Chapter 2
Damn it, why does this always happen the night before a test? I ask myself as I sat up and rub my eyes. I had had another nightmare. I reach for my cell phone and dial the number. I can feel tears in my eyes. My body is freezing from the pouring sweat coming off it. Ring ring ring I hear on the other line. Come on man, answer.
“Hello,” says a very sleepy voice on the other end.
“Thank God you answered John. It happened again. It was worse this time. It was under the bridge again.” I inform my friend John on the other end of the phone.
“Crap Sarah. You need to do something about this. Don’t get me wrong, I love getting phone calls at three in the morning from you, but it isn’t healthy to you. You need to tell your parents. They have to know. The police might be able to do something with that prick. He needs to go to jail, or be shot, either one.”
“You know I can’t tell them man. They all love him to death. They will never believe what he did to me. I mean what can I do to prove to them? It happened six years ago.”
“I don’t give a shit Sarah, tell them. These nightmares seem to be coming more and more frequently now. They will not go away until you speak up.”
“Gee thanks man. A lot of help you are.” I laugh. “But really thanks for being there. Just hearing your voice has helped. I think I’m gonna try to get offa here and get some sleep. I have a huge algebra test tomorrow.”
“K Sis, call me if you need me. I love you girl.” John reinforces me.
“K, thanks again man. G’night and I love ya too bro.” I hang up and lay back down. The dream replays in my head as I feel the tears start to fall down my cheeks.
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I’m riding in an old truck. My little seven year old body is bouncing as the truck hits the bumps on the old highway from Maryville up to Townsend. It’s late, very dark out. It makes the ride seem longer. I know where we are going. My uncle picked me up from my parent’s house to go spend the night with him and my aunt while they were in town. They had my Granny in with them. I couldn’t wait to see my Granny. I loved my Granny.
“What do you say we take a short pit stop up here?” my uncle grins at me. He pulls me to sit closer beside him. He takes my little hand and holds it on his legs. “Here, you look bored. Would you like something to play with?” he undoes his zipper and pulls it out. I can’t believe what he’s doing. At the time my little seven year old brain has no idea what it is he puts my hand on and starts moving it rhythmically back and forth. I can feel it grow in my hand as he starts to moan. He pulls the truck over underneath a bridge. It’s so dark that you cannot see anything without a light. He turns the truck off and switches off the head lights. And climbs out of the truck pulling me with him. We walk to the passenger side of the truck. He leans back against it and pushes me down on my knees.
“Put it in your mouth sweetie.” He says as he tries to move my head closer. I fight with all the strength in me. It looked like a snake and I had no intention of ever putting that in my mouth. It looked like a snake head that keeps popping out of a whole when he had me rub it. (This is now what I know as being uncircumcised).
“Come on baby, I know you’re curious about it. Do you not want to make me feel good?” he asked as he eventually was able to get my mouth onto the thing. I was afraid it was a snake and would come alive and bite my tongue off. He shoved it so deep in my mouth that it was gagging me. He didn’t care he put his hands on the back of my head and started forcing it on and off his member. It tasted like the worst thing in the world. I had to keep from retching. He was moaning with evident pleasure. How could someone get pleasure from this I thought? “That’s it baby, lick that lollipop.” He moaned out. This went on forever it seemed to my young mind. Finally he grabbed hold of my long hair and forced my mouth all the way onto it and I felt him shudder. That is when I tasted the absolute worst thing I have ever had in my mouth. It was hot, and salty, and sour and bitter all at the same time. I started gagging but he kept my mouth held shut as he let me remove it from “it”.
“You have to swallow it. It makes it all the better.” He said as he held my head until I was able to force myself to let the vile liquid creep down the back of my throat. It took every ounce of control I had in my small body to keep from vomiting it all back up. He pulled a towel out from behind his seat and rubs himself off and handed it to me to wipe my mouth off with. Then he climbed back in the truck as if nothing had happened and told me to hurry up. We didn’t want my aunt to get suspicious.
“This is just our lil secret. No one can know, if they do we will both get in a lot of trouble.” He nonchalantly informed me as he started up the truck and drove off.
