What Did I Miss?

It wasn't too soon when I left grandma and grandpa at home with mom and dad so I could go pick up Mary.  I could tell when we got home that grandma and grandpa had fought in their car on the way to our house.  I felt sorry for grandpa.  It was a relief to leave.  Mary ran to the car when I honked my new horn and I have to admit it was a little exciting.  New car.  Graduation.  Driving away from everything.  Mary jumped in all smiles and laughs.  We waved to a hundred relatives on her front porch as her mom took pictures while we pulled away.

"I did not think you were ever going to get here."  Stressing every syllable.

"Grandma and grandpa duty at my house."  I felt a cringe of guilt at remembering how I felt about grandma.  No!  Not tonight!  Tonight I will not let that happen.   "You know, I hate to to have to give my keys to the chaperone at the party.  I almost feel like just going and driving all night.  To where ever."  I felt a little bit of a wild thrill at the thought of it.

"Wow.  Spontinaity from you.  What a day of new experiences!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing.  And normally I would say let's do it, let's go!  But tonight, I say let's go to the all night party.  You know, we will probably never see most of these people for a long time.  If ever."

"You think?"  I hadn't even thought of that.  I'm not sure if it bothered me or not.

"Don't forget we need to pick up Tim."  And we did.  Tim seemed genuinely glad to see it was me with Mary picking him up.  Which surprised me.  Don't know why.  But it did.  He sat in the back seat and leaned forward between me and Mary in the front.

"I can't believe you got a car for graduation Nicky.  I got a watch and money and was thrilled.  What did you get Mary?"

"All kinds of stuff from mom and dad.  Money.  Stuff for when I go to school in the fall.  I got a watch too.  And a longer curfew."  We all laughed at that.  "But there's no curfew tonight."

"Yeah but if we leave the party before 6 a.m. we can't get back in and they call our parents."

Mary looked at Tim "what did you have in mind?"

"Nothing.  Actually I'm kind of looking forward to this party.  It's just kind of a bummer that our first all nighter will be at the school that we just spent 12 years trying to get out of."

I listened as Tim and Mary started talking about the last few years in high school.  They seemed to have a lot more memories than I could come up with.  There were a lot of parties they talked about that I didn't go to.  Lots of games they went to that I didn't go to.  School dances that..yep...I didn't go to.  They laughed, I laughed because what they talked about seemed fun.  Why hadn't I wanted to go?  And why didn't I realize how much fun I was missing?  I remember the feeling of taking comfort in my room, listening to music, watching TV, enjoying being home, enjoying more...the not having to go out.

We got to school and parked in the lot designated for our cars tonight.  We locked the car and turned in the keys at the door to the vice-principal.  We stood there briefly while she told us the rules.  Then we went in to the gym where it seemed like thousands of people were standing.  Maybe only a few hundred.  But everyone was crowded together.  I stood inside the doorway and looked with Mary and Tim.  They started to head towards the middle of the gym.  Mary looked back at me and I motioned her to go on.  I stood still and took in the entire gym.  I couldn't see everything from where I stood.  But a lot of effort went in to this.  I was surprised.  There were black jack tables (and we'd already been warned no real money would be used).  Arcade games.  Teachers running game booths.  Parents serving foods and drinks.  I wondered over to one group of people to see what everyone was looking at.  In the center of the small crowd was a young man sitting in front of an easel and one of the kids from my class was sitting in a chair in front of him.  Portraits?  I stood and watched until the young artist pulled off the sheet of paper and handed it to the posing boy.  It was a charicature.  Everyone strained to see and the next girl in line eagerly took her seat.  Sweet.

There were all kinds of pictures hanging on one of the long walls of the gym.  I moved over to the wall and slowly looked at the pictures.  I slowly made my way down the wall.  Years of pictures.  Hundreds of people.  Us.  I looked at every picture to see the faces, the events.  A lot of the faces were familiar, though I didn't know all of their names.  Why didn't I know their names?  Most of the events pictured didn't ring familiar either.  Carefully I scanned the pictures to see if I was in any of them.  I couldn't find me anywhere.  I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was a little disappointed.  Or was it sadness?  What did I miss?  The pictures were smiling faces, happy events.  Why wasn't I a part of these?  Didn't I want to be happy?

