I was fourteen, turning fifteen in August. I don’t know where Frank was, but the deal that summer was that I’d stay with his ex wife Kristie, babysitting my nephew Matthew for $20 a week and all the Basic cigarettes I could smoke, living in the projects in Canton, Ohio, so that she could work nights at The Pizza Oven under the table and keep collecting welfare and WIC.

This is a difficult story for me as an adult to write on. As I sat reflecting upon the story today it is in some ways entirely new. New, in that, I am seeing it in an entirely different light today than I had at the wise old age of fourteen.

I will compartmentalize my heartbreak for a moment in order to attempt to preserve the memory from my fourteen year old perspective and come back at the end as myself today.

It was summer. The nights were hot as the only air conditioning were window units in Matthew and Kristie’s bedrooms, which were upstairs.

Matthew was in bed, sleeping. He was such a good little kid.

Kristie was at work.

There was a soft knock at the door.

It was Kristie’s “boyfriend”, Rob.

“Boyfriend” is in quotation marks because Rob was married. He was a regular fixture at the house when Kristie didn’t have to work and I could hear them loudly having sex from the couch, downstairs, where I slept at night.

The story as I heard Kristie tell other women in the projects was that Rob was planning to leave his wife.

“She’s crazy!”, she’d tell them. “He has to do it over time. That’s why he can’t just leave.”

Rob was 26. I’m not sure how old Kristie was, but she was 21, 22? I actually have no idea. I just assume she was somewhere around Frank’s age.

“Kristie is closing tonight and is going to be pretty late. She asked me to bring this pizza by.”

I let Rob in.

I was watching Casper, the one with Christina Ricci. I had seen Casper before and really loved the movie.

“Mind if I join you?”, he asked, seeing that I was preoccupied with the television.

In all the interactions with Rob I’d had to that point he seemed friendly. He had great taste in music and he told me he had a recording studio in his apartment that he could record me on vocals sometime.

He seemed to enjoy spending time with Kristie and Matthew and there was zero part of me that thought him sticking around would be inappropriate.

“You might get scared here all by yourself at night. I’ll stay until Kristie gets home.”

There continued to be zero reservation in my mind about his imposition upon my movie night.

Plus, he brought the deep dish pizza with caramelized cheese on the crust and the crispy pepperoni. I’m not sure I even noticed he was in the room any longer.

My eyes moved to a paper bag that he held in his hand which held the shape of a bottle.

“Do you mind if I have a beer while I’m here?”

I remember thinking it was a weird question.

Historically, he and Kristie would throw back beers without asking me for permission.

They would also let me have a bottle or two.

I don’t remember if I answered.

He pulled the 40 oz bottle out of the bag, opened it, took a big swig and sat down a lot closer than I liked, next to me on the couch.

“You wanna swig?”

Sure. I took a swig.

So the movie Casper is a roller coaster of emotions. Never one to mind the ride, I was teary eyed and probably hugging myself on my side of the couch and no doubt my own little world inside my head.

I sensed him looking over at me.

“Oh, hey!”, he said softly, edging closer to me, covering me with his body and his arms.

They felt heavy.

They felt good.

I openly started crying.

Like, hysterically.

“Hey. What’s going on?”, he said gently. So gently. He put his hand under my chin and lifted my head so that my face was square with his.

I did not know why I was so emotional.

I had no words to explain what had overcome me.

Obviously the content of the movie had triggered emotion, but not in the proportion of which it was exiting from my body.

“I … I’ve just never been hugged like that before.”

That was true.

But my words and explanation didn’t click the way a genuine root cause does for me when I am exploring them with regard to big emotion emanating from me like that.

It wasn’t the hug.

He pulled me in to his lap, like a baby, his arms wrapped tightly but gently around me, cradling me.

His heavy arms.

He held me awkwardly for I don’t know how long.

I felt too big to be held that way.

And at the same time I loved the way that it made me feel.

I felt safe.

I felt cared for.

I felt his hand start to go up the back of my shirt.

I froze.

I blotted out memory.

I know enough to know that some of my memories I retain but have kept buried.

I know they are still there, but thankfully my brain will only I only reveal what I am ready for.

We were on the floor.

The project housing had this cheap low-pile commercial carpet that was wildly uncomfortable to lie on.

Especially for a bony 14 year old girl with a who-knows-how-heavy 26 year old man lying on top of her.

“Do you want me to go down on you?”

I did not know what those words meant.

I let my face say as much.

“You know? Lick you. Down there.”

I did not know what to say or why that would be something either of us would want to do.

“Let me just try it. We can stop any time. Any time you want me to stop, tell me to stop.”

That seemed reasonable.

He pulled my pants down.

I just felt awkward.

He was kissing me, gently, then passionately, on my mouth.

I felt cared for.

He was making his way down and I felt gross.

Never one to really ever be able to hide my face, I can imagine it stayed true by saying what I felt.

“Do you want me to stop?”

He licked again.

I just felt gross.

He was staring at me with a look like I should be begging him for more.

He was asking me if I wanted him to stop like I should be encouraging him to continue.

The words and his body language were on opposite spectrums.

I could not have felt more unsure of anything.

He half smiled, a flicker in his eye. “Do you want me to stop?”

“It’s weird”, I managed to say.

---

November 13, 2022 me: I have made a startling revelation that I have reasoned and granted an unhealthy amount of excuses for people in my past.

They teach you “right” from “wrong” when you’re a kid but they are always specific rights and wrongs. Tell the truth vs don’t lie, for example.

They never give an exhaustive list of rights and wrongs though and you are left to figure out and navigate through many of them in life all on your own.

You’re kind of a dumbass if you don’t know right from wrong.

Adults have authority.

Adults make the rules.

Adults can be trusted.

In my teens through about an hour ago I hadn’t believed anything to be wrong about this interaction.

He tongue-kissed Kristie when she returned from work and after another drink they had their loud sex upstairs while I tried to sleep on the couch.

Just an ordinary day. Nothing to see here.

Nothing to think here.

Nothing to feel here.

Except today, I feel.

And this one is going to take me some time to work through.

Because who or what failed me in this scenario?

Rob?

Kristie?

My parents? For sending me to live in the projects alone at nights by myself to care for a toddler at fourteen?

The public school system for not teaching me healthy boundaries for myself?

All of the above?

Who do I get mad at?

Who will take responsibility for all of that now, after all of these years?

It is just me.

It is just me.

And this fucking sucks.

---

11/1/2023 update:
When you’re a survivor of sexual abuse, they teach you that it is normal to feel a sense of responsibility for things like this.

To date, I have found evidence of that sense of responsibility, concluded, “yep! that sounds right!” But not ever freed myself of that sense of responsibility. Especially with this one.

And here’s why:

What I didn’t write about in this entry was that some amount of time later, I invited Rob to my parents house when nobody else was home.

I don’t even know how I got his phone number. I think I just looked it up in the phone book.

I didn’t know what I wanted from him, but I knew very well now, how I could get it.

I told him I’d be taking care of him. I had no idea what that even meant. Not really. Not really, really.

But I had observed that Casper night that I had something that he wanted. And he provided something to me as well.

I just wanted to be held. Cradled like a baby. I wanted to be loved. I wanted to feel loved.

I release myself from this responsibility of being a kid – I was only 14!! – who just wanted to be loved. I deserved to be and to have felt love.

I release myself from the responsibility that a child cannot have with regard to the feelings and sexual needs of a grown man.

I release myself from that unhealthy bond that represents a sense of responsibility that a child does not need to earn.

I release myself.