Tiger Moths

by Sandra Grice

  The confused, angry, hurt child had moved in with his Aunt Becky and Uncle Joe. They were also a military couple, but had never had any children, nor did they want any. In short, they just did not care much for kids. But Steven was family with nowhere else to go, and the Chomorros’ values influenced the couple enough to take him in. So they converted a spare room into Steven’s bedroom and in he moved. Neither adults nor child were quite sure of what they should do next.

  Uncle Joe decided that Steven needed some guidance but, feeling ill-equipped to provide it, he had Steven join a club for boys known as Club Champ. The Club’s slogan was “Every boy is a champion.” The Club Champ leader was Airman First Class Matt Phillips, one of Joe’s co-workers and friends in the aircraft maintenance shop. Matt was well-known for the miracles he worked with wayward boys. So Joe felt that this was the ideal solution for Steven.

  Airman Phillips was only twenty-two himself and new to Guam. He had only been stationed at Andersen a couple of months, but was already very well-known around the island. In addition to establishing Club Champ, he was the unit liaison for many family support functions, and was always the first to volunteer for any kids’ events. Joe had seen with his own eyes how comfortable Matt was when he related to children. For reasons that Joe could never understand, Matt seemed to really enjoy being a friend and mentor to the kids.

  At first Steven had been reserved and hesitant to participate in any Club Champ events, but after only a couple of weeks, Matt had gained his trust. Joe and Becky were so happy that they often invited Matt over for dinner. It seemed to Steven’s aunt and uncle that Steven had turned the corner, and was having the best time of his life. All the pieces were finally falling into place for their young nephew. Then the world they thought they knew fell out from under them.

  It happened late one night after dinner. The evening had started out like all the other dinners. Matt came over and they built their own tacos and churned homemade ice cream. Afterward, Steven and Matt went to the backyard and shot some hoops. Becky could hear them laughing and cutting up, as Matt pretended to be a radio announcer.

  “There’s two seconds left in the championship game. Pierce has the ball down by one, he fakes, he shoots, he scoooores! Pierce has won the game! And the crowd goes wild!”

  Steven would laugh until he could hardly breathe and return Matt’s high fives. “Let’s do it again, Matt,” he pleaded.

  And on and on it went. Becky could hardly believe the transformation in Steven. He was a happy, outgoing boy for the first time since she had known him. They played late into the evening, until a passing shower forced them to end the game.

  The storm was a real gully-washer. The kind that got your feet and lower legs soaked when you drove a Guam Bomb. It lasted longer than most of the storms, so seeing the time and weather, Uncle Joe invited Matt to stay with them that night. Steven would like it, and the couch was a hide-a-bed, so why not? Tomorrow was Saturday, with no work, so Matt accepted.

  Around two o’clock that morning, the storm had finally passed and everyone was asleep. The ocean breeze steadily blew the palm trees. The leaves silently shadow- danced on Steven’s bedroom wall. He had fallen into a deep, peaceful sleep. It was the kind of sleep that had eluded him for many years, for only happy, secure people could sleep like this. People who were loved and wanted, people like him.

  Slowly he began to rouse a bit. Still lingering between sleep and consciousness, he thought he felt something, or someone, near him. He did not want to leave this perfect place of contentment he had found in his slumber, but the presence near him seemed to be touching him. Gradually, haltingly, he opened his eyes. At first he saw only the shadows on his wall. But there, standing over him, was another unfamiliar, large shadow.

  A shadow of what? A man? He started to cry out but a hand was over his mouth. He could not breathe. He could not move. He was so scared. What are you doing here? Whoever you are, please don’t hurt me!? His terrified mind lost functionality. His heartbeat was throbbing in his temples.

  “Shhhh, it’s okay, little buddy, it’s just me, Matt.” Matt removed his hand from Steven’s mouth.

  Steven felt his whole body go limp from relief. He could breathe again, but then he felt it. Something was very wrong.