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This is when I woke up and called John. Why will these nightmares not leave me alone? I wonder to myself. This is only one of the many incidents that I dream of. There have been others. On the bank in Laurel Valley, in his brown leather chair at his house, the bathroom at his house, the ugly orange colored leather love seat at my Granny’s. Even just sitting in his truck going down the road he had to fondle me. I have many memories of this.
It all started when I was around five or six, I have blocked out the exact ages, and ended what I was around nine or ten. Let me guess, you thought I had the perfect childhood? Everyone does. Not many believe me when I tell them my father’s brother-in-law molested me. Thank God for John though. I told him when I was twelve and he has been there for me ever since then. If I have a bad dream I can call him and he will be there. He has been my support, my beacon of light, my savior through the last four years. Right now I believe that only about three people know of what has happened to me. And that’s the way I want it. I was a bad girl. I should have never done those things. It was my fault that they happened. This is the rationalization that my sixteen year old brain is telling me. I could have stopped it at any time by just saying no.
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“Hey John, it’s me again. It happened again tonight.” I call my brother a week later, same dream different night.
“Girl, go downstairs right now and tell your parents. They need to know, and I bet you ten to one they will believe you. In fact I know they will.” I light up a cig, “Just do it now Sarah.”
“They will not believe me John, I know it. I just want these dreams to stop. I can’t handle it anymore.” I start crying.
“You can do it and they will believe you. Would you do anything in the world for me Sarah?”
“You know I would John. I’m always here for you.”
“Then promise me you will do something, for me.”
“Anything John”
“Ok, promise me when we get off the phone you will go downstairs and wake your parents up and tell them what has happened. Sarah, now promise me.”
“I can’t John. I just can’t.”
“Yes you can Sarah, and you already said you would do anything in the world for me, so do this for me. Because as much as I love talking to you I can’t keep getting woke up at 3:30 am.” He laughs.
I take a hit off my cig and breathe in deep.
“Yes John, I promise. I will do it.”
“Great, now I’m going back to bed and you are going to go tell your parents. I love you sis, always remember that.”
“Yeah yeah yeah, I love you too bro.” he hangs up.
I lay my phone in my lap and take my time finishing the rest of my cig. I dread what is fixing to happen. I look around my room. It’s completely black, just like my mood. I prepare myself for what’s to come. I put on my robe and take the longest walk downstairs I’ve ever had in my whole life. My feet feel heavy as lead walking down them I can feel my stomach going up into my throat. I feel like I’m fixing to retch. I can hear my dad snoring as I draw closer and closer to their room.
“Mom, mom” I wake her up. “Can you come upstairs for a lil bit? I need to talk to you.”
“Sarah, what is it?”
“Its important mom, I really need to talk.”
“Ok, I’ll be right there.”
I walk back upstairs, feeling like I am on death row. It is four in the morning. I know mom is agitated because I woke her up. I sit down on my bed and light up another cig. Mom knew I smoked but dad still did not know. I hear her footsteps groggily coming up the stairs.
“Ok now, what is it honey?”
“Sit down Mom. I have something really big I need to talk to you about.” She sits down on the bed. “Ok Mom, I don’t know how to say this so I’m just going to blurt it out. JC molested me when I was younger.”
“JC? When? Where?” she looks shocked. Her face is growing red. Oh god. I think, she’s going to have another heart attack.
“It started when I was around five or six and ended when I was around nine or ten. I cannot remember the exact ages because I have blocked a lot of it out. There were numerous times in numerous places. I have blocked most of them out as well, I do remember the worst ones. I have been having nightmares about them lately and John thought that if I finally came out and told you and dad that the dreams would end. Oh God Mom, I am so sorry. It was all my fault.” I start crying, “I should have said no with more force, I should not have let him. I was a bad girl. I am so sorry.”
Mom grabs me and hugs me as tight as she can, “Oh no hunny, it’s not your fault. It’s that sorry son of a bitch's. He is the one to blame, not you. You were young and didn’t understand.” She looks like she is fixing to pass out. “Let me go get your dad.”
“No Mom, I can’t tell him. You do it. I just can’t.”
“It’s ok hun, you just sit there and finish your smoke. When you are done come on downstairs and we will all discuss it.”
