Susan Wilkins
Bio
I write stories and poetry. Lately I have put up a science fiction story and a children's story. I love to write and Vocal has given me a platform to do that. P.S. I love reader comments! Let me know what you think. Please enjoy!
Stories (27/0)
Springle... The House
Gene Dunlap...One of the nicest men on Earth. He was not really one of mom's boyfriends (she liked the married, crazy ones), though he badly wanted to be. Mom grew up with him, and according to her, he had been in love with her since childhood. Gene was educated, well-spoken, well-dressed, non-alcoholic, non-smoking, kind, and financially well-off (not really mom's type). Maybe mom felt more comfortable dating questionable men because she thought she did not deserve a nice man. She had always said that she was the black sheep of the family.
By Susan Wilkins2 years ago in Humans
Springle... The House
Brad Richardson was not crazy. He did not drink or smoke, so we knew he would not be around long. Brad was divorced and had three sons (I do not remember their names). His sons lived with him every summer (I guess that was the divorce arrangement). We never saw his ex-wife or heard anything about her from Brad. We knew she was white because that is all mom talked about...Brad Richardson and his mixed sons. Almost as if he had committed a crime by having children with a white woman. I hated when Brad had his sons. We were all thrown in together, because if you were kids, you should all get along. I was the only girl. The sons were always trying to kiss me or touch me. I could fight and was good at it; but trying to fight all three of them at once made it just about impossible to win. Stephen would just stand around and cry. No help there. I would tell mom what was happening, and she would say, "well you are going to have to get used to them, they may become your brothers." Or, "they are just being boys." Fuck! Why did my feelings never matter!?! Why did my safety never matter? It seemed as if I always had to fight alone. No help. No support. And, to make matters worse, I also had to watch out for Stephen (so much work!).
By Susan Wilkins2 years ago in Viva
The Beast and The Beauty
Moving to Tucson, AZ was not really something I wanted to do. The year was 1999. Concerns about the effect of Y2K, the year 2000 when there was a scare that things run by computers would not make the transition from years that began with 19 or less without major problems, were looming. For example, it was thought that computers would mistake '01 for 1901 instead of 2001. It was the year I would have to move back in with my estranged, abusive husband, and I had heard that Arizona was a beast of a place. An extremely hot, dry, rough state, and not a place that embraced Black people. Sigh. Decisions, decisions. On the upside, it was an opportunity to increase my salary by going from being a secretary (something I was good at), to being an engineer (something I always wanted to be). This opportunity would supply the means to become independent of my soon-to-be ex-spouse without having to struggle so much being a single parent of three young daughters. So, I took a deep breath and made the plunge to move myself and my daughters to Tucson, AZ. Yikes!
By Susan Wilkins2 years ago in Confessions
Springle... The House
Jimmy Black…the Black Mr. Clean. Mom met Jimmy Black because he was our garbage man. This was back in the day before residences had dumpsters. This was when people put out actual garbage cans, and the garbage man had to physically lift these cans and dump the contents into the back of the garbage truck. It was during a time when people knew their garbage man, and mail carrier. When tips and gifts were given for good work, and some holidays (particularly Christmas). Jimmy Black was bald, buff, and wore one gold earring. He had the most beautiful smile, with gorgeous, evenly spaced white teeth. Jimmy's personality could melt snow on a below-zero day. He was one of the most likeable people you ever had the fortune to meet. And, despite him being a garbage man, he always smelled good (even when he was at work). He used all of these charms to become another one of mom's boyfriends. Unlike most of mom's other boyfriends, he was not married. He was our favorite of mom's boyfriends, and we looked forward to his visits. He drove a big ol’, aqua colored, deuce and a quarter (Buick Electra 225). It was Buick’s answer to the Cadillac. Jimmy would come over and take us on “family” outings. He didn’t try to be dad or discipline us. He just made sure we had fun. He would drive us waaaay out to the country (where we lived, city and rural/country were strictly separated) to see and pet farm animals. Something we never would have gotten to do otherwise. Mom never took us anywhere. She refused to own a car (even though she possessed a driver's license and was a good driver). Her philosophy was that she didn't want to own a car because of all the other expenses that came with that ownership…license plates, maintenance, tires, and insurance. So, if we wanted to go somewhere we either took the bus or rode with friends whose parents had cars. There was also the choice of going with our dad whenever we visited him. When Jimmy was driving to the country on roads that hardly had any traffic (outside of the city limits), he would always go faster than the speedometer could register. When he hit that speed, the speedometer would make a lovely ticking sound. We loved it! When I got older, I realized we were not wearing seat belts, and he and my mom had always been drinking. My grandmother’s prayers kept us safe. I also later found out that Jimmy used heroin, and even though he drank and used drugs recreationally he never appeared to be inebriated. I found this out because he would come and “steal” mom’s welfare check out of the mailbox, but he would always pay her back.
