And children playing in the sun
Pine trees and shady evergreens
See the beauty and you’ll know what it means
Waves upon the shore
And children playing in their dreams
Windmills turning in the breeze
Peacefully as the nighttime lingers on
Tomorrow Uncle leaves.
Uncle is coming. I hear his weight creaking the floorboards. He stresses everything. I slip out of bed and quietly bury myself under stuff in my closet. I close the door and do not breathe. He is walking into the room. He is still. Sweat is dripping down every inch of my body. Does he feel the warmth of my sheets? God help me. Uncle is moving. I pray he is leaving. I hear the handle jiggle and then I hear voices from another area in our home. Uncle leaves. Boards are creaking away from me. Thank you Lord. I fall asleep in my closet.
I hear Mum calling me. Auntie and Uncle are leaving. I go to say goodbye. I hug Auntie. Uncle scoops me up into his mammoth self and dank mouth touches my lips. His eyes look at me with (what I take as a warning) a flash, and just that quick, they are gone. Relief drowns me as I swim in my liberation.
I am reading an Edgar Allen Poe book and I find a slip of paper in it. I do not know who wrote what is on the sheet.
Condition for not being in sin
By relating itself to its own self
And consciously willing to be itself,
The self becomes transparently grounded
In the Power which constituted it.
On the other side was this…
The longest journey
Is the journey of him
Who has chosen his destiny,
Who has started upon his quest
For the source of his being.
I am not sure what they mean, but I vow to understand. I believe this is a sign. I know it has been sent to help me out of my hell.
My Friend and I are developing the best relationship. I love her. I told her I have an ugly uncle. She understands without me ever having to say another word.
I don’t know what it is about the age of fourteen. Things transform. Events impact you forever in extraordinary unfathomable ways. I wanted a relationship of my own. I wanted to search out a “normal” relationship. I knew that Uncles was the wrong type of connection. There was nothing good about it. I wanted my body to be a source of pride. I watched My Friend for clues. It was not long before we were in a situation with a couple of boys our age. I learned how to kiss. I learned how to be comfortable. I learned how to take charge of my life. I was only going to do what I wanted to do. Hence “the seduction.”
Our family traveled to the beach to visit a colleague of dads. They had two daughters and a son home on leave from the Marine Corps.
I had been persecuted by Uncle since the end of my tenth year. Recently I learned how to take back my power. It was acceptable to hide. It may be permissible to set traps too. Up until this point in my life, no singular prior occurrence held this much of a grip. My mind had been altered by these experiences. If I was to have a secret life, I would like my silence to be for a better reason than one of Uncle’s design. The trip to the beach would be my opportunity.
I spent the day with the two daughters of my father’s friend. They were one year younger and one year older than I. They were far worldlier too. Both were sexual. Mum and Dad were having so much fun that besides family meals together and bedtimes, we had the next week to ourselves. The independence was a breath of fresh air for me. Girls. What a change. These young women had a score of things to teach me. They were as eager to tell as I to hear. Their account of “life with boys” was not the same as mine! I had to know these things firsthand. Touching could be fun. Without the fear or guilt. I knew about kissing and surface petting. I also knew the effects of a long-term violation. Imagine my excitement when the girls tell me that their brother will be home on leave from the Marine Corps!
I remember falling in love with an army man when I was ten. He was so handsome. I didn’t know I was flirting. However that was what I was doing. He knew how to handle me. He talked and answered my questions. He never let on that he knew I was attracted. The situation never advanced though I saw him a dozen more times. To this day I remember his name and I can see his face.
The girls’ brother came home on the third day of our glorious visit. I watched him like a cat watches a mouse. He could care less at first, but I broke him down. Oh yes.
This “big brother” was twenty-six years old. How nice. An older man. Polite and positively big brotherly. I could tell he was perfect for my experiment. He had nothing but good intentions. (Even nicer.) I wanted to test my power.
After dinner that night, all of the children were together for a television movie. The brother caught his sisters up on all of the things he had accomplished since they last saw each other. The sisters did the same. I was amused at how they were so candid with one another. Oh to trust someone that much. I shared some of my poetry. We really did have fun proceeding to enlighten each other on our differences.
The brother is unmoved by my presence so far. I play coy. Within the dark recesses of my mind I feel a bit sorry for my “victim.” Which is what he will become whether I accept this or not. I don’t believe he will deserve what I’m about to do. I must prove to myself that I am in control. I find in hindsight that “control” does not mean what I think it means.
I befriend the brother, hinged on his every word. He trusts that my interest is genuine. He is quite engaging. I question my motives. I am leading myself to accept my subterfuge. Is it reasonable intent or complete devolution? I feel I’m spinning backwards regressing into a black abyss. Surfacing. Feeling shame at my pretense. Except this need overcomes any conscience or scruple. Where is my virtue? Oh, to hell with it.
It is evening. Everyone here is settling in for the night.