Funny thing about the world "adult". When I was a kid, I always wanted to grow up fast and become an adult, because becoming an adult seemed to mean that I could have more freedom to get or do anything that I wanted to get or do. Yet the only time you ever see the word "adult" mentioned it's usually associated around bad or negative things that you really don't want adults to do.
You had to be an adult to buy cigarettes. You had to be an adult or have the permission of an adult to buy certain video games, records or attend certain movies. You had to be an adult to purchase or watch or attend "adult entertainment". Lastly, but certainly not the end of the irony, you could legally be an adult at 18 to die for your country, but you still had to be 21 years old to buy alcohol.
So I went back home to Youngstown, OH, expecting to stay under the radar as I tried to pull back together some of the pieces of my shattered family. But instead of being under the radar, as soon as I walked into town I was placed on a virtual movie theater marquee. When I left town, I was nothing but trouble. When I came back, I was still nothing but trouble. This time I was the type of trouble that some people were glad to see...sort of like fireworks, or a train wreck, or a combination of both. It all just depended on what you wanted others to know about your personal views were on adult entertainment, as opposed to your own public perception.
Yep, that's right, those magazine photos I did, and the one video I had made with Julian - had made their way clear across country. They were hot sellers in my hometown adult entertainment stores once I had become recognized. As I walked through the town, the various looks that I received were very distinct. Most of the local men from teens into their 40's smiled at me and said hello. The women in that same age group either hissed at me, nervously smiled and walked away as quick as possible or they looked at me with such empathy. It was as if I had just survived a terminal illness. All I wanted was just to be treated as a person. I was a girl who had lost her way twice, both at home and while away from home. Now I was coming back to my roots to try to repair some of the damage.
There was the also the occasional young white dudes in town, walking around starting cheesy conversations with me and then asking stupid questions like "Hi baby! I saw 'dem pictures of you in those white, lacy panties. You was looking good. How many dudes did you fuck in Youngstown?" My answer, "I fucked every guy here...except you. And from the looks of you - don't hold your breath." Then there was the "Are all black guys really that big, or was it camera angles?" My answer, "Why don't you go fuck a few of 'em and find out for yourself?"
The older men in town who recognized me would jump to hold open doors for me. Some of them were old enough to be my father. The faster they moved to hold open a door, the more it told me that they saw pictures of me naked. They apparently thought smiling, winking and holding a door open for me was going to increase their odds to get into my panties. But they were wrong. They were so, so wrong.
That's the reality of the glamorous life. It isn't really all that glamorous. I realized that all of us are guilty of projecting our weakness outward towards others - wishing or hoping that something or someone better will save us or guide us through our weakness. Movie - Star. Rock - Star. Porn - Star. Those are just words used to describe a commodity in a business, like sugar, corn or wheat. The only true stars that exist are the ones up in the night sky. And even those aren't what you think they are. By the time we see the light from the stars out in the distance, they've already flickered a million years ago and look much differently today.
The mix of me being received and treated as either a pariah or a local girl who became a celebrity Porn Star, also played itself out within my own family. My older sister and brother spoke to me over the phone, but really didn't want me to visit them at their homes and interact with their kids. My younger brother and sister were still living with my mother and father and wanted to see me. When I tried to stop by the trailer and meet them, my father met me at the door holding a shotgun over his shoulder. He never pointed it at me. He just held it next to him to make his point. Funny, he told me that I was an embarrassment to him. I asked him if that the now 9 year old boy he had living in a trailer on the other side of town, or the dozen or so women he cheated with on our mother was an embarrassment to him. All he could say to me was, "The Lord forgives and your mother forgave me. But God don't like good white people having sex with those fucking black monkeys." Funny thing, how some people are religious in one breath, and just as ignorant, backwards in the very next breath. Even if it was my own father.
I just left him standing there holding his shotgun. Thankfully, I had enough money to pay for a room at the downtown motel that my mother worked at. I was also able to meet her and talk to her as well as my younger brother and sister. It was tough at first, but then it got easier over the course of several days. My siblings just wanted to know if I was okay. They were still struggling but doing better. But our mother, well she was a different story. All she did was cry and tell me how sorry she was for not being there for me. She wanted me to go to church and become Born Again and to get past all of the sins that I had brought onto my life. She knew from word of mouth about my life in California. But God bless her soul, she never blamed me for a split second. She only blamed herself for my own faults.
Then she started negotiating with me to go to the church and see our preacher and surrendered myself to God. I only promised that I would go to a Sunday service incognito. I figured that at least if I went, I would somehow get some blessing from at least going. Perhaps put another check in my favor with God for all the mistakes that I had made.
