by Calinda B
The night proceeded in a blur. Make my way to the back room, pick up number one, come back out onto the stage, hand it to Mr. Dallas. He’d beam and bellow, like a ringmaster at a circus. I’d pause, watching him through squinty eyes. Go into the back room, pick up number two, walk back. Pause. At least it allowed me to move my body. Every once in a while Mr. Dallas would stride over to me and put his arms around my shoulders like we were old friends. I’d stiffen, but he didn’t notice. He just carried on with his banter until he felt it appropriate to release me.
As the night wore on and the auction items sold, Mr. Dallas seemed to swell up like a Bantam rooster in a pen full of horny hens. His upper body expanded, while his belly draped dangerously over his pants, threatening to pop his pants button. In my typical imaginative way, I pictured the pants pushing with all their might against the zipper. “Must…get…some…air…” Then, I pictured the button flying, the zipper bursting, and Mr. Dallas’ pants dropping with a gasp to the floor. At this thought, I laughed out loud. Mr. Dallas looked over at me and glowered.
“Will you fetch the next piece?” he asked, eyebrows pressed into a V above his eyes.
At last, the night was over. Mr. Dallas and Jill were talking animatedly to the Mayor at the front of the room. I found Z in the crowd, talking with two men. It figured.
“Hi, Chér!” she said excitedly. “You looked fantastic up there!”
“Thanks,” I replied.
“Chér, meet my two new friends, Dave and Mike. Dave and Mike, this is my best friend, Chérie.” She beamed at them with a seductive smile and pulled me next to her.
I smiled politely, extending my hand. I knew this game that Z was playing. She was sizing up the playing field to see which player had the right stuff. The man called Dave looked at me appraisingly. “Hi, there,” he said smoothly. “Zuri’s right – you looked hot up there on stage.”
This guy would not make the cut. Any guy who paid attention to me instead of her was off the team.
Z said, “Chérie teaches aerobics here. Her BOY-friend works at an office downtown.”
“Oh,” was all he said, turning away from me.
I heard Jill yelling to me from across the room. I looked over, and she gestured that I should come over to where she, Mr. Dallas, and the Mayor were standing. I told Dave and Mike it was nice to meet them, gave Z a big hug, and made a beeline for the trio.
After introductions with the Mayor, I went into the back to retrieve my things. The night had not started out well, but overall, it was not the disaster I had feared. Just when I had slung my bag over my shoulder, I heard a sound. I looked over my shoulder to see Mr. Dallas heading right for me.
“Chérie, I want to thank you for all the good work you did tonight. I’d like to take you out for a drink to express my appreciation.”
“No, thank you,” I replied. Mother Clarice had at least taught me manners.
“I insist,” he replied.
“No, thank you. I’ve got to get home to see my BOY-friend.” I tried emphasizing the boy part the way Z had done.
“I won’t keep you out long. It’s my tradition to thank the women who work with me.”
I felt my stomach start to lurch. Couldn’t he take no for an answer?
“I…really, I’ve got to go home now. It’s late.”
“I insist,” he said, slithering closer to me.
My eyes darted right and left as I looked for my escape. As he approached, I backed into the wall.
“N-n-no,” I said.
“I insist,” he said again. Now, his eyes looked sinister, black with immoral intent. He put one hand on either side of my head, pressing his sausage-like palms into the wall. “I said I want to thank you.”
He was so close; I could smell his stale breath laden with cigarettes, breath mints, musty beer, and something equivalent to mushroom fungus. With his arms raised up on either side of me, I got a birds-eye view of his middle-aged crop of wiry nose and ear hair. His odor was sour and foul, like a garbage dump on a hot Walla Walla afternoon, complete with pin wheeling seagulls. His heaving belly was pressed up against me, and I could feel my tummy getting wet from the profuse amount of sweat pouring from his body. He leaned in for a kiss. I whirled my head to the side and glued my lips tightly together.
“Now, sugar plum…” He bent his knees slightly and rocked his pelvis forward, releasing it from the captivity of his huge girth. I could feel him, small and rigid underneath his pants, pressed into my hip. I started to scream. His huge paw of a hand clamped over my mouth, while his other unzipped his pants. “Don’t make a fuss, dear, this will be our little secret.”
