Bullied

by Patrick Connolly

  “Patrick come on over here and join us,” he said.

  Surprised but grateful for the recognition, I took off my jacket and walked up to join the group.

  “Here, Patrick, you can play right guard. Take your position just to the right of the quarterback,” he said as he positioned me at that spot.

  I could not believe that, after three months of practice as a right guard on a real football team, without anyone knowing, Father Kennedy would ask me to play right guard.

  “Ok, Patrick, you take your position right here and you are going to block the left guard from the other team. You know Donald, don’t you?” Father said.

  Did I know Donald! He was the same person that was at the top of the Elite group who had, for years, routinely punched, shoved, pushed me, and called me names. He also encouraged all his friends to do the same. Now, he is clad in shorts, tee shirt and sneakers across from me as a left guard. There must be a God, after all, I thought.

  I crouched down with my right knuckles on the gym floor, in what was my normal position as right guard, and looked at Donald across from me.

  Donald was much taller than I was and easily outweighed me by thirty pounds. He took his position and he crouched low but not, as I knew, low enough. He had that same snotty, self-assured look on his face. “Hello Fag, I am going to hurt you,” he whispered softly.

  I thought a lot in those few seconds during the count. Yes, the nicest thing to do is just be polite and give him a soft block like everyone else was doing in this wimpy football scrimmage. Just before the final count, Donald said, “Queer”, and sneered. That was all I needed.

  “Hike”, called the quarterback.

  With every muscle in my body, I blocked Donald in the lower chest with my shoulder and then brought my two hands up rapidly from the blocking position to collide with his chin. He fell backwards and sprawled to my left, sitting flat on his butt with his two legs spread, with a shocked and pained expression on his face. Knowing Father Kennedy was behind me and to my right, I knew he could not have seen the elbow to the jaw but I immediately said,

  “Gee, I’m sorry, Donald. Here, take my hand”, while offering him my right hand to help him stand up. Donald would not take my hand but got up by himself then started to walk toward me, now with tears in his eyes and his fists clenched. I stood my ground, tightened my chest, stomach muscles and had both hands into fists at my sides. One more step and I will be able to reach him if I move forward too, I thought.

  Father Kennedy was immediately between us and said,

  “Calm down, Donald, it’s just football. He did not mean anything by it,” he said.

  I stood there smiling politely as Father moved Donald away from the scrimmage.

  “Got to go, Father, thanks,” I said, walking away. Some of the other kids that had known me previously smiled broadly, especially little Bernie who was one of Donald’s groupies. This is the greatest thing that could happen, I thought. Someone up there is watching over me.

  Elated, I picked up my old gym bag, walked out the door, and began the five-block trip home. Today was truly a great day. No matter what else happens, this event alone made the entire trip worthwhile. Surprising as it was, the rest of the holiday celebrations went easily and without any vicious events. I made sure, when Ernie and Elaine were around, especially, to be around Dean as his common sense manner made it impossible for me to believe that he would ever condone Elaine and Ernie’s normal brutal treatment of Lauren and me.

  I heard later that after that scrimmage incident in the gymnasium, Donald was so upset that he complained to his parents who also complained to the school that, since I was no longer attending Seton High, no one should allow me to participate in the scrimmage. Just think, this person has been hitting and tormenting me for about ten years but he goes crying to his parents over one single scrimmage when he gets his ass kicked. Yes, bullies are definitely wimps and cowards in disguise.

  Before I knew it, the holidays were over, we made the eight-hour trip back to our home in Massachusetts and I was back in my new life. In the week or so that we spent in my hometown, I found that I did not miss anybody or anything except of course, my Grandparents, Lawrence and Nell. It is wonderful to be back in a non-violent atmosphere where I can just enjoy being a teenager.

