Dirty little secrets

by Deja King

  “Oh, Michael, I can’t believe you did this.”

  “Maria, you are my queen. I’m going to give you the world.” Mother beamed with joy. She’d finally found her Prince Charming, and he had swept her off her feet. As she sat in the driver’s seat of her new car, I heard someone say, “Hey, Dad, what’s going on out here?”

  “Evan, remember I told you that today Maria and her daughters would be moving in? Say hello to my little princesses, Ella and Tyler, your new sisters.”

  “That’s right,” Evan said, as if just remembering. “Hi, Maria, it’s nice to see you again.” He waved at Mother, then turned to us and spoke in a soft eerie voice. “Hello, I’m Evan, your new big brother.” He reached out to shake hands, and I immediately felt uncomfortable at his touch.

  We all went into the house, and Mother took Ella and me to our new room. “Isn’t our house beautiful?” Mother gushed, as though she could no longer contain her excitement. “You girls are welcome to have your own rooms, but I thought for now you would like to share.” She was right; I needed to feel safe in my new surroundings, and although Ella was only five years older than I was, she seemed like a second mother. I needed to be near her in our new home. Plus the room was humongous. It was decorated in all-pink Hello Kitty, with two canopy beds, one on each side of the room. Mother even had posters of my favorite actresses on the wall, Brat Pack members, Demi Moore, Molly Ringwald, and supersexy Vanity. I loved her in The Last Dragon. We had our own big color television and loads of dolls and toys. It was as if this bedroom had been waiting for us all our lives.

  After only a few months of living in our new home, Ella, Evan, and I were whisked off to Las Vegas for a quickie wedding between Mother and our new dad. That’s when it truly hit me that my parents were divorced and there was no chance for reconciliation. Accepting that made it a lot easier to adjust to my new life.

  Daddy showered us with presents and love, and Mother never seemed happier. The only thing I didn’t like was my stepbrother, Evan, who was sixteen. He seemed sinister. Sometimes I would catch him staring at me, as if he were looking through me, not at me. And his eyes had a coldness to them. Evan gave off the negative energy of a dangerous young man. Even his relationship with Daddy seemed strained.

  After we had been living in our new house about a year, I walked in the kitchen one afternoon and unexpectedly interrupted an argument. Daddy had his hand raised as if he was about to hit Evan. I had never seen Daddy so upset. When Daddy saw me, he quickly calmed down, but Evan gave me the creepiest grin as he turned and walked away. It was as if he purposely tried to upset Daddy to see how far he could push him. We were all relieved that Evan was leaving in a couple of days to stay with his mother for the summer. I always felt uneasy in his presence and couldn’t wait to have him out of the house.

  That night I woke up to use the bathroom. Mother had told me not to drink any more Kool-Aid before bed, but of course I didn’t listen. When I walked out of the bathroom, Evan was standing in the hallway eating an oatmeal cookie Mother had baked earlier that day. He looked me over with his dark eyes and held out the cookie, offering me a piece. I shook my head and walked past him. I was completely taken off guard when he grabbed my arm and pulled me into his room. He had one hand across my mouth and used the other to kick the door. I couldn’t comprehend what was going on, but I knew I was in trouble. Evan quietly whispered in my ear, “Tyler, I don’t want to hurt you. When I take my hands from over your mouth, please don’t scream or you’ll be sorry. Do you understand?”

  I nodded, but as soon as he released his hand I let out a short scream. He slapped me across the face and put his hand back over my mouth.

  “I told you not to scream, you little bratty bitch!” He was breathing hard and my heart was racing. Evan lifted me up, one hand still across my mouth, and carried me over to his bed. My legs were kicking, but at six years old I was no match for this sixteen-year-old boy. After dropping me on his bed, he used his body to hold me still, one hand still over my mouth; with the other he began shoving down his blue boxer shorts. I finally realized what Evan planned to do to me. He was like an actor in the movies on television; Mother always warned me to stay away from men like that. I felt like I was going to throw up. Evan finally got his shorts down far enough, and I saw the hardness of his penis. I began to kick furiously. He yanked my cotton nightgown out of his way and reached for my floral panties. As he pressed my head down hard on the pillow, part of me wanted to give up the fight and give in to the inevitable, but I didn’t want to be a victim. I didn’t want to be like the little girls I heard about in school and church who had been raped or molested. But at the same time my mind and body were frozen, and I couldn’t react. Fear held me and I felt sick and alone.

