How Do I Feel About This

I couldn't bring myself to look directly in his face so I tired to focus on his ear or neck.  I have to answer him.  How do I answer him.  Before I could deliberate any more I said "okay".

"Okay".  He repeated the word quietly, almost to himself.  I think we both breathed a little easier.  "Well, I guess we should probably go try to finish that room of yours."

"I think mom and dad are upstairs and I don't want to bother them.  I better wait until tomorrow."

"All right, but does that mean our date is off?"

"No.  We're almost done.  I'll finish it in the morning and be ready by whenever you want to go."

"I have to work until six.  I can pick you up around seven?"

"Okay."  I was looking towards the other end of the porch and I could see his hand coming towards my face in my peripheral vision.  I didn't move.  Softly he touched my cheek.  Then placed his fingers on my chin and pulled my face towards him.

"I hope you get more comfortable with me."  He dropped his hand.

"What do you mean?"

"I think you're worse than I am.  I have a hard time opening up to new people and feeling comfortable with them.  I just get the impression after these last few days that you may find that hard too."

Is this what I have to do?  Make him fight for this?  Without knowing why or where I got the courage I leaned forward and kissed him.  Ever so slightly he leaned into me and I have never felt such feelings from a touch.  It was gentle.  Soft.  And wanted.  He didn't reach out to touch me or grab me.  I absorbed the smell of paint, turpentine, his still slightly pepperoni-ed breath.  We pulled apart but stayed face to face.

"I'm really looking forward to this summer Nicky."

"Me too."  From the kitchen a light shown through the house and made a slight play on his face.  His eyes were still a little red looking and a few specks of paint were flecked on his forehead. I couldn't resist as I reached up to touch his cheek.  Briefly I ran a finger on his cheek.  And then let my hand drop.

"I suppose I should gt going?"  Weird as it may sound I couldn't wait for him to leave.  I wanted to think about this.  I think I had enough for one day and I knew I would spend the night re-living it and making sense of it.

I needed to be alone with how I felt.

How did I feel?

"Probably."  He stood up and I went with him to the steps.  I stopped as he went down the steps.  I think he expected me to go to his car with him but I didn't realize it in time.  I am going to be clumsy at this.  At the bottom of the steps he turned to look at me but I wasn't there and he looked up to see me at the top of the steps.

"Tomorrow?"

"I'll be ready."

"Okay."

"Okay."  I watched until he was in the car and starting to leave then I went in to the house.  I locked up and went upstairs.  I went to my room and was disappointed at the mess that lay in there.  I walked in to start working and stopped inside the door.  It was all painted.  I just needed to do a double check and make sure it didn't need another coat and clean everything up and put everything back.  I looked around at 'that was all I have to do' and was suddenly very tired.  Too tired.  I took the brushes and rollers to the basement and cleaned them and propped them in the utility sink to dry.  I went to my room and flipped the tarp around until I could get some clean underwear and pajamas.  In the bathroom I shed all of my grimy clothes and the rest of the grime in the shower.  I fought off thinking of Shawn.  Not yet.  Not until I was completely alone and not doing anything.  I finished showering, teeth brushing and dressing and went to mom and dad's room to say goodnight.

Mom was reading and dad was watching TV.

"Just wanted to say good night."  Expectantly mom laid her book down and dad turned down the TV.  Now what am I suppose to say.

"We looked in the room.  It's going to look nice."  I smiled and hoped this was a way out.

"I thought so, looks better than I thought it would."

"That was nice of Shawn to come over and help."  Here we go.  

"Yep."  I have to say more than 'yep' or they will never forgive me.   "Uhm..I'm going out tomorrow night.   If that's okay I mean."  Criminy I don't even know how to ask my parents for permission to go on a date.  Do I even have to ask?  Too sad for even me to think about.

Mom smiled and looked at dad who took over.  "I would think it's okay if that's what you want to do.  I guess we can trust you enough to know if that's what you want to do."  He must have noticed the bewilderment on my face.  "What I mean is, I don't think you have to ask us permission to go on a date."

"Oh...okay."  I couldn't even do that right for them.  They missed out on that whole deal.

"But I think you need to let us know when you are going and when you will be back."  Mom piped in quickly. "I mean, so we don't worry and everything.   And..."  She looked at dad and I could tell she was going to say something they hadn't discussed.  "I think you need to be home by a decent time, maybe...one?"  Actually I felt relieved.  There was still time for them to be parental and do that thing that parents do.

"Okay."  That seemed to be a good word for the night.  I felt good that they still had that and even that they thought I still needed that I guess.  "I think I can do that."  Aside from the graduation party I don't think there were a whole lot of occasions that I ever had to worry about a one a.m. curfew.  For them, and tonight for me, I went to them and kissed them good night.  I backed up to the doorway.  "I think I'll sleep in the guest room tonight.  The tarp doesn't look too comfortable."

They smiled and returned to their book and TV.  

Fresh Paint Fresh Life

Breaking with tradition, or my newly self diagnosed OCD, I made my way to the kitchen in the morning before I took a shower so I could get a glass of pineapple juice.  Mom had left me a note on the table saying Shaun had called and then had called again because I hadn't returned his first call.  I took my juice upstairs  so I could get my shower and contemplate calling Shaun.  I went over and over  our conversation at the graduation party and then the party at his house.  I couldn't help but get excited that he was interested in me.  He sure was not difficult to look at either.  By the time I got out of my shower I was ready to call him, but nervous.  Okay, maybe I wasn't ready to call him.  But I kind of wanted to.

I towel dried my hair and pulled it back into a pony tail.  I dressed in denim shorts and a t-shirt with Winnie The Pooh on it.  Mom loved buying me character t-shirts.  She said it made her happy to buy happy little creatures with happy little faces.  I think it was her way to tell me to smile more.  Or maybe she just really liked these guys.

I dialed Shaun's number and got his voice mail.  I left a message for him and hung up.  I sat on the couch.  A whole day.  With nothing to do.  I laid back on the couch  and swung my feet up on the other end.  A day made for lounging.  I closed my eyes and tried to relax.  Tim was the first thing I thought of and my brain drifted right back to yesterday.  This happened to him.  I snapped up, swung my feet back down to the floor. Nope, not going there right now.  I went to the basement, didn't mom tell me she had bought that paint I had asked for-for my bedroom?  There were two gallons of new paint sitting by the shelves filled with old paint cans, tools, paint rollers and pans, electric cords, old fan, and various items I did not recognize for use but recognized because they had been there forever.

I took the paint upstairs and set it in the hallway outside of my room.  I went in my bedroom and for five seconds stared at everything.  Bookshelves, desk, dresser, televisions, all of the things I had gathered in the last 18 years that made a running history of my life.  I went back to the basement for some boxes, found only one big box and went back upstairs to start packing.

Quickly I took things from the walls and shelves that I decided I could live with packed in a box and placed in the closet.  I couldn't get rid of anything but I could live with it in there.  I turned my stereo on to my favorite station, I wanted music blaring in the room, not through little ear buds from my ipod and took my time filling the box.  The room seemed quite bare when I was done.  It was a pretty big room but still, eighteen years of stuff adds up no matter how big the room is.  While packing everything I seemed to notice more dust than I had previously noticed or even thought possible.  So back to the basement I went for a bucket and rags.  Very quickly, because I wanted to get to the painting and have it done, I wiped down the walls and the shelves where things no longer sat.  After that was finished I returned to the basement to find the tarp dad kept there for his painting projects.  I dragged it up to my room which was no small feat.