By Susan Wilkins2 years ago in Humans
Springle... The House
Herman Blalock was another of my mother’s boyfriends. Herman was tall, dark, and not-so-handsome. Herman was married and mom was his side piece (mistress/girlfriend). Mom liked being the side piece. She was not enamored of being a wife. Mom always told me that being a wife and mother were the two most unappreciated jobs on the Earth. Her mantra was that every woman was a whore whether she was married or not. Her reasoning…? Women had to screw to get any and everything. When I asked her why she dated married men, she replied that she did not want the responsibility of being married and did not want to have to wash a man’s draws (underwear). She wanted the sex, gifts, money, and attention, but not the attachment. I guess the two marriages she had in the past had jaded her. Mom also grew up in a time when women did not have a voice, which made her feel that marriage was more of an expectation and requirement than the wedded bliss idea that is so bandied about from that era. She had no desire to be tied to one man, or so she said. Mom did not sing often, but when she did it was always The Side Piece Blues. Here are the main lyrics. He is not here on holidays. He does not want to be seen in public with me. I cannot call him. He does not spend enough time with me. Blah, blah, blah… One of the most hateful things about mom having boyfriends was that she always wanted, encouraged, and allowed her boyfriends to discipline Tony. The child counselor told her that he needed a positive, male role model. I guess you could call her married, alcoholic boyfriends that. At least they were male. I never let them get away with that shit though. I would wait until mom left the room, then I would tell Tony to leave. I told Herman he should go home and discipline his own children! I told him my brother already had his own no-good dad. He did not need a pretend one. Besides, Mr. Big Bad Herman was afraid of black cats and walking under ladders. If we were driving down the street and a black cat crossed in front of his car he would slam on brakes and drive backwards all the way around the block just to get where he was going so he could convince himself that a black cat had not crossed his path. He wouldn’t walk under ladders either. I guess that was bad luck too. He was such a positive, male, role model.
By Susan Wilkins2 years ago in Humans
Springle... The House
It is now early fall…late September-ish of 1972. Today is Saturday, and it is about 5:30 pm. A different group is at The House this evening. Although it has been a typical day (the usual morning mental abuse coupled with a Cinderella day), this evening is a bit more mellow. Most of the drinking group is here, but for some reason they are doing more talking than drinking. It has turned into a night of tall tales and “remember the time when” stories, a competition of who could tell the most exaggerated and outlandish versions of how something had happened. Lots of laughter, and boisterous outbursts ensued. They are actually quite lovely sounds. It lends an atmosphere of fun to the usually tense air.
By Susan Wilkins2 years ago in Humans
Springle... The House
Sometime in August, 1972 we were still on summer vacation. Mom had been hanging out at the house with her current, main boyfriend, Curtis. Curtis was about ten to fifteen years younger than mom. Sometimes he brought his young son (around 4 years old), Curtis, Jr. with him. Curtis, Jr. called mom “the girl”, and he adored mom. If he had a hangnail and his dad tried to take care of it he would say “no! Let the girl do it!!” I am glad to say that Curtis, Jr. was not with his dad today. If he had been, that would have meant me keeping up with him while mom and Curtis drank and “napped” and drank. Thankfully, I could just be a kid for a while.
By Susan Wilkins2 years ago in Humans