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wash up in. Heading out on the road, we passed the time lounging in the back playing checkers or ticktacktoe for hours. We listened to the stereo, singing along to Air Supply and REO Speedwagon, and I took long naps in the bottom bunk closest to the front of the van while Mom and Roger hung out in the pilot and copilot seats up front. There was a curtain they pulled when they wanted to speak privately, and I just enjoyed cruising down the highway to destinations unknown.

At night we stayed at campgrounds and ate at restaurants serving all-you-can-eat smorgasbords. That's where Roger taught us how to steal food. Leaving the restaurant with our pockets bulging, we felt like we were really a part of something, like it was a special secret that only we shared.

During this first "family" vacation, I began to see Roger as a provider, which was something we all desperately needed. At eleven years old, I didn't realize teaching us how to steal was wrong. I was just glad he was there And so, I slowly began to let my guard down and trust him.

It started on that long trip to the Keys, when I awoke from a deep sleep feeling cold.

I sat up, realizing my tube top was pulled all the way down, exposing my breasts. I didn't know what time it was, or where we were, but it was dark outside and I could just make out Roger standing near me.

My sisters were snoring under mounds of covers, the curtain up front was closed, and Roger was right over me, zipping up his pants. I was disoriented, confused.
Where am I? What's going on?
He just stood there, staring at my breasts.

After a moment, he turned away and opened the curtain. Mom was driving, and he moved into the copilot seat. He tried to make a joke about it to her, announcing loudly that my top fell down and "Hee hee hee, look at her little poached eggs!"

Hot with fury, I pulled up my top. Mom smiled in my direction and scolded Roger lightly with a "Behave now." It was all just a funny joke. She couldn't see what I was going through. How upset I was! I felt violated and had no idea why.

Again. I doubted my instincts. Surely Mom would tell me if something was wrong. I had to believe that. She was my mom. So I got angry with myself, for not knowing the answers and for doubting the very people who loved me.

Settling back down, I listened intently to the songs on the radio. Someday I'd get away from all this. I sang along to the music, losing myself in the words and fantasizing about running away to join a band.

4
Route 66
    Roger Hays did what my parents had always dreamed of: he moved to California.

Only days before we'd left for Florida, he and my mom were discussing whether he should accept a job as an engineer in El Segundo after graduation. Mom had put on a brave face, but I could see the thought of losing him really mattered to her. Roger just said they'd talk about it later.

When we returned from the Keys, we got the news. Mom sat us down and told us Roger was moving to California, and in two months' time, we'd be joining him. I was surprised at how quickly it was all happening. We'd moved a dozen times over the years but this was different. We were leaving for good.

A panic rose in my chest as I thought of my father. Dad would never let us go. What kind of trouble was she trying to start? I sat there sweating in my plastic chair, waiting for Mom to continue. "You'll love it! Palm trees, sun all year round, the ocean, and so many more opportunities to make money!"

The place Mom described sounded pretty great. I got excited as I imagined what it would be like. I hated our cramped little apartment, and certainly wasn't going to miss the cockroaches and freezing winters. But most of all I wasn't going to miss my father. I was tired of feeling scared all the time and sick of the way he would talk to us about our mom. I felt like I was being poisoned. We needed to get away.

I looked over at Lorraine and wondered if she was thinking about Dad too. She hadn't seen him for months. On