TRIGGER ALERT – Reference to child sexual abuse
The back door closed, and the key turned in the lock. I bolted awake.
“God, no!” I’d overslept, and she was leaving.
It was Saturday morning. Mom would often go to a small local bakery — Baggish Bakery — to get fresh doughnuts for breakfast. Baggish was one of those old-time privately owned bakeries, not a chain, and they made the best poppy-seed rolls, crusty rye bread, sliced fresh, and…wonderful doughnuts.
I tried ALWAYS to be up in time to go with her. I risked his anger when I did this because he made it clear he wanted me available. But it was still better than the anger I encountered when I refused his approaches. The consequences for that were dangerous. So I tried desperately to wake up early and go with her. But sometimes, like this day, she was just too quiet.
Grabbing my clothes, I scrambled, but it was too late. The car pulled out of the driveway.
I froze. It would be a good twenty minutes before she’d get back with the doughnuts. I was an open target. My only hope was that he was still asleep.
On tiptoes, I stretched across the room toward my bed, almost in slow motion. Without a sound, I slipped under the covers.
Bare feet slapped against the linoleum floor in the other room and approached.
Maybe he’s going to the bathroom.
The door to my room opened before I even finished the thought. Blankets lifted, and the mattress sagged behind me. As he slid across the sheets, I could smell him. That smell….
I tried desperately to fake sleep. But it didn’t matter. His hands swarmed over me, on me, in me. Every hair on my neck felt his breath, and when he whispered those “things,” it made me sick.
He was joyful, eager, frantic, almost, as if we were rightful lovers who’d been denied the chance to be together, until now. He looked at me, happily expecting to see joy reflected back at him — like I was some eager co-conspirator grateful for this chance to be alone with him. I don’t know why he would expect that, since so often these days, I kept trying to avoid him and explain to him that this felt wrong. But, here we were again…
My mind raced to find an out…to find just the right words to convince him this was wrong, without hurting him. My siblings.
“Dad, they’re right in the next room. They’re going to hear us. Please.”
I hated the looks I got from them after he would leave my room. I don’t know that they knew anything, but…I hated myself. Guilt and shame had to be radiating from every pore of my body.
“Dad, please. I don’t want to.”
“I do this for you…” He hung his head.
“Dad, I just don’t feel right about this…”
We’d had this conversation so many times. And it always went the same way — badly. He kept saying it was OK. It was good for the family. It helped him.
I just felt awful. Obviously, it was my fault — I’d failed all the previous times to get him to understand. Why could I not find the right words?
“It will hurt Mom.”
His look got cold. “How can you hurt me like this? Our relationship is so special.”
His chin jutted forward, and his lips stretched into that thin line that I knew meant trouble. “Well, if that’s the way you want it…” He snapped out of bed and headed for the door.
“Dad.”
No answer.
“DAD.”
He turned for just a second, his eyes looking right through me.
“Yeah?” The tone was pure ice.
“I still love you. I just don’t think we should keep doing this.” My fear spiked as he turned away.
“Yeah.”
I cringed and knew that, yet again, my fate was sealed. It would be another weekend from hell.
He didn’t speak to me after that. The silent treatment was one of his favorite weapons. Though back then, I didn’t know it was a weapon. I only knew that he wouldn’t talk to me, look at me, nothing. If he happened to look my way, he registered nothing, as if I didn’t exist. And if I tried to talk, he walked away. It was terrifying to be so shut out. What if I needed something? And why couldn’t he understand I wasn’t trying to hurt him? Just stop what felt wrong.
But, even worse than the silent treatment was what often came later. It was only a matter of time. My nerves felt like they would snap….
Soul Mosaic 
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