Not Yet a Woman

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Not Yet a Woman Page 6

by WC Child


  I never wondered if anyone ever paid attention to me in school. I didn’t care. I was content to just exist until graduation. The hallways were crowded noisy passageways filled with laughter and fun emitting from groups I was not a part of. I aspired to remain invisible in my own skin. By doing so, I disqualified myself from normal high school frivolity before I ever gave it a chance to welcome me. I felt my sordid past made me and my emotional frailty unattractive to kids my own age. I felt unworthy of the lightness that accompanied my age group. The shackles of my past still surrounded me. They made clanking sounds each time I thought about moving forward. They subtly reminded me that I was not totally free. I longed for something good to come along and distract the past long enough for me to put some distance between it and my future. But each day mocked those longings as it delivered the same non-eventful offerings as the day before. Maybe tomorrow became my repetitive thought. Even though parts of me declared that mindset useless, a granule of hope believed the odds would shift in my favor one day.

  Every day had been the same until that one. I saw him staring at something in my direction, but never thought he was looking at me. I thought his attention was fixed on someone more interesting than me. I never thought anyone would want to look at me. I believed my aura lacked confidence and approachability. As he moved in my direction, I turned my attention to the contents of my locker. To my disbelief, he stopped right in front of me. “Hi, my name is Adam. What’s yours?” I was frozen in my thoughts and looked at him in stunned silence. A crackly sound escaped from somewhere inside my throat. I managed to say, “Eva.”

  The corny joke he told made me laugh. It served as the bridge to further dialogue. I enjoyed our brief exchange and recounted the punchline of that joke throughout the day. Each time I thought about Adam, I smiled at his corniness and the simplicity of our encounter. Underneath the camouflage I used for self-preservation, he saw something in me I thought I lost. He saw the real me and I enjoyed being looked at as a person, not as prey. It made me feel human again; like the carefree teenager I longed to be. I had forgotten how nice it was to have a male friend. At that time, a friend was all I was able to handle.

  It didn’t take long for me to become more comfortable with my new friend. Adam continued to make time for me and I looked forward to his presence. I saw changes in both my attitude and appearance as portions of the fear cocoon fell away. I often lingered in the hallway longer than necessary, trying to spot him in the crowd. The more time we spent together, the less tarnished I felt. I wasn’t sure how long our connection would last, but I was encouraged and delighted each day it continued.

  I didn’t know how to categorize our relationship, but I liked it for what it was. I had developed a friendship with someone from the opposite sex and I was not afraid. It appeared the dating ritual started before I had a chance to reject it. Did I actually have a boyfriend? I decided to mentally disavow the boyfriend theory and keep him in the “friend” category. One thing for sure, Big Mama wouldn’t be happy about whatever I called it. She would have no qualms about making her feelings known.

  I knew beyond any reasonable doubt there was no way Big Mama would agree to any boy courting me at this juncture of my life. Our friendship had to be one that was for school days only. But Adam was persistent. He frequently asked about coming to my house. When I couldn’t object any longer, I agreed he could come one Saturday afternoon. Maybe if he stopped by on a day when both my grandparents were home, it would be better than if he came when it was just Big Mama. She would eat him alive. She would come at him with a litany of questions that rivaled the ones on Jeopardy. I hoped that when he was brave enough to visit, he had a strong stomach, good deodorant and stainless-steel underwear.

  Chapter 18

  Meet the Parents

  When I woke up that Saturday morning, I had no idea my suitor would pay me a visit that day. I thought all the roadblocks I threw up would have made that day non-viable for a long time, if ever. When I heard a car pull up into the gravel driveway, I abandoned my morning chores and immediately went out onto the front porch. I stood there in utter disbelief when Adam got out of the vehicle. I felt like the princess whose knight in four-wheeled armor had come to rescue her from the monotony of a mundane weekend existence. I suppressed a gleeful squeal when he saw me and flashed a beautiful smile in my direction. Our eyes locked. We remained entranced for what seemed an eternity. I wanted to linger in that moment and experience the same freedom we shared during school hours.

  We were in our own world. Big Mama brought me back to reality when she asked, “Who is that?” When I told her he was one of my friends from school, she gave me a look that would have severely wounded me had it been a knife. Big Mama stood there with her hands on her hips and looked back and forth between us. As if she read my thoughts, she slowly and sternly admonished me for any thoughts of going out to greet my visitor. Through gritted teeth she grunted, “Don’t you run your butt out to that car. Any boy that is worth your time comes into the house and respectfully acknowledges your parents and you as a young lady. You better not move off this porch! Now go sit down.” Her long index finger, that rivaled that of any self-respecting witch, was pointed directly at me. She motioned for me to move in the direction of the porch swing. I complied.

  I had no choice but to show the porch swing my annoyance with her directives. It showed no mercy on my backside after I plopped down on it a little too hard. If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn the creaky sounds coming from the swing were its form of laughter at my expense. But I continued to assume my defiant posture with my bottom lip poked out and my arms crossed. The entire time I thought, “I hope he didn’t hear what Big Mama said; that was embarrassing!”

