I share this tiny piece because lately I’ve been gently nudged to do so. Too many others have experienced what I did and can’t, won’t or don’t have a voice to share it. I am no longer ashamed of what happened to me. I am of course scarred but I will not be silent any longer. What you are about to read is the childhood sex abuse from one of my abusers. I understand that this won’t be a read for everyone nor should it. To many it is incomprehensible.
I work off and on on MY story, it comes in waves when inspiration, mood and time work together. Perhaps someday I’ll be able to put all these pieces together.
To preface this: I am the character Samantha and we are in 1986 when I am just eleven years old. Because of a loss I gained a cleaning job, something that led me to feeling very dirty…
Two weeks had passed and Samantha knew she had to go clean for him again. She wasn’t looking forward to it and she’d even convinced herself that his intrusive kiss wasn’t a big deal, he probably didn’t mean for it to happen.
It was a nice summer day and Samantha grabbed her bike to ride across town. When she got to his house the garage door was unlocked so she let herself in. Glancing out the kitchen window she could see him working in the garden. Just wanting to get the job over with, she got right to work. First was the general pick up of misplaced things, newspapers, pens, playing cards and used tissues. Then the endless job of dusting. There were so many tables and shelves full of collections that this task took the longest. Next she scrubbed out the sinks and the bathtub with comet, then came the toilets and shining all the mirrors. The last job was the floors, a bucket of water for the kitchen and a vacuum for all the other rooms. By the time she finished vacuuming it was noon. Thankfully he still hadn’t come in yet but he would soon. Samantha looked in the refrigerator and started setting out a bowl of fruit, some lunch meat and a jar of pickles. She grabbed the miracle whip and a loaf of bread and proceeded to set the table. She felt her stomach grumble, she was hungry. She always felt a little guilty at all the food there was to eat here since there wasn’t always at her house. To make up for it she never ate on the cleaning days except here so there would be more for her siblings at home. Samantha was just setting down two glasses of iced tea when she heard him come in and take off his shoes.
“Well Samantha, I didn’t know you were here.” He said as he washed his hands at the kitchen sink.
“I got all of the cleaning done.” she replied.
He took a seat at the table and looked around “Looks like you did a good job. You must have gotten here pretty early.”
Samantha just nodded, her mouth full of food. The rest of the conversation was small talk as Samantha woofed down her sandwich. When their meal was finished normally Samantha would clean up and he would go take a nap. Samantha was glad she finished early today and after she’d clean up their lunch she’d be free to leave.
He stood up from the table as Samantha placed her silverware on her plate and pushed her chair back.
“Let’s go lie down” he said stepping away from the table
Samantha had grabbed the bowl of fruit and stopped mid step. She can’t have heard that right. Did he say “let’s” as in both of them? Surely he misspoke. He didn’t wait for a reply and left the room. Samantha covered the bowl and set it inside the fridge.
“Come on” she heard him call.
Confused, she walked toward the hall where the bedrooms were and found him in the smallest one with the twin bed. The room Samantha always thought of as the farming bedroom. The walls were full of shelves with miniature toy tractors and other farm equipment. There were framed awards for top salesman and a couple of farming pictures. One particular picture will become a source of distraction for Samantha but right now she was confused as to why he had asked her to come with him. Didn’t he know she was too old for a nap? Maybe he just wanted to show her some of his awards or tell her about what he used to do. She stepped into the room.
He was standing by the bed with his back to her. Samantha watched as he took off his glasses and put them on the night stand. Then he laid down on the small bed and patted the mattress indicating that she join him.
A jumble of thoughts crowded into her head. What? Is he serious? He wanted her to lay down with him? Maybe he’s just lonely. She wasn’t one to disobey.
Samantha sat on the edge of the bed and with her back to him she stiffly laid down. She couldn’t close her eyes or relax, something just didn’t feel right. Then he reached out and wrapped his arm around her causing every muscle in her body to tense up. Samantha went motionless barely daring to breath, hoping he was just about to fall asleep. Instead he pulled her even closer to him and something hard poked her backside. Then a strange movement started. Was he rocking himself to sleep? The grinding continued as her heart began to race. None of this felt right. Lying in bed with a man, him tugging on her and pushing against her. There had been another time, a distant memory from long ago reared its ugly head but she had learned how to stop it. She needed a distraction.
The picture on the opposite wall, that would work. It was of two toddlers dressed in overalls and cowboy boots in a farm like setting. One boy was leaning towards the other and the caption read “you been farming long?” Samantha tried to think about the boys in the picture and imagine their life.
He was breathing hard and grunting. His hold on her was getting tighter and his grinding turned her stomach. Samantha felt her lunch rise up in the back of her throat. Then all at once he stiffened and finally relaxed, releasing her. It was over.
Samantha dare not move and she felt the bed shift from him repositioning himself. She tried to make sense of what happened. Her young mind was trying to comprehend what just took place and how she felt.
Fifteen minutes passed in uneasy silence. Then he nudged her, cleared his throat and told her it was time to get up. Samantha felt relief when she stood up but kept her eyes lowered because she couldn’t meet his. He got off the bed and was trying to get past her when she saw a spot on the front of his light tan work pants, it looked like he’d wet himself.
The abuse I endured lasted through the summer. After figuring out what he was doing, I told someone who said they would take care of it and sent me back to work for him.
Here is another small snippet after that:
It didn’t take long to bike across town and Samantha knew the garage door would be unlocked so she let herself in.
She brought her bike in the garage like he’d told her to and propped it up against the freezer chest. She took off her shoes and went inside. The house was quiet and as she walked past the basement door she saw the light was on and knew where he was. Samantha didn’t want to be here. Her stomach was in knots and she had a headache. She just wanted to get this over with. It had already been a long strange summer for her. She kept praying today wouldn’t come but it had so she might as well get it over with.