  Several weeks later

  One day, walking the three blocks home from school, I passed a house where two brothers were throwing a football around in the front yard. The biggest one of the two yelled at me and said, “Hey, who are you?” I was polite and stopped to talk but soon I could tell that the bigger person, who was about my age, was trying to make me afraid of him. I knew that I had a lot more experience with this than he had, and he was really not that much bigger than I was. I was polite until we got into a shoving match and I knew that this was his way of testing me. I was certain that it was not going to turn into a real fight. I used one of my tripping tricks to knock him down and then simply walked away rapidly.

  I had asked myself the question do I have to fight? The answer was an easy no. This person was not that much taller than I but he was quite a bit heavier. Still, I did not feel very threatened because he was nowhere near the size of the people that I was used to dealing with. This was just a “scuffle”, and it just did not rise to the level of a real fight.

  A few weeks later, I was playing ice hockey with a few others on a frozen pond in the neighborhood. We had just finished our game and I was taking off my skates and putting my shoes on when the same two brothers came over to me. The big one called me some names and tried to push me. Unknown to me at the time, a third older brother, in his twenties, was also there with them, sitting on a bench. My antagonist, this medium sized bully, did not have much experience at fighting because he and his little brother still had their skates on and I did not. That fact alone should have given them reason for caution. After the big person shoved me, I used my leg to trip him again and then, when he persisted, a hip toss I learned from my jujitsu books and threw him on the ice. Next, I tripped his little brother, and, just for fun, put the little brother on top of his bigger brother. After that, I laughed and started to walk away when the aggressive kid rushed to take his skates off, put on his shoes and came running after me.

  Seeing him coming, I asked myself, “Do I have to fight?” This time, because he was obviously very mad and had his fists clenched I knew the answer had to be yes. Therefore, with a plan in mind and my feet solidly planted on the snow-covered grass, I simply stood there with my fists clenched and waited for him. All of a sudden, the older brother yelled, “Don't do that! Stop, and come back here”. The bully looked back to his older brother and said, “Why”? “Come back here”, said the older brother. I was certain that he could see that I was an experienced fighter and that his brother was going to lose. As the bully reluctantly walked back to his older brother, I said," Fine”, turned around and went home. Unknown to me at the time, this was the closest I would come to a real fight during the time I lived in that small town in Massachusetts.

  A few days later, I turned 16 in January and got my first real job at the new First National Grocery Store that was just opening. Just as I had done with my paper route, I showed up on my birthday because that was the first day I could apply. Because it was a mile or so from my house and both my Stepfather and Mom were working, they lent me the money to buy a used car. My first car was a ten-year-old, blue-and-white Plymouth coupe. I loved that car and it became my transportation to and from school and work. Having a car also enabled me to begin dating some local girls. I was finally a normal high school kid and I was enjoying every minute of it.

  This year in high school went very well because I never had to fight, had my own car and a job that generated enough money. Life was good. However, even though I was actively dating girls, I had never met anyone with whom I could have sex. Because of my background, my idea of dating was to first, find someone I could be friends with before it went any further. I still had this idealized vision o
f the perfect girlfriend. Because of my Catholic school education for eleven years, as well as my upbringing, the image in my mind was of a clean, pretty, cute but not necessarily beautiful girl with a fun loving personality, smart mind with many things to talk about. In spite of this good Catholic School girl image I was looking for, my body was raging for the love and sex that I craved.

  One day in July, the day before the Fourth, my friend Tom and I drive to see Tom's girlfriend, Donna, who lived in a small town a couple of miles away. Donna had her friend Annie visiting her. Tom started making out with Donna and told Annie and I that the four of us should have a kissing contest to see who could hold a kiss the longest. That definitely sounded like fun so Annie and I started to kiss. After holding that kiss for quite a while, I felt something happening to me that I had never felt before. Soon, I was caressing her breasts and all parts of her.

