It was a typical, hot, Southern California afternoon, people walked around in next to nothing while trying to soak up as much of the late summer sun as possible. The streets and sidewalks were crowded with more tourists than locals as people were getting ready for the upcoming holiday. Families strolled along the boardwalk, dodging greedy seagulls and teenagers on roller skates.  A few blocks away from the main tourist filled beaches and shops, by the old pier was an area that could only be described as the shady part of town. It was the kind of area tourist where warned never to go by and college kids went to score weed and coke.  

This was were the bikers road their motorcycles up and down the streets, loudly roaring their engines at fellow club members while they ran their various rackets, watching ever vigilantly for rival clubs who dare cruise through their little chunk of the city.  On the corner of Lincoln and Ocean drug dealers openly sold their goods as prostitutes catcalled to the men who drove by,  doing whatever they could to get potentials customers to stop and pick them up. They eyed the bar across the street nervously every time another car drove past without stopping.    

Ronald’s Place, the very definition of a biker dive bar, the cracked cement parking lot with filled with rows of bikes and a few cars that looked out of place, AC/DC blared loudly from inside as it spilled out into the surrounding area.  This is where I decide to make my debut into this world.   

My mom’s water broke while trying to break up a quickly escalating argument between my biological father (whom I call the Sperm Donor or SD for short) and a very large, very scary looking man he owed money to. My mom was between the two men, her large pregnant belly pushing SD back a few inches as he tried to get into the bigger man’s face, yelling so hard the vein on his neck was sticking out. The other man’s face was beet red and the only thing stopping him from taking a swing was my very pregnant mom standing between them.

“You’ll get your fucking money as soon as I get my fucking…. shit…” SD stopped mid yell and quickly took a few steps back, shock and rage on his pockmarked face, finger pointing at my mom.  “Did you just fucking piss on me? I swear to God if you…” 

“My water just broke, dumbass. We’ve got to go, now!” My mom was never one to be messed with, even in the best of times, especially not when she had just gone into labor.  She looked over at the burly guy that SD had been screaming at moments before. “You’ll get your money, Gunny, give him a week so I can have this baby and get settled, he’ll have it.”

“Yeah, fine, Donna, good luck.” My mom always said Gunny had a soft spot for her which was probably one of the only reasons he didn’t kick SDs head in on numerous occasions.  She was the reason why a lot of people didn’t beat SD’s ass. 

It was easy to see to why my mom had all these tough, macho bikers wrapped around her finger back than. She was tough and beautiful. Growing up with the older brothers she had taught her to take no shit from anyone and how to throw a good punch. Her thick, light brown hair went all the way down to her waist, she had a slender body and the clearest blue eyes that rivaled the ocean. Her and SD made an odd pair, he wasn’t exactly ugly but he wasn’t handsome either.

He was tall,  an inch over 6 feet and had acne scars on his face with an angular nose that had seem the wrong end of a punch a few times. His eyes were the kind of blue the ocean turned in the middle of a storm with a temper to match. His dark blonde hair hung down to the middle of his back, a black bandanna holding it out of his face. He was never without his leather Outlaw Biker’s vest. He loved that thing even more than his kids. He was the type of person who was too smart for his own good. He always thought he could outsmart anyone which made him overly cocky. The fact that he was also a mean son of a bitch didn’t help his likability much either. He had little to no work ethic and supported his family by supplying to the street dealers in the neighborhood. He could get the best coke around, courtesy of my mom’s brother. 

I was my moms third child, I had two older sisters. My oldest sister, Emily, she had when she was only 15. She wasn’t SD’s kid and to this day my mom has never told any of us who Emily’s biological father was. Emily lived with our grandma back in the Midwest who had been raising her mostly since she had been born. My other sister, Josie, was only 2 years older than me and was my first friend. She was SD’s first kid and he didn’t hide that fact, which was part of the reason why Emily was still with our grandma. 

My mom was in labor for over 19 hours with me, a fact she has reminded me of my entire life. During my mom’s pregnancy, she and SD thought they were having a boy, the ultrasound said I was a boy (as far as they could tell), my mom said she carried me differently. For months they were convinced I was going to be a boy to the point when I was born the doctor even said “It’s a boy…..oh no, wait, it’s a girl.” 

The story as it’s been told to me a few times over the years was that SD’s first words after hearing that was, “Great, another fucking girl.” before leaving the room to go back to the bar. 

It didn’t take long for there to be apparent issues with me. I was born crossed eyed to the degree I was declared legally blind. Also, during my little wellness check it was discovered my heart wasn’t beating right. Though she swears she wasn’t, I’m pretty sure my mom was doing drugs while she was pregnant with me. My Aunt all but confirmed it one day a few years ago by telling me my mom didn’t even know she was pregnant with me until she was 4 months in. It was like over night her stomach popped out and she was showing. 

They did some tests on me when I was only hours old and discovered I had 3 holes in my heart and a fluttering left valve that wasn’t working at full capacity. They weren’t overly concerned about the holes as they said a lot of times they would close up on their own but I would have to be monitored for the valve in case it stopped working. While I wasn’t in any immediate danger, there was always that possibility. Something I think clouded a lot of my childhood.