Of course, my uncle made noises about being pro-gay rights. He also talked a good game about not beating women and, I’m sure, about not harming kids.
“I was dreading this night. I told myself it was because I didn’t think I could stand to hear some of you talk about your own experiences, but that wasn’t the truth. The truth is, it’s me. It’s me.”
I remember the afternoon I went to take a nap on her bed. My aunt and uncle’s bed….But I only remember parts. I do remember the curtains, a yellow brown, and the color of sunlight that filtered through them. I remember the “Scientific American” magazine on the nightstand and how I struggled to understand it. I remember stretching out on the big bed with the pillows and stretching out to sleep. And then. And then…
I’m haunted by something that happened years ago. In fact, several things that happened many years ago. I am the survivor of a violent rape and a less violent, but still upsetting, sexual assault. And years ago, when I was no more than 10, something happened that has left me with fuzzy memories and remembrances of things that just aren’t right.