The Bookie's Daughter Read Online Free Page A

Lincoln
     
     
     
    My parents were magnificent creatures, full of promise and passion, when they first married. By the time my sister and I were born, however, their lives were ruled by their addictions. Al’s dark passengers were gambling and food, my mother’s alcohol and speed. If it were possible to classify danger, chaos, and violence as addictions, then I would assign those compulsions to both. My parents seemed to revel in the chaotic danger that was so often present in our lives.
     
    Al was larger-than-life in many ways; his physique, intellect, personality, appetite, generosity, addictions, zest for life, and propensity for attracting trouble were all oversized. He lived large, succeeded large, and failed large. He was consistent in doing everything with a bang. He attracted the good, the bad, and the ugly, and yet always appreciated life’s blessings and messiness. No matter how grave the situation, he believed that good was just around the corner. I found his mantra—“better days are coming” —as inspirational as it was exasperating. My mother, on the other hand, wanted to throttle him every time he began the chant, as she believed tomorrow was just another opportunity for unhappiness.
     
    My parents were a strange pair, Bonnie being Al’s opposite in fundamental ways. My mother was a tiny creature, 5 feet tall and 98 pounds, when she met my father. He towered over her beautiful but delicate frame. A fiery, freckle-faced redhead with soft brown eyes, her appearance directly contrasted with her husband’s massive size and the dark, smoldering looks he inherited from his Syrian ancestors.
     
    In direct contrast to Al’s “the glass is half full” view of life, Bonnie was a life-long pessimist. She possessed a dark sense of humor, artistic nature, passionate love for animals, violent temper, and a mouth like a drunken sailor. My mother always expected trouble and usually found it. In my mind, she resembled a female Archie Bunker on steroids. She was abeautiful, angry woman who never missed an opportunity to throw a punch or pull a gun.
     
    As a child, I wondered at their strange and volatile pairing. Our house often shook with explosive arguments that usually ended with my father disappearing for a few days or running to the hospital for stitches. Although Al stood at 6 feet 4 inches and weighed more than 475 pounds for most of their marriage, Bonnie was never intimidated by or fearful of her husband. I never saw Al raise a hand to her and so was quite surprised, while conducting research on my father’s criminal record, to learn that he had been arrested in 1968 for threatening to kill my mother. The Westmoreland County arrest record of July 26, 1968 states:
     
     
     
The defendant did unlawfully threaten to take the life of one Bonnie Abraham and from the manner and conduct of the defendant, the said Bonnie Abraham is afraid he will carry his threats into execution.
     
     
    This account caught me off guard, but given their volatile relationship, it was not a complete surprise. In my experience, this event was completely out of character for my father. However, one never truly knows another, so I must concede that it was a possibility. My mother dropped the charges a few months later and never, to my knowledge, repeated the accusations. Although I never witnessed Al physically handle my mother in a threatening manner, I was present on many occasions when Bonnie threatened to or tried to end my father’s life.
     
    By all accounts, their marriage was stormy from the beginning. Bonnie was a beautiful young woman who attracted attention and my father was insanely jealous, watchful of any outside male competition for her affection. A runaway when she met my father, Bonnie was only sixteen when they married.
     
    In an attempt to escape the pain of her childhood, my mother left her family at fifteen. She ran away to the neighboring county seat of Greensburg, Pennsylvania, where she secured a job as