In my head I planned all of this prep work to take a matter of minutes.  By the time I shoved all of the furniture in to the middle of the room, stripped my bed and covered it with a couple of older sheets, piled everything I could UP to make the pile smaller in circumference but higher by stragetgy, a couple of hours had passed.  Now I was sweaty, dirty and hungry.  Did I want to eat?  Yes.  Did I want to get this painted and returned to order?  Yes.  Instinct was to go and go and start painting, work until I was completely finished.  I couldn't stand the clutter and disarray.  I looked at the pile of my room, in the middle of my room, looked at the walls that I would need to wash down again because they were still not clean and had the sinking feeling my little job was not so little.  I made myself stop.  I took a deep breath.  Where as all of this going.  I looked at the once green, now spotted, tarp covered pile in the center of the floor.  I had no where to rush off to.  Go eat.  Then come back and clean again.  And paint.

As I was walking in to the kitchen the house phone rang.  It was Shaun.   "Hi Nicky, you are a hard person to get hold of."

"Sorry Shaun, Tim was over yesterday and we cooked out for mom and dad and then I was talking to dad and I didn't get a chance to call."  I almost said I forgot but I didn't want him to think I had forgotten about him.  I didn't want to hurt his feelings.

"Tim?"  There was a question in his voice but before I had to think about answering it, which I didn't want to he went on.   "Well I was calling to see if we could get together.   Maybe go out?"

"Yes.   No."

"Am I suppose to pick which one of those answers I want?  If so, I pick yes."

He made me smile.  More.  "I pick yes, but I can't today.   Not now."

"Oh."  Not as happy as he was a second ago.

"Let me explain.  I got up and didn't have anything to do so instead of lounging around doing nothing I decided to paint my room so right now I have everything scrubbed down, pushed in the middle of the floor and covered with a tarp and I was just going to eat real quick and go back upstairs and paint my room because I want it all done and put back together tonight."  I said it all in one breath, as quickly as I could because I wanted him to hear me and believe me.  Why I thought he might think I would lie to him escaped me at the moment.

"Can you breath now?"  I could hear the happy back in his voice now.  "Sounds like a lot of fun.  Why don't I come over and help you and then we can make plans for even more fun."

"I don't think so."

Silence for a beat.  "You don't want me to come over?"

"No.  No I'm not saying that.  But that just doesn't seem right."

"Well Nicky I think it would be very right.  I would really like to see you and I think we would have a good time painting and talking.  It would be like playing cards.  Conversation sure seems easier when your doing something else."

"I would feel pretty selfish having someone I just started to get to know come over here and help me paint my room."  He didn't say anything.  He was waiting for me to just say okay.  "Okay, but you have to promise to leave if you get here and think there is no way you want to spend your day painting this room."

"I'll do that.  Well, I won't do that. But if that was how I would feel I would do that.  But it isn't."

He didn't need directions and said he would be here in less than an hour.  After I hung up I hurredly ate a bowl of cereal and went to my bathroom to see how I looked.  Criminy.  I brushed my hair out and pulled it back into a pony tail again.  I felt grimy...but hey.  I'm painting here.  I washed my face and neck and felt a little better but couldn't believe I was letting him come over to one; see me like this and two; help me paint my room.

It Will Change Others

"You've only told one person?  Mary?"  I nodded.  "Your parents don't know?"   I shook my head no.  "Are you going to tell them?"

I picked up a small rock off of the pavement and studied it's texture and shape.   "No."

"Why not?"

"For the same reason you didn't want to and the same reasons you wished you hadn't.  I don't think I could handle the way it would change their lives forever."

"Nickie, you should tell them."

"Of all people you should understand why I don't.  Please don't try to convince me that I should do that."

"It's not that I want to convince you to do something you don't want to do.  Are you prepared to keep this a secret from your parents forever?  Do you think you can do that and not let it come between you?"

"I have so far."

"You don't think this has come between you?"  The small rock wasn't big enough to hid much mystery.  I felt it's sharp edge as I pushed it into the tip of my finger.

"Maybe, but I would rather it come between us like this than risk my father feeling the way your's does.  I don't want to see this eat at them and change who they are.  It would effect them too much.  It's like you said.  I can deal with what happened to me a lot better than what it would do to them."

"Nickie, that's talk.  I meant it but I also know that I had to tell them."   I didn't respond.   I didn't want to go through this with him.  He knew that.  "Okay...anyway... besides that.  How are you doing?"

"I'm fine."

"That's a pretty non descript description."  He bent his head close to look at me.  I was done with the tears.  What a weak moment and I hate being weak.  I hate being needy.

"Tim I don't know how to describe how I am.  A lot of the things you said tonight was like you were taking the words right from my own thoughts.  I understood what you meant.  But I never thought or believed anyone else ever had those thoughts."

"More than you know.  I use to think that there was no way in hell anyone could understand how I felt.  But there are people who do."

"Honestly Tim I still feel that way.  You said a lot of the things  that I've felt for years.  But I still don't think or believe there is anyone who could possibly have a clue to who I am and what I feel or think.  I am NOT like anyone else.  This doesn't make me common to anyone.  I don't want to belong to a group where this is what we share and what keeps us together.  It is NOT who I am.  It happened to me.  And that's where I want it to end."  There was an anger starting to rock inside of me.  Not at Tim but at the idea that this made me like others that I didn't want to be associated with.  People who's commonality is what was done to them, not by choices they made.

"All right.  I'm not going to argue with you Nicky.   You don't think anyone can understand you.  I respect that.  I also repsect that you don't want this to be the guiding force in your life.  But I am glad that you told me and I want you to know that you are the same person to me that you were before you told me.  I won't think of you as 'Nicky the girl who was molested'.  I'll think of you as 'Nicky the girl I got to know my senior year through a girl I dated and we became friends and the girl I dated broke up with me and we stayed friends'."   He smiled, I couldn't help but laugh.

"Good, because that's who I feel like.  And I'm pretty content with that."   I stood up in the street.  "Let's head back to the house."  We walked across the street and quietly made our way to his car parked in front of our house.  He opened his car door and slid behind the wheel.  I closed the door for him and he smiled.  There didn't seem to be much more to say tonight.  We said good night and he left.  

Who Will Understand?

I jumped up when I heard sizzling and we went inside to find the water furiously boiling for the corn.  We put the corn in the water and took the steaks out to put on the grill.  We were both quiet and, I am sure, thinking about our own reactions to what Tim had just shared with me.  As I was placing the last steak on the grill I heard a car pull in to the driveway at the side of the house.  I could tell it was mom's car and I yelled for her when the door slammed and she went in the front door.  She appeared at the back door and saw Tim so came out to say hello. 

"Hi Mrs. Roarke."

"Hi Tim, how are you?"

"I'm doing pretty good."  He smiled at her as she came over to look on the grill.  "What a wonderful surprise.  I take it one of those is for me."

"I thought you might like dinner without the hassle of making it."

"You must of read my mind from work today.  Dad may be a little late.  Are you joining us Tim?"

He looked at me, like I might care.  "I would like to.  That'd be great."

"I think I'll go in and change in to some shorts" she threw over her shoulder at us as she walked in the house.  

"So, you think this has something to do with how you feel about school?"

"I think it has something to do with everything I think."  I went back in to the kitchen and he followed me.  I put him to work getting the Texas bread ready and I set the table with dishes, silverware, salad dressing and steak sauce. 

I thought about that.  It has something to do with everything he thinks.  "Why do you say that?"

"Besides the things I learned from going to counseling i can just tell.  I don't feel like I 'think' like others.  I know I don't think like my dad, or my mom, or most of the friends I have.  It's hard to explain without going in to 'counselor' talk."

"You feel like that still?"

