The little girl sat on the end of her bed and started to cry. She could not understand why she felt so sad and lonely, as if she had done something wrong. It wasn’t anything she had wanted to happen. She felt dirty and confused.
She honestly felt like everything in her life had changed that day.
It all started with her dad calling her into his bedroom. She had been downstairs playing with her two little brothers, watching them while her mom was in New York City catching a show with an old friend. She loved her little brothers, although they were hard to play with since she was so much older. They never really understood the games she wanted to play, and all of their toys were so babyish and boring. Her older sister was a lot more fun, but she was at her friend’s house that afternoon. Lately her older sister treated her like she was a tag-along, as if she was too young to play with. It was depressing to think that her best friend was outgrowing her, that she was more interested in boys and makeup than playing tag and softball in the yard. At least she still had her little brothers as playmates.
Anyway, her dad called her upstairs, saying he had wanted to see her. She had thought she was in trouble, although she couldn’t think of a thing that she had done. Her dad was almost like two dads in one. He could be really nice and fun, taking them for hikes and playing soccer with them, but he could also be really mean. He had a bad temper, and was not afraid to scream or hit his children. Lately it seemed like the slightest thing would set him off, so the three of them tried to be extra quiet and good that day to avoid his fury.
She crept up the stairs, trying to be both quick and quiet. She really did not want to do anything to make him mad. As he shut the door behind her, he patted a spot next to him on the bed. She was anxious, afraid to be in more trouble, but also wanting to be back downstairs where it was safe. An unsettling feeling washed over her as she made her way onto the bed. Something seemed off about her dad; he didn’t seem like he was about to yell, but he wasn't really in a good mood, either.
What happened upstairs made her feel sick in her stomach and cold in her heart. The way he touched her made her feel scared and dirty. She hated every minute of it, and wanted to go back downstairs to be like a child again. But almost worse than what he did was what he told her: never tell anyone because he would deny it. He was an adult, and she was just a kid. People would believe him and not her. They would call her a liar and be mad at her. And if mom ever knew, she’d be mad and might leave her forever.
After she was finally allowed to go back downstairs, she could not stop feeling bad. She was able to push the memories from the forefront of her mind to focus on other things, at least temporarily. But the dirty feeling inside wasn’t going away, even after she was playing again. Even after she took a bath and scrubbed every inch of her body raw.
After her bath, she went straight to bed, an unusual move for a kid who tried to stay up past bedtime almost nightly. Mom got home and came up to ask how her day was. She just didn’t feel like talking, so she lied and said she felt sick (well, it wasn’t a total lie since her stomach still hurt her) and she was going to bed. It wasn’t until after everyone else turned their lights off that she felt safe enough to huddle at the end of her bed and cry.
It was a feeling that would last for years. It was a feeling that no hot soak in a tub would ever wash away.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Sadness
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4 comments:
hey...this thing is really awesome.... imean hello...no big jargon in here....real cool..."prose at its best"
Colleen: Though not in your group, I'll take the liberty of posting a comment. I found the piece very moving. You know where its going a few sentences in, but you capture the reader so we are compelled to continue. The topic cries out for justice, but maybe there is none - or is there? Tell us. -Frank
Colleen. Sorry I haven't commented on your writing in the past couple of weeks but I was travelling. I have enjoyed reading your pieces especially for their simplicity and strong emotion. I was hoping you would finish your first piece when you are asked to come back from work and are about to speak to your father. I am still wondering what it was all about...
This last piece was very touching and to make it even stronger I would add details, descriptions etc. that would personalize it even more...It also leaves us with the question "what happened"? Thanks for all this.
Hi Colleen
Forgive me for taking so long to respond.
This piece is very powerful. From the very beginning, you pull me into this character's life. She's so alone and vulnerable.
This is one of those pieces that I think all adults with children in their lives should read because it gives a real sense of what it's like to be a child, to be that powerless in the face of the adults.
I think the line--"She honestly felt like everything in her life had changed that day."--could be slightly revised to pack more punch. Perhaps something like: "Everything had changed that day." Making it concise, taking out whatever you can in order to have what's there really shine.
You set the scene really well--the opportunity, the isolation, the pivotal moment. The tension starts to build and build.
I'd like a few more telling details, if at all possible in this line:
"Something seemed off about her dad;"
How did the narrator see the thing that was "off" about him? Was it in his expression or his inability to look her in the eyes or maybe he was looking at her too hard.
You convey so well the horror, the shame, the terror, and the isolation that an experience like that does to a child. Minute by minute, you've logged what this experience is like. This moment of change for a child.
The end is haunting.
I really loved this piece, as painful as it was to read it. I think it is very important to document this moment as many people don't want to inhabit the narrator's perspective, but it's vital.
Thank you.
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