“Is everything okay? Did you want to talk?” he asked.
“No.” I took the note out of my jeans’ pocket and said: “I have a note for you.”
“I know you prefer to write. But you’re here now. Couldn’t you just tell me?”
I shook my head. “I prefer you read.” After I handed him the note, I was about to walk out of the classroom.
“Wait,” he stopped me. “Why don’t you just stay while I read? Then, maybe we can talk about it?”
“Okay,” I sighed. It was not going to be easy, but he was right. Perhaps, it was best we talked about it in person to just get it over with.
As he unfolded the note, I looked down at the floor, ashamed of what he was going to find out. After he finished reading, he lifted my face to meet his eyes, and assured me: “Please don’t feel guilty. It’s okay. There’s nothing to forgive.”
“But it’s wrong,” I said.
“I’m not sure about that,” he said. “You are not the only one, you know.”
I looked at him, not comprehending.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you since last November,” he confessed.
“Since November?”
He nodded.
And, so we did.
Chapter 22
February 1985
After our kiss, everything changed.
Everything.
Not gradually, but overnight.
I had never felt constant fear before then. I was worried that our affection was too obvious. I worried that my classmates would suspect that something was going on between the two of us. In the past, I would pass notes to him via my classmates, even teacher-aides, without much thought. Now I would only hand-deliver them. I became paranoid as well. Every time someone mentioned his name, I was extra careful with my responses.
I learned how to lie. The minute I got home from school on Fridays, I would have to come up with reasons why I needed the car. Fridays at 4:00 p.m. was the only time we could sneak out to be together. Every time I lied about my whereabouts, the easier it rolled off my hands. At times, I surprised myself with how creative my lies were, or how quickly I came up with them.
I put up a facade. I continued to push him away when he tried to hug me. I brushed him off when he complimented me. I laughed along with my classmates when they teased him – the way we tease teachers. I ignored him, perhaps to an extreme, just to alleviate suspicion.
After our kiss, things progressed quickly. The first time he caressed me – in places I’d never been touched – I was scared, but I managed not to show it. I experienced physical feelings I never knew existed. He was much older, over twice my age, and I trusted him.
He was the first adult to say three simple yet powerful words to me – words that my parents had never said: “I love you.”
He made me feel special.
I was loved.
I was desired.
I was beautiful.
I was intelligent.
And he even gave me a special nickname – Lady.
He had become the father figure I had desperately needed. But now we were involved in ways I never knew would hurt me – almost kill me. It would be many years until I fully understood the depth of the deception.
Chapter 23
March 1985
I opened the envelope, holding my breath as I pulled out the letter.
Ms. Debbie L. Anderson
Route #3, Box 216
Williamsport, MD 21795
Dear Debbie:
Congratulations!
I made it into Gallaudet. What a relief!
I am very pleased to welcome you to the fall 1985 incoming freshman class.
Freshman. I was afraid I would have to begin in Gallaudet’s pre-college preparatory program. But I made it to the Freshman class.
I am confident that among our more than thirty-three major programs (including majors such as Computer Science, Business Administration, Education, and Physical Education) you will find an excellent opportunity to meet your educational and career goals.
Your coming years will be exciting, rewarding, and meaningful as you prepare for your life and a satisfying career. At Gallaudet you’ll have many opportunities.
Going to college was not part of my plan. If not for the insistence of several of my teachers and coaches, who had graduated from Gallaudet, I wouldn’t have applied. The reasons were numerous.
I didn’t think I was capable; in other words, I wasn’t smart enough. Despite my being in the top class at MSD, I always felt my classmates were smarter than I was. My grades were not outstanding. I reasoned that it was safer not to apply – it would have been better to wonder whether I would have been accepted rather than to be rejected. I didn’t think my pride could have handled it.
Where would I get the money? College cost money – a lot. Having grown up without much of it, I knew there was no question that Mom and Dad couldn’t contribute a dime toward the tuition. I assumed that Grandma had money; Mom and Dad always asked her for it. But I resented them for borrowing and not paying back. I had decided a long time ago that I would not live like that.
Lastly, I have always carried the guilt of knowing I was smarter than my parents. I was concerned about how they would feel about my going to college. My feelings had run so deep that I would find myself subconsciously acting dumb around them just to reassure them that I was no better than they were. For instance: when they would ask what a word meant, I would simply tell them I wasn’t sure. I would go to great lengths to get a dictionary and look up the definition of a word I already knew.
Despite my concerns, I filled out the application just to get the teachers and coaches off my back. Then, what a relief it was to receive the letter and to know I was accepted.
Chapter 24
May 1985
I suppose my life at home had always been part pretense. I had to be careful with my words. I had to hide my emotions. I had to act as if all was well. Now, my life was pretty much all pretense. And I was good at it. After all, years of practice makes one perfect.
On our dorm floor, I stood among my girlfriends as we dressed and helped each other get ready for our special evening – prom. It was an event I had looked forward to, yet now that the day had finally arrived, I was not there wholeheartedly. It was one more scene in which I had to play act.