"Sure, and I think I always will."  Silently I went out the back door and he followed with the bread.  We put the bread on to toast and I turned the steaks over.  Of course everything he said I was applying to myself.  I knew these things about myself.  I just didn't expect anyone else to know about those feelings.  Before I could say anymore mom came out and sat with us.  Dad wouldn't be home for awhile so we ate without him but saved his dinner.  Mom talked easily with Tim as she did with anybody.  After we ate we all helped with the clean up and sat on the front porch where we had some shade to relax in.

Mom didn't seem to have anything else to do and Tim was content to sit and talk with the both of us.  Why on such a calm and easy afternoon did I feel such turmoil?  It didn't seem right that I knew about Tim and was willing to "pump" himfor information yet I wasn't sharing in return.  I made myself take a deep breath and pay attention to mom and Tim now.  There was no reason why I couldn't enjoy this afternoon with them.

And as I looked at Tim it occurred to me...he is like me.  He is sitting there 'being' normal.  But inside...what goes through his head at lightening speed while he talks to us.

He seemed relaxed.  And able to enjoy.  There was nothing ground shattering to this relaxing thing.  We talked about television shows, a couple of movies that we had seen and mom discovered she had once worked with Tim's aunt and had fond memories of her.  Mom had fond memories of everyone.  When dad came home we were still talking on the back porch, he and mom went in to fix his  dinner and he brought it out and ate on the porch with us.  It was fast approaching dark when mom and dad went inside. 

"You wanna take a walk? My backside is tired of looking at this chair."   Tim stood up and waited for me to answer.  

"Let me tell mom and dad."  I yelled in to the house more than actually told them we were going for a walk.  We walked down past Mary's house where no one seemed to be stirring.  We didn't stop but kept walking.  "Tim, how do you deal with what happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"I would think that you wouldn't be able to forget it and how could you think around in."

"Sometimes I can't.  Sometimes its the only thing I can think about.  When that happens I make myself figure out why it is I'm thinking about it and get done with it."

"I don't know what you mean."   It felt easy, talking and walking, in the dark.

"Okay...sometimes something will happen that reminds me of it.  Like a movie, or seeing a guy that looks like him.  Or seeing a kid who looks like how I use to feel.  It could be anything. I have to make myself discover what it is that reminded me of it hen I allow myself a little time to think it through then I make myself do something.  Anything.  Read a book.  Go talk to mom or dad or a friend.  Work on something like a model, which I love doing.  But....then there are times when I just find myself reliving it, rethinking the whole thing.  That's the worse because I don't always know what took me back.  And sometimes I have to let myself think about that also."

"You 'let' yourself relive it?  Why don't you just do what you said, make yourself do something else?"

"I try.  But when I can't figure out why I'm thinking about it then it's hard to come up with a way to fight it.  I discovered the best thing, for me, to is sometimes...don't fight it."

"Doesn't that bring you down?"

"It can.  But I learned a trick to this too."   He smiled at me with a look of pleasure that I didn't understand.  "When the worst happens and I can't stop thinking about it.  I try to take control of it.  I take it past the time when he molested me and go through the time that he was confronted, went to jail.  I don't let myself get stuck in that time thought. To stop there continuously  would keep me in a place I don't like to be.  I move right on up to now.  To everything that led to graduation and how great that felt.  Thought I don't understand dad I let myself remember how I felt when he was so angry that someone was hurting me.  And the comfort I took from his anger.   And...sometimes, if I can't stop thinking about it I tell myself there might be an answer to letting it go by not fighting the memory of it, and learning to control it."

We walked as he talked.  The neighborhood was cooling off in the dark.  He carries some of the same thoughts I do.  I want to feel like he does though.  I want that control over this.   Is he really this okay though?     "I would think that takes a lot of practice.  To be able to do that with your thoughts."

"I guess it does.  But when I need to do it, it works.  The nice things is it works with more than just 'that' stuff.  Bad days are a lot easier to deal with when you can get yourself to focus on something good."  We walked over to the next street and began circling around.

"It amazes me how people can control themselves.  I find myself zoning out and I don't feel like I have any control over that."

"I can't always prevent this stuff from happening, but once I realize I'm in a place that I don't want to be that's when I work at getting out of there."  He laughed at himself.  I found myself feeling good, even while talking about something so depressing.  "I am kind of surprised that you don't mind talking about this.  It makes most people uncomfortable.  Even if they try to say it doesn't, you can tell."

Is this my opening to tell him?  Does he need to tell and do I need to tell him?  What could it hurt?

"I guess it's because I want to know your answers.  How you deal with it."   I looked at him to see if he was hearing me.  His head was tilted towards me but he was looking intently at the ground as we walked.  I made a turn at the corner and he turned with me.  I wasn't heading to the house now, I was going someplace totally unplanned.

"I've only told one person but .... the same thing happened to me."  I looked to him for his reaction.  He didn't say anything at first, he dropped his head slightly and placed his hand on my arm.  We stopped walking.  

He turned to me but I couldn't look at him when he was looking directly at me.  Suddenly I was exposed.  I would be a different person.  Even to him who understood.  We stood there for maybe thirty or forty seconds.  Or years.  "Nicky...."  it was almost a whisper.  When I looked up he had tears in his eyes.  "I'm sorry that happened to you."  Immediately my eyes filled and over flowed.  He put both of his hands on my shoulders.   "It has stopped though?"  I nodded yes.  He held my shoulders firmly, tight.  "And look at you!"   He smiled, while tears still flowed.

I wasn't sure how to take that.  I am sure my reaction seemed more like shock than anything.   Because I was.  Shocked.   All I could think was 'look at me what?'

"You are okay!  You're going to be okay.  It will be okay."  My shoulders started to shake in his hands and I could feel my chin tremble.  Even when I told Mary I didn't feel like this.  From everything we had just talked about, I knew he understood.  For him to tell me I would be okay, it meant something.  Maybe I will be.  The pain, the confusion and all of the mental torment I lived with.  He knew and I didn't have to explain it.  "Can I hug you?"   I just nodded.  And he did.  I had the first initial reaction I always have when someone touches me, shock like an electrical jolt.  He knew this, he knew it wasn't easy for me to be hugged.  "It's okay Nicky, not everyone is going to hurt you.  I'm not.  I don't like people touching me either.  But I won't hurt you, I promise.   Not everyone touching you is bad. "  He nearly had to hold me up after he said that, and my insides broke in to pieces.  I could feel the tenseness in my arms and body relax as I let him hold me up while I cried. 

He pushed me off of him and looked at me after a few minutes.  Another smile.  "I wish I was a true gentleman and had a handkerchief to offer you...but I don't.   Let's sit down."  He guided me to the curb and we sat on the curb with our feet in the street.  Fortunately  we lived in a quiet suburb and the chances of our feet getting run over were pretty slim.  I couldn't talk yet.  I noticed some children playing outside of a house a little further up from where we sat.  I noticed the lights on in the houses.  The darkness around us was soft, soft like it can't be during the day.  There were porch lights on.  Night noises you could hear through open windows, like a humming of the people talking, watching television and listening to music.  It wasn't really sounds that could be heard but a feeling of the humming.

Don't Picture This

"I'll take this to my house.  Just come down when you're ready Nicky."  Why did she do that!  I tried to give her a look as she headed out the door.  Mom and dad sat down.  Mom next to me.  Dad in his recliner.

"Are you okay with staying at Mary's this long?"  Mom patted my knee.  I couldn't help but feel uncomfortable with that.  But I smiled as I stared at my knee.  It was the little things that bothered me.  Someone trying to comfort me.  Or treat me like I was a child.  Even when I was very young, it bothered me.  Annoyed me.   And I would have to act like it was 'normal'.  When to me it was anything but.