At the very end of the wall there were pictures of the school clubs for our senior year.  There was one of the yearbook staff.  I scanned it carefully.  I remember it being taken.  I couldn't just walk out of the room so I was in the picture, barely.  I only knew I was there because I remembered it.  It wasn't really a planned picture, just one of the staff playing around.  I managed to avoid being much of a part of the picture.  But there was the side of my head.  Why didn't I want to be in it?  Was I afraid of what would be seen, in a picture?

I turned back to the gym and was suddenly aware of the noise level.  Loud.  There was a sound system set up in the corner away from the entrance we all had to use.  Some of the kids were dancing.  There were tables set up in groupings all through the gym.  Most of the tables had kids sitting at them, or purses and jackets lying on them.  Everyone was smiling.  I went back to the artist sketching the characatures.  and watched.   He was pretty good.  Everyone who already had a sketch was showing them to the others waiting, everyone seemed impressed.  I looked at the artist.  Did he go to school here?  He didn't look old enough to have graduated yet.  He seemed pretty focused on what he was doing.  But he still manged to joke with the girl he was drawing.  

Everyone seemed so familiar with everyone else.  Yet I felt like an outsider.  No.  Not an outsider.  I felt okay.  But I felt like an observer.  Yes, an observer.  I didn't realize how long I must have been looking at the pictures and the artist until Mary came up to me, looking a little bit sweaty.  "Where have you been?"

"Looking at the pictures and watching him".  I nodded at the artist.

"I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Here I am."  I smiled at her.  She grabbed my elbow and pulled me behind her to ta table where Tim was sitting.  He was on one side of the table and two girls and another boy were on the other side of the table.  We sat with Tim , Mary next to him and me next to Mary.  Tim reached over and squeezed my hand and smiled.  "We lost you."  I smiled and watched his hand pull away from my arm.  That wasn't too uncomfortable, which surprised me.  That it didn't bother me.

Though I was glad to be here I didn't feel like a party.  I wanted to watch and listen.  Which is hard to do because people aren't comfortable with someone sitting quietly and 'observing'.  They have to be noticeably enjoying themselves, or the others become uncomfortable.  So to avoid making them uncomfortable I participated in the party.    Tim went to get us something to drink.

Moving Forward, Just A Little

Graduation.  The end of my childhood is what mom and dad said.  The only thing is I kind of left that behind a while ago.  They were so excited.  And still-sad.  I finished getting dressed, even using a little make up, took my cap and gown out of the closet and went downstairs.  They were all dressed up and waiting with the camera.  Mom took a picture as dad met me at the bottom of the steps and hugged me.  Then dad took one of mom hugging me.

"Nicky you look beautiful."  Mom stepped back to look at me in my dress, that she and I had picked out together.  Mom took my hand and led me to the dining room where some presents sat shimmering in their silver paper.  Mom picked one up and handed it to me.  I opened the long, thin box and found a strand of pearls.  Pretty cool I must say.

"Let me."  Dad took them from my hand and clasped them around my neck.  The pearls felt cool.  I liked that.  I hugged them both.  Their excitement was kind of catching.  I let myself get caught up in the fun and the emotion.  Dad handed me the next one.

"Nicky we are so proud of you."  I smiled happily at him as they watched me open the square box and pull out a gold watch.  "Turn it over."  I smiled even more at their excitement.  They had it engraved, it was a dainty watch and the writing was tiny:  'Time for the rest of your life.'  I looked at mom.  She actually had her hands up to her mouth, for some reason I pictured her as a little mouse, timid.  I laughed and hugged her.  I didn't think she would let go of me.

"Peg you're going to mess up her hair."  He hugged me again as soon as she let go.  There were other presents but dad picked up the smallest box and led us all in to the living room.  He motioned for me to sit on the couch.  "Nicky, your mom and I wanted to do something special for you...."   He looked at mom, at the floor, finally at me again.   "You have been everything your mother and I dreamed of from the first time we ever held you."  Okay, it's okay to cry.  So I started.  Dad smiled and reached over to wipe a tear from my cheek.  "Well, I didn't mean to make you cry.   Anyway...as you are well aware...you are our only child, so you have to indulge us."  Giggles from mom.  "This isn't very original, but it is something you're going to need."  He handed me the small box.  Mom's eyes were fixed on my face.  I opened the little box and found a key.  A car key.  I know that meant there's a car.  But...I never expected it.  Even holding the key...not sure what to do with it.  Mom laughed.