  She said, “Let's go upstairs”. After running up the stairs together, the only unlocked bedroom we could find did not have a door on it so we had no other choice. With her help, I pulled her pants down, entered her and had sex with a woman for the first time. It was such a great experience and feeling that I knew I could never get enough of this as long as I lived. I wish someone had told me how great this was a long time ago. Just think, one year ago, I did not even know what “having sex” was. I never imagined how good it would feel to be inside a woman. I am glad my friend Fred was wrong three years ago, when he told me his theory that “having sex” had something to do with a woman's ears. The vagina was a much better place to be. Thank you, too, Dr. Kinsey!

  Just about the time we finished, and while I was still laying on top of Annie, Donnas’ younger brother came home, came up the stairs walking past the bedroom, and saw Annie and I joined together with most of our clothes off. He raced back downstairs and then Tom came up and peeked over the second landing railing. I was too overwhelmed to get off Annie so we could get dressed so we just laid there for a while.

  Yes, my life changed very quickly after leaving my hometown and the professional but brutal community where I lived for fifteen years. I am thankful that I did not do any of the desperate, violent acts that I considered during my last two years. Doing any of these could have easily ended my life or resulted in imprisonment. In desperation to escape the violence, confusion over sex, and overwhelming anger, I had been close to resorting to deadly actions many, many times. I was lucky to be alive, finally waking up without that pain and experiencing sex and a normal teenage life for the first time. This was the best.

  Summer in Massachusetts was a great deal of fun, with lots of swimming in the local lakes and attending the local dances. In addition, there were the drive-in movies, which were great for entertainment and safe sex with a pretty farm girl at the same time. The biggest challenge I faced was balancing my longer summer workday with the events, entertainment and peaceful family gatherings with Mom, Dean and Lauren.

  Starting school for my senior year, I made a few changes in my appearance and automobile. Our next-door neighbors Mother had a great, slick looking black Mercury that she wanted to sell so, on the first day of school, I drove my awesome black Merc to school. With my red hair swept back on both sides in the style of the day and my suede orange colored, comfortable, yet warm, jacket, I would leave my home, three blocks away, for school no more than ten minutes before the bell rang.

  When arriving, since most of the kids were already inside, I simply parked my car in the parking lot on the left side of the school, jumped out and ran quickly into the building. I did not know that there was someone watching me every morning from one of classrooms. One day, when class was over, I walked outside toward the parking lot with my friend Bob. As we walked toward my car, we started to pass a nice looking blonde girl standing on the lawn. She smiled, and said, “hello, how are you?’ Her face and smile were so friendly, that I stopped.

  “Hello, what is your name?” I said.

  “My name is Barbara. I am new to this school. My parents, sister and I just moved here.”

  Barbara was a nice looking girl with short blonde hair. She was dressed in a grey pleated skirt with a wide belt, white blouse and light yellow sweater. She was the perfect image of the good little Catholic girl.

  "Where did you move from,” I said.

  "We just moved here from the West Coast, California”

  “How come”, I said. I liked her enthusiastic voice and wanted her to keep talking.

  “My father is in the service and he was assigned to Westover Air Force Base.”

  Surprised by the coincidence, I said, “My stepfather is with General Electric and he was also sent to Westover Air Force Base from New York State about a year ago”

  I heard a voice behind me and it was Bobby. He said, “Come on Pat let's go.”

  Barbara said, “Who is that?”

  “Oh, that is my friend, Bobby, we are planning to go somewhere and he is waiting for me. That is my car, the black Mercury that he is getting into.”

  “I know,” she said.

  “How do you know that is my car,” I said.

  “Because my classroom is on the floor over the doorway and I sit next to the window. I see you running into the school every morning.” She grinned.

  Therefore, she knew who I was, before she said hello, I thought. “Can I have your telephone number?” I said.

  “Sure”, Barbara nodded, tore off a piece of paper from one of her notebooks and scribbled her phone number on it. She handed it to me with a smile. I smiled and folded the piece of paper and put it carefully into my left rear pants pocket.

  “I will give you a call tonight,” I said.”

  “Ok,” she said.

  As we drove away, Bobby said, “What did she want?”