"I'll be fine mom.  You guys don't have to worry about me.  You know I'll be okay there."

"Of course you will.  I think you've spent just as many years at their house growing up as you have here."  Dad liked that.  The life long friendship thing.  I just hoped he didn't compare me and Mary to him and Doug like he use to do.  Thankfully he didn't.

"You're okay with us going without you aren't you?"

"Yes mom."  It took a lot of self control to not sigh and roll my eyes at her.  Some times I felt irrationally, or maybe rationally, angry at them when they tried to parent me.  "I don't think aunt Marie or uncle Rick need to worry about entertaining me right now.  And you know they would."

"I'm glad you understand.  I just wish we were going out for a different reason."  She was trying not to cry.  Criminy Curtis wasn't dead for heaven's sake.  Without batting an eye I chastised myself.  I can't believe I just thought that.  I tired picturing Curtis, last time I saw him he was still roly-poly, dark hair, and so cute.  Damnit.  Now I wanted to cry.

"Come on Peg.  It doesn't sound like Rick and Marie are falling apart.  They certainly don't need us doing that.  Sounds like little Curtis is even being pretty strong about this.  We're just going out to be with them.  You know we can still laugh.  Which they probably need.  And still feel good about being with them."

"I know I know...I just can't stop picturing Curtis and what happened..."

"Peg..." Dad didn't want her talking about it.  Not in front of me.  Sometimes I wondered if they realized how old I am.  I go to school.  I watch the news.  I live.  And...by the way...it happened to me.

"Well then..."  I wanted to scream at both of them.  Damnit both of you!  I KNOW I KNOW...stop acting like you have to protect me.  YOU CAN'T!!!  I am not a child.  I haven't been a child since that first time he touched me.  I stopped being young.  I don't need that now.  It's too late to protect me!   Instead of screaming out loud, it reverberated in my head.  I smiled at them.  "You know I'll be okay here.  I hope everyone is okay.  Please tell aunt Marie...."  what?   "Tell her something for me."   Mom patted my knee again.  Again my ire and irk went up.  Though her pat on my knee was telling me she understood and would say something for me.  Mom took it as I couldn't think of something to say.  Only, I could.  I could think of a hundred things to say, but why?  It wouldn't help.  That's for sure.

"I guess we better get started."  We all stood up.  I helped carry everything to the car.  I let mom hug me goodbye.  She kissed me.  Told me she loved me.  And hugged me again.  Hard.  Sometimes it was just hard to take.  She got in the car and pulled tissues out of the glove box.  I smiled at her.  At least she smiled back through the tears.

Dad stepped right up to me and grabbed me in a bear hug.  A hard one.  And he surprised me.  "Nicky I wish I knew what you were thinking.  And one of these days I hope you trust me enough to tell me."  He wasn't patronizing.  It made me feel like he respected me.  Like I wasn't that child.  He pushed me back and held on to my shoulders, looking at me.  "I can't read your mind Nicky.  But I know you well enough to know there is something."

I smiled, genuinely, at him.  "Geez dad, being a little melodramatic aren't you?"  He didn't smile back.

"I love you Nicky.  You behave yourself and mind Mary's parents."

"I will."  He knew I would.  Dad got in the car and watched as I walked down to Mary's.  They waited until I was on the front porch before they left.  I waved.  I sat down.  Mary came out and sat next to me.

"I'm glad you're here Nicky."

"Me too."  It was here that I sat and thought, for the first time, maybe I should tell them.  It was only a fleeting thought.  A very brief thought.  I put my elbows on my knees and my chin in my hands.  Right now, I have to be with Mary.  I don't want to be where Curtis is right now.   I don't want to be where ever Doug is.  I like where Mary is, I don't think I can ever fully be there myself, but I can visit.  So I will be.   But I look forward to not having to be where others want me to be, doing what others want me to be doing.   But for now, I have to be.

So I did the best I could.  There was comfort being with Mary.  We shopped.  Went to the movies.  Talked about her date with Tim.  And talked about that date some more.  He called on Sunday night and to not make her feel like she had to get off of the phone to pay attention to me I slipped out of the house and sat on the front porch steps.  It was dark, and it was kind of cold.  But it felt good.  I looked up the street to my house.  I didn't have the yearning to be there right now.  Like I had recently.  Mary's family was pretty easy to stay with.  Even with her brother Mark.  I wasn't on edge.  I wasn't worried about anyone calling or stopping by.  I wasn't afraid of who was walking the halls in the dark.  Or who was asking to do something with me.  I was content to be at ease.  Safe.

A car pulled up to my house.  I couldn't see who it was until it pulled in the driveway and I could see the side of the car.  It was Doug.  I watched as he got out and went to the front door.  Didn't he know we were gone?  I knew he had a key.  But he knocked.  Waited.  Knocked.  Couldn't he see no one was there.  I almost got up to go see what he wanted.  Habit.  Stupid habit.  I sat.  I didn't want to move and have him sense motion, or me.  I sat.  I did not move.  He went back to his car, when he opened the door I noticed the back seat was full of stuff.

Dad didn't tell him they were leaving?  I couldn't believe he was actually back.  Maybe he wasn't going to stop.  I completely froze.  No, it was over.  Because I won't let it happen.  He probably expected mom and dad to be home, it was Sunday.  But why is he there.  How ballsy.  Doesn't he ever wonder if I'll say anything?  No.  Because I haven't.  I watched as he got in his car and left.  Fire burned my face.  Ice froze my brain.  My body was coiled and tight.

For the next four days I went to school.  Hung with Mary.  Worked on the school paper and yearbook.  Played family with Mary's family.  Mary never brought it up.  Not once.  We stayed pretty close to her house after school doing homework and watching TV.  Mary tried to convince me to wear makeup to school one day.  She thought one of the boys in our government class liked me.  When she saw I wasn't interested she let it drop.  What she didn't know was that I wanted to be interested. I wanted so much to have someone like me. I wanted to know that, I wanted to do that.  But then again, I didn't.  What could there be?  What could I share?  I tried to be more aware of everyone in school, and everything I did.  I worked, I tried hard to pay attention.  I even tried to check out the guy who Mary said was checking out me.  I tried.  But then it didn't seem important.  All I wanted to know is "am I going crazy"?  I don't WANT anyone to know about this.  What would they think of me?  Would they try to picture what happened?  Like mom did with Curtis?

I don't want anyone trying to picture this, when all I wish was I couldn't picture it.

Why is it that what I want is the exact same thing as what I don't want.

It's All Leading Us To That Point of No Return

"Can I use a suitcase or do you guys need them?"

"We don't need them all, get one out of dad's closet honey."  I could feel dad watching me as I went to get it.  What did I do this time I wondered.

"Mary's mom is going to call you..."

"I'll just walk down and talk to her, so it's okay if you stay?"

"Yep."  I turned around as I left the room to watch them watching me.

I closed the door when I got in my room.  Mary sat there.  "My parents are acting goofy."

"Whatdya mean?"  Mary sat neatly at my desk chair.  Rigid looking.

"Why are you sitting there like that?"  Use to be she would be looking through my CD's and generally nosing in to what ever piqued her interest.  Most times she was in my closet to see if there was anything of hers or anything of mine that she wanted to wear.

"Like what?"

"Like....I don't know.  Like you're afraid to move."

I set about to opening the suitcase on the bed and started packing my bras, underwear, socks.  Moving back and forth from the dresser to the bed and suitcase.

"I don't know.  Seems like every time I come in here it's so clean anymore I hate to mess it up."