In the four days leading up to the Sunday service, I kept contemplating the sins I had did in my life. Then the Friday afternoon before, a thought came over me. I didn't know if God had left me, or I had left God - or if either way mattered anymore. All I know is that when I drove around town in my rent-a-wreck VW Beatle, I saw my first true love Michael, dressed in his jeans and flannel shirt, getting ready to get into his car, to go to his job at the General Motors plant. He was already married and had two kids. As happy as he looked from a distance, he also looked just as unhappy because what he was doing that day, he had to look forward to living that same life for another 40 years. Marry young, have some kids and work at the plant for forever. Maybe pick up some odd jobs as a handyman to make extra cash. I just knew that no matter how hard I tried, Youngstown wasn't going to be the life for me.
So with the help of a little hair dye, I changed over my blond tresses to a less than conspicuous dark brown brunette and tied it all up in a simple ponytail. I purchased some faded blue jeans, sunglasses, boots and sweatshirt. I was going for the real, country girl, Midwest look. When I initially walked into the 10am service, no one knew that it was me. There was about 100 people or so at the service. I kept my mouth shut mostly, outside of a simple good morning. I could see some of the people trying to place where they might have seen me before - after all, everybody in Youngstown either knows you, or knows somebody who knows you. But some of them just couldn't place me. I could see the bewilderment in the faces of the nosy ones and gossipers.
I looked around the church and could see how many faces that I knew sitting down. I grew up with many of the younger ones. However, the adults seemed a million years older as their tough working life started showing it's toll. I could also see my mother and father sitting in the pews with his son from the other woman. My baby brother and sister were sitting behind them looking as disinterested as they possibly could.
After the service I stayed as far back as I could and waited my turn to talk to our preacher. Pasteur Wright knew who I was when I approached him even with my disguise. He had baptized me when I was a baby. I guess in a way he had seen me naked too. I was the last one in line and he kept our conversation light until the last family exited the church.
"You have traveled a long, long way from home and back little, sweet Riley. You have survived some awful conditions at home with your family, you ran away and have come back to where it all started. I am glad to see you take a step or two back to a more solid and positive path towards the good things that God has in store for you. Know that I still love you and God still loves you unconditionally."
His words immediately cut into my heart and I began to cry. All I could do was just hug him and cry. It took a few minutes before I could calm myself down and string together a sentence that had any meaningful sense to it. I managed to tell him all the mistakes that I had made. Every time I finished a portion of my life, he just kept reminding me that although members of my family were pained by my deeds, that it was really the pain of their own helplessness that bothered them to most. They were still in Youngstown and could do little to change the damage that our father had caused. It was now up to us individually or collectively to rise above the damage and make a better life for ourselves. The good and decent life that God had intended for all of us. Not the wreckage that our father had brought on to us in his own weakness.
All he asked was that I try to repair my relationship with my siblings and mother and that over time my father may get past his lack of understanding God's words through the Bible. He only asked me to do one thing as I kept going forward with my life. He asked that I keep a Bible next to me and just try to read a portion of it everyday. Even a paragraph at a time. He made me promise to do that even if I never stepped foot into church again.
"And if you have any questions about some passage that you read, feel free to call me - or ask a local priest or Reverend in whatever town you land in. Keep your heart to yourself for a while. You will find your answers in the Scriptures. Trust me. Too many important men in your life have broken your heart, starting with your father. Even though your friend Julian is still living that other life of sin, he did know enough that you didn't belong there. That tells me that he cared a lot about you and of the light of goodness that's still inside him. His sending you back home might have saved your life from who knows whatever more you could have fallen into. Who knows, maybe one day you can save him as well? But you have to make yourself stronger than before you can do that."
I just couldn't believe Reverend Wright's words. I had anticipated a very negative conversation of confession with him. Instead what I got was an extremely humanitarian conversation whereby he was in complete understanding of me, had complete acceptance of me and was nonjudgmental. It was unbelievable. When I left the church, there were still a handful female gossipers hanging out so that they could get a good look at me while I was walking out so that they could confirm their suspicions.
As I approached my car, I could hear one of the women yell out "Whore!" I turned away from my car and quietly walked over to them. "Thanks for calling me a whore, Mrs. Finnemore. It's nice to know that a nice church going woman like you would call me that no more than 20 feet outside the church door."
"It's a free country Riley. You should be shame for what you done to your poor mother and then have the nerve to come around here. Hasn't she suffered enough?"
"Yes she has. But with gossips like you hanging around and dragging up all my bad deeds up in front of her face, I don't see how you're making any of this easier on her or me?"
"Well, you're the one who came to the church."
"I came to talk to Rev. Wright after the service. I did not come to make a scene or embarrass anyone. Now can I go peacefully without being called anymore names? Can I?"
The three women just nodded their heads and walked away. I looked back at the church doors and could see Rev. Wright peeking through. He opened the door when they were gone and gave me a big smile.
"That's the way Riley. That's the way to be the adult in the conversation. Psalm 37 verses 1 - 4. You'll be okay."
It was at that moment that I realized that the only time the word "adult" really meant any good, was when you showed restraint and wisdom, rather than excess and stupidity.
