Hey! You! Get Out of My Way! Leaving Home Part 15

School went by very quickly that day; it seemed as if everyone knew that I had no place to live. So very many people came forward and offered me a place to stay at their homes for a day here or a day there that I found myself overwhelmed several times during the day and hid in the bathroom. And even during this time I was being bullied in school.

The bullies in my school were some of the worst people I have ever met. The bullying started in sixth grade and continued for my entire Guilderland school life. There were times I found myself hiding in the bathroom as the bullies stood and waited outside, opening the bathroom door, screaming “faggot,” and telling me that I had until the end of the day to live.

Sometimes they waited for as long as it took me to come out. Finding out through the grapevine that I was now both a “faggot” and homeless was too much for them to take. The glee I could see in their faces as they either threw me into a locker or spit on me while they screamed various phrases, stayed with me for years. On this particular day, they muttered the words “homeless faggot” as they passed me in the hall, jerking their hands back and pretending to punch me. But even then, I knew that someday it would be different, and my revenge would begin on the day that I could write about it.

At the end of the school day I met Kerry at her car and she handed my bag over to me. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said. Beth stood waiting for me on the curb. We had to catch the bus to her house. Climbing aboard, I was stopped by the driver's announcing, “Whoa, hold on there, you don’t ride this bus.”

 

Beth and I explained that I was going to her house for the night. The driver told us that school policy required me to show permission from my parents. I was now forced to explain my story in front of a bus of kids listening to why I needed to be taken to Beth’s house. My explanation had little effect, as we were asked to leave the bus and get a note from the office. Someone at the back of the bus covered their mouth and blurted the word “faggot.”

We climbed off the bus. Beth went and called her mother to come pick us up after she got out of work. We sat on the grass facing the tennis courts and waited. Beth’s mother arrived and waved us over. While we were climbing into her car, she put her hand out and introduced herself. “Having a rough day?” she asked. “Uh-huh,” I said.

I was silent on the drive to Beth’s house, while Beth explained to her mother the course that my life had recently taken. Beth’s mom was a lawyer, and her face didn’t give away what she was thinking. During the drive her eyes switched between the rearview mirror where her eyes met Beth's, and the road. She didn’t look at me.

We pulled into their driveway. I climbed out as Beth ran to her front door. As I walked around the car, Beth’s mother threw her arms around me and just hugged me. I could feel her mouth pressed to my head. “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered, as she choked back a sob.

Hey! You! Get Out of My Way! Leaving Home Part 14

The first thing I did was to make it over to the Albany bus depot three blocks away. There I used a payphone to call my friend Kerry. Thank God, it was early enough in the morning that she was still at home and she picked up on the first ring. After hearing my story she said, “I’m not sure you can stay at my house, but we can ask around.”

"I walked another three blocks over to the corner Washington Avenue and Lark Street to catch the bus to Stuyvesant Plaza. I was feeling like a wanted fugitive, so I stood a little way back from the street and kept my head down. I was hyper-aware that at any moment someone from the shelter could come driving past and make me get into the car or worse, they might have called the police, and I could be forced to get into the back of a police car. It took about twenty five minutes for the bus to come, and I climbed aboard with my head down.

Kerry was waiting for me by the time the bus pulled in. I ran over, climbed in her car and we drove to school. “Tell me again what happened for you to run away from the shelter?” she asked, pulling out onto the highway.

I went through the story again and Kerry inserted various “wows” when I reached the parts about smoking weed, getting caught with it, and then being told I would have to leave. “What do you think that you’re going to do now?” she asked. “I don’t know,” I said. “I am going to ask several friends at school if I can stay with them.” I didn’t have a lot of time to find a place to spend the night. I knew that it was a lot to ask of someone, but to then ask them to let me live full time with them? Even I knew that was almost too much to ask.

Kerry pulled into the school parking lot at Guilderland High and looked directly at me. “Are you okay?” she asked. I nodded and fought back the tears. “It will work out,” she said. “I know,” I responded, opening the car door. Pausing, I asked, “Can I leave my bag in your car?” “Of course,” she said, and we headed into the school.