"Don't be stupid.  Do what you always do."

That's all it took for her to start looking in the closet and turning on music.  Aside from the clothes I wanted to wear we also packed some of what she wanted to wear.  I went to my dresser again to pack up my makeup from on top.  But I decided against it.  I left it.

"Aren't you bringing your make up?"

"No. I kind of like not having to mess with it."

"I kind of envy that.  I don't think I could go to the bathroom in my own house without it."  She laughed.  She did like her makeup.  She was certainly pretty enough without it.  But she thought she looked great with it.  Which she did.  But who always wanted to go to all that trouble?  I could hear mom going down the steps and out the front door.  Dad must have stayed in their room.  Mary and I pretty much hung out upstairs until I got hungry and we went to see what was to eat.  That's where we were when dad came in, browsing through cupboards and finally settling on making nachos in the microwave.

"So are you two looking forward to having a few days together?"  He busied himself making a bowl of cereal and sitting down with us.

"I am."  Mary always liked my dad and was very perky around him.  Sometimes I thought she had a serious crush on him.  "I'm going to see if Nicky and I can have mom's car and go to the movies tonight, then maybe shopping tomorrow.  Maybe just drive around."

Okay then.  Not really what I wanted to do but to keep Mary happy I could do this.  Tonight the movies, tomorrow shopping, that would mean tomorrow night before I could stay at home...er....Mary's home and relax.  I found myself doing this lately.  If something comes up that I have to do, I start anticipating, needing time alone.  At home.  It wasn't necessarily that I didn't want to do things and have fun.  I just looked forward to being done with it and being home.

"Nicky?"

I turned to look at dad.  Who was looking at me.  So was Mary.  "What?"  Why were they looking at me?

"I was asking you if you if you needed money?"

"Oh, I guess.  I only have about ten dollars left from my baby sitting this summer."  Dad pulled out his money clip and gave me fifty dollars.  "Feeling pretty generous aren't you dad?"

He put his hand out to take it back.  "I don't know what came over me."

"That's all right.  I don't mind."  He smiled as he pulled his hand back and continued eating his cereal.  Mary was still looking at me.  I felt like laughing.  Like nobody ever zoned out before.  Suddenly I felt a very strong urge to tell her how much she meant to me. I wanted to grab her and squeeze her.  I couldn't help but look at her and I thought I was going to cry.  All she wanted was to help me and that made me feel worse.  Mary and dad started talking about her brother Mark who was getting ready for basketball season.  Mark was pretty irrational about sports.  When he wasn't on a team he was busy trying to stay in shape.  I think dad kind of wished he had a son, or a daughter, for that matter, in sports.  He always made a big deal out of anything I did.  And sometimes it didn't seem like enough.  It was almost like I didn't give him enough to parent.  I got up and cleared our plates and glasses and dad's bowl.  They were still talking about Mark when mom came back from talking to Mary's mom.  She joined us at the table.

"All settled.  Nicky you'll stay until we get back.  Which I don't think we will plan on happening until Thursday."

Mary looked at me and I could tell  she was going to say something but was nervous about it.  While looking at the space between my parents, and stumbling a little over her words, she brought up that subject.  WHich I would have been happy to avoid.   "Uhmmm...I'm really sorry about your little nephew.  I mean, that's...uh, sad."  I stared innocently at my parents to see if they figured out what I had told Mary, about me, by what she had just said about Curtis.

Mom reached over and patted Mary's hand.  "Thank you Mary."  I got that very uncomfortable feeling that settles over everyone when there is a million things to be said, but no one has the nerve to say it.  The heart to face it.  Or the words to describe it.

Not because they can't.  But because once opened up it is so much bigger than the words.  It is so raw and searing, that everyone is more afraid of the other person's feelings or reactions, that no one wants to bring it up.  But everyone wants to ask, to know.   What are you thinking and feeling?  What sense does that make?  All kinds.  When something awful happens, everyone wants to know detail, for different reasons, but no one wants to seem insensitive and be the one to bring up the subject.  Though in reality it would probably be the best thing to do.  Bring it up.  Talk about it.  Yell about it.  Ask about it.  Bu no, I don't want to go there.  not about Curtis.  Not about me.  So am I like them?  I sure don't think I feel like them.  I don't want to talk about it because it is me.

Am I different than everyone else?  I feel like I made a conscious decision to not tell.  To not talk.  Because I didn't want to cause pain.  I didn't want to be the reason for discontent.  For shattering the perfect world that was suppose to be mine, my parents.  It wasn't that I couldn't take the pain, or face the reality of it.  I did-every day.  Every night.  Every dream.  Every lost dream.  Could I do that?  Make that kind of decision when this started?  I pushed my chair back quickly, which startled every one.

"I better get my stuff ready."  That set every one in motion.  Mom and dad went upstairs to get their things and Mary and I carried my stuff down to the front door.  I sat on the couch.  Just wanting to leave.  But knowing for their sake I should stay and say good bye.  Mary and I sat quietly.  One true mark of friendship, I thought, was the ability to sit quietly and not have to say anything.  I didn't feel any discomfort at being quiet.  And knowing Mary as I did I could feel when she was uncomfortable.  I knew she wasn't.  Not with our silence.  Mom and dad came down with their luggage.  Mary stood up and grabbed my suitcase.

Happier Day....?

What am I?  A virgin?  I tried to picture doing these things with someone who loved me.  Why would I ever want to do those things with someone I loved?  Dirty.  Disgusting.  Frightening.  I got up and got in bed, laying flat on my back, I straightened my covers around me and put my pillow under my neck.  I bet one of those pillows made just for the purpose of putting under your neck sure would help me sleep better.  I could never sleep a night through and my neck always hurts.  Maybe I should ask mom to get me one.

Mom....dad...I pictured them talking.  But not about anything like this.  I could not picture them hearing about this, or talking about this, or dealing with this.  They seemed so innocent, my parents...innocent.  Shouldn't that be the other way around?  Why did they seem so naive to me, and why do I feel so old?

The morning began with the same thoughts  I fell to sleep with, I think I slept.  While I dressed and did some light make up I looked in the mirror and promised myself to be a little happier today.  Starting with mom and dad at breakfast.  They were already sitting and talking when I walked in to the kitchen and started making toast.

"Good morning parents".  I smiled my most sincere, happy smile.  They returned the smiles and the good morning.  But they didn't keep talking about whatever they had been talking about before I came in.  I turned my head to look at them while I got apple juice out of the refrigerator and poured a glass.  "What's up with you two?  You're acting all secretive this morning."  They looked at me with those parent smiles that say 'we don't know what to say to you.'

Mom tried to cover with "you look very nice this morning, anything special going on at school?"

"Nope, it's just Friday, I guess most of us like to look good on Friday.  Don't ask me why."  I sat with them and started on my toast.

"Maybe it's because everyone is hoping for a date or something."  Dad looked pleased with himself.  He's probably right for the most part.  I smiled at his deducing.

"Maybe dad, I guess that could be the reason for some of my more desperate school chums."

"Maybe we should call them hopeful, dear, and not desperate."   Mom liked putting a nicer, positive, face on things.

"I think you're right mom."  I smiled at her genuine kindness.  We all ate silently for a minute.  "So what has you took all shook up this morning?"   

They did that parent thing, and parents seem to have a lot of these, where they look at each other and for a minute I thought I was going to get that 'oh nothing honey'  and watch them dance around their uneasiness act.  I did not.  Instead I got something I that I thought my parents didn't understand, couldn't comprehend, and would never be prepared for.