  There was no sound in the room, except Evan’s panting, the rustle of his frantic movements, and my sharp, frightened breathing. In the moonlight coming through the window I could see the depraved look in his eyes. A surge of energy came over me, and all of a sudden I started fighting as if my life depended on it. He was too strong and athletic, but feeling his cold hands invading my body made me fight harder. He got frustrated with my struggling and punched me in my jaw. My head rocked to the side from the impact, and from the corner of my eye I could see the door open slightly and a shadow run away. I wanted to scream for whoever it was to come back. Evan finally ripped off my panties and was about to violate me when the bedroom door burst open. I sobbed when I saw Mother, Daddy, and Ella standing in the doorway. Daddy threw on the light switch and stared in shock at Evan standing over me, one hand still on my mouth and his penis hanging out for all to see. Evan jumped up and stumbled backward, trying to stuff himself back into his pants.

  A look of rage like I had never seen before filled Daddy’s eyes. He looked like a demon. Suddenly he lunged at Evan, punching him with such force that Evan fell to the floor. He began stomping on him and yelling, “You sick sonofabitch! This is what you like to do? Fuck little girls?”

  Mother ran forward. “Michael, calm down! You’re going to kill him!”

  “Any man who messes with a little girl deserves to die! And if it’s a son of mine, I’m going to kill him myself because he’s already dead to me.” He continued to stomp Evan until he saw blood rolling down the side of his mouth and Evan could no longer beg for mercy.

  Mother and Ella were now holding me close. Daddy had stopped kicking Evan and stood over him, fists clenched, breathing like a bull. “Boy, you are dead to me. As far as I’m concerned, I don’t have a son. You were never born. You can stay here tonight, but first thing in the morning I’m going to put you on the plane for your mother’s and I don’t ever want to see your face again.” As his father wandered away, Evan still lay on the floor, curled up in a fetal position.

  When I woke in the morning, Evan was gone. Later that day some movers came and cleaned out his entire room. Any picture or item that had to do with Evan was removed. Daddy had erased his memory as though he never existed. No one was to ever speak Evan’s name, and Daddy tried even harder to spoil me, hoping I would forget the incident ever happened. But no matter how many gifts or trips to amusement parks I had, that dreadful night with Evan remained fixed in my mind.

  Blossoming Flower

  During the summer of 1994 I turned fourteen and began to transform from a caterpillar into a butterfly. I was now a curvaceous teenager with full breasts, a small waist, and a round butt. Lots of boys wanted to date me and I wanted to date, too, but not any of the clowns in my school. The boys gossiped more than the girls. They would brag about who was going all the way or who was just giving professionals. Their conversations always turned vulgar, and I was determined not to be a topic for any of them.

  “Girl, we got our asses kicked tonight by Druid Hills. Our football team needs to step it up,” my girlfriend Lisa said, full of frustration. Lisa had a big mouth, with a big butt and chest to go with it. Everybody told her she looked like Lauryn Hill, so she swore her shit didn’t stink. Lisa got
on most people’s nerves with her sometimes obnoxious attitude, but I didn’t pay her any mind. She was more of the in-your-face type, and I was more subtle, which made us click. The times she did get on my nerves, I would just put her on Pause for a minute.

  “Who cares? I’m starving; let’s go get something to eat,” I said as we were leaving the football field.

  “You always eating, and I don’t know where all the weight goes wit yo little ass,” Lisa said as she sucked her teeth.

  “Whatever. Let’s go,” I said, agitated with Lisa. That was the one thing I hated about going to the football games with her. She always wanted to linger in the parking lot where all the fellas hung out, in search of her latest prey. Lisa called it shooting the breeze. I called it trying to get her pimp game on.