Now my eyes were wild like the picture of that horse I had looked at earlier. Panicked, with no way out, I began to slowly drift away, like I used to do, during sexual encounters with pimply teenage boys. Suddenly, the door flew open and banged against the wall with a loud THWACK.
“What are you doing? Get away from her!” Zuri ran in the room and shrieked.
Mr. Dallas backed away, putting his hands in the air, as if he were being arrested. He zipped up and tugged at his crotch to ‘adjust things.’
“Don’t worry, love; Chérie and I were just having a little private conversation.”
“That’s not what I saw,” Zuri said, spitting out the words like snake venom. “Now get…away…from…my…friend.”
Jill burst around the corner, her body quivering like a bowl of Jell-O. “What is going ON in here? What’s the commotion?”
Mr. Dallas replied, “Jill, darling, I was just about to come and get you so we could toast the evening over a drink.” He hobbled over to her and gave her shoulder a pat. “I was just thanking Chérie for her wonderful work tonight.”
“He was not…” said Zuri, but Jill interrupted her.
“Well, then Joe, I think we’d better let these two get their things and leave. I don’t trust them. Girls?” She looked over at us with small, pig-like eyes peppered with hatred. Her head seemed to grow larger, that bizarre black halo I had seen before appearing around her hair. This effect made her tautly pulled face appear even more sinister than usual.
Zuri again started to protest, but I shook my head, eyes desperate and fearful. “Let’s get out of here,” I whispered. I grabbed her arm, picked up my things, and we raced out into the cool night air.
Once outside, Zuri threw her arms around me. “Oh, my friend, my poor friend…Did he hurt you?” she cooed. I let her embrace me, standing wooden and afraid. My stomach was bunched into tight loops, and the lump in my throat felt like I was being strangled.
“Ohhhh, God,” was all I managed to get out.
“I’m going to call Cam,” Z said, reaching into her purse.
“NO! Don’t!” I cried. “He’ll be mad. Let me tell him.”
“I really think it would be best if he knew,” continued Zuri, her face full of concern. “He has a right to know – he IS your boyfriend.”
“Yeah, but I’m not ready to tell him. Not yet. Please, Zuri, please, please, please don’t call.” I felt little tears threatening to spill. I squeezed my eyes shut so they would not escape. “I’ll be fine, really I will. You rescued me. It’s okay. I’m ok,” I said, forcing calm into my voice. “What made you try to find me? I thought you were heading off with David? Or was it Mike?” I had a hard time keeping up with her social life.
“It was Mike and Dave, not David, and I changed my mind. I wanted to go out with YOU. Those two were dweebs.” Her face was still scrunched with concern. “Let’s go out somewhere. Let’s go get some of your favorite tea, girlfriend. Or, better yet, a cocktail. I think you need some girl time and a good drink.”
“No, no thanks, Z. Don’t you have a date with…?”
“…yeah, with Peter... I was going to cancel... but if you feel you’ll be alright…”
“I really need to get home and put this behind me. I’ll be fine. Honestly. Thank God you found me…” My voice trailed off, not wanting to continue with that train of
mind. “I’m just going to drive home, shower off the sweat, and go to bed.”
“All right,” Z said cautiously. “If you’re sure… But if you change your mind, you pick up the phone and I’ll be right there...right there.” Her voice was firm and brooked no argument.
“Thanks, Zuri, you’re the best.” I hugged her and got in my car.
Chapter 13
When I arrived home, the porch light was on, but the house was dark. I tiptoed up the porch stairs, opened the door, and flicked off the outside light. There was a soft glow upstairs, coming from the bedroom. Taking off my shoes, I padded upstairs in my stocking feet, trying not to make any noise. I poked my head around the corner of the bedroom door. The nightlight was on, but Cam was sound asleep. Relieved to not have to explain anything, I headed for the shower. Stripping off my stinky, sweat-soaked clothes; I crammed the dress into the covered waste bin. I never wanted to wear that dress again – ever. I might even take it outside tomorrow and burn it. I turned the water on and stepped into the shower stall. I cranked the water up unbearably hot and stood there, cringing, as the sharp droplets seared my back. Leaning my hands against the cool tile, I hung my head, letting the unrelenting water spray out onto my head, welcoming the needle-like liquid. When the hot water started to run out, I got out and toweled off. I grabbed a night gown off of the hook on the back of the door. I rarely wore it, but tonight I wanted to be covered.