  Big Daddy heard all the commotion and joined Big Mama in the examination of the stranger. I strained my neck and ears and tried to intercept portions of the hushed words and glances exchanged between the two of them. For reasons unknown to me, Big Daddy retreated back into the house. I stood up briefly and peered anxiously through the door. Panic set in when he opened the gun case. My wobbly knees buckled under the weighty circumstances and I lost my balance. I stumbled backward and the swing caught me before I fell butt first on the wooden planks of the porch. More creaky laughter from the swing filled the air.

  Once Adam made it to the porch, he noticed my demeanor and seemed to have a “what the hell is going on” look on his face. He looked as if he wanted to turn and run back to his car. If I were any kind of friend, I would have encouraged him to leave before Big Daddy came back outside. I wanted to warn my friend about the rifle, but I couldn’t. It felt like I had glue in my mouth and the words were held hostage because of a lack of saliva.

  There was an awkward silence as he stood on the front porch in front of Big Mama. He cleared his throat, spoke to me and introduced himself to Big Mama. She politely acknowledged his presence, but kept looking nervously back over her shoulders in the direction of the front door. His bowel control was tested when Big Daddy re-emerged from the house, sat down beside me and started to polish his rifle. His eyes continually looked in Adam’s direction.

  Once he got settled on the swing he asked, "Who are you and what are your intentions with my granddaughter?" He never took his eyes off Adam as we rocked back and forth on the swing. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead and raced each other down his face, to the collar of his t-shirt. With wide eyes and a sticky throat, my friend managed to nervously disclose his lineage. Big Daddy pondered those facts then proclaimed that he knew his family. What he didn't say then was, “And they ain't worth two dead flies", a statement he later communicated to Big Mama when he thought I was not around.

  Big Daddy probably knew there was no acceptable response to his rhetorical question regarding Adam’s intentions. I felt he was toying with Adam and his emotions. He made us both suffer through his interrogation. He was unable to answer the riddle and stood paralyzed in his thoughts and actions trying to figure out what to
do next. There was no hole in the front porch I could crawl into, so I sat on the swing and braced myself for the worst. I thought I should close my eyes so I could honestly say I didn’t witness any of the impending violence, but my eyes would not look away. They darted wildly between my friend and my grandfather. I wanted to chronicle every portion of the potential horror movie. I internally scolded myself about my decision to relent to his visitation request. I should have just told him to stay away.

  All I wanted was for my grandparents to give Adam a chance. I wanted them to see the person I became acquainted with. Something about me changed after I met him. Just last week, Big Mama commented on how she saw glimpses of the old me. Genuine smiles returned to my eyes and joy radiated from my being. My grandparents were very overprotective, and I understood why. When I first returned to their home, Big Mama expressed guilt about her perceived role in my exposure to that predator. We both knew his actions had nothing to do with either of us. That man was broken at his core long ago. We were just casualties of his unresolved anger. But Adam was not that man; he was someone my own age that had the courage to meet them face-to-face.

  After he looked him up and down several times, Big Daddy put down his rifle and motioned for Adam to take a walk with him. Since the rifle no longer posed an immediate threat, I was convinced he would jump off the porch and run to his car. He accepted my grandfather's invitation. He was either brave or foolish. I hoped he told someone where to start the search in case he didn’t make it back home that day. As long as they didn't go into the woods, he would be safe. Those woods held secret graves. No one would know if one more body was there. Big Daddy often used a pistol to shoot snakes that wandered out from hiding and got too close to the house. I wasn’t sure if Adam was excluded from that category in his eyes. I prayed he would leave our property in one piece.

  They wandered around the back of the property, deeply engrossed in what appeared to be a one-sided discussion led by the elder. Adam mostly wrung his hands and nodded in affirmation as he endured the conversation. Once I thought I saw Adam flash a smile, but it might have just been a grimace or maybe even gas. Relief washed over my face when the interrogation concluded and they finally returned to the front of the house. To my surprise, Big Daddy looked Adam in the eyes and shook his hand. Then, he gathered his newly polished metal and wood truth serum and went back into the house. I wasn’t the only one caught off guard by that exchange. Big Mama’s jaw dropped and her eyes bulged half-way out of their sockets. She quickly followed Big Daddy back into the house, determined to get the details about their man-talk.

  Both Adam and I let out an audible sigh of relief when he sat down beside me on the swing. After the mental warfare we both experienced, we were exhausted and thankful for the porch swing. I was proud of Adam. He had endured the parental gauntlet unscathed. No soiling was evident, visually or aromatically, on his jeans, but beads of sweat found their way to the collar of his dark colored t-shirt. It looked like a fabric necklace. But I didn’t care about any of that. My prince had rescued me. For his bravery, he earned the right to spend time with me.

  We allowed ourselves to relax and enjoyed each other’s company. The gentle breeze cooled us down and soothed our frazzled nerves. Playful banter and genuine joy radiated from us for hours. After he drove away, I remained on the swing and replayed the events of that day. What started out as a day from hell, ended up as a small slice of heaven. I knew it was one Saturday I would not soon forget.