  “Can I come with you?” a male voice asked. I turned around and was pleasantly surprised to see a well-built, butterscotchcomplexioned hottie standing in front of me. Lisa immediately jumped beside me and stuck out her enormous chest, giving the guy one of her “sexy” looks.

  “Aren’t you Chad Mills, the star quarterback for Druid Hills?” Lisa asked, sounding like she was about to eat him up.

  “Yeah, that’s right. What’s your friend’s name?”

  “Oh, that’s just Tyler.” Lisa waved her hand as if dismissing me. “I’m Lisa. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She stepped forward, extending her hand. Chad did her one better by extending his hand directly toward me.

  “Hi, Tyler. I’m Chad. It’s nice to meet you,” he said. He took my hand and held it, and I could feel myself blushing. Lisa made it worse by standing beside me with her lips poked out.

  “I’ve never seen you before,” Chad said. “Are you new to North Atlanta?”

  “Yeah, this is actually my first year. I went to Sutton Middle School last year.”

  “Oh, so you’re a freshman?”

  “Yeah,” I answered shyly.

  “You have to be the prettiest freshman I’ve ever seen.”

  “You’re sweet,” I gushed, sounding like a love-struck teenager.

  “I would love to call you. Can I get your number?”

  “Sure,” I said, smiling. Chad was just the type of guy I had been searching for. He was handsome, he was at least a junior so he had to be somewhat mature, and he made me feel at ease. Because Evan had assaulted me, when guys tried to date me, I always felt as if they had an ulterior motive. I was scared to be alone with them because I believed they would harm me in some way. With Chad, those thoughts did not cross my mind. Both his looks and his status as a football star would make all my friends envious of me. Plus he came across as a sweetheart. I definitely had stars in my eyes.

  After our initial encounter, Chad and I were inseparable. He would come over and we’d make out for hours. My parents were oblivious of what we were doing because they thought Chad was the greatest. Chad’s mother belonged to the same country club as my mother, and his father did business with Daddy, so they had no problem leaving us alone. Besides, my parents were trying to salvage what was left of their shaky marriage. For the last couple of years it had been deteriorating. It hit rock bottom when Ella left for college. Ella had been the glue holding our family together. She was the type of child who demanded we take family vacations and eat dinner together every night. Without her there to keep the family united, Daddy began to distance himself. Mother soon realized that Daddy, like so many other men, was having an affair, and so she began her own fling. Without constant praise and attention from Daddy, Mother became insecure and sought confirmation elsewhere that she was still beautiful.

  One evening she was supposed to be at a country club meeting, preparing for a dinner honoring the female socialites of Atlanta. Worried when she never showed up, her friend Beatrice called the house looking for her. Daddy told her something had come up at the last minute and Mother couldn’t make it.

  When Mother came home, he asked her how her meeting went, and she said, “Great.” Before Mother could even shut the door, Daddy was standing in the foyer ready to grill her. “Maria, don’t fucking lie to me. Beatrice called here looking for you after you didn’t show up.”

  “I know. I got there right after she got off the phone with you. I was held up trying to make some last-minute revisions, and I was late to the meeting.” Mother always knew how to remain cool under pressure. She spoke so matter-of-factly that you couldn’t help but want to believe her.

  “Okay, then you’ll have no problem getting Beatrice on the phone to confirm your story.”

  “I’m not a child, Michael, and I won’t be calling Beatrice to ask her such a silly question.” Once again, but now as a teenager, I stood at the top of the stairs watching a drama unfold.

  “Maria, you better get Beatrice on the phone right now or—,” Daddy said in a threatening voice.

  “Or what, Michael? You’re going to run out and go see your mistress? Tell her I said hello.” Mother turned away.

  It was like a flashback from the past when Daddy said, “Maria, don’t you walk away from me!” Then he took off after her, and they were out of my sight. When I heard the loud thump of Mother hitting the marble floor in the foyer, I ran downstairs to save her, just as Ella had so many years ago.