I ran to homeroom before the bell and checked in. Our homerooms were organized by last name, so everyone in my homeroom’s last name started with the letter D. Thank God that one of my best friends Debbie was there. I needed the laughs and the support. Debbie was one of the funniest human beings I have ever had the pleasure to get to know. We had started a school newspaper together once — well, more like a flier — that had a great exposé on various cheerleaders in our homeroom. I quickly went into homeroom, and when I didn’t find her there, I knew right where to go.

Like every high school, the students at my school were all ganged up in familiar groups. Separated into various categories were the jocks and cheerleaders, nerds, potheads, and theatre people. I was part of the theatre people group. The theatre group also lumped together all the people in the band. If you played in the band, you were also allowed to hang out in the band room before school started, after you had checked into your homeroom. Being that I was in theatre but not in band, I was tolerated, but I was still breaking all the rules by going there for homeroom. Today, this point seemed a moot one.

I didn’t have a plan, but I figured that I would just start asking for help. On my first attempt, my friend Beth said that she would ask her Mom if I could spend the night. Beth and her mother lived alone and they had plenty of room, so she didn’t think it would be a problem. Twenty minutes later Beth had cleared it with her mom, and I was to go home with her at the end of the day.

I was so relieved that I had a place to spend the night, but I still needed to ask around to find other places to stay. I was sure that Beth’s mom was not going to make this a permanent thing.

Hey! You! Get Out of My Way! Leaving Home Part 13

Now what do I do? I have no plan B. In the morning I am going to be forced to pack my stuff and go. Where do I go? Into the street? What have I done? I am so close to moving to Saratoga to live in a group home and now it is all screwed up.

We walk silently back to our rooms. I have never seen Laroy so pissed off. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Laroy angry before. Every time we turn on the stairs to look back, Laroy just points with his finger to the top of the stairs and screams, “Move!”

In complete silence Tom and I go into our room, and Alex returns to his across the hall. “I am screwed,” I tell Tom. Tom just looks into space. “What the hell am I going to do?” I ask. Tom shakes his head. We both get ready for bed and this time we don’t leave our room.

I spend the whole night staring at the ceiling. I have nowhere to go in the morning. It is all over. Silently, I slide out of bed and pack my things. Tom rolls over and looks at me. Not a word passes between us. An hour before the staff arrives for the morning shift, I fall asleep. When I wake up, Tom is not in the room. I open the door and look out to see if I can spot him or Alex. Walking into the hallway I peer around the corner so I can look into the TV room. No one is in there either. I walk back into the hallway and lean over the banister. It’s a great way to see if anything is going on downstairs.

As usual, it is a beehive of activity. I listen closely and I can hear snippets of words. It sounds like the staff is in disbelief as to what went on last night. While I am eavesdropping, Donna appears directly under me. She just happens to glances up at that moment, and as she catches sight of me, she shakes her head in disgust. “I’ll be here when you get downstairs,” she says to me, walking into the office without a backward glance in my direction.

My brain is in full panic mode. What do I do now? My things are packed. I believe that they will stay true to their word and throw me out. I have seen it happen before. If you don’t like the rules here, you get asked to leave. Smoking weed is not only illegal, it is in strict violation of their policies.

It is time to face the music. I have taken the longest shower and dressed as slowly as possible. I can no longer put it off. To get out of the building, I have to walk past the office. Standing at the top of the landing, I take each step as if I am walking to the gallows. The steps squeak as I put my weight on them, betraying me and announcing my slow arrival. At the bottom of the stairs I see no one around. As I walk down the hallway to the main office, I can hear a gathering in the kitchen behind me.

I step into the office and there is no one there. I am alone. No Donna, no staff. Then I notice that someone has left my file on the table. I walk quickly over there and thumb through it. Everything that I have ever done in the shelter is clearly documented. The night I arrived by police escort, all the court dates, interactions with my family, and all the staff’s private notes are now sitting in a file right in front of me. I act without thinking and grab a Yellow Pages phone book. Placing it on the table over my file, I grab both the Yellow Pages and the file. My heart is racing as I turn out of the office and head to the stairs. Everyone is in the kitchen is still having a meeting over coffee.