  Matt’s other hand was in a place Steven knew it should not be. He felt it inside his boxers massaging his private parts. Can this really be happening? No, it can’t be! I’ve got to wake up; I’ve got to wake up!

  “There, there, kiddo, it’s okay. You trust me, don’t you, Steven? This is okay. I just came in here to check on you, and while I was here I thought I’d let you feel something I knew you would like. All guys like this; and I know you’ve never had it before. I can tell that no one has ever shown you love before. You know I care about you Steven; you know I do, don’t you? Of course you do; so I just want to show you what it is like to be a man. To feel what it is like.”

  Steven said nothing. He tried saying No, please stop, Matt; stop what you are doing to me! But he could not get his mouth to open, to utter his mind’s frantic pleas. Then it happened; he could not prevent it. His body betrayed him. He tried with all that was within him to stop it from happening, but to no avail. Oh, my God, please help me, please! He wanted to vomit. He wanted to die.

  “There, you see, Steven; I knew you would like it. I knew you wanted to feel that way. We all do. It’s so natural, so nice to be loved, isn’t it, my little man? That’s what you are, isn’t it, Steven? You are my little man now. And this will be our wonderful secret, right? No one else will understand what we guys have, so let’s just not say anything to anyone else. Okay?”

  Matt touched Steven’s face and turned it toward him. A solitary tear rolled down Steven’s cheek.

  “Steven, I told you; it’s okay. No need to cry. There’s nothing wrong with this. It’s beautiful and next time I’ll show you how you can make me feel good. There’s a lot more to show you. It will be great fun. Now say it, Steven, say this is our secret and no one needs to know. Tell me you will not say a word, because I am the only one who really knows you, Steven, no one else.”

  Steven just wanted all of this to go away, to pretend it never happened. What have I done to deserve this? I’m so ugly and bad I wish I could just die right now, right here. Why don’t You just let me die, God? It was the only prayer he could say. But to end Matt’s visit for now, he finally muttered, “Our secret; I won’t tell anybody.”

  “There you go. Good man, Steven. Good man.” Matt patted his face.

  Steven watched as Matt stood upright. He saw his smiling face, and could not believe what the one person he completely trusted had done to him. It was the face of evil. This was the same face that had brought him such happiness and hope that his life was not going to be a lonely, loveless existence. He saw the monster look at him and turn and walk casually out of his bedroom without another word.

  The dancing leaves kept their rhythmic ritual on his wall, but his heart would never know another dance. He lay there numb and tearless.

  By the time Steven found the courage to tell Aunt Becky, he had been molested by Matt five more times. Matt was getting bolder and more demanding. Steven knew it had to stop.

  Aunt Becky had watched this happy boy sink once again into depression, depression far worse than ever before. She had asked him what was bothering him once, but he said everything was fine. She let it go, for she did not know anything about young boys and their moods.

  But now she knew she should have pressed him more to find out what was going on in his life. The day he told her, she was horrified, but she knew he was telling the truth. She realized too that her husband needed to know. But when they told Joe, he just got mad. He was mad at Steven, not Matt, because he did not believe a word of the allegations.

  “Steven, you should be ashamed of yourself. Matt’s been nothing but good to you. He has bought you stuff and taken you all over the place. You know there are a hundred better things Matt could be doing with h
is time than wasting it on you. But no, he cared enough about you to try to help, and this is how you repay him! You are no longer a part of my family! No one in my family would do such a selfish thing. You lying piece of crap. I don’t care where you go or what you do, but I want you out of my house now. I never want to see your punk face again. Get out!”

  Becky loved Joe with all her heart, but she could not turn her back on the boy. So, she spent the rest of the night convincing him to let Steven stay. Joe relented, so long as Steven never opened his mouth in his presence. Becky then took Steven to the base legal office where Steven told the whole heart-wrenching story to Dale.

