Before I tell you any more about Cathy, I’m going to fill
you in on how the system at PRD worked when it came to residents other than
her. It was supposed to be the same for all of us but it didn’t seem to work
that way. If a resident broke the rules the case manager was supposed to write
it up. I don’t know how many write-ups we were allowed before getting
discharged but I do know that depending on the type of infraction a resident
could be discharged immediately.
There were numerous residents who got written up for not
doing chores; I even got written up once in the entire 11 months I was there. I
was late leaving for a meeting because staff had me in the office going over
something or other and I forgot to do my chore before I left. I remembered it
as I was on my way but didn’t have my Bluetooth hooked up so I couldn’t call to
tell staff I’d forgotten, and I forgot to call by the time I reached my
destination so I got a write-up. I didn’t care, it was my only one. On another
occasion when I’d forgotten to do my chore in the morning I did call and was
allowed to do it upon my return to the shelter. No write-up for that one.
However, four other families got written up all the time,
some for things the parents had done and others for things their kids had done.
The case manager would do her best to work with them to keep them from being
discharged but that only goes so far. One family eventually found a place of
their own and left but the other three were discharged for a combination of write-ups,
attitudes, and missing curfew. Once they missed curfew the case manager had no
choice but to discharge them, according to what I was told are the rules.
Yet, when it came to Cathy, she broke rules on a constant
basis, had a seriously nasty attitude, and missed curfew at least twice that I
knew about but she was never discharged. She even announced to us residents
that she didn’t plan on following the rules and apparently that’s the only time
she was true to her word. Her first night there my friend K and I were in the
upper common room watching TV after we’d put our kids to bed. Cathy came up and
sat on the second sofa and began talking up a friggin’ storm. K and I had an
unwritten rule that you don’t talk while the show is on, you wait for a
commercial. Cathy, however, never shut up. It was almost like she needed to
make sure her voice still worked. So, as annoyed with her as we were, we were
answering her questions about how life at PRD worked. Even though she’d been
told the rules we went over them again when she asked us.
We told her about the chores, we told her about parents
having to be with their kids at all times, we told her kids not being allowed
in the kitchen without a parent, and we told her that the kitchen closed at
10:00 unless there was a medical need or a baby needed to be fed. She shook her
head, sucked her teeth and said, “Shit, ain’t nobody gonna tell me what to do.
I’ma do what I feel like doin’.” K and I just looked at each other and tried to
go back to our show. Eventually I said good night and went downstairs simply
because I couldn’t take Cathy’s voice anymore.
True to her word, though, the next morning she began her way
of living whether anyone liked it or not. Her son was always in the kitchen
getting himself something to eat; she had the TVs on during school hours when
they were supposed to be off; she did her chore if and when she felt like it,
and only half-assed when she did do it; she left her babies unattended in their
room while she was in the common room or the kitchen. She was in the kitchen
constantly for hours at a time preventing others families from getting in there.
Her excuse was that her babies were hungry. Her babies were one and two, they
didn’t eat that much, however Cathy was an oversized girl; she’d give her kids
cereal and then proceed to make herself an omelet with sausage, and pancakes.
Are you getting my drift here? It had nothing to do with her kids being hungry.
When the TVs were allowed to be on – after 6:00 or on
weekends or holidays when all the kids were out of school – she’d plant her son
in the lower common room to watch TV and she’d sit upstairs with her babies
watching what she wanted to watch. She didn’t care that no other child got to
watch TV as long as her son was out of her face. If my kids did get to watch TV
Chatty would walk in and change the channel without even asking if it was okay.
He learned that from his mother and I know that for a fact because before
school one morning Dolly and I were watching TV before it was time to take her
to the bus. Chatty sat on the couch next to us and complained to his mother
that he didn’t want to watch what Dolly and I were watching. Cathy picked up
the remote and put on what Chatty wanted to watch and didn’t think twice that
my daughter was upset about it. What the fuck?
I’m telling you, this chick was the ultimate bitch, and
two-faced at that. She’d smile to your face and talk behind your back to her
friends in the shelter. My friends and I, who were older than Cathy and her
friends there – she and her friends were in their early-to-mid-twenties, the
rest of us were all 30 and over – couldn’t stand being around her and her
attitude around the house was getting on our nerves. We were having great
difficulty explaining to our kids why they couldn’t go in the kitchen alone
when Chatty did it all the time; or why he was allowed to change the channel on
the TV when the rule was that only an adult could use the remote, kids had to
ask a parent or staff member to change the channel; or why Cathy and her kids
were allowed to walk into the kitchen on our dinner hour when the rule was that
dinner hours were private and for that family only.
She was making it really difficult to live in the house but
there was nothing we could do about it. I tried my best to bite my tongue and
answer my kids’ questions to the best of my ability, and I didn’t even complain
to staff other than to mention that I couldn’t get into the kitchen to feed my
kids or to do my chore when I had kitchen duty. I never mentioned names but
they knew who the problem was and always chased her out, reiterating the rules
at the same time. It made no difference. Then something happened one day that
totally changed my attitude in that house, and it took every ounce of my being
not to knock the shit out of someone. I’ll tell you about it but you’ll have to
wait until tomorrow; if I don’t make this a little suspenseful you may not come
back. J
Until next time…peace to all.
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