Slipping in besides Cam, I was grateful that he barely woke. Instead, he pulled me close and draped his arms around me, murmuring “Everything go okay, babe?”
“It was fine. I’ll tell you all about it in the morning,” I lied. My back snuggled up to his firm, bare torso.
“Good,” he said before nestling his head against mine and heading back to the land of dreams.
When sleep finally came on my side of the bed, I was greeted by dark, shadowy nightmare figures. They slunk about, faceless and shapeless, blurred edges. Their voices, if you could call them voices, were barely audible. Words like, “take her heart,” “ta-ak’tiyani,” and “it’s time” reached my ears. I heard myself moan and peered into the gloom, trying to make them out.
In the next terrifying scene, I was in my childhood bedroom. I lay there on my bed, my eight-year-old form lifeless, the pink curtains covered with African dancers blowing softly in the breeze coming through the open window. I could hear Doodles scratching at the door, frantic to get in. I wanted to go let him in, but could not. I was paralyzed, staring up at the light bulb that dangled from the ceiling. Fingers clenched my left ankle. A man’s voice said, “Don’t move, sweetheart. I just want to make you feel good.” I saw him grasping something with his other hand. From my child-mind perspective, it was some weird appendage that stuck out between his legs. He was rubbing it up and down like he wanted to take the skin off. Then, he removed his hand from the appendage and reached towards my shorts. His fingers pushed up my thigh towards my panties. They inched up under the elastic, lined with tiny pink bows. I heard him make a low, guttural sound, like an animal. Doodles started barking and whining outside the door, his claws digging into the wood. The man said, as if to himself, “This will be our little secret.” Then, to me he said, “Don’t you dare tell anyone about this, darlin’, you hear me? This is a secret. If I hear you tell a soul, if you tell your mamma or papa, you’ll wish you hadn’t.” A chill touched my tender heart at his words.
Dark, phantom figures began to ooze from every orifice in his body. Their macabre faces were contorted into expressions of doom, heartache, and misery. They streamed out of him like some spectral river and headed straight for my heart. I felt myself start to drift away, tucking into some semblance of safety outside of myself, but just before I vanished, I glanced at his face. It was the face of my so-called uncle, Uncle Anders. With a bone chilling scream, I awoke, sitting up straight in bed.
Cam shot up next to me and clutched me. “Are you alright? What’s the matter?”
I was gasping, sucking air in huge gulps. My chest was moving up and down like a broken, jittery arm of an oil rig. My voice was rasping, making terrified sounds that I did not know I could make.
“Chérie, Chérie, Chérie, oh, my baby, tell me what’s the matter,” Cam implored. “It was just a nightmare, just a dream. Shh, shh, shh, shh, babe.”
“No.” I was sobbing. “It was not just a nightmare…n-n-not…just…a…dream.”
Cam stroked my hair with his strong hands and pressed me close against his chest. “Shh, babe, shh...”
He held me tightly while my lungs heaved with sobs. My face was drenched with wet, salty tears. I didn’t know I had that much fluid inside of me, but the tears continued to pour down my cheeks, my neck, even my chest. My nose ran with snot, big gooey gobs that I wiped with the back of my hand. Cam reached over to grab a tissue from the nightstand. He dabbed at my eyes and my nose before handing me a wad of tissue.
“Here, I think you need the whole box,” he said, with a small hopeful smile.
I looked at his face, searched his eyes for comfort, my eyes brimming with despair. Then, I just wrapped my arms tightly around him and pressed my face into his chest.