  Just reading the case file again made her heartsick. She was more appreciative than ever for her own parents and their guidance in her life. Thank You, heavenly Father, for the gift of good Christian parents. I pray Your multiplied love for the children without good parents.

  Dale now had the unenviable task of trying to prove to a panel of officers that Matt had done these things to the boy. The charges were serious, and the proof was scant. It was not a good case for the prosecution; but she was bound to pursue it. She was determined to not let this injustice go unpunished.

  Dale and her co-counsel spent hours interviewing everyone who knew or had any contact with Matt. They concentrated heavily on other members of Club Champ or kids who had been entrusted to Airman Phillips. They even called back to his previous base, but only heard high praises for Matt.

  In the end, they found nothing. He was a super troop that had won over everyone who met him. It was a he said/he said case with no corroborating evidence. As general courts-martial go, it was a losing case for the prosecution.

  Her co-counsel had tried to get her to plea bargain. That was out of the question, because defense counsel knew they had nothing. Besides, she would not have offered a bargain to a slime ball like Phillips.

  The trial started tomorrow, so tonight Dale was left to contemplate the case and her strategy. She did her best thinking late and alone. She went to the place she always went in order to clear her mind. It was the place where she thought best, because it was where she felt the closest to her Creator. It was a remote area of the beach, away from all the lights, away from everything. She could taste the salty air as she climbed out on her rock to watch the moon set over the water. Above her, millions of stars twinkled into the night. Here, she knew in her soul there was a higher power, a power that would not tolerate injustice. A power she wanted desperately to intervene in this case, to somehow provide the evidence needed to show the court what the truth really was.

  “I know this is just about impossible, God – no, it is impossible for me to do. Impossible for me to prove this kid is a victim of evil, impossible for this one who has unfairly lost his innocence to see his predator punished. And so I am asking You to do this for me, and to do this for every kid who has been victimized. For every kid who has been betrayed by a father or a father figure. Please, remind them that no matter what, they have a heavenly Father who loves them. You made all of this, all the beauty of this evening, and in the stars are written Your name, and in the wind I feel You. Father, please, please give us a miracle tomorrow. May our daily bread be Your manna from heaven.”

  She did not cry, though she thought she would. Instead, somewhere in her core, she felt like she had found a deeper place than she had ever known was there. It was not any kind of assurance that her prayers were answered, or even a wave of comfort. It was just something different, as if a greater gift of - what was it? Was it a knowing? Not exactly. It was a growth, a growth of faith. But that was as far as she could process it.

  Dale looked out again over the watery horizon, and thought about the hundreds of miles that separated this island from another area of dry land. She felt small, and the smallness of the island made her breathe deeply. The slightest shift in the underwater plates around the island could erase all life there in a matter of minutes. “Oh Father, our every breath is a gift from You; help me use this life for You.”

  She closed her eyes and tilted her head upward. For a few seconds she remained just like that - eyes closed, listening to the ocean, feeling the breeze in her hair, smelling the fresh air, tasting the salt. Then she opened her eyes and returned to the millions of twinkling stars. They reminded her of another wonderful time when she was a child. They glowed like embers in a fire. And then two shooting stars burned across the tapestry, one chasing the other. Each left behind it a momentary trail – it was like her old glow sticks when she was a child. And then there was the strangest memory. There was a little boy, and her, spelling his initials in the air. He was so excited, so happy. But he was dragged away from enjoying his dream by a big bully. And she had been outraged by it. Then she remembered her own father’s reminder that every child was loved and cherished by God.

  Dale left the beach that evening with no answers. There was no new strategy; there was no indication of any last minute Perry Mason moments. She would do what she could. She would make sure that Steven knew she believed him, and that it was not his fault. Other than that it was in God’s hands. And because she knew that completely, she would be able to get some sleep tonight.

