Warp – Indianhead
My memories start to coalesce around kindergarten, in Indianhead. Dad worked at the clinic on the Navy base. A corpsman. A blank cypher.
Indianhead was full of happy families, and children enclosed in a tall chain-link fence and surrounded by deep fall woods. Eternally fall woods, with their colors and leaves on the muddy ground. I was a solitary kid, but I didn’t mind.
I know I had friends, because I remember things that happened to do with them, but I don’t remember them.
Once, I was at a friend’s after school, and their mom made a snack. I don’t remember what. Hot dogs or fishsticks. I think I ate more than my share.
My mom came over in a panic, because she didn’t know where I was. It hadn’t occurred to me to tell her, and my friend’s mom got mad because I’d told her it would be OK for me to come over. I didn’t know why it wasn’t. My friend got mad at me, and told me she’d never be my friend again. She and her mom called me a liar. And my mom got mad that I accepted food from another family.
I was baffled.