I have not always been the HBIC. There were 3 before me until I learned to find my voice and use it. The things I have said were not always pretty nor constructive nor even without that sound of sarcasm in my voice. Those ladies were supposed to protect me. They were supposed to love me unconditionally. They were supposed to teach me how to become a loving person. To know how to be a wife and a mother. One that would have dreams and aspirations. Instead, they did everything in their power to tear me down. There was just something about me that made them hate me, look at me with pure disgust, and treat me like a servant. They are the reason I changed forever and then left and never came back.
The Original HBIC was my maternal Grandmother. I am not sure why she turned into this because all of my Great-Grandparents were so loving and attentive. She had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Citrus wealth thanks to the Florida weather, some wealth leftover when my family immigrated from Spain, and even more on the Spaniard side due to some very lucrative business moves, all of this money hungry power ran through those cold loveless veins of hers. Was it just possible she was born with this hate inside of her?
My Grandmother attended the nearest high school. There were not as many to chose from as there are now. Following her summer break after her Graduation from High School, she was sent to the best Finishing School in the area, all the way in Georgia; since this debutante’s lineage was too good for University. She was to learn how to be a proper hostess, as well as a proper guest. To learn how to flirt, whom to flirt with, and when one should stop flirting. All in the name of catching a good husband with a bright future. She needed to know how to run a household without servants; she was at the age this was an extreme faux pas except during larger gatherings and you would just hire additional help through an agency. Cook suppers, make hearty lunches, and keep a tidy household were a must as well. And well, when it came to the children; you saw to their every need as not to disturb your husband.
Grandmother fell in love with a young man that year, he was attending a local University “studying the arts” they would say. I am not sure if anyone ever knew what that truly meant. When he went to my Great-Grandfather to ask for her hand in marriage, he was told No and to stay away from one another. They had not planned on marrying for at least another year, but with her fathers’ demands they ran away and eloped; not even finishing her first year of schooling.
They returned six months later, married, and heavily pregnant. And like any father would do; he took her into his arms, kissed her, and set up her home in the bedroom across from theirs. Yes, they did have to share a bathroom but they each had their own private porches. A luxury that not many families had. The bonus was her mother being so close to her, to help during the last few months of her pregnancy and with the newborns.
They went on to add four more children to their lives. My biological Grandfather took her and the children to different places to live while he worked; although Florida would always truly be home. By this point, my Great-Grandparents bought them a nice two-story home in town close to the Church and schools. All so the growing family would have every convenience in life and not be overshadowed by their parents.
Although, my Grandfather was doing amazing work; all over the world, making a decent living. Sometimes it was just not enough, for all their needs and wants. When my Grandmother turned 21, she began to receive a stipend from her trust fund, it made it easier to hire help such things as maids and nannies. Especially in countries similar to the Bahamas, where this was customary and affordable.
It was during her last pregnancy that she had finally had enough of Grandfathers’ alcoholic and abusive ways and divorced him. Leaving her to raise five children alone while he still sought after his dreams’ work. She turned from being strict and loving; into a ruthless businesswoman. The stipend was not enough to support all of them and child support from a drunken artist was a joke; especially since it was rarely sent. The Original HBIC also devised a plan for the children to take care of one another and themselves. She ran her household still, without the assistance of maids nor nannies. Well, except for the first six months for a nanny once the fifth child was born that my Great-Grandmother generously paid for. The nanny was already currently employed at the household, so it was just easier to keep her on.
The Original HBIC believed in ruling with a rod, like the Bible said, she just ruled with an iron one instead. In return, she did not end up with any children that misbehaved in school or public. She did though, raise and give chance after chance to one sadistic asshole, her middle son. Excuse my language, but there is no other way to describe him. The other four turned out interesting in the last 2 wanna-be HBIC’s, 1 finally gave hisself to the Lord, and a very arrogant Mama’s Boy.
The Original HBIC did retire her hat and hand after thirteen long difficult years. She met a wonderful man that truly did love her and gave her anything she wanted. She never had to long for a thing. its almost like he knew her every thought. Or she would ask when he called from the road. My Grandfather. The best man I ever met and exactly the type of man I wanted to marry one day. We only had seven years with him. It was truly the best seven years of my life when he came to that family. He made me feel so safe and so protected. He was very sick and told not one of us until it was too late. He said his dreams came true though the day he held my daughter, his first Great-Grandchild. We lost him when she was only three and a half months.
I was there the last time she opened her eyes. Probably for my daughter not for me. Its so weird it was only four days that I sat beside her continuously; well I did take a break to bring my teenage daughter back home and to take a nap. It seems like yesterday. Although its been a year. I still have not forgotten those last moments with her. Along with her in her final resting place is my Grandfather and her beloved American Pit. I made a Family Pillow. It was a silk white pillow with every Child, Grandchild, Great-Grandchild, and their respective spouses first initial inside of it. I can still see it to this day.
I prayed and wept again when I put that pillow in with her. I had no idea that she had been just a couple of hours away for a few years. In the end; she did exactly what we all thought she would do. Everything went to her youngest son. And in some way it amuses me, for it was only her daughter that truly cared about the money portion of it all.
But then again; I have not forgotten everything she ever did to me either.
––A
9/3/16
My Journey 