When one of our dates would arrive at the door, someone would run up to get us. I stood waiting with the rest of my friends in my ankle-length, maroon dress, and as I waited, I touched the 14-karat gold necklace that hung around my neck. It was a surprise gift he had given me several weeks after our first kiss. I had asked what the gift was for. An all-sort-of-reasons celebration, he said. Nothing particular. He was just proud of me and my accomplishments: My upcoming graduation from MSD. My acceptance into Gallaudet. My being on the Deaf Olympic team, representing the USA at the upcoming World Games.
At last, my date had arrived. I walked down the stairs to our front lobby and stepped out the front door. David stood in his grey tuxedo with his bow and cummerbund matching the color of my dress. He was holding a pink corsage in his hand. When he saw me, he came forward and placed it over my wrist. In turn, I pinned a rose on his tuxedo. We then walked, arm in arm, toward the water fountain that stood in the middle of our campus, where everyone had gathered to take pictures. David’s family was there with their camera to capture our special occasion. My family didn’t come. They didn’t ask if they could, and I didn’t invite them.
He had wanted to come. Just for a few minutes, he asked, just to get a glimpse of me. But I told him not to. I did not want him there. He had said I was free to do whatever I pleased. “Just go and have fun,” he had encouraged me. I had mixed feelings about the entire evening, but I knew one thing for sure: I didn’t want him among the crowd of spectators. Perhaps I knew I would feel awkward with hi
m watching. Perhaps I didn’t want to deal with my guilt.
David and I posed in front of the fountain, my right arm through the loop of his left arm and our hands, my right and his right, intertwined. Next to David, was his sister who smiled at him affectionately. David’s mother stood on my left, smiling broadly. David’s father stood farthest to my left. One, two, three. Smile. Click. One, two, three. Smile. Click. There was always “Just one more picture.”
The last time I had allowed David to kiss me had been back in December. Just a few days before our evening out, I had made it clear to him that my going with him to the prom did not mean he could have access to my lips. He understood, despite his declaration in February that he loved me and that he wouldn’t give up on me.
Now that my love had been consumed by someone else, I felt stronger. Resisting David had suddenly become easy. I was now loved. Though I was still paranoid, and so secretive, I felt good, and happy.
Chapter 25
August 1989
Dad and I made our grand entry into the sanctuary. When we stepped onto the aisle runner, we paused for several seconds.
Peter stood at the far end of the aisle, just below the chancel. I could see the joy radiating from his face as he waited eagerly to receive me as his bride. He was dressed handsomely in a black tuxedo. I smiled self-consciously as guests on both sides of the aisle stood and turned to face Dad and me.
Traditionally, the wedding ushers would sit the bride’s family and guests on the left side of the church and the groom’s family and guests on the right. But because only a few of Peter’s family members and friends were able to travel to witness our wedding, our guests were not assigned to either side of the congregation. There was Uncle Dale, sitting just behind my cousin Tammy and her husband, Steve. My great aunt, Arvella, sat next to my cousin Sue Ellen and her husband, Glenn. Several of my high school classmates were present as well – Joey, David, Belinda, and Ed.
So many were there for our big day, including him. As much as I wanted to avoid seeing him, he was impossible to miss. There he stood, at the very end of the pew, right next to the aisle where I would pass shortly.
He was dressed in sky-blue pants and a short-sleeve white, buttoned shirt; his Sunday best.
He stood alongside his wife. Our eyes met, and after a second or two, I looked away.
Little did I know he would be the source of my trauma for years to come.
Chapter 26
August 1985
I paced, keeping my eye on the phone light. If it was out of my sight, I wouldn’t be able to see it ringing. I didn’t want Mom to answer the phone.
I walked from our den to the dining room. I had wanted to go out today just to touch our initials. We had gone to Dam 4 the other day and walked along the C & O canal. With a knife he’d brought along, he carved a heart with our initials on a tree, for the world to see. I was his. He was mine. But I had taken the car yesterday and I didn’t want to come up with another excuse as to why I needed it today.
Dining room into the kitchen. Yesterday I had called him at home, hoping we could talk. But someone answered and hung up; probably one of his kids. I didn’t think he’d be at work since it was a Saturday, but thought I’d take the risk. I drove to MSD, but his vehicle was nowhere to be seen. Even though I had seen him only two days ago, it felt like a long time ago. The hickey is still there. After stopping by MSD, I wanted to go over to Power Line, our secret meeting place, but it was getting dark. Instead, I drove home, passing High’s, where we ate ice cream the other day. His car wasn’t there either. Of course not, what did I expect?
Kitchen into the living room. Tomorrow I would be leaving for Gallaudet. I wasn’t sure if I would like it. All my classmates were looking forward to it. That was all they talked about before our graduation: Independence. Away from home. Drinking. New friends. Partying all night. Not me. I wasn’t interested. Actually, when my friends did things they weren’t supposed to, such as drinking or smoking, I would report their doings to Mom and Dad. It was my way of seeking their approval. Mom and Dad, look at me. I am a good girl. I don’t smoke. I don’t drink. I wanted them to recognize what a good girl I was and praise me. But they didn’t. Gallaudet. I have no intention of getting involved in such activities. Will I find friends who are like me?
