Day 2

On the way home, I didn't dare say a word.
I just listened.
And stared straight ahead into traffic.
He said I was a good girl.
He told me it was a secret.
Only between us.
Nobody else was to know.
If I told anyone, they wouldn't believe me.

So I kept quiet.

When we finally got back to my grandparent's house, I ran to the kitchen & hugged her as tight as I could, never wanting to let go. 
Eventually I had to let go though. 
She was cooking dinner. 
I don't know if she knew I was upset...by that age I had already learned not to cry.
Crying just made everything worse.

So I kept quiet.

And started to eat.

When my parents dropped me off at my grandparent's house that summer, I was a really slender kid.
So slender that my brother & I resembled twins even though I'm nearly two years older.
When my parents came back to pick us up, they were met by a very chubby, sullen, withdrawn girl who was very happy to see them.
But the light & laughter was gone from my eyes & from my spirit.
I knew the truth but I couldn't say a word.

So I kept quiet. 
And kept that little broken girl hidden from the world. 
Terrified that something far worse would happen.
I kept my eyes open as long as I could before falling asleep.
I surrounded myself with as many of my stuffed animals as I could, praying each night they would keep me safe.

As the days passed into weeks and then months and finally years, the events of that summer stayed in the back of my mind.  No matter how hard I tried to push those memories away, they stayed.  Always reminding me of what a horrible person I was. 

1980
My parents went out with friends, leaving my brother & I to fend for ourselves.  It was common back then to leave kids under the age of 10 alone at home.  At least in my world.

The doorbell rang.
My brother got to the door first & opened it.
It was him.
I stood there, terrified.  Angry.
My brother hugged & kissed him as if he was G-d.  I refused.
I grabbed my brother away from him & told him to leave.
Mom & Dad didn't like us having company over when they weren't home.
My brother thought I was crazy.  This was 'our' beloved uncle.  Yours, not mine.  I said.
I demanded he leave. 
He wanted to talk to me.  Alone.
You can't be here right now.  Mom will be mad. 
I stood my ground.  He saw he wasn't getting anywhere.  He left.
I was safe once more. 

1980-1981
Times were tough.  We moved into my grandparents' basement apartment.  Actually he lived in the apartment.  My parents, brother & I were forced into a small room where we all slept.

He walked into the small kitchenette. 
I was at the dining room table doing homework.
Nobody else was home.
He asked me to spot him while lifting weights.
He always asked me to spot him.  Only if nobody was home.  And only with the door closed.
Genesis was playing.  He always played Genesis.
He asked how his muscles looked.
I didn't answer.
He asked again.
Still, no answer.
He demanded I tell him.
I said I didn't know.
He told me to feel them.
I said no.
He told me again.  This time in a voice I knew I couldn't disobey.
So I touched the muscles on his arm.
Not those, he said.  My chest.
I reached out to touch his muscles, terrified of what would happen if I didn't.
We both heard a noise. 
The door opened. 
It was my brother.  He wanted to play with the weights.

I saw my chance.  I took it.  I ran upstairs to the safety of my grandparents.

1982
After leaving our small house, we ended up again at my grandparents.
This time we had the entire basement apartment to ourselves because he had moved out.
My brother & I shared a room but at least we didn't have to share it with our parents!

I was eating breakfast at my grandparents kitchen table. 
My grandparents were in Synagogue. 
My parents were at work.
My brother was with a friend. 
My aunt was at the mall. 
I was alone. 
Then I heard the front door unlock. 
I knew who it was. 
He had a key. 
He walked into the kitchen, smiling.  I didn't know you were home, he said.
He walked over to where I was sitting.
He stood behind me.
He put his hands on my shoulders.
And started caressing them. In a way an uncle shouldn't.
As his hands moved lower, I tried to figure out what to do. 
I didn't want this to happen again.
He said I was becoming a beautiful young woman.
My head was spinning.  I was nauseous.
Then I saw it.
I quickly grabbed it, stood up & held the serrated blade of the bread knife against his throat. 
"If you ever even THINK of touching me again I'll fucking kill you." 
He left only because I allowed him to.

I was 12-years-old.

He never touched me again other than to hug & kiss me back (properly like an uncle should, not a lover or some sick pervert) when I was forced to hug & kiss him hello.
I finally stopped hugging & kissing him hello when I was 17.

He never stopped looking at me that way though.  He was always looking at me that way.  I couldn't tell anyone.  They'd think I was crazy & lying.  Everyone knew I despised him.  They just didn't know why. 
I was so upset & depressed, I thought about ending it. 
One day, when I couldn't take it anymore, I grabbed a knife & cut my wrists. 
I barely scratched the surface but it hurt like hell. 
Barely even bled. 
I told a friend who told a guidance counsellor. 
I told him it was because I was failing math.
He bought it. 
Mom found out & her reaction was to backhand me across the face.  Hard.
I got more depressed but I eventually understood why she reacted that way. 
I couldn't tell her the real reason. 

So I kept quiet.

1990
When I was 20, my father died.  I was devastated.  We all were.  Dad was too young.  I wasn't ready to lose him...but then are you ever ready to lose a parent?
I remember the last time I had physical contact with my uncle.
He came up to me, embraced me in his arms & said how sorry he was that I lost my Dad. 
I was livid.  I pushed him away so hard he hit the wall. 
"I told you once never to touch me again. I MEANT it."

After that, we rarely spoke.  Me because he wasn't worth acknowledging.  Him, I suspect because he was afraid I'd say something.

So I kept quiet.