"Nicky...your face.  Come on, let's go look at it."  She nearly yanked me off of the couch with dad right behind us.  We went outside.  And sure enough there was a little Volkswagon Beetle.  Black.  I couldn't believe it.  We walked up to it.  Dad opened the door for me.  I got in.  It smelled new.  Real new.  Chemically smelly.   Fabric smelly.  

I ran my hands over the steering wheel.  I looked at the dash.  The seats.  My hands touched.  My eyes looked.  "This is mine?"  I don't care how unoriginal they thought it was , it was original for me!  "I can't believe you bought me a car!"  I had never even thought of having a car.  If I ever needed one they always let me use one of theirs.  "I can't believe you bought me a car!"  I said that already didn't I?

"Well, it's not brand new.  It's over a year old.  Nothing wrong with it though.  It looks good. Runs good.  We thought it was perfect for you."  I hadn't noticed mom taking pictures.  Dad was glowing.   Mom was grinning.  I was busy taking everything in.  CD player.  Jack to plug in my MP3 player.  Air conditioning.  I thought I should hug them but I didn't want to get out.

"How about driving us to your graduation?"  

"Let's go!"  I couldn't wait to drive it.  It was mine.

"Wait!"  Mom ran in the house and came out with her purse, my cap and gown.  Dad ran in and came out carrying his suit jacket.  What a beautiful day!  I let myself enjoy it.  Funny, that I have to let myself relax and smile and laugh.  But that's what it was.  And that's what I was doing.  Life is good.  When it's good.  Grandma and Grandpa met us at the school.  Duty dictated that I kiss them hello.  Then I had to run off with my cap and gown and meet the rest of the class in our assigned classrooms to get ready.  Mary headed right for me when she saw me.  She screeched when she saw me.  I screeched right back.  Why not?  She ran to me and stopped.  I could see her debate, she threw caution to the wind and hugged me.  I hugged back.

"Isn't this great?"  Everyone was milling around and the noise was almost unbearable.  Everyone was putting on their black gowns and mortar boards.  Some of the girls were crying.

"You are never going to believe what mom and dad got me."

"What?" We were pulling on our gowns and zipping them.

"A CAR!"

"Oh that."  She flipped her hand like it was no big deal.  Looked away.  Then looked back at me laughing.  "I KNOW!  They asked me what kind of car you would like.  I saw it a week ago.  Isn't it great!?"

"You knew?  How could you know for so long and not tell me?"  

"I'm good with secrets."  She hugged me again.   Yes, she is.  Doug had kind of disappeared.  My parents didn't think much of it.  Often Doug had packed up and moved.  Getting a job somewhere else.  And then just as sudden he would move back.  I didn't care.  But I knew why he was gone.  And I didn't think he was coming back.  This time he had left the weekend mom and dad had gone to aunt Marie's.   I figured after I heard them talking about him being gone that he must have come to the house to say goodbye.  But who knows.  

Before I knew it were lined up and heading out of the classroom to our graduation.  It was hot.  Everyone was sweating, smiling and crying.  I didn't listen much to what was being said.  Instead, I sat thinking.  Looking at faces I could see, the backs of heads.  Most of the faces were so familiar.  Most I'd been at this school with for four years.  Most, I didn't know very well.  I saw Mary, who was all giddy.   Of course I knew her the best.  Since fall she had been spending a lot of time with Tim.  So I had gotten to know him pretty well.  Other faces, other names, there were some faces I had seen for years but I couldn't recall their names.  

I thought over the last school year.  School.  Lots of work.  With the newspaper.  The year book.  Studying.  Studying was always the hardest.  Not too many other things came to mind.  I went to the prom so not to disappoint mom and dad.  I went with Mary and Tim.  And yes, felt like a third wheel.  Mary and Tim really didn't seem to mind.  We did have a pretty good time.  Though for weeks leading up to it I dreaded the thought of it.  I am sure that didn't set me up to have a good time.  But I surprised myself by actually enjoying it.  I even danced a couple of times.  But was nervous doing it.  Mom and dad were pretty excited.  I think they were disappointed there wasn't a boy to take pictures of with me.  But they never said anything.  I scanned the bleachers full of parents, squirming siblings, yawning grandparents.  I saw my family.   I grinned.  They waved.

