Bad Habits (5 page)

The haunting Stephen King sound effect that each stair made as we pressed our toes on it did nothing to calm our nerves. Also, JoJo’s nose was chronically clogged as a kid, so it sounded like the Elephant Man was gasping for air beside me as we made our way down to Satan’s basement.

Once we got to the bottom, JoJo and I would glue our bodies back-to-back as we walked so we could
Cagney & Lacey
it in case demons popped out of the shadows.

I know a lot of people have a scent that reminds them of their youth. Mine is urine. To this day, that smell is reminiscent of me and the Elephant Man chasing away demons.

JoJo and I routinely made our way to the laundry room. Sometimes the washer was full of dirty clothes. JoJo and I tried not to scream as we reluctantly grabbed Mom’s and Dad’s unmentionables and flung them into the dryer. Then we would slump our bodies down and lean against the soothing rhythm of the washer. Sometimes we would pass out sitting up, but we were always awakened by the soft buzz of the washer as it completed its cycle.

One night JoJo had a bad case of strep throat, but it didn’t stop her from crawling into my bed at night and peeing all over me. So like any good sister, I woke her sick ass up and told her she had to go to the basement with me.

She was shaking with chills and her face was dripping with beads of sweat. I remember thinking that she looked like she was going to die. Her fever had to be up to 104 or 105.

I whispered to her in a loving tone, “If you don’t go with me, Satan might come up here and get you when you’re all alone.”

Her sick eyes cracked open and she uttered a weak “okay,” as she rolled her shivering body off the bed and started to walk with me. Well, I was walking. JoJo was weaving down the hallway like a drunk driver on New Year’s Eve.

As we made our way to the stairs, her body began trembling more violently. It probably didn’t help that she was wearing pee-soaked PJs. I thought I would warm her up by telling her how hot Hell must be. I talked about people’s skin melting off and fire roaring for all eternity.

JoJo mumbled an incoherent response. Had I been an adult, I would have realized that this was probably a sign that she was close to death. However, she still managed to walk back-to-back with me until we made it to our usual washer and dryer spot. But then all hell broke loose.

JoJo mumbled, “Do you see that?” and pointed to a corner with nothing in it.

I looked back at her face to see if she was messing with me, but she wasn’t.

She held her hand out like a scary possessed child from
The Ring
as she continued pointing. She was full-on fucking seeing something in the corner.

“Is it a spider? A rat?” I was hoping she would say yes.

But she didn’t. She replied, “That’s
him
.”

My heart fell into my uterus. She just said “
him
.”

Who the fuck is
him
?

“JoJo, what are you talking about? Stop scaring me.”

Then her face started shaking back and forth as if “he” were coming toward her.

I started screaming at the top of my lungs, which made JoJo scream at the top of her lungs.

“
We’re gonna die! Help!!!
”

Above us, I heard what sounded like a herd of elephants stampeding into the basement. My mom and dad found JoJo and me on the ground holding on to each other for dear life.

We continued to scream and point toward the corner.

My parents turned their heads to see what we were pointing at, but of course they saw nothing and proceeded to yell back at me. “What?! What are you pointing at?!”

JoJo’s teeth were chattering and her body was shaking, so I spoke.

“
Him! Do you see him in the corner?
”

My mom and dad again looked toward the corner, and my dad yelled back at me even louder, “
Jennifer, what in the hell is wrong with you?
” Jennifer was the name my parents called me when I was in major trouble (which happens often in this book).

My mother then yelled, “
What are you doing down here? It’s three
A.M.
! And JoJo, you’re sick as a dog.
”

I looked at JoJo. Her eyes were pretty much rolling into the back of her head and she was shaking from her fever. I could tell she had still not regained the ability to speak, so I took the liberty of throwing her under the bus.

“JoJo crawled into my bed and then peed in it, and I didn’t want her to get in trouble, so we came down here to wash the sheets, but she started speaking in tongues and I think she was seeing ghosts.” There was no way I could stick up for her because I adamantly rejected the idea of being a nine-year-old in diapers.

My mom yelled, “Both of you get upstairs … now!”

I didn’t learn the meaning of the word “karma” until I moved to Los Angeles later in life, but looking back, my karma was about to unfold for blaming this entire incident on my sister.

Later in the month, I was all alone one night because JoJo decided to do something selfish and sleep at Grandma’s house. I mean pee on Grandma.

So while she was gone, I was forced to endure the demons myself.

My eyes popped open at two
A.M.
; I stripped my bedsheets down and stood face-to-face with the basement door. I mustered up all the strength and Jesus power within and decided that if I made the sign of the cross over and over and over while walking down the stairs, I would be protected. Kind of like the wax on/wax off move from
The Karate Kid
, but with the sign of the cross.

I opened the basement door and started my descent. My hand moved at superhuman speed. Nothing was going to harm me … Suddenly, and all in slow motion, my foot missed one of the stairs. I felt my body floating in the air. All nine years of my life flashed before my eyes.

I quickly thought of two things:

Oh no,
I thought.
It’s happening. This is it. I asked too many questions. I’m going to Hell.

