I was 4 When I started school, and I think my sister was already going to the convent by then as she's a little older than me. I mention this only to get a perspective on time because it's difficult to know how old I was exactly when the "trouble" began in earnest. I know I was small because his hands were so big. That sounds like such an obvious thing to say about being a child compared to being a man but it's a funny thing about memory, what leaves its mark in your brain and what fades as quickly as it happened! Our memories of events and time are all jumbled up and even when 2 people have experienced something together, like growing up together, we all have different perceptions of what that time was like. We come to it through our own individual lens.
In the beginning my relationship between my grandfather and myself seemed normal and affectionate
as far as I know. My sister didn't like to be cuddled or tickled so I got all that attention and at first it all seemed good but at some point in time, I'm not exactly sure how old I was, things became a bit more nefarious. The tickling progressed in intensity and the areas he tickled changed from simple waist and stomach, to my chest area, squeezing my bottom and running his hands up and down my thighs to the crotch of my panties. I remember being very confused because I loved my grandfather very much, but every time these events occurred, and the more often they occurred, I began feeling sick to my stomach, but I wasn't sure why. One of my clearest memories is of being out on my
grandparents terrace that overlooked a small lawn and then a garden with gooseberry bushes in it. I had been running around and my mother and grandmother were both in the house. As I ran past my grandfather he reached out and caught me, pulling me into his side as he sat in a deckchair. At first he was tickling me with his big hands and I was giggling. He had me by the waist and put his right hand on my thigh, running it up and down my leg several times but then he went higher and quickly he pushed his finger into me. I screamed loudly, and cried out and he quickly released me. I was inconsolable and when my mother and grandmother ran out to see what had happened my grandfather began to explain that I had been bitten by a ladybug? I was holding myself and I wept while he stared
at me and tried to pull me in to appear to be comforting me. I knew by the look on his face that I was in trouble. My mother tried to console me but she felt I was making a lot of fuss over a little bite and she began to be angry with me too. Looking back this was a pivotal point for me. I never said a word. I just cried and my grandmother took me inside to wipe my face and look for the bite mark which of course there was none which furthered the frustration over my apparent hysteria over nothing! A natural response really. Looking back something changed in me that day.
I felt suddenly alone for the first time.
I was trapped in a web of secrets and lies that I didn't really understand.
No comments:
Post a Comment