by Tanya South
“What are you painting there, you Little Runt?”
“I am painting a magical garden,” I replied. “And I’m going to paint Lisa in it and give it to her when I finish.”
“That painting is kinda boring…gardens are boring. Why don’t you draw something more interesting, like something creepy or scary?” Joe said as he smirked.
“Scary? I don’t like scary things.”
He picked me up from the stool. I became a little startled since he’d never done that before.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “I’m still painting.”
“Well, I figured you’d be more comfortable if you sat on my lap while you paint. Besides, I’d like to look at it from your point of view,” Joe said.
Although still confused, in my little mind at the time, I just went along with it. I didn’t want him to get more annoying than he already was.
He abruptly sat me on his lap. I immediately felt uncomfortable and realized I wouldn’t really be able to paint this way.
“Joe, I want to sit by myself.”
“Aww, come on. It’s okay. Just try…I won’t bother you,” Joe said, giving me a devilish smile.There I sat on his lap, thinking and wondering when Daddy would be done. I could hear the lawn mower still going, so loud, in the backyard. As I started to continue painting, Joe kept moving, fidgeting around and wouldn’t stop. I didn’t understand what he was trying to do. His arms were folded across the top of my lap. I couldn’t move.
“Joe!” I yelled. “It’s bothering me.”
But Joe kept silent. The more I talked, the tighter his arms pressed against my lap. My heart pounded in my little chest. My breaths became harder as if I couldn’t breathe. I yelled out again. But still, not a word out of him. His arms were hurting me. The front doorknob started turning and I heard a clicking noise. Quickly, Joe jumped off the stool, pushing me off at the same time. I fell sideways onto the floor and began crying. My hip hurt so badly from the slight fall.
“What in the world happened?” Mom yelled as she placed the grocery bag on the counter. She had returned from the store.
But I couldn’t stop crying.
“Uhh…” Joe looked scared.
“What happened?” Mom shouted again.
“I…I just picked her up to move her,” Joe explained. “It was an accident.”
“So you dropped her!? Why did you try moving her in the first place? Joe! I leave you here for a few minutes and this is what happens!? Just please go over there.” Mom fumed. She picked me up.
“Baby, are you okay? Mommy is here.”
Her hug felt so safe. The energy in my body felt drained. It was a feeling I had never experienced before. It was pure fear. I didn’t quite understand why I felt so afraid. It didn’t make sense. And why was Joe acting so weird with me? Why did he remain silent while pressing onto me so tightly? I thought maybe he didn’t like me and tried to scare me.
“What happened baby?”
“Joe… Joe…” I muttered nervously.
“Joe what, Honey?” Mom stared him down.
“Joe scared me.”
“How did I scare you? She’s lying!” Joe screamed.
“Hey, hey,” Mom interrupted.
Then Daddy walked in. “Hey, what’s going on in here?”
I ran into Daddy’s arms with my head in his chest.
“Joe picked her up and somehow dropped her!” Mom said.
“You what?” Dad said with angry eyes toward Joe.
“It was an accident! I swear! I’m sorry. I told Natasha that her painting was boring and that maybe she could paint something scary. I was only kidding.”
“Well, I’m going to have a talk with your mom when she gets here. You need to apologize to Natasha,” Mom, said upset.
“I’m sorry, Natasha,” mumbled Joe.
I just nodded. Looking back, I realize now I could not express myself to my parents. I didn’t quite understand what had happened. All I know is that it didn’t feel good to me. For the first time, I had seen Joe through a completely different lens. He had always been the annoying big cousin, but this time, I’d seen him as somewhat of a threat. Maybe something was wrong with me. Maybe in my four-year-old little mind, I had perceived something that wasn’t real. Maybe what I sensed was just a figment of my imagination. All I know is that fear had introduced itself to me for the first time that day.
CHAPTER THREE
THE MONSTER IN THE GARDEN
MATTHEW 6:13
And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one.