"I guess you're capable of understanding this sort of thing.  Horrible as it is."  Mom looked at dad for his just noticeable tilt of his head in agreement.  Sometimes they were too funny.  Too predictable.  "We had a phone call last night from aunt Marie" mom's sister "and I guess your cousin Curtis may have been..."  She obviously didn't know what to say, and her eyes started to tear up.  I looked to dad.  His eyes started to tear up watching mom.  I started to feel a little panic, a lot of panic at seeing them like this.  I couldn't speak.

"It seems that someone had been molesting him."  Dad turned red when he said it.  At first I thought it was embarrassment, but it wasn't, it was anger.  I pictured Curtis, he would be....ten I think.  Aunt Marie and uncle Rick must be frantic.

"Had been?  Did they catch him?  What happened?"  They had both managed to stop the tears before they actually cried.  But they both seemed pretty shook up.  For some reason, I felt somewhat calmer.

"It was one of his friend's father."  I wouldn't know who they would be talking about.  Aunt Marie and uncle Rick had moved to another state about three years ago.  Though mom and aunt Marie kept very close with emails and phone calls we only got to see them on major holidays.   "They just found out a  couple of days ago, Curtis came home from school and told Marie he needed to talk to her.  I guess they had had a program in school that day about good touch/bad touch.  Anyway, he just came out and told Marie that this other boy's father had been touching him and he didn't like it."

"You mean he just told her?"  I couldn't believe it.  My chest hurt.  Little Curtis, how could he just tell like that?

"Yes.  Thank God.  I guess it still happened quite a few times.  Now they're trying to decide what to do."

"Decide?  That's what I don't get.  There is no deciding.  They go to the police and charge the son of a bitch." Okay....startled doesn't cut it when I try to explain my surprise at dad's reaction.  Mom looked a little worn out as soon as he said it, I got the impression this must have been some kind of discussion between them.  We were quiet again for a minute.  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell like that."  Mom reached out and touched his hand.

She turned to me to explain.  "I guess Curtis is asking them not to do anything.  Because of his little friend.  Marie isn't sure what to do, and of course Rick would like to create his own justice."  Way to go uncle Rick, was my first thought.   But I understood Curtis.

"I'm telling you Peg, if this guy was doing something like that to somebody' else's kid, don't you think he's doing it to his own kid?  Going to the police is probably the only way to protect the other boy."

"Neil" this discussion has been had before.   "I agree with you.  But I understand Marie and Rick's problem.  For heaven's sake they just found out, it's not like anyone has practice at dealing with this type of thing.  They need to do what is best for them, and they don't know what that is."

"I still think something should be done quickly.  How many kids has this guy done this to?  How many more if someone doesn't do something?"  Dad got up from the table and poured himself some more coffee.  I had never seen dad this angry, he couldn't sit back down he was so worked up.  "Curtis is only ten years old.  What the hell will this do to him for the rest of his life?"  None of us could answer that.  I didn't want the answer.  More silence.

I got up from the table.  The toast was gone, I finished my juice hoping it would help my dry throat.  I put my glass in the sink.  "I think I should go to school."  Dad hugged me and kissed me, but couldn't, or didn't, say anything.  Mom kissed my cheek.  I grabbed my backpack from the bottom of the steps and headed out the door.  I might be late, but I think this is a good day for walking.  As I was heading towards Mary's house she came out, she met me on the sidewalk.

"I've been waiting for you."

"Thanks.  Do you feel like walking?"  She shrugged an 'I don't care'.  I had thoughts and memories racing through my head.  Fog was settling over my brain and my intent to have a good day.

We walked in silence for a few mintues.  "Nicky?"

"Hmmmmm?"

"Do you think it's wrong to go out with a guy just because he likes you?"  We could do this.   Start a conversation like we had been talking all day.

"No, I mean, you're just going out.  It's not like you're making a commitment.  It's a date.  That's what dates are for.  To find out if you like someone.  To have fun."

"Are you mad about something?"

"Why, do I sound mad?"  I didn't like people to be able to read me, sometimes Mary could and sometimes she couldn't.  I felt safer if people could not.

"I don't know, that's why I asked."

"No, I don't think I'm mad.  I'm something.  But I don't know what it is."

"Oh."  I guess I didn't give her much to respond to.

I was quiet for a minute.  "Doug was at my house when I went home from school yesterday."  She stopped dead in her tracks and grabbed my elbow.  Which stopped me.  Made me look at her.  Which I had managed to not do since we started walking.

"Were your parents there?"

"No."

"Shit Nicky!  I am so sorry!!  I didn't see his car when you left my house."

"I didn't either.  he said he parked it somewhere else."  She just stared at me, not knowing what to say.  I know she wanted to ask if anything happened, but didn't want to make me tell her.  "I told him not to touch me."  It sounded so simple.

Don't touch me.

"Did he get mad?"

"No, I think he got scared."

"Scared?"   

"Yeah, because then he left."

"Left?  He just left?"

"Yeah, just like that, he left."  Now, I feel mad.  I started walking and she nearly jumped to catch up to me.  "I can't believe after all of these years, all I had to say was 'don't touch me'."  Maybe it was saying it out loud to another person that made it worse, but I could feel my face turning hot with anger and shame.  "I let it go on." This time when she grabbed my arm by my elbow she nearly pulled my arm out of joint.

"No, you didn't!"  I know she said it quietly.  But it felt like she was yelling at me.  I pulled my arm free from her grasp.  "Nicky...don't do this to yourself.  You did not let it go on.  You didn't let it happen.  It wasn't your fault."  I started walking again, faster.  She matched my stride and kept up.

"It sure feels that way Mary.   Guess what else happened?" I glanced at her as my insides boiled.   I could see her looking bewildered like something else could happen that was worse.  "At breakfast this morning mom and dad told me that my little cousin Curtis had been molested.  And you know what Curtis did?"  I didn't give her a chance to respond.  "He told.  He just told his mom!  And guess what?  It stopped.  Of course it stopped!  It won't happen to him again."

"Nicky you can't compare yourself to him, or anyone else."

"I know I can't.  Because I'm not like anyone else.  I'm even too stupid to tell me parents when someone..."  I couldn't say it.  Wouldn't say it.  I slowed down when I realized Mary was trying to talk and almost run at the same time.  I put her in a bad situation.  I stopped and turned to look at her.  Now she would worry about me all day.  "You know what Mary?"  She didn't know what, she had no idea what to expect from me.  "You are a good friend.  I can say stupid stuff like this to you because I know that you know I have to have my moment of anxiety."   She looked at me like she didn't believe me.  "Besides, don't you think it would be abnormal of me if I didn't act angry at some point about all of this?"

I knew she wouldn't argue with me about that.  Not after all of the books she had read, and discussions we had had about this in the last six months.  We started walking again.

"I just worry about you Nicky."

I knew it.  "You don't have to Mary.  I'm going to be all right.  It's over.  When he left I knew he wouldn't be coming back."

"How can you be sure?"

"I just am."  And this was just the start of my 'happier day'.  Fortunately school was painless and quick.  I worked hard and was relieved I had done all of the homework I was suppose to.  I never understood how other kids could just not do their homework.  That's a terrible feeling when the teacher asks for assignments and you don't have yours.  Why would anyone do that on purpose?  At lunch I slipped away and sat outside in the cool air with a bag of chips and a diet cola.  The air felt so cool, so clean, I love this feeling.  It felt like a little vacation sitting there all by myself.  I think I actually felt good.  And reveled in it.