  Chapter 19

  Tongue Tied

  I enjoyed the purity of our relationship. Adam definitely captured my heart. I was so comfortable around him. I never tired of his companionship. The more things I discovered about Adam, the more I rediscovered parts of myself that were dormant and unreachable for many years. I remembered who I was before adult problems flip-flopped with my carefree years. I didn’t recognize who I was forced to become. Although my family did their best to make me believe I was still the same person before I was raped, I couldn’t accept their version of facts. It wasn’t fully rooted in honesty. Their version was skewed by familial love. I appreciated their efforts, but it was Adam who helped me reclaim my childhood.

  Big Mama allowed regular visits from Adam, but she didn’t make it easy for us. Either we followed her rules or the visits would be discontinued. Before he was allowed to come into the house, Big Mama laid out a conduct list that clearly came from the "Hell No" book of unsuccessful relationships, page 666. We hated her overbearing, restrictive rules, but we tolerated them. It was the only way to spend time together away from school.

  During my youth, my friends and I captured grasshoppers and put them in jars filled with grass. Someone told us they made tobacco from the grass they chewed. Probing eyes constantly stared into those jars from every angle. No one wanted to miss the big event. Big Mama’s constant peering through windows and screen doors made us feel like those grasshoppers. I realized I owed those innocent creatures an apology for the cruelty of our actions.

  There were times when Adam visited that he came no further than the front porch. On one of those nights the moonlight was bright enough to cast shadows and the stars brightly populated the sky. I couldn’t think of a place I wanted to be more. We had been playfully laughing and hitting each other for most of his visit. Out of the blue, he grabbed my arms, pulled me close and kissed me. I wasn’t prepared for the intimacy of a kiss. My body and my senses went into overdrive the second our lips connected. In my mind, the world stopped. All I could concentrate on was the physical portion of such a spiritual act. After our lips parted and my eyes opened again, the firework show going on in my mind relocated to my body. I marveled at how tingly and giddy I felt. The descriptions in the romance novels were nowhere close to the range of emotions that surfaced during such a brief encounter. The weakness in my knees would have caused me to fall had Adam’s arms not been around me. I leaned deeper into his arms. He held me tighter. I felt comfortable in his arms. I had no objection to the second kiss I received before we said goodnight.

  I must have floated into the house because I didn't recall walking up the stairs to my bedroom. I sat on my bed, closed my eyes and relived my first kiss. I was tingly all over again. I fell backward onto the bed with both hands over my heart. It was still racing. All of these feelings were so new for me. I realized how odd it was that I had been an expectant mother, but had never been romantically kissed. I witnessed my mother and father kiss and giggle when they embraced. I remembered how they looked into each other’s eyes. My first kiss gave me a glimpse into the connection they shared. After we kissed, I started to understand more about the components of a normal male-female relationship.

  Chapter 20

  Choices

  The deeper our romance developed, the more passionate our kisses became. When new sensations centered in specific regions, Big Mama's omen about boys and my body flooded my mine. There were times when my body reacted unexpectedly to his touch and I disengaged from his embrace to regain my balance. Adam pushed things to the limit, but understood when his advances reached the boundaries of my comfort zone. Although his hands stopped, his words didn’t. He told me the bodily awakenings I experienced were normal and there should be no shame or judgement about what I felt. He wanted us to express our feelings in other ways that would give us a deeper connection. If he was referring to becoming acquainted with my pocketbook change, I wasn't quite sure how I felt about that.

  After what I experienced from my mother's boyfriend, I had no intention of connecting with anybody like that ever again. But based on our physical and verbal connection, that was the path Adam wanted to travel. He had no clue about my past. He probably made assumptions about my experience level, based on my comfort level with my new feelings and desires. There was no way I could tell him about my traumatic past experience. It would overshadow any chance of the normal future our bodies could enjoy. Since I couldn’t be totally honest with him, I wondered if I was being unfair. It would b
e unfair to punish Adam for a crime he didn’t commit, if our physical union could produce something magical and renewing. I wondered if an intimate physical connection would clear away some emotional baggage by replacing brutality and resentment with softness and love. I rationalized that I could possibly find a physical resolution to a physical injustice. In the midst of all those thoughts, Big Mama’s conversation about slick-talking boys and their intentions rumbled through my head. I was confused by thoughts and emotions over which I had limited control. One thing I did have control over was my own body. All decisions about it would be mine. I had promised that to myself a long time ago. I had no intention of voiding that commitment.

  My mind was torn by the constant bombardment of conflicting messages from Adam and Big Mama. My own personal thoughts were secondary. No matter who I listened to, I would lose. If I followed Big Mama’s directives, she won. If I followed Adam’s wishes, he won. We couldn't all win. We each wanted different things for different reasons. I had to choose what was best for me. Since I couldn't trust my own mind, I decided to follow my heart.

 

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