Finally, the sky opened up as the clouds eventually disappeared. The rest of that evening turned out fine. Although, whenever no one was looking, Joe gave me haughty eyes. It looked like he was upset and I didn’t understand why. The next few weeks after that were a blur. Mom’s new schedule as sergeant at the precinct had been crazy. And Dad’s hours at the hospital were all over the place. But we were looking forward to the upcoming camping trip. It was tradition for both of our families to go camping every year, around the middle of May. We had also become friendly with other families who’d stay at the same camp grounds. Mom never liked the whole camping outside in the tents thing, so we’d rent these really cool log cabins that had bathrooms and a kitchen. Little Lisa and I would take turns having sleepovers in each of our family’s cabins.
The weekend before the camping trip, Dad had set up the lemonade stand in his old neighborhood in the Bronx, like he did last year. It had been such a success that Dad decided we’d do it every year as a tradition. Mom made two big pitchers of regular lemonade and two big pitchers of pink lemonade. My lemonade stand sign was really pretty and creative. Mom designed the lettering on the words and I painted pink and bright-yellow lemon trees all over the poster sign. We were charging twenty-five cents for a small and fifty cents for a large. Dad had always worked the lemonade stand with me.
I could see from down the street two young girls approaching. They were about seventeen or eighteen years old. Something about them didn’t look right. They looked a bit disheveled, dressed provocatively, and wore slightly smeared makeup. It almost looked like they had been clubbing and broke night or something. I felt sorry for them. As they approached, I could see one girl whispering to the other.
“Lemonade, come get your lemonade,” I said loud and proud.
“Hey, do you give out free cups of the lemonade? You know, like for a free sample?” one of the girls asked.
“Not really,” Dad quickly responded.
“You can buy a small one. It’s only twenty-five cents,” I said to her.
“Ah. Nah. It’s okay. We don’t have any money on us.”
I looked up at Dad and I motioned with my finger for him to bend down toward me. I whispered in his ear, “Daddy, I want to give them both a cup of lemonade for free. Can I? Pretty please?”
Dad just smiled at me and nodded.
“Which one do you want? You can have the bigger cup for free.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” I said with a big smile. My heart felt happy.
“You are a special little girl. God bless you.”
The other girl took a sip. “Oooh, so good.”
She kind of reminded me of Mom’s side of the family. She was really pretty, with black, curly hair and beautiful caramel skin. But behind her lovely smile appeared a deep sadness in her eyes.
“Hey! Hey! I’ve been looking for the two of you!” It was a burly man, who was wearing dark shades. He shouted at them as he drove up in his black Chevy suburban truck.
The girls looked nervous and hopped right in the car. The car then peeled off. The man scared me.
“Daddy, who was that?”
“I don’t know, Sweetheart. But I didn’t get a good feeling about him. And the poor girls look like they have been stained.”
I didn’t know it at that time, but the two girls were prostitutes and the man had been their pimp. I also had no idea what Dad meant when he said that the two g
irls were stained. I thought he meant their clothing was dirty, or stained like with paint. Often the way my hands would stain after doing one of my paintings.
The week had gone by so quickly. I thought, Thank God! Camping time had arrived. I couldn’t wait. Our camping trips were always so much fun. We arrived on a Friday night and didn’t do much other than unpack, ate, and showered. Everyone had been pretty tired, so bedtime was early. Lucky for me, Little Lisa slept over in our cabin that night. The next morning was Saturday, May 18, 1974. What a beautiful morning it had been. I could smell the pancakes that Mom had on the skillet. The bacon smelled yummy, too. I could hear them sizzling in the pan. My stomach began growling, crying out for breakfast. Before we headed to the kitchen, I opened the window curtain and watched the yellow-orange sky become brighter. The sounds of the baby birds were so beautiful. It was going to be a great weekend.
After a full day of swimming, barbecuing, eating, laughing, and playing, dinnertime had soon arrived. The families always put together a buffet-style setting with a variety of dishes cooked by each family. Dad and Uncle Joseph started a fire so all of us could make s’mores. I ate so much that night, I felt like my belly was going to pop. It was my turn that Saturday night to sleep over with Little Lisa in her cabin.