  “Daddy, stop!” I screamed, just as Daddy was about to land a second punch. He froze and stared at me with the same shameful look that Evan had had on his face when he got caught with his pants down.

  “Tyler, go back upstairs. This is between your mother and me,” Daddy said, standing over Mother and trying to hide the anger that had taken over him. Mother still lay on the floor, looking helpless and scared.

  “Michael, please don’t do this in front of Tyler. You promised that no matter how angry you got, you would never put your hands on me in front of the children.” I stared in shock. Mother’s face was riddled with shame and fear. What was she saying? Had Daddy hit her before and I just didn’t know about it? Daddy took a deep breath, and Mother slowly began to stand up. I knew my parents had problems, but never did I believe the relationship had become abusive. Daddy walked downstairs to the entertainment room, and Mother grabbed my hand and asked me to follow her upstairs. We went in my bedroom and sat on the bed. Mother held my hand like she did when I was a little girl.

  “Tyler, I’m sorry you had to witness the altercation between your father and me. I never expected him to hit me with you in the house.”

  “Has he hit you before?”

  Mother glanced at me with sorrowful eyes, giving away the answer.

  “But I thought you said if a man ever hits you, you must immediately leave him.”

  “Baby, look at everything your father has provided for us. We are accustomed to a lifestyle that most people only dream of. He has fulfilled our every fantasy.” As Mother spoke, I was confused, torn, and disgusted.

  With great sarcasm, I said, “So it’s okay for a man to knock you around if he’s rich and takes good care of you? But if he is poor, like my real father was, then it’s not worth sticking around?”

  “Tyler, you watch your mouth. Your father was worthless. He had no ambition and couldn’t hold a decent job. If I stayed with him, we would be stuck in the land of the dead. Do you think you would be living in a million-dollar house and wearing designer jeans? Hell, no! Michael has provided us with a better life, and if he loses his temper once in a while, then so be it.” Mother’s face was red and her body was shaking.

  I couldn’t believe the words coming out of my mother’s mouth. She had sold her soul for money and material gain. Not only was Daddy having an affair, but he was also beating her ass, and it was okay as long as the lifestyle continued. I wanted to lash out at her.

  “So, the man you’re fucking now… are you going to leave Daddy for him the way you left my father? Or are his pockets not deep enough?”

  Mother stood up and slapped me. I grabbed my face and glared up at her.

  “I know I haven’t been the perfect mother, but everything I’ve done has bee
n for the love of you and Ella. All I ever wanted was to provide a good life and not have you faced with the same struggles I had growing up. But no matter what I do or don’t do, you will respect me. You respect the bullshit I endured in order to escape the dreadful existence that would have been your life if you didn’t have a mother determined to find a better way. One day when you have your own kids and you want a better life for them, come have a conversation with me and let me know what you will and won’t tolerate from a man.” With that, Mother turned her back and walked away, but not before I saw the tears rolling down her cheeks. I had hurt her and I never wanted to do that. Mother was my hero, and I loved her more than life itself.

  As the school year began to wind down, Chad and I had become closer than ever. He made me feel special. He would surprise me with flowers, romantic handmade cards, and little gifts. He seemed like the ideal boyfriend—good family, intelligent, a star athlete, and handsome. What more could a girl ask for? But I wasn’t in love. I was physically attracted to him, but I wasn’t passionate about him. Chad was safe because he was feeling more for me than I was feeling for him, so there was no way he could break my heart. After seeing the drama in both of my mother’s marriages, I began thinking that love was way overrated. Still, I yearned for a man to make me feel loved.

  Although I was only fifteen, that desire pushed me to take my relationship with Chad to the next level. My parents were out for dinner, and I asked Chad to come over and keep me company. We were watching 9½Weeks, and I began teasing him about how sexy Mickey Rourke was. “Chad, look at how Mickey Rourke is fucking the shit out of Kim Basinger. I bet she has had at least three orgasms.”