Quickly, I head up the stairs and run into my bedroom. I can feel my pulse throbbing in my neck. Throwing my file into my bag, I zip it up and head back into the hall. I look both ways as I enter the hallway near Alex’s room. Once there, I go over to the window and throw open the sash. I duck my head and swing my legs out onto the fire escape. Grabbing my bag I pull myself out onto the landing and slide the window closed. Very quietly I take each step towards the ground. These metal stairs don’t betray me. Now sweat is starting to form on my brow. I wipe it off with the back of my hand. At the last step I jump to the ground, run around the back into the alley, and disappear.

Hey! You! Get Out of My Way! Leaving Home Part 12

Two weeks later, Tom and Alex have brought a joint into the shelter. Everything has seemed to be heading in a direction to put me on “a path” in life. I would finish up my time at Equinox, move to Saratoga to live in a group home, and then go off to college. Tom and Alex stand at the top of the stairs and wait to hear Laroy’s snoring before they open my door. “Come across the hall,” whispers Alex, motioning with his hand. “We are going to smoke some weed.” Silently we cross the hallway and enter Alex’s room.

I had been in Alex’s room before but now he was living alone. His roommate recently worked out his problems with his parents and moved back home. Against one wall of Alex’s room is a pile of mattresses that are kept there as storage. Our job in the morning is to move them to a storage room on the upper floor of the building. People are always donating things to the shelter, and since our numbers are always growing, the donations come in handy.

We get the idea to block the door with the mattresses so that no one can get in and surprise us. Alex reaches in the front pocket of his jeans and pulls out a joint, he then places it in his mouth. Pausing to smile, he takes a lighter out of his pocket and lights up.

The smoke curls around Alex’s head as he inhales deeply and holds the smoke in his lungs. Tom reaches out and takes the joint from Alex holding it between two fingers. “Smells like skunk,” says Tom with a laugh. Alex gives him the thumbs up.

We sit on the fire escape for about twenty minutes, talking about what our dreams are when we get out of here. Tom and Alex want to see the world and travel across the country. I want to move to New York City and become a dancer.

We finish the joint and while we’re climbing back in through the window, it sounds like someone is pounding on the bedroom door. “Open this door now!” screams the person on the other side of the door. It is Laroy. “I know you’re smoking weed!” he screams. Alex and Tom run across the room and lie against the mattresses, trying to block Laroy from coming in. Laroy, tired of asking us to open the door, begins to kick it down. The crunching and splintering sound created by the door as it crashes in is deafening.

Once through the door, Laroy butts the mattresses and sends Tom and Alex flying across the room. I stand there with my mouth hanging wide open, completely in shock. “The police are on their way,” screams Laroy, as he takes the mattresses and tosses them as if they weighed nothing.

The Albany police, ever none too subtle, pull up in front of the building with their lights flashing. Laroy grabs at the air as we try to dive past him. Somehow this tiny little ex-Hells Angel kicks in a door, throws mattresses around, and grabs three boys as they jump out of his way.

Laroy drags us down the stairs and into the office. We can see the police at the front door. Laroy throws each of us into a chair and pointing, screams, “Don’t anyone move!” Running to the front door, he opens it and in a calm voice says, “Gentlemen, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” The cops laugh and walk into the office. You can hear their walkie-talkies going off, as one of the officers pushes his hat back off his head. “You got any more on you?” he asks, scanning the three of us.

“No……no…no sir,” Alex stammers. “Well, you’d better not,” he responds. Speaking into his radio, one of the cops walks back out of the room. The one who stays begins to give us a lecture on the evils of smoking marijuana. While he is talking, his partner re-enters the room and begins to go through our pockets.

 

Thank God they never found anything. When he was done with his speech, he tipped his hat to Laroy and he and his partner walked back out into the night. “Tonight is your last night,” said Laroy. “Go back to your rooms. In the morning you have to leave.”

