthy, happy, and nothing like the people she knew. We had to be there, and that meant we’d have to make that final commitment to each other.

More to follow!