That was the night Dad learnt I smoke. I cannot remember any more of the events of that night other than dad’s middle brother came over and talked to us. We thought he believed me then the coward ran to my dad’s sister (JC’s wife) and told them what I had said. Of course they said I was lying. So that same brother went to the police and told them that I had been telling that my uncle molested me and there was no way he would do it because of a certain faction he was incorporated with and a certain ring he wore. We went to the police and I told my story. I sat at the desk of a thin brunette lady cop. I told her everything. Answered every question she had no matter how embarrassing and in the end all she could say was that they could not do anything because of how long it had been since it happened. I felt crushed. I revolted. I fell in with the wrong crowd.
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“Hey Chicka! Bout time you got your ass ready!” I call to Ches as she stumbles out her back door.
“Yeah yeah. I told you I was coming.” Chesney flashes a smile from her freckle covered pale face. Ches is a natural red head, very pale skin covered with freckles. She has emerald eyes which sparkled whenever she was up to mischief. She was shorter than I, but most girls are, and had very short curly hair. She reminded me of little Orphan Annie.
“Girl, shut up and get your butt in here. I’m ready to party.” We were on our way to Ches’ dealer’s house. I was spending the night at her pad and we were planning on getting totally “baked”, if you will, and just having fun all night. She climbed up into my SUV and off we went bouncing down the road towards Top of the World. (Yes, that is a real place in East Tennessee). We pulled into the drive and Ches jumped out and ran up to the door to place her order. She received her “loot” and jumped back in. Driving down the mountain she began rolling a “stick” as she calls it. She sparked it and I tossed in Sublime, which I knew was one of her favorite bands, and off we went. Her favorite song came on, “Smoke Two Joints” and there she was hanging out the window of my car singing at the top of her lungs. I remember pulling back into her drive and going inside. After that the whole night is a blur. We partied and hung out and had one of those conversations that can only be understood when you’re high. I remember waking up the next morning and going to school. Me and Ches both still had a high. It was cool though because we were both able to act straight. This became a norm for me. Hanging out with Ches and getting high. This is on reason I cannot remember much of my high school years.
The one thing I can remember about high school is my theater class. I went into ninth grade Drama I as a shy and timid girl, I emerged a vivacious, energetic sophomore. This is all thanks to my theater teacher Mrs. Q, that’s what the students called her because it was futile to try to spell or pronounce her last name. Mrs. Q is the type of teacher that you immediately respect, not only because she demands it, but also because she earns it. She will be her students’ best friend, their counselor as well as their teacher. She is the one that pulled me out of my shell, she would not take no for an answer. To this day Mrs. Q is my favorite teach, she even attended my wedding and my father’s funeral, but all that is later to come. Mrs. Q is my mother’s age and acts just like my mother. She speaks her mind and sticks her foot down when she needs to. She didn’t care what we did in Theater class as long as we got out work done and didn’t mess anything up or get into any trouble. In fact she even let us sleep as long as we did not have a job to do that day.
I remember one day when I was a freshman, Mrs. Q was working on the stage and went to pull the stage curtains closed. A bat fell out of the curtains and landed on her head. She jumped and spun around. The bat was just as scared of her as she was of it. It took off flying around the stage while she hiked her dress tail up and started jumping around on stage and screaming. The “preps” in the class went running and hid in the light booth while Melissa and myself were standing in front of the stage cracking up. One of the boys ran to the other side of the school to get the physical science teacher to come and catch it. We bugged Mrs. Q about the bat falling on her until the day we graduated.
There are many memories form high school that have been forgotten, but I still have many from my closest friends. While writing this book may of them have come back. Like the time me, Melissa and Mom were in Wal-Mart. Now let me start off saying that Mom hated taking me and Melissa anywhere because of how crazy me and her were together. We were walking back in the material and craft section when I got a wild hair up my ass and turned to Melissa.
“Shishter, let’sh go find an urn for uncle eshter’s ashes!” Mom bout died. I said it really loud and with that exact pronunciation. We ran over to where the glad vases were and I picked one up and looked at mom, “Momma, will thish work?” Melissa was cracking up and mom was beat red. We kept following mom thru the store throwing random stuff in her buggy, including a box of condoms, and the we would hang back and let her get a head of us and we would start making whimpering sounds and saying really loud, in a whiny voice, “No Momma, don’t leave us. Momma where are you going?” Then when we got up in line there were these two women in front of us. They looked like mother and daughter and both were about to pop with child. Neither of them had a wedding ring on either, and here’s Melissa standing there singing at the top of her lungs, “Who’s your Daddy, Who’s your Baby?” Mom was about to just walk out right there. We had her so embarrassed.