I said....NO

My radio alarm sat quietly in the dark.  I turned the music on quietly and scooted back until I was in the corner where my headboard met the wall.  I pulled the covers up over me, trying to make sure the covers stayed neat on the bed but all of me was covered.  It was very frustrating that I couldn't have it both ways.  I got up, made the bed and took an old comforter out of my closet, got back up on the bed in that same corner and covered up with the old comforter.  I liked this comforter.  No matter how old it was, it was still thick and soft.  I kept it in my closet where I kept my sheets and blankets for my bed.

That's another thing mom couldn't understand.  Why I took all of my bedding out of the linen closet in the hallway and put it in my bedroom closet.  The best reason I could give her was that I liked the feeling of all of my stuff being in "my" place.  Which was my room of course.  Actually, that's the best reason I could give myself.

I thought of Mary.  Her room really looked nice today.  Leaps and bounds better than what it usually looks like.  I looked around at my own room and felt good about it's neat appearance.  I took a lot of pride in keeping it neat and clean.  Funny, it drove Mary crazy to be in my room, you'd think it would drive me crazy to be in her room.  But it didn't.  I never felt uneasy in there.  I need to ask mom if I can paint the walls a cream color.  I really don't like these yellow walls.  And I need to move the furniture.

I thought all night.  Or so it seemed.  It felt like I was consciously thinking all night.  About the furniture in my room.  But somewhere in the night I had slid down until I was on my side with my back up against the wall and my head pressed in to the headboard.  I woke before the alarm went off.  Feeling kind of hazy I went through my morning routine of eating with mom and dad, showering, brushing my teeth in my robe and then going to my room for make up and getting dressed.

I stood at my dresser looking in the mirror.  At the makeup sitting neatly in it's basket.  I didn't feel much like looking good today.  Still wet, I brushed my hair out and pulled it back with a plain hair band in to a simple pony tail.  I dressed in jeans and a sweat shirt that was very soft, with our school logo on it.   I looked in the mirror, I looked young in the clothes, I felt.... what I thought eighty must feel like.  Maybe eighty doesn't feel this way.  Maybe this is what seventeen feels like when it doesn't feel right.  Great, a gloomy day was to be had by me today.  Knowing sure made it seem unavoidable.

The day went relatively fast and passed by without me being very much a part of it.  By the time I found myself in the newspaper room I didn't even remember most of the day.  I checked my notebooks and saw my notes for the day and my homework listed in my day planner, that kind of brought the day back to me.  I remembered the words and writing them.  I tried hard to focus on the work at hand now.  We were editing our first final draft of the year for our school paper and we were all pretty excited.  Mary came in late.  

She sat next to me exclaiming "what a day!"  She was smiling, like most times.  Sometimes it just felt good to be with someone who just felt good.  Like I could just absorb that feeling.  She turned to me and whispered "I think Tim Shyder likes me."

"How do you know?" I whispered back.  She grinned and shrugged, he had just walked in and sat at the table next to ours.  He looked at her and she smiled.  I turned my attention to the draft of the page I was working on.  Before I knew it, Mary was at the other table talking with Tim.  I hope he likes her.  Mary then started going back and forth between me at my table and Tim at his table.  Which was a little annoying, but bearable. For some reason I was very uninterested in this usually exciting exchange of 'discovering if someone-likes-someone-else' type drama.

Soon enough Mary and I were heading out the front door of school.  Mary had her parent's car, I really felt like walking but I didn't want to hurt her feelings so I got in the car and we headed home.

"Tim asked me out".   She was nearly giddy.

"I didn't even know you liked Tim."

"I didn't either, I don't know if I do.  It's just....he likes me, that's kind of neat.  So why not go out and see if I like him too."

"Oh."

"Oh?  Is that all you say is 'oh'?"

I can't say that id really doesn't matter to me because I can't think of anything clearly.  I and really DON'T have any feelings about it.  So I punt.  I turn sideways in my seat and smile at her.  "I'm sorry Mary, I was still thinking about the paper.  I have to refocus.  Are you going to go?  I mean, where are you going.  And when are you going?"

That was all she needed to hear.  She spent the rest of the drive home telling me they were going out Friday, tomorrow.  And they were going to start with the high school football game.  Then go out to eat from there.

"You don't mind do you?"  She said as we slammed the car's doors shut after she parked behind her house.  I pretended the sound of the doors made it  so I couldn't hear her.  "I'm sorry I couldn't hear you."

"About the game tomorrow, you don't care if I go with Tim do you?"

Somewhere over the past week we must have said we were going together.  "No, no you go ahead.  Mom and dad would probably like having me home for a night."

"You aren't even going to go?"  She feigned surprise though both knew she wasn't surprised at all.  

I felt like I had to say just the right thing.  I don't want her to worry about me, feel guilty or think there was something wrong.  "No, I really think I've been neglecting them lately.  I really think they would feel good if they thought I was staying home to be with them."

"Okay....are you coming in?"   She had started to walk up the back steps of the house.  But I had stood still.

"No, I told mom I would start dinner tonight, and I think I'm going to try and get my homework done earlier.  I didn't get it done until 10:30 last night."

We rambled on a little then she went in and I headed home.  Mom and dad's cars were gone and I let myself in to the house.  I dropped my backpack on the bottom step of the stairway to the upstairs.  And went to the kitchen.  

I almost sucked my tongue down my throat when I saw Doug sitting at the kitchen table.  I stopped dead in my tracks.

Shit.

"I let myself in with the key they gave me.".  Where was his car?  "I parked a little down the street. I thought you might be trying to avoid me."   He stood up.  I took about five steps back in to the hallway.  He stepped forward and I stepped further back, in to the living room.  "Why are you backing up?  You act like you're scared of me.  You know you don't have any reason to be scared of me Nicky."

Get away from me!  You are a sick son of a bitch!  Why couldn't I open my mouth and scream at him!  

He stepped up to me and put his arms around me.  The stench of his cologne clogged my nose.  I couldn't breath.

"Don't....touch.....me."

I kept my arms by my sides, which were trapped by his arms around me anyway.  I didn't fight.  I never had.  And I had never, ever, said "don't touch me".

But I did, this time.

He put his hands on my shoulders and stepped back to look down at me.

"What did you say?"  I stepped back and his hands fell by his side.  I think he looked scared.

"Don't touch me."

"Why Nicky?  You always like this, with me."  Hesitantly he took a step towards me.  I couldn't scream at him all of the things that were screaming in my head.  It wasn't even words.   It was was pain.

Anger.

Disgust.

Guilt.

Shame.

It was every fear I had ever had in my life.  What was it he thought I liked?  Which one of these things screaming in my head was the part I liked?  Was it the five year old that decided I liked this?  Or the seventeen year old who felt like a whore.  Felt like trash.  Felt like everyone else was better than her.

"Don't touch me."  I couldn't say anything else.  My insides were quivering so much I thought surely he could see my whole body shaking violently.  But he just looked at me.  There was nothing else I could do.  I couldn't move.  I couldn't say anything.  He stared.  I stared at the empty space next to his ugly head.  Finally, it had to have been hours, he walked past me and out the door.  I didn't move.  I didn't breath.  After what had to have been less than a minute that lasted for years I heard a car start in the distance.  It had to be him leaving.  

It can't be over.

Gone.

For good?  For good.  I knew it.  It was over.  He knew it.  On shaky legs I walked into the kitchen.  Maybe seven minutes had passed since I had come home.  I unlocked the back door and walked my very, now obviously, shaking body outside.  I walked to the middle of the yard and sat down.  How long?  Ten years, twelve, more?  I was cold.  I was trembling-no-shaking.  I looked at my hands, and watched them shake.  My heart was beating in my ears.  Leaves are everywhere.  Why didn't this feel better?  I wanted to scream.