Hey! You! Get Out of My Way! Leaving Home Part 11

I return to the Equinox shelter, and life returns to my “new normal.” Mornings are spent taking the bus to Stuyvesant Plaza, getting picked up and driven to school. Few people know what I am going through and I try to keep it that way. I have never been a very good student in school, and all this makes it even harder.

One day I come home from school to find that Donna is waiting for me. Ushering me into the office, she explains that Parsons Child and Family Center has a bed for me and I will be moving into one of their group homes. The only problem is that the house that has a spot for me is in Saratoga. “This is good news,” she says, “you will have whole new life to look forward to.” I explain that I looked forward to fixing my old life. I’m worried. I don’t know anyone in Saratoga and I will be starting school there in the middle of my junior year. “Mrs. Vanderbilt-Whitney lives in Saratoga,” Donna reminds me. “Am I living with her?” I ask.

Donna tells me that there is no other place for me to go and that this is the best thing for me. Standing up, she motions with her hand for me to leave the office and that our talk is over. I have four weeks left at the shelter before I will be moved, so it’s time to say my goodbyes.

I go into the kitchen and find Jay T. Tucker stuffing a chocolate cupcake into his mouth. He looks up at me and smiles. “Well, old friend,” I say sitting down next to Jay T., “it looks like my time is up here.” Jay T. starts to tell me that he has left the shelter two previous times and has been returned. “Is that because you’re a mean mother fucker?” I ask. He laughs, spitting cupcake onto the table. He pushes himself back from the table and stands up. “Jay T. Tucker is a mean mother fucker,” he sings. “And a mean mother fucker is he,” I add. He starts to pound on his chest. “Jay T. Tucker is a mean mother fucker,” he sings. “And a mean mother fucker is he,” I add again. Now we begin to march around the table in rhythm to our new song. “Jay T. Tucker is a mean mother fucker,” he sings and points at me. “And a mean mother fucker is he,” I sing back. Round and round the table we march, when Laroy walks in the room and joins in. Now the three of us are marching around the table singing, “Jay T. Tucker is a mean mother fucker and a mean mother fucker is he.”

That night in the TV room I get to meet two new kids who will be living at shelter for a couple of nights until the staff figure out what to do with them. One of them will be staying in my room and one will be staying in the hall across from me. The kid who will be staying with me is named Tom. His friend’s name is Alex. It turns out that they are both runaways who arrived from Buffalo. They got picked up by the police at the bus station where they spent the night sleeping on the chairs. When questioned, they didn’t have any bus tickets and refused to talk about their families. After a day, the police brought them here.

Tom and I stayed up late and he told me all about his life. Alex snuck across the hall and joined us. I told them to stand at the top of the stairs where you can hear Laroy’s snoring coming from the office. If you can hear it, then the coast is clear. The rule is that once “lights out” is called, everyone needs to be found in their own room. No one challenges any of Laroy’s rules.

The next couple of days at school are strange. I tell only my closest friends that I will be leaving and living in Saratoga. It is too hard to explain and I find that saying goodbye is very tough for me.

I come home two nights later and Donna is waiting for me in the office again. She introduces me to a woman who is creating a brochure for the shelter and wonders if I would like to design the cover. I am over-the-moon and I’m told that I only have two days to do it. I get to work right away.

Three nights later a news station comes to the shelter to do a story about what they do and Donna asks me to be a part of it. The news channel doesn’t want to show my face but they get a shot of my cowboy boots walking down the sidewalk and into the front door. I am now the poster child of the runaway set, except that I never “ran away.”

Hey! You! Get Out of My Way! Leaving Home Part 10

Two weeks pass in a blink of an eye. I am now standing out in a hallway at Child and Family Court in Albany, New York. My parents are at one end of the hall, and I’m standing alone by myself at the other end. Donna and the lawyer have gone in search of the women’s bathroom.