Cam rocked me for a long time, in silence, waiting for my tears to end. After a while, he eased me down onto the bed and enveloped me in his protective arms. By the time dawn had arrived, my sobs had diminished to whimpers, then sniffles. Cam continued to hold me in silence, his breath quiet and even. I lay next to him, feeling broken and empty. How had this happened? Why hadn’t I remembered such a thing? My world seemed cracked into pieces like I had been living in a fantasy all my life. But it all made sense, now. My promiscuity as a young teen…the anxiety I experienced when touched between my legs…the difficulty I had finding pleasure in intercourse. Now, it all seemed crystal clear. Or, did I make it all up in some elaborate scheme to justify my actions? I felt so confused I could not tell what the truth of my life was and what had been made up.
When the sunlight became bold, streaming in through the window, Cam arose wordlessly and went downstairs to the kitchen. Twenty minutes later he returned with a cup of steaming tea.
“Ready to talk about it?”
My voice was hoarse from crying. “Remember I showed you that picture of some uncle whom I didn’t remember?” I croaked. “I had this awful dream…that these creatures were trying to eat out my heart…that they had eaten most of it and were ready to finish it off…and that this Anders fellow had…had…” My voice fell off into a sob.
“It’s okay, babe. When you’re ready,” Cam said in low, soothing tones. He kneaded my back, wiped the tears from my face with his warm thumbs.
“T-t-this uncle…he touched me…here.” I pointed down to the space between my legs.
Cam sat waiting, barely breathing. His blue eyes probed me with concern.
“He told me it was supposed to be a secret. He…he pinned me to the bed while he held his...while he held his…his…his thing.” I spat out the words like they were toxic. “And Doodles…Doodles was trying to get in. Now, I remember my father replacing my bedroom door when I was a little girl. “
Cam continued to sit very still, listening intently.
“And when I was next to you…on the bed, I mean…this morning…I was thinking that the dream made my whole life make sense. Things just fell into place in some weird prismatic way. I don’t know…it feels like I have lived with…I KNOW I have lived with this secret my whole life.”
Cam said, “Are you really sure? This is serious stuff you are saying.”
“Are you trying to tell me that I’m making it all up?” I pushed at his chest.
“No. No, babe, I just want you to be sure that what you are telling me is the truth…that it really happened.”
“You sound like my mother, telling me to stop making things up. What about what happened last night? Did I make THAT up?”
“Sweetie, I don’t know what happened last night. All you told me was that it went okay.”
�
��Well, Mr. Dallas tried to RAPE me!” I groaned, floodgates opening again.
“He did WHAT?” Cam’s voice became ferocious. “The fucking bastard did WHAT?”
“He tried to kiss me…then he unzipped his pants. He said he wanted to take me out for a drink and when I refused, he pressed up against me and tried to…to…” Fresh wounds throbbed in my gut at the thought of last night.
Now Cam was up, pacing around the room, as I let the story fall from my lips. “That goddamned bastard,” he roared. “Who the fuck does he think he is?” He picked up a magazine and smacked it into the wall. Then he came over to me and held my face in his hands. “Oh, my beautiful Chérie, I’m so sorry. We will make this right. We will get help for you. We’ll prosecute that fucking Mr. Dallas if we have to, we’ll….I don’t know, we’ll do something.” He stood up again and started striding around the room, pacing like a caged animal.
Now, it was my turn to console. “Come here. I don’t like to see you so upset.”
“You think I like seeing YOU crying your guts out over some man’s insanity? You don’t do those things to children, Cheerio. You NEVER touch a child like that. And as for last night, you don’t touch a woman without her consent.” He was enraged. Finally, he came back and sat next to me, exhausted and furious.
Neither one of us knew what to do at this point. I felt completely spent. Cam wanted to take action, to take it out on someone, to make someone pay. Just then, two furry heads peeked around the corner.
Boy, you two are noisy, thought Mac.
And loud, added Jack.
The two cats, which had presumably been hiding downstairs all this time, padded in and jumped on the bed. Mac started grooming my hands, licking my fingers and nip, nip, nipping on invisible fleas, while Jack sat next to me, purring. They seemed to want to restore sanity to this room. I couldn’t blame them in the least. I wanted my sanity back, too. Or, maybe I had never had it, and it was time to go find some. Either way, I appreciated the nearness of my two feline beasties. I worked my fingers into both of their backs, scratching their favorite spots.