  REUNION

  NASHVILLE, 1991

  The arena was filled to capacity with more than 18,000 screaming fans. The concert had lasted for almost two hours, and they still clamored for more. Girls in straw hats and halter tops sat atop their young beaus’ shoulders and raised their voices. Nearby, crazed young men in muscle shirts and jeans stomped their well-worn boots on the floor.

  “More, more. We want moooore!” The chant was deafening, and the intensity seemed to swell. There was going to have to be an encore, or a riot. Each passing moment brought the throng closer to the brink of bedlam.

  The sound increased several decibels when they saw Johnny step back out on the stage. He grabbed the microphone and waved to his fans. A girl in the front row swayed and then passed out. Security helped her boyfriend carry her away; the party continued.

  “Boys, come on back out. I don’t think we’re finished yet. We’ve some more work to do. Right, folks?”

  His band came back on stage in force and the crowd went crazy. The guitar played, and Johnny sang the last song of the evening, savoring every breath. The dream was a reality, and he poured his heart and soul into it. Finally, hitting the last note to perfection, it was finished, at least for this night.

  He stole out the back of the building and made his way to the waiting bus. This was what his life had become. It was a series of one night stands, adoring fans, and watching the miles roll by through the bus windshield. He had no complaints, but he had made sacrifices. That was part of life; every decision held its own consequences. It had taken more than three years to go from front band to headliner, and it had taken a lot of hard work. He had arrived, only to discover he had to keep working harder than ever to make it last. But Johnny would do whatever it took to sustain his dream.

  Tonight, as he boarded the bus, he was, as always, wet with sweat. One of the crew handed him a towel and a Gatorade, which he took gratefully. It had been one of his best performances ever, and he was exhausted. He plopped down in a nearby chair, releasing a sigh of deep satisfaction.

  “Looks like you left it all out there on the field tonight. Good job out there, Clark.”

  It was a familiar voice, but for a fleeting moment Johnny fought to place it. When he put it together the large man stepped in front of him. Johnny’s surprise morphed into a huge smile.

  “Big Ben, what are you doing here? How are you, man? It’s been a long time – too long. How’d you get in here anyway?” He rose from his seat and hugged the mammoth man. “You are a sight for sore eyes, man. Gosh, you look great – big as ever, but great.”

  Big Ben gave him a crushing bear hug. “Little Johnny Clark has made it big time. None of us would have ever thought it would happen, especially after that night at the Farm. Man, I wish Casey Capps could see you now!”

  John
ny became somber. “Yea, I was really sorry to hear about Casey. I can’t believe he is gone. Did they ever find out what happened?”

  “They said he was going down to the store for his wife to get something. I don’t know what it was, whatever pregnant women crave. He decided to walk because it was only a couple of blocks. Some drunken dude came ripping around the corner and never saw Casey. Ran right over him and kept going. They said he held on long enough to tell his wife he loved her and the baby. He left her plenty of money, but she nearly lost the baby over it. It is just sad, man. I mean they had it all. Casey was really happy and looking forward to the little one; and then he is just gone. Doesn’t seem fair, you know. I just don’t understand when the good ones are taken away so young. He really was one of the good ones.”

  Johnny squinted and held the bridge of his nose. “Yes he was, one of the best. He got me started. Giving me my first guitar, when he should have just punched me out and walked on. But the guy had a huge heart. I wish I had known sooner. I would have been at the funeral.”

  “We missed you there, Johnny. Almost the whole team was there. It was pretty amazing. Even after all these years, the team was still a team. And even though it was so sad to see a twenty-eight-year-old guy put in the ground, the funeral was just what Casey would have wanted. The gang was together again, telling all of our old stories. And you probably know that the night that he knocked your lights out was one of the first. That was a good one, Johnny. But look at you now. Guess the joke was on all of us after all, huh?”

  “Yea, it’s been a wild ride, but I’ll always be grateful to Casey and …” Johnny’s voice trailed off. He looked away, locking his eyes on anything except Big Ben.