She started in the bedrooms with the dust cloth and worked her way from room to room. Next, she cleaned the mirrors and scrubbed the two bathrooms. She emptied trash and washed the kitchen linoleum with a bucket of lysol water on her hands and knees. She worked as quietly and as quickly as she could hoping he wouldn’t hear her so she could escape before he even knew she was there. As much as she wanted to stay for lunch she’d even skip that if it meant not having to face him.
The vacuuming would be the loudest task but it was also the last thing to do to finish and job and leave. Grabbing the heavy beast of a machine out of the hall closet she lugged it back to the bedrooms. First the master, then the other large one. By the time she finished the bedrooms and the hallway all she had left was the living room and dining room.
Samantha walked down the hall and pulled the plug from the outlet to move it into the living room. When she turned around there he was, covered in sawdust with a smile on his face, Samantha dropped the cord.
“Samantha” he said “Looks like you’re almost done.”
“Hi” she replied searching his face for anything that would tell her if he knew she’d told her mother what he was doing to her.
“Well you finish up here and I’ll make us a couple of sandwiches. I bought that pop you like.” He turned away from her and headed toward the kitchen. Samantha’s stomach knotted more, he wasn’t acting any different than any other time.
Picking up the cord she dropped when he had startled her, Samantha set about finishing the last of the cleaning. When the vacuuming was done, she wrapped the cord up figure eight style on the two clips and tucked it away in the closet. Then dragging her feet she walked back out to the kitchen. Lunch was already on the table; a plate of sliced, garden fresh tomatoes, a bowl of chips, two tall lunchmeat sandwiches and ice-cold can of Mt. Dew just for her. Samantha hated to admit it but the food was too tempting to resist so she took a seat at the small round table. Both diners dug in and satisfied their appetites. Together they made a dent in the bowl of chips and polished off the tomato slices.
Samantha hoped everything was okay, he didn’t seem mad at her at all. Their conversation at lunch was easy, mostly about the weather, if she was ready for school and what new projects he had.
When they were done, Samantha cleared the table while he finished the rest of his iced tea. Then they did the dishes together. When everything was washed and put away he set aside his dish towel and told Samantha it was time for a nap.
Samantha froze as she was rinsing the last of the soapy dishwater down the drain. Did he just say it was nap time?
With her heart beating fast she looked up at him.
He was already walking away and she heard him say, “Come on, let’s get some rest.”
Samantha didn’t know what to do. Tears stung the back of her eyes. She was told everything was taken care of. Leaving didn’t occur to her. She walked robot like into the small room.
When she cleaned in here she always did so in a rush. She didn’t like this room. Now that she was back in it with him she realized nothing had changed. The small bed still had the scratchy mohair striped blanket on top with a single pillow. The dread in her stomach doubled as she watched him lie down. Not feeling like she had any other option, she did what she knew she was supposed to.
This time when he came up behind her and pulled her close she squeezed her eyes shut and imagined a whole different life for herself. She thought of mother’s who read their children bedtime stories and tucked them into bed with a soft kiss on the cheek. She thought of families at the beach and playing in the sand. She thought of grandmas who baked chocolate chip cookies and big birthday cakes. She allowed her imagination to take her anywhere but here. When the bed became still and she dared to open her eyes she looked up at those two boys in the farming picture with overalls on. Tears leaked silently onto the bed and she wondered why.
The gentle nudges have given me pause to think and consider my actions in sharing these small snippets and the repercussion of them. I am no longer ashamed. I am a survivor of sexual abuse. Riffling through the padlocked memories has cleared up some of the why’s for me. In this instance not only did my abuser benefit from these disgusting acts but someone else did too…
For now I will continue to write. To heal the wounds I’m reopening. I’m putting medication on my injuries by acknowledging them. It’s very therapeutic for me. My scars will always be there but now the wound feels better cared for.
May your words be kind, your hearts be full and your blessings abundant,
J Dub
I hope you are feelin better about your life and the world around you. It must be the hardest thing you’ve ever done. We have a daughter-in-law who had a similar background. I have no idea how to help her. It is something she thinks she has dealt with, but every so often it seem to all come back. You were lucky to find Dave who is strong and reliable. I know you don’t forget your past but need to keep your eyes on the future But then there are other days when we start to think too much and let our thoughts tear us down. Stay strong my friend. Make every day a good one. Know others love you for you because you are good. Love Carol
I appreciate your kind words, thank you. As for helping someone who has experienced similar acts of abuse my advice would be to show her a kindness you would want if you were in her shoes. Sometimes I want to talk about it, sometimes not so much. There are certain triggers that bring up the memories unexpectedly and being understanding of that is very helpful. Support her, love her, listen when she needs it and know that companionable silence is sometimes necessary too. For me it’s very therapeutic to write. That’s how I get it out and somehow uncorking that bottle gives me great freedom. Hearing from those who have been through this same thing strengthens my resolve in sharing and frees me from a certain loneliness and from being ashamed. I am not alone in this. I believe God has been nudging me to share my experience, to let go and feel the love I’m receiving in return. A friend once said He cried with me when the abuse occurred and now He is showing me how to use my experience to help others. You’re right about Dave and the blessing he is. He listens and although so much is incomprehensible he tries to understand. I sometimes feel like a jumbled up mess of letters but once I start putting the letters into words and complete sentences I feel whole. Writing out the story wrings me out. Reliving every moment is painful and it takes me a couple of days to recoup. Dave is my sounding board who I’m anxious to share what I write with but also nervous because a small part of me worries if he’ll ever think differently about his somewhat broken girl. Thank you Carol for reading and commenting and accepting me as I am.
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