It’s amazing how time stands still before impact in situations like this. I managed to yell, but not for help. Oh no, I full-on managed to scream the Our Father prayer in its entirety.

“Our Father Who art in Heaven hallowed be Thy Name Thy kingdom come Thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us and lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil Amen.”

And then
BOOM
.

I felt nothing. No pain. For sure I was in Hell. I knew my soul was forever in Satan’s hands, so I slowly opened my eyes. Standing before me was Satan!

Kidding. I opened my eyes and nothing was there. I slowly lifted my head and then sat up.

How I wasn’t hurt was a miracle.

I sat in awe, wondering if this fall symbolized my own fall from grace. Would I continue to be a devout Catholic or would I now be cursed with temptations from Satan? I knew only time would tell.

As you read on, you can make your own judgments about how hard I fell from grace.

Since we didn’t have much money to ever go out as a family, I really looked forward to Sunday movies at home with everyone. The only real bummer was that we had to borrow a VCR from our neighbor. Those things were expensive pains in the ass back in the day. Not only were they a lot of money, but the damn things were really heavy. Together, JoJo and I would carry one back from the Collinses, three doors down.

By the time we shuffled back to our house, our little arms were really hurting. It was worth the free candy, though, which is why we always volunteered. Mrs. Collins would send us home with a hoard of chocolate and sugary treats. It must have been her secret sin because my parents never found out about our weekly sugar high. If only Dad’s pocketbook knew where our cavities were actually coming from.

When we got back to our house, we would drop the anvil of a VCR in the living room and dash into our bedroom. We hid our collective stash under our mattress so we could later feast on chocolate in bed. We would race back downstairs with my Jesus scrapbook in hand, excited about our next religious viewing.

Sometimes my dad’s friend George would join us for movie nights. Well, he would more like interrupt our movie nights, if you were to ask my mom. I think my dad must have organized it that way to get out of watching Jesus movies. George would show up with beer and snacks and plant himself on the couch to start his usual offensive commentary. Mom would eventually shoot my dad a stern look, and then Dad would haul him into the kitchen like a performer being caned off the stage. Dad didn’t seem to mind this routine.

George was an atheist, but he was still welcome in our house. Mom explained that even though he annoyed her at times and had a different belief system, he was a good person with a big heart. My mom, the most religious person in our family, was accepting nonbelievers into our home. I liked that!

One night, we kicked off family night with
King of Kings
(1961). It was amazing that George hadn’t said a word five minutes into the film. That was a record. I was actually disappointed; I enjoyed the levity he brought to our house. I noticed that he was starting to doze off, so I nudged his jiggly chest to jolt him awake. I smiled as he began watching again.

“Are you shitting me?” George came to life as he slapped his thigh and chuckled to himself. He reminded me of John Candy in
Uncle Buck
, only a bit more colorful and pear-shaped. “All seven of ’em gladiators had perfect shots? C’maaannn.” He grabbed a fistful of popcorn and shoved it all into his mouth, chewing wildly as half fell out onto the floor. He grabbed a stack of our Jesus VHS tapes and started to look through them.

“
Jesus of Nazareth
. Holy shitballs, six hours? Hoo hoo hoooo,” George laughed. He had eyes like Rodney Dangerfield.

Mom shot Dad her classic menacing stare to take George out of the room. Dad shot up perkily off the La-Z-Boy and summoned George to mosey on over into the kitchen. I was on to them and their master plan, and so was Mom. She rolled her eyes as she sank back into the sofa to enjoy God cinema with her four girls.

Ding-dong
.

“Who is that?” said Amy.

“Mallory’s coming over for the movie, remember?” my mom replied.

JoJo and I looked at each other with a finger pointing inside our throats. We couldn’t stand Mallory. She was so pretentious. But Mom didn’t care. She pretty much allowed anyone into her home.

“Hi, Mallory. How’s your family?” my mom asked.

“They’re very well. Thank you, Mrs. McCarthy,” she said with a sweet smile.

“That’s nice. I’ll go fix you girls some snacks,” my mom said as she left the room.

“You’re such a brownnoser,” I had to say to her.

“Takes one to know one,” she replied quickly.

Mallory walked over to our pile of Jesus tapes and grabbed
Jesus of Nazareth
.

“Put this one on,” Mallory said assertively as she shoved it in the VCR.

“Get real. We don’t want to sit with you for six hours,” said Amy.

Mallory pulled out a Bible from her overnight bag. JoJo and I face-palmed ourselves when we realized she was sleeping over.

“Oh no, my mom’s babysitting you?” I said.

“My parents are gone for the night. Now shut up so I can read my Bible.” She rolled her eyes and fingered through her Bible, flipping pages but not reading anything.

“You don’t even care about God, you just pretend to!” JoJo said with an accusatory finger pointing at her.

“God hates you and He loves me! You’re just jealous,” she said.

“You don’t even go to church! Wait, I take that back, you’re a Chreaster!” I bounced back like a crazed girl on
Jerry Springer
. (“Chreaster” is the term Catholics made up to call other Catholics who go to church only on Christmas and Easter.)

“That’s because we’re so holy we don’t need to go to Mass every Sunday like you sinners,” she snarked back.