Then there was Melissa’s eighteenth birthday. I was dating this one guy at the time and he drove a Tracker. Me and him picked her up and went out on the town for the night to celebrate. Well, Melissa was still a virgin and we decided it was time for her to get over that. We decided to cruise the strip of Kingston Pike in Knoxville. We had the top off his car and had a sign that said, “18 year old virgin wants laid.” Every car we came too with guys in it me and him were yelling it to them and pointing back at her. Melissa was so embarrassed but kept laughing about it. Needless to say, nothing happened that night but we sure did have fun. Then there was the night we decided to go to this old house that everyone says is haunted. Melissa decided she wanted to go back and wait in my boyfriend’s car so I went with her. We were sitting out there in the dark and I kept telling her the story of the house and really playing it up when I noticed him sneaking out behind the car. I knew what he was going to do. Without her seeing him he climbed up on the bumper of the car. I was telling her the scariest story I knew. He started jumping up and down on the bumper to shake the car and that girl shot out of there screaming. It was hilarious.
There were also numerous times that were the sort of time that you would just have to be there to fully grasp the situation. Like when we were driving around and Melissa’s cousin decided to pull her pants down in the back of my explorer and flash everyone at the strip in Maryville. Or the time when I went with Melissa to get her belly button pierced. Her cousin was with us and she had her navel already pierced yet when she saw the blood from Melissa’s piecing she freaked out and about passed out on us.
Then there was always good ‘ol Anna. Me and that girl got in so much trouble together. One time we were driving around in my Explorer with her boyfriend and mine and her gay brother sitting in the back seat. They dared us to drive around without a shirt on, so of course what did we do? Me and her stripped our shirts off and we went driving thru the Wal-Mart parking lot with just our bras on and the windows down. Oh yeah, it was also in the middle of December. Then one time I decided to burn all of the letters I got from my ex-fiancé and we were upstairs in my bed room on the window seat with this huge pan and tearing up the letters and burning them when the smoke alarm went off. Mom came running up the stairs and there was Anna jumping up and down on the bed waving a magazine in under the smoke alarm to get it to go off. Mom still rags us on that one.
Teddy…man what stories do I have on good ‘ol Teddy. Me and Teddy have our many stories, some tellable, some not. We got into everything. We would spend countless hours just riding around Knoxville at night and digging the late night vibe that hung in the air there. We had some very weird conversations about life and love on those nights. We had this thing, as a lot of the people we ran with did, called “finger sex.” It’s not at all what it sounds like either. We would hold the tips of our index fingers to each other’s and move them around and that was basically all there was to finger sex. We would joke around about it and he used to say I impregnated him with it.
Then there was Donny. Man, I’m telling you that boy had more hair styles than a model in a fashion show. He’s had green hair, Mohawks, been completely shaved and everything. When we met Donny used to bug the hell out of me wanting me to date him. He asked me out every day for almost four months until I finally relented and said yes…then broke it off with him two days later telling him I just wanted to be friends. He’s been my little brother ever since.
I also had this friend named Jess my senior year. He was a theater major at Maryville College. There’s not enough paper in the world to describe Jess. Jess was a character. He helped me out a lot with my acting; I got come very great advice from him. I introduced Jess to Donny and a beautiful friendship bloomed from that considering each loved to smoke pot constantly. Jess’ dorm is where I spent many nights at Maryville College when I got there.
One thing I remember about high school is also all the boyfriends I had. I would have a new “flavor” as my uncle calls it every week. I cannot even begin to list all their names. High school to me was a place to learn who I was and to express myself. No, I was not part of the popular clique and to tell you the truth I really did not give a damn either. I had my friends and that’s all that I needed. My and Ches eventually lost touched when she moved away. I got my life sorted back out again and quit smoking. I didn’t have no where near all the guys that I had while hanging out with Ches. My life for the most part was back on track.