Our parents were still outside by the campfire. Little Lisa and I were in our pajamas, playing with our dolls. Their cabin had been a lot bigger than the one we were in. So we were in heaven. There were so many rooms. At least that’s how we perceived it. There was a big back room on the second level. In the room were two twin-size beds. It was a beautiful, rustic room with boxed wooden ceilings. It had been a very active, busy day. Little Lisa fell asleep. I could still hear Mom and Dad outside with the other adults. There were quite a few teens, too. My eyes grew heavy with sleep. I prayed the Lord’s Prayer in my mind like I did every night with Mom and Dad. After a while, I heard Auntie Lucy and Mom walk in to check on us and kiss us. Although my eyes were closed, I could tell that the room turned pitch black after the sound of the light switch clicked. The door then closed. I had been in the most peaceful and deepest slumber ever, until it was interrupted. The floor creaked. I opened my eyes slightly and saw a shadowy dark figure. I gasped. Quickly the dark figure ran up to me, but before I could scream his hand covered my mouth. My little heart pounded hard in my chest. There was a full moon out that night, so I could see the bright light shining through the slightly opened curtain. It was then that I recognized his eyes.
“Shhhhhhh!” Joe whispered. “It’s me, Joe. Don’t be scared.”
But I was scared.
Joe softly ran his fingers through my hair from the top of my head. I felt so tired. I just let him do it. But then, his hand touched my shoulder and slowly rubbed his hand down my arm.
“What are you doing?” I whispered.
“Shhhhhh,” he said again. “No talking. If you talk, you’re going to wake Lisa up and then you’ll get in a lot of trouble. So no talking. Okay?”
“Okay,” I said, confused and half asleep. I started to feel a little nauseous and my heart wouldn’t stop beating so fast. I didn’t feel so good.
Joe’s hand now landed on my belly, moving farther down.
All I could say was, “No.” I kept whispering, “No…”
Whenever I painted, I would imagine being and getting lost in the painting. In my little mind, I thought if I just closed my eyes it would all go away, that he would go away. Maybe I was in a bad dream. I thought that with my eyes closed, I could run away into another time or dimension, just as I had done with each of my paintings. The uncomfortable touch wasn’t going away, either. With my eyes closed, I envisioned myself again in the colorful, magical garden. The thick, black cloud that hovered over the garden suddenly turned into the shape of a big monster. The monster began chasing me in the garden. The beautiful, tall neon-pink peonies were wilted, frail, and shriveled. Everything that the gardener had planted in my garden suddenly died. The soil was hard and cracked. The monster roared. I ran and ran, panting and soon running out of breath. I tripped and fell from the deep, open cracks in the soil. Before I could get up, the big monster grabbed me. I couldn’t breathe. I cried hard silently. I screamed out, but without sound. Almost as if someone had pressed the mute button on. The tears flowed down my face. The monster had constricted my breathing. I felt as if my heart caved into my chest. I heard the monster speak. His calm voice did not match his hideous face.
“Natasha, you are like a pretty flower,” he said in his deep, ugly voice.
At that very moment I, too, began to wither and shrivel. The peony and I were just alike. We were both once colorful and vibrant, now without color or life. The monster placed his hand over my mouth firmly as I fell into unconsciousness. I could see myself falling, spiraling down through a big hole in the ground.
“Natasha… Natasha, Sweetheart?”
I opened my eyes. It was Auntie Lucy.
“Sweetheart, are you okay?” she asked.
I covered my eyes with one arm. The room had been so bright. The sun shone in. Confusion set in. I realized it had already been morning time. My head pounded and my body felt sore.
“You looked like you’ve been crying, Sweetheart? Are you okay?” Auntie Lucy asked.
But I just cried and cried. “I want to go with Mommy and Daddy,” I sobbed.
“Aww, Love, did you have a nightmare? I made you girls your favorite, pancakes,” she replied.