I had the urge to get up and physically run.

But all I could do was sit there.

I wanted to beat the hell out of something.   I clenched my hands in to fists.

All I could so was sit there.

I closed my eyes and all I could see was white, hot white!  I put my fists to the sides of my head and pushed on my head.   All this time....

All this time and all I had to say was 'don't touch me'.   He just walked out.  And that's all it took?

At some point I got up and went inside.  Mindlessly I set about to making something for dinner.  Somehow I finished it, sat down with mom and dad when they came home and ate it and made my way upstairs to do my homework.   But I sat.  Unaware of anything else because my brain was so full of this.  I heard mom and dad downstairs.  I didn't really want to be around anyone.  But knowing them, one of them would be up here before too long to see if I was okay.  I might as well head them off at the pass.

I moved.  Automatically.   Which felt so normal to me.

I made myself go downstairs.  They were just going out on the porch.  I followed.  They sat on the swing at the far end of the porch and I sat on one of the gliders.   "What brings you down from your sanctuary?"  Dad put his arm around mom while looking at me.  A show of comfort that I did not take any comfort from.  I guess he wanted me to reply in some way.

I Never Felt Silly

There was nothing else to say.  I could hear Mary's family moving around downstairs.  I've known them all my life. Mary and I have been friends since we were born, literally.  Our parents were friends when we were born, living right here where we are now.  We grew up with our parents borrowing ladders and saws and hung out in each other's backyards or on our porches.   We hung out just to hang out.  Our families were comfortable with each other, even Mary's "dork" brother Mark was comfortable at my house, with or without Mary.  We had a comfortable life.  And sometimes that sucked.

Mary's mom yelled up for Mary to come eat dinner.  "You want to eat with us Nicky?"

"No, we just ate."

"Stay here then, I'll be back."   She went downstairs to eat.  I felt bad now that I had told Mary.  She wanted to protect me, but I made her make promised that prevented that.  I know she worried, I know she wanted to help.  She was seventeen, I made her almost forty.  She had always taken an interest in her mom's career, she even read the books her mom brought home to continuously study.  Mary seemed to understand most of what she read, and that was probably why she worried so much.  I had been doing reading and research of my own and I didn't like what I read.  I didn't want to believe what was written, because it didn't paint a very good picture for me.

I thought about mom and dad at home talking to Doug.  What were they talking about, me?  How's come they couldn't see it!  Oh God!  What if they ever found out?  Would they think I asked for it?  Would they hate me?

He was everywhere in my life.  Everything my family did, he did with us.  He was there.  He stayed at our house sometimes.  Those were the worst.  When he would sneak in to my room while my parents slept.  And they slept because they had no fears.  I always kept my eyes shut, especially at home.  He never said anything, never.  I sat up on Mary's floor and scooted over the floor to the wall and leaned against it.  I pulled my knees up and put my chin on my knees.  I wanted to go home.  But I didn't want to be there.  Maybe I should tell mom and dad.  I know they wouldn't want this to happen to me, they would make it stop.  Tell them?  No, they didn't deserve this.

It seemed like only minutes before Mary came back to the room and sat down.  "I looked, his car is gone."

"Oh...if mom asks, we were working on your research paper for psychology."  She nodded.  I looked at Mary.  I had put such a strain in our friendship.  She picked up her back pack from the floor and pulled out books and notebooks, she was an excellent student.  I did okay, mostly B's, some A's and a C every once in awhile.  I couldn't stay focused as well as Mary.  I could sit and study and work on homework over and over again like she did but it never came easy.  Not like it did for Mary.   She could read something once and have a full fledge discussion and even quote what she had read.

We did end up going over her outline.  She told me about the research her mom had helped her with.  Finally there was no avoiding it, I had to go home.  Mary walked me downstairs and out to the porch, we looked towards my house to make sure the car was still gone.  It was.  Slowly I walked off of Mary's porch.  I was very conscious of every step I took to my house.  Watching my feet place one foot in front of the other.  Examining my shoes and the gray contrast of the street with each footfall.  Nearly mesmerized by it.  I walked up our steps and through the front door.  Mom and dad were watching the news in the family room.  I headed to the kitchen to get a snack.  Mom followed me in.

"Are you okay Nicky?  I kept myself busy making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

"Yeah, why would you ask that?"  Trying to sound like it was a ridiculous question.

"I don't know, I guess I feel like something just isn't quite right."

I turned and smiled at her.  A genuine smile for someone so calm and kind.   "Mom, you are just being silly."   She smiled as I used one of her phrases on her.  I don't know how many times in my life she smiled at me and told me I was "just being silly".   Though I never, ever, felt silly.

"You're sure?" She stood with her hands on back of the chair around the kitchen table we used for nearly all of our family meals.  

"Yes Mom."  I nudged her with my elbow as I slipped past her and headed to my room.  I really did have homework I needed to work on.  Once upstairs I turned on the radio and put my sandwich on my desk.  I  grabbed my backpack and pulled my books out.  I sat at the desk.  The desk sat in front of a big bay windows that looked out onto the backyard.  Being fall, there was a good amount of leaves on the ground.  Green color still lay amongst the orange and yellows.  The leaves looked so cool, fresh, which sounds kind of stupid since they were now dead.  But they were so bright....next thing I knew it was 9:45 and mom was coming in the bedroom.

"What are you doing honey?"

I wasn't really sure, nothing but sitting and thinking.   "My homework".   

"Still?"  You've been up here for almost two hours.  I guess this is part of being a senior."

I couldn't help but smile at her.  "Yeah I guess so."  She sat on my bed, which meant she wanted to talk.  I just twisted in my chair to look at her.  

"Nicky I get the feeling something is wrong.  Are you sure everything is okay?"

God.   How do I tell her?  How do I not tell her?  She was leaning over a little bit, looking at me.  I can't talk to her about this.  It would kill her.

"Yes mom.  I promise.  I guess I'm just a little tired, we've been working pretty hard on the paper and the year book."

"Maybe you're working too hard?"  She looked concerned.  She looked at the books on my desk.    Please don't go there!  "No mom"  I tried to keep the panic out of my voice.  I had to have this to do.  "I really enjoy it, it feels good  to see all of this come together.  It's not a bad tired, it's a good tired.  Like I'm accomplishing something."

She watched my face.  I could feel her eyes scanning me.  I must have smiled at the right time because her face softened.  "As long as you're sure you're okay."

"I am."  She got up and placed her hand on my cheek.  She kissed my other cheek.  "I love you Nicky.  Don't stay up too late."

"I won't."  She closed the door as she left my room.  That just made me feel worse, not only do I lie to her, I convince her to believe it.  All she wants to do is talk to me and all I want to do is not talk to her because I'm afraid she'll figure it out.  This happens more and more, instead of talking with her and dad I go to Mary's or come up here.  Not wanting to talk about "it" and in the process not talking about much at all.

I went through my homework as quickly as I could.  Alternating between Algebra III and looking out the window.  Not even looking at anything.  Just looking. I made myself go to bed around 10:30 after going downstairs to tell mom and dad goodnight.  Back in my room again I didn't feel like sleeping but I laid on my bed.  I started to think about Doug.  Sometimes I wanted to ask him why me, what did I do?  Sometimes I felt sorry for him, and I don't even know why.  I hated him for that.  He never once talked once he started touching me, but before and after he would.  Once on the way back from a movie he had asked me when I would quit school and marry him.  That was just a little while ago, and that scared me.  Did he think this was something other than what it was?  Was he serious?  Or just playing mind games with me.  Him asking me that was almost as repulsive as anything else he had done to me.  I sat up on the bed.