My favorite aunt was the black sheep of the family. Not that there was any reason particularly why that was the case. The only thing I knew was that maybe Margie had called CPS on my grandmother when my mom and her were teenagers.
Of course, the implication at the time was that Margie was just trying to make trouble for Grandma. Or maybe it was the belief that life wouldn't be any better away from her. Maybe just maybe it would be worse. Still it was Margie's fault that the powers that be looked at the family and we all knew what a big sin that was.
Yet, one little sentence about Margie's wrong doing was all I ever got. Loaded with all that innuendo. It never put me off. I loved Margie. She was bigger than life, beautiful, funny and she cared about me.
I didn't care for her family much. She had three boys. They were wild, destructive. One even torched a garage. Can't remember if it was the neighbor's or their own. Clearly they were a family in crisis.
I heard stories about her controlling husband. Possessive, jealous, with a bad temper yet wanting her to be in the limelight and then maybe beating her for it. But I was young. I didn't understand the implications of all these things. All I knew was the couple of times I remember staying with my aunt I felt special even if her bratty boys picked on me. Being seen in her eyes somehow made me important, at least to her.
I dont' know when Margie went away. Maybe after the kids were grown. I just know she was moved off and had no contact with the family. She had a problem with booze but then all of them did, only she was the one that got pointed out.
Margie got heavy, very heavy. Her beautiful model's body lost under layers and layers of fat. I remember her face was so distorted I hardly recognized her. It was her laugh that confirmed for me it really was my beloved Margie.
She would be ostracized for a while, years sometimes. Then she suddenly reappear and I'd be so glad to see her. I never knew what or why she was come and gone only that she was. Still I worshiped that woman. I wanted to be like her. I wanted to be beautiful and funny.
I didn't care that the family considered her to be the black sheep. She was a queen to me. Probably because she cared about me, or I thought she did. Who really knows with her disappearing like that for years at a time but it never changed my feelings about her.
I don't' even know what happened to Aunt Margie. All I know is I ended up like her in a way I hadn't figured. I ended up the black sheep of the family. The one who told secrets. The one ostracized. The one spoken about in illicit terms.
I'll bet my siblings refer to me in the same terms as Margie got. Nothing specific anyone could put a finger on. Heck, if you did that, it might be possible to find the truth. No, the implication of secret unthinkable things has so much more power to keep one pushed off in a corner and ignored. For the first time in my life I understand why I never knew what Margie did or said for sure but with all I've been through I can certainly imagine. Makes me love her even more. Guess Margie and I were kindred spirits. I just didn't get it at the time.