My mother looks at me, her eyes all red from crying. It might be for real, but I’ve seen this before. She looks in my direction and shakes her head; her pain has come to the surface. I am not moved, but I wonder why she is playing this card. It is clear that she needs to look like a mother who has done everything, and look where it has gotten her.

Donna and the lawyer hurry back, Donna’s heels clicking on the marble floor. Seeing where I am standing, the lawyer takes my arm and pulls me out of the view of my mother. We enter the courtroom. The judge is a large man who stares down at me; his glasses sit at the end of his nose. He looks at me and smiles. “How are you doing today?” he asks. “Fine,” I answer, afraid to look at him, in fear that I will be sent to jail. Donna has explained to me a million times that this is a hearing so I can move into a group home. I need to be declared an Emancipated Minor in order to be granted custody of myself.

The whole hearing takes about twenty minutes. Through sobs and tears, my mom explains that she has done her best, but that I am a menace and turning her house into an emotional shambles. We both decide it is better that I don’t return. The judge shakes his head as my mother finishes. I’m sure that he has seen many an emotional parent standing in front of him and can tell what is really going on.

It has always seemed weird to me that I was adopted because they “wanted” me, and now I am being “thrown away” because it is not working out their way. So many things happened in that house and under that roof. I remember that one night when I came home, my mother sat me down to wait for my father to get home. When he did arrive they told me that they thought I was gay. It was going to be their job to take me to therapy to “fix me.” This led to oh, so many fights. Once, on the way to meet the therapist, I even jumped out of my father’s moving car and ran into the woods.

Standing in front of the judge got me to wondering where I would be going now. My life as I knew it would be changing. After the hearing Donna took me and the lawyer out for ice cream. I didn’t even watch my parents walk out of the courtroom.

Hey! You! Get Out of My Way! Leaving Home Part 9

For the next several months I settle into life at the Equinox shelter. I rise early in the morning, eat, and take the city bus into Guilderland. The stop is located 45 minutes away at a strip mall called Stuyvesant Plaza. Once I arrive, Kerry meets me and drives me to school. Then she takes me back at the end of the day. Kerry does this day in and day out, never once asking for anything in return. I am happy and have very little stress in my life. I haven’t been fighting with anyone, and the constant battles with my mother seem to be in the past.

It is now the six-month mark. Jay T. Tucker and I are the only ones from the original group who are still living at Equinox. Donna, my social worker, has been trying to find me a permanent home, but it has not been as easy as you might think. According to them [the staff ??],[1]  I’m not a problem child, so it will be harder to place me. One solution that sounds good to Donna is Parsons Child and Family Center. Their main headquarters are located in Albany. One day Donna takes me over to look at their school and facilities. The main buildings are located just off New Scotland Avenue. As we climb out of Donna’s car she tells me that Parsons has group homes in both Albany and Saratoga, as well as an independent living center in Albany.

We are let into the building by security. There seem to be security guards posted everywhere. One guard walks us down long hallways that have locked doors on each end. There are more security guards posted in front of them. So far this does not seem like the kind of place where I want to be left, and I look at Donna. She seems to be as nervous as I am.

Then we are lead into the director’s office. The director is a large woman dressed in drab blue. I guess she thought that black might be too dowdy for this institution. She smiles at us and I sense that it is just for show, and she seems more uncomfortable doing it than we do seeing it. I feel that Donna and I might as well be Hansel and Gretel.

With a sweep of her hand, she motions for us to take a seat. Pulling out the chair, I look at the name plate on the desk. Her name is Margaret. She notices that I am reading her name plate and smiles again. My stomach drops. “I have read all the notes in his file,” she says, looking at Donna and leaning back in her chair. “I think that this might be the perfect place for him.”

Donna smiles and asks when a bed might be ready. Margaret reaches across the desk and opens a large black ledger book. She flips the pages furiously. “In about a month,” she says. Donna and Margaret discuss formalities. “Is he a ward of the state?” I hear her ask. “At this time he is, but we have registered to make him an emancipated minor, and luckily that hearing takes place in front of the judge in two weeks.”

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