After many wonderful days in Maine, I came back "home". Sounds kind of of funny. If you have read my past blogs, home wasn't really too homey. Home always has to do with a feeling at ease, welcomed, loved and everything else that makes home, home. Well, I was back. My parents fed me a line of how much they missed me and how they needed me back home. They had heard that I had worked at a couple of places and promised to hook me up with a job when I got home and they made a few other promises too. My dad had heard that I had taken up the guitar and made a bookshelf around these giant Wharfdale cabinets. He gave me a amp that he picked up at Fender when he worked there. The amp was originally a combo, but was damaged. My dad made it into a head. Okay, things were starting to look up. Notice I said, starting!
At 16, I got a job working a CJ's Market. It was a little mini mart/gas station and it was right around the corner from where we were living at the time. It started off as a summer job and turned into an after school kind of thing. I would help unload the delivery trucks, sweep and mop the floor, stock the walk-in refrigerator, bag ice, and a few other things. It wasn't a bad job. One of the guys working there showed me that you could drink beer on the job if you didn't get caught. He was an adult and should have known better, but as the assistant manager he thought he should show me a fringe benefit of the job. He said that he had a technique. He said you open the bottle carefully making sure you didn't mess up the cap. You drink most, but not all of the beer. You push the top back onto the bottle and set it on the rack. Then you go about your stocking duties and "accidentally" knock the bottle off the rack and it breaks on the ground. You just need to save the necks with the caps still on them and the vendors will give the store credit. Free beer! He told me not to tell anyone else even though everyone else did it. He said not to do it a lot or it looks suspicious. Everything was going pretty good and worked there for almost a year. One thing about the job was that you could have a tab. You could eat, drink, buy cigs, and even get gas on your tab. You'd just write down the amount and it was deducted from your check. I had a tab for a little while. I'd stop in and put something on my tab. Get a burrito or something on a break and put that on there too. Just a little here and there. Well, I begin to notice that my checks were becoming less and less. Even on weeks were I was "tab free", my checks was not the correct amount. My biggest surprise was when I got a check for around $40.00 for two weeks worth of work. It should have been closer to $150. I asked about it and the lady who was the head cashier said that I had a big tab. I asked to see it. When I asked about the charges I was told that this person from my family put a carton of cigarettes on my tab, someone else bought gas and a couple of six packs of Dr. Pepper. I went through the roof! I closed my tab. I told them I didn't not want a tab and that my family wasnt going to charge stuff to it. Well, a member needed to gas up their car and tried to use the tab. They were denied, but then persisted because it was a "misunderstanding". Being friends with the owners made it possible for my tab to be reopened without my knowledge once again. I caught hell later that day and was told that I put this person in a bad spot and blah, blah, blah. I don't remember what I said but it was met with a slap. Once again, I slowly turned back into the person I had been before going to Maine. I was trying to save up enough money to go back to Maine. I just wanted to get away and disappear. I thought of the people I knew in Maine and hatched a plan to work on a fishing boat. I'd earn my keep and never see these people again. Since I was not 18, I was repeatedly told that if I tried to leave earlier, I'd be picked up by the police as a runaway and would be taken to jail. So I kept my plan to myself. I tried to do the bank thing once, but it never works when someone is running the account for you. Instead, I would cash my checks and hide cash behind the plastic outlet covers. I tried under my bed and the usual places, but people were in and out of our house and my room would get ransacked. While working, I was told to buy my own clothes and stuff. Now imagine my amazement when coming home from school and I'd find people I didn't know wearing my clothes, sleeping in my bed, sitting in my room, etc. I put a lock on my door, but it was always broken.
I did my junior year at Rubidoux High in Riverside. Sheelah's mother Dee Dee lived in Mira Loma and I used her address to go to Rubidoux. There was a bus stop by her place. My dad would drop me off in the morning and after school I would walk from Swan Lake Mobile Home Park to my house. Walking on Hamner back in the day when there was nothing out there was scary. A number of times I had weird guys try to give me a ride. I started carrying a pocket knife. I would open it and slip it into my watch band. That way I could conceal it with my hand, but it was ready if I ever needed it.
I spent most of the year at Rubidoux smoking pot at school or drinking by myself at home. My life had been a big disappointment. Now it just seemed to go from bad to worse. I couldn't wait for eighteen to come.
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