I must be a boring kid to them.  No excitement.  They had respected my decision to get a job and go to night school.  I hadn't worked hard enough to get any scholarships.  But I was excited about working on my college education.  And I was very excited about starting my new job in two weeks.  I was pretty surprised  when I started going to interviews for jobs.  It was a challenge, not always comfortable.  But I figured if I got a decent job, staying at home, I could work and afford to pay for a good part of my own education.  I was pleasantly surprised when I got the job I wanted the most.

In two weeks I start at the State National Bank.  It wasn't a glamorous job but I was happy about the quiet setting I would be working in.  Pretty much all I would be doing is loading information on their computer system.  I would be pretty isolated from most people.  It was close to home.  It would let me pay for some of school, in addition to the loans I would have to get.  They talked about training me as a teller in case I would have to fill in.  That didn't thrill me, but it didn't scare me either.  I figured I could do it.   The nice part was I'd always be able to depend on the "banker's hours" and wouldn't have to worry about odd work shifts.  

Where Do I Start?

There hasn't been a day that I don't remember.  Not that I sit around and consciously think of what happened.  But it is a part of my life.  I very seldom think about the actual events anymore.  It is more like an awareness that this happened to me.  A fact.  Just like eating and breathing, only not as pleasurable.  It is what taught me pain, anger, shame, guilt, mistrust and fear.  Even more-lessons in gratitude, love and strength.  Though these lessons I did not learn until much later in life, certainly not while I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for it to be over.  I could never pretend it wasn't happening.  I could not remove myself from the reality of it.  Maybe this is a good thing.  Because if I had been able to escape reality then, would I have escaped reality forever?  Now, I know that is not what I want, maybe I knew it then also.

How did it start?  I don't know, I don't remember.  I don't remember not knowing him as a part of our lives.  I remember times when he wasn't around as much, and then times that he was around all too often.  Somehow, he managed to gain my parents trust with me.  They were very protective, very sheltering but not constricting.  They didn't need to hold on to me because I never let myself go.  I did not let myself lose control, or so I thought.  Though sometimes I may have felt stifled and miserable, it wasn't because of what they did, it was because of what they didn't do.  I didn't want them to know, and I wanted them to know.

Where do you start when you tell about this sort of thing?  There is much to say about what happened.  But even more to say about how it affected my life.  Not just when it happened but the entirety of my life.  It isn't something that happens and can be forgotten.  It was a constant in my life, something regular and almost predictable.  What happened?  All of that has been heard so many times from so many victims and survivors (sad isn't it, that I feel so many people already know these sordid facts that I don't feel it necessary to spell out the actual events).  I don't think most people, even the survivors, know the impact it has on every day living.  I started to discover this in pieces, and when put together, I myself did not want to admit that I lost so much control of my life to this abuse.  I would think the actual, physical crime against me would be enough, that that was my victimization.  The harshest part of what he did to me.  Not so.  The crime didn't stop when the sexual abuse stopped.  The victimization would go on.  And in trying to keep control in my life I would become "control-less".  There is so much more to me than the fact that I am a victim/survivor.   I hate these words, "victim/survivor", it is not who I am.  I have done more in my life than "be" abused, but often when someone finds out, that is what I am to them.  I am a combination of all that has happened in my life, both good and bad.  Like everyone else, the foundation of my character was laid piece by piece.  And those pieces were constructed from the very best God has to offer, to the very worst that man has contrived.

There were times in my life that I am vividly aware of.  Then there are the times that I struggle to remember what my life was like.  I remember how I felt, the internal battles I waged.  But I don't necessarily have an awareness of names and places and specifics.  Not because I have blocked these events out of my life.  But because I was not focused on my life.   The daily struggle of going through the mundane specifics of living was often delegated to "automatic pilot".  I did not give much thought to the basics of living and therefor did not register, often times, the events of my life.  So while I operated on automatic I dealt with the feelings I was not prepared to deal with, as no one should ever be.  Child or adult, this is not a test you can prepare for but spend an entire life learning from.

My story is my own.  I speak for no other.  I will start at a time when I was very conscious of the battles, very aware of my feelings, and am still learning from.