Living room into the dining room. I wanted to see him! I had written him several letters. All of them were torn into pieces and thrown in the trash can. What is he doing now? Snuggling with his wife while watching a TV show? I couldn’t help thinking more and more about him and her. How could I go on? Is she good in bed? Does she taste better? One day, I had become so bold as to ask him that question. His response: people tasted the same; it’s the feelings that make the difference. How could he kiss her? Some days I couldn’t bear the thought of him kissing her. Some days I was able to put my thoughts and feelings aside. Some days I just didn’t care, as long as I had him.
Dining room into the den. Does he still love her? I had believed that he didn’t. But now, I wasn’t sure. Perhaps he still loved her. I know I loved him – no question. But, our love… how would I describe our relationship? Beautiful, yes. But, it was also frustrating and painful. If we continued to see each other, I knew our love would destroy me. Tomorrow, I’m leaving. What will happen to us? Forgive me if I decide not to write. Forgive me if I decide to leave you.
Den into the kitchen. He had said he was afraid he would lose me. Unbelievable. He was so much a part of me, and I wouldn’t want to let him go. Beautiful. He made me feel so beautiful. He made everything seem beautiful. Would it be possible for me to love someone else? If I ever do, I hope he will be like him.
Kitchen into the dining room. Gallaudet. Will I like it there? At MSD, I saw him every day. At Gallaudet, I will not have a car. How often will we see each other? Nights and weekends are what I hate; those are the times we can’t see each other. I want to talk to him now. I need him. Right now. Not tomorrow or the day after.
“What’s the matter? You’ve been pacing around. Are you nervous? I thought you were excited?” Mom asked.
“Tiffany was supposed to call, but I guess she got tied up,” I said.
The clock ticked, 9:58 p.m. He never called. Actually, he never said he would call, but I was hoping he would. How could he not call on my last night home? My last night home! Why didn’t he just find an excuse to call?
Chapter 27
Fall 1985 – Freshman Year
During my first semester at Gallaudet, I kept a journal.
8-20-85
I find myself longing for him. How will I ever get rid of him? Not that I want to. But I just can’t let it continue forever.
8-21-85
Not so exciting here. Met some new friends but, you know, just met them. David kept on hugging me and I just let him. I hope I am not giving him the wrong idea about us.
8-28-85
People dancing.
Music vibrating.
Hands talking everywhere.
In their hands they hold beer,
In the Abbey.
Watching them,
No beer can in my hands,
Standing silently
In the Abbey.
Drifting into thoughts of you.
People cannot tell
For they can’t see
In the Abbey.
Thinking of you
In the Abbey.
9-1-85
L oving you has been beautiful, but
O ften it’s painful.
V ague feelings about
E verything.
9-9-85
Got his letter today. Brightens my day! I forget sometimes how great his love is. I need to stop thinking about him and his wife; how unfair it is for him to be with her. It’s because I went out a few times with Darryl. He introduced me to new experiences I’ve never had, such
as eating Chinese food. He will be out of town for the weekend and said I could borrow his car. I might go home to see him!
9-10-85, 1:52 a.m.
People here are enjoying themselves; at least they seem to be having fun, laughing. I’m completely different from them. Here I am at Gallaudet. New life. New friends. New opportunity. New freedom. More education. But I’m not happy. I hate it here, but I don’t get to admit it. Seems like everyone loves to drink, smoke pot, get drunk, and laugh over dumb things. I just do not fit in. Not because I don’t want to. I just simply can’t. I don’t feel comfortable around them.
Seeing my MSD friends drinking bothers me. Maybe I want them to be like me. I seem to be the only one here who is different. I don’t smoke. I don’t drink. I don’t swear. Am I closed-minded? I wonder if the only way to make friends is to join in and drink? Should I? Drinking is dumb. I don’t want to do that and I won’t. But how can I go on here if I don’t like it? I miss my MSD friends. I miss MSD – sports, friends, and teachers.
I want to just disappear to where no one knows me and start a new life. My life is already so messed up. But I can’t just withdraw. People will look down at me. I might as well stay and suffer.
I miss him. Sometimes, I just wish I could go live with him. **** our situation.
9-11-85
I went crazy yesterday, crying all night from 11:30 p.m. to 2:00 a.m. Now I am feeling good. It’s weird, really. Once in a while, I would cry and cry without stopping. My crying was because of many things. I really don’t understand myself. I cried in David’s room and kept on crying. We hugged, and late into the night, he asked me to stay overnight with him, but I came to my senses and left. Why did I let him hold me? I thought I was sure I didn’t love him. Maybe it was just that I needed affection. I really don’t know.
Going home today. Some days when I feel good, my being here is OK. Maybe it’s because I know I will see him. Getting his letters and knowing I’m loved brightens my day. Other days, I just hate it here.
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