Excerpt for Sugar Cubes, A Memoir by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

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Note from the Author:

First of all, thank you for purchasing my book and showing your support to a new writer! I would like to let it be known that this book is explicit. It is extremely raw and honest. I do not (no pun intended) sugar coat anything. Certain parts of this book may disturb you and I apologize for that. I had no way of dancing around the tough parts. I truly hope you enjoy my memoir and again, I thank you for taking time out of your lives to devote to reading mine.

Sugar Cubes

Sugar cubes. Tiny little squares of compacted sweetness. They’re meant for coffee and tea. My sister and I ate them whole, straight from the box. The factory was usually freezing cold and always dim and creepy. There were so many rumors of it being haunted. Haunted or not, the things that seemed to transpire from the days spent there into adulthood was all a domino effect of our father. His actions and decisions are ultimately what lead to the demise of a family and one of his daughter’s childhood, innocence and sanity for decades to come.

I am that daughter and this is my memoir.

I would first like to note that throughout this book, there are several times where he is back in the picture and where things are seemingly “good”. This is because, like any child, I wanted desperately to have a close relationship with my father. Fate, ultimately had other plans though.

I always wondered why it seemed our dad worked so much, but to be perfectly honest, I didn’t truly care. If he wasn’t at home, he couldn’t be a controlling jerk, as he usually was to me. I was definitely not the brightest child when it came to mathematics; but then again, neither was he. Yet, if he were home while I was doing my math homework, he would sit directly across the table from me and stare me down as I tried, oh did I try, to figure out each answer. Once I was finished, he would take the paper and return to his seat. He sat, going over each one. Each one that was wrong, I got a “paddle”. This paddle was a very thick piece of solid wood, with letters embossed in it.

I usually got almost all, wrong.

Our mom being around those times is kind of a blur to me. She was absolutely there, always. She just wasn’t present while he would take the frustration out on me. I don’t know and never wondered where she was. I just assumed I was a stupid, bad kid and I deserved to be punished for whatever mistakes I had made. I don’t know where my sister was or what she did while I was being “paddled”. On a few rare occasions, we would both get it. His quote, “laugh or smile again and it’ll be harder” would make us giggle more. Sure, the wood, pounding your bottom hurt, but at a certain point, it was almost as if a switch flipped and we became numb to it. I became numb to it.

Our grandma showed her concern once. She had seen the red welts on our bottoms. She of course, expressed her concerns to us, asking where they came from and when it happened. I don’t know what ever came from it, but it didn’t stop. Being with our grandma and aunt became a typical thing. We went to the drive in, shopping, vacations. Being with the two of them was so fun. Not that being home wasn’t. Our mom always made us laugh. She would even take us “cruising” on warm summer evenings, just for something fun to do. Seeing her go from her happy self to a depressed, sad and lonely mom was difficult. What he did to her was wrong and disgusting. The fact that us girls had to witness the aftermath of each night’s mistakes, probably wasn’t the best for a kid or their developing brain.

“Do you see him?” The air was so cold. The car had been on and running to keep us warm, but it simply was not enough. Sitting outside, spying had become our new routine. We just watched. Waited. “Look! There she is!” The windows fogged and I remember thinking it was from the steam which was coming from mom’s ears. What exactly was it that we were watching? On a school night when most kids, especially ones who were having difficulty in a certain subject (math), should be home, doing homework, studying, here we were, outside that factory. The one with the sugar cubes. Watching our father open the door for a teenage girl. Sometimes, she wouldn’t be inside the building for very long. Other times, I simply went to sleep because if I didn’t, there was no way I would be able to function at school in the morning. Summers were the same way. The nice thing about the summer though, was that it wouldn’t be cold, in the backseat as mom and her best friend looked through binoculars to see the girl sneak in side doors and back entrances to be with our dad, who could have technically, been her dad as well. Also, summer meant no school. What effects being present during this kind of thing has on a young child’s brain, I don’t know, but this memoir will give insight into what it could have possibly done to mine.

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