  “Just to say hello, but I got her phone number.”

  Bobby looked back and said, “She’s got nice tits.” He smiled and raised his eyebrows several times. I knew what he was thinking.

  “Yeah, but she is really fun to talk to”, I said.

  Bobby looked at me, strangely, as if he thought this was a strange thing for me to say.

  I changed the subject and we continued our journey. Even though pretending I was interested in other things as Bob and I talked, I could not get it out of my mind how easy it was to speak with Barbara. Wow, a cute girl I can actually talk with. I can hardly wait to call her, I thought.

  That evening, I called Barbara and we talked for about an hour until her mother was calling her. “I’ve got to go,” she said.

  Enjoying the conversation as I was, I said, “Why? Don’t go”

  “I have work in the kitchen I have to finish,” she said.

  “Can you go out Friday night?” I said.

  “Yes,” she said. “Where to?”

  “How about a drive in movie”? I said.

  “Sounds great,” she said.

  “See you at school tomorrow,” I said.

  “Great, see you then, Bye,” said Barbara.

  “Bye,” I said.

  On Friday night, I went to Barbara’s house to pick her up a little early because Barbara told me that she wanted me to meet her Parents. She said they always wanted to meet anyone she dated. That night, I dressed carefully and knew that I would be spending a few minutes with them so they would like me and approve Barbara going out with me. Arriving at their home, I parked the car, knocked on the door and Barbara opened it.

  “Hi,” she said, opening the door wide so I could enter.

  “How are you today,” I asked. She was dressed in a short skirt, blouse and sweater and looked very nice, I thought.

  “We are just fine, and my parents are looking forward to meeting you. Mom, Daddy, Pat is here,” she said loudly.

  As I walked into the living room, her Mom came out from the kitchen and her Dad came down the hallway.

  Meeting Mom and Dad was a nice experience for me. Her Mom appeared to be warm and friendly. Dad also seemed very curious about me but casual at the same time. He joked
with me and we shared a few laughs. As we were finally leaving, Daddy took me aside and said, “Now, Patrick, Barbara has a curfew at 11 PM. Do not be late. Also, be sure you are a Gentleman in all respects or you will have to deal with me, OK?”

  “OK,” I said. I really like her Dad, I thought. It was a good sign for Barbara’s character that her family was so protective of her. “She is probably a really good girl.”

  We went to the car and I opened the door for her, let her in the passenger side and walked around to the drivers’ side. When I was putting the key in the ignition, she said, “I am always so glad to get out of there! She grinned widely and seemed very happy.

  “Why are you so glad?” I said.

  “I feel like the household maid. I always have so many chores to do like cooking, cleaning the kitchen, and so on. Getting out on a date or something is the only break I get.”

  “Do Mom and Dad treat you OK?” I asked.

  “Yes, and I do love Mom and Dad, but Mom always needs help and I am the oldest, so I have to do it. My Sister Dianna is still pretty young.”

  “Do you like drive in movies?” I asked.

  “I love going to the movies,” Barbara said.

  We really had a good time that night and talked about many things. We kissed a few times during the movie but I was careful to be a gentleman. She was a great friend and I was grateful to have found her.

  After I began to see Barbara regularly, I never wanted to be with anyone else, even if it meant sex. Barbara had something I had always been looking for; we could talk about anything and everything. That part of her personality, alone, was something I have been looking for my entire lonely life. We both shared some personality traits in that we was both loners, not people that wanted a large number of friends around and constantly fighting for position within that group. Barbara and I seemed to be two similar teenagers that were trying to find our way, alone, in the world.

  As we continued to date, the passion grew between us. To me, though, Barbara was so pure, sweet, wise and good that I did not want to spoil that. The teachings of eleven years with the Sisters of Charity and my religion class told me that it would not be best for Barbara if I were to take her virginity, as much as I wanted to. I thought that the privilege of being inside her would be the first time I would be “making love” instead of just having sex.