“I want to go with Mommy and Daddy.” Inconsolably, I continued to sob.
“Okay, okay. Come on, let’s go.” She picked me up and carried me in her arms.
The weeks that followed were long and drawn out for me. I didn’t want to go to school anymore. Fear weighed heavily on me. I didn’t want Mom to leave my side. Each time she and Dad had to get ready for work, I would lose it. They didn’t understand what was happening to me. I continued to have nightmares about that last night at the camping trip. I told Mom about the monster in the garden that hurt me. But she continued to assure me that it was only a nightmare. She also knew how much I loved to paint and wondered why I hadn’t picked up a paintbrush since the camping trip. I feared I would slip into the garden with the monster in it. I didn’t want him to hurt me again. I didn’t want to feel that uncomfortable, painful touch again.
CHAPTER FOUR
CURSED SUMMER
PROVERBS 6:12–19
A troublemaker and a villain, who goes about with a corrupt mouth, who winks maliciously with his eye, signals with his feet and motions with his fingers, who plots evil with deceit in his heart—he always stirs up conflict. Therefore disaster will overtake him in an instant; he will suddenly be destroyed—without remedy. There are six things the Lord hates, seven that are detestable to him: haughty eyes, a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked schemes, feet that are quick to rush into evil, a false witness who pours out lies and a person who stirs up conflict in the community.
Summer of 1974:
The blazing-hot sun pierced through the cloudless, ocean-blue sky. Buzzing bees and radiant butterflies swirled through the air. The days of the sun kissing our faces, fresh lemon iced tea and beach time had arrived. Kids rode their bikes, while others played basketball. Mom had taken a few weeks off from work to stay home with me. She thought maybe I had been acting out because of lack of quality time with her. She acknowledged that as an only child, it can be lonely for me at times. And after all, Mom being a wife, mother, and cop, could also prove a challenging schedule. She had no clue that it had nothing to do with any of that. It came time for her to go back to work soon. I was mortified. Even though my babysitter was a wonderful older woman, Beth, who was like a grandmother to me, it still wasn’t the same. I just didn’t want Mom to leave me. “Mommy, I wish you could stay home with me forever.”
“I know, Honey. I’m so sorry. If I don’t go to work, then we can’t live in our nice house. Daddy and I work hard for us to live happy and comfortable.
But I promise on our days off, we will do fun stuff together like we always do. Okay?” Mom smiled.
“Okay,” I agreed reluctantly, my head down.
“Tasha, why don’t you paint something for me? Why don’t you finish painting your garden?”
“Tasha” had been Mom’s nickname for me.
I thought maybe I should start painting again. Maybe Mom was right. So I started painting my garden. I picked up where I left off. The last time, I had added my cousin Lisa in it. My paintbrush hit the canvas again. As I painted and looked at it, suddenly a force pulled me into my imagination again. Instead of seeing the bright, beautiful flowers and the magical giant fruit, all I could see was the big, black cloud. The hideous monster appeared again and brought me back to that room in the log cabin. The monster began chasing me once more. Only this time, his rage caused him to develop three heads. And instead of two arms and hands, he then had six arms and hands. I started screaming.
“Tasha!” Mom grabbed me.
There I sat in the living room with the paintbrush in my hand. Mom gasped and I didn’t know why.
“Oh, my goodness, Tasha. What is this?” She pointed at my painting.
To my horror, the garden that was once so colorful and bright became so dark and messy. In the middle of all the vibrant colors was a blob of black and a repulsive face in the middle of it. I couldn’t believe what my hand had just painted.
“What’s wrong, Honey?” Mom worriedly asked. “I’ve never seen you paint anything like this before.”
But I didn’t answer. I couldn’t answer. I had been too afraid. I thought that if I told her about the monster again from that night in the log cabin, he would soon follow me from my paintings and into my dreams.
Mom hugged me tight. “Mommy is here and will always be here with you. If something is bothering you, you can tell me, Sweetheart.”
