Waiting for him…
I was waiting for Dad to pick me up from my dorm at the main UCONN campus at Storrs. My stomach was tight, knowing that, as always, I had to go home for the weekend and back into that atmosphere.
This was my third year of college, the one I got to live on campus, like a REAL college student. It was early in the fall semester, but I was already loving it. I was rooming with a friend from high school and the branch. Her father had set our room up with bunk beds, and we had a good arrangement.
Also, I reveled in being surrounded by the other students, having real connections with the other girls in the dorm, and making friends. There were all different personalities and attitudes, but I was learning how to “work and play well” with them all. They even seemed to enjoy me, and one of my late-night study companions in the dining room would leave me funny notes when I fell asleep over homework. It was all so NORMAL…
Even the campus grounds were a pure joy to be in. A campus the size of a small town. Leaf-strewn walkways, farm land across from my dorm, even a campus dairy with fresh ice cream. Being on campus made home recede into a background a million miles away, and let me lock that reality into a little compartment…at least for the weekdays.
How to make this end
I realized that, somehow, as I continued my education, the whole sexual thing with Dad needed to end. And even his whole wanting to control all my time to be with him. I wasn’t sure how it would work out, but certainly, this new level of separation had to be the next step to finally bringing things with Dad to an end. After all, he couldn’t expect “it” to go on forever, right? I mean, once I finished college — and I wasn’t exactly sure how it would play out — but SOMEHOW, no longer being a student, but an actual adult, it had to stop.
At this point, I had no idea where I would live after college. I had just managed to get here on campus, and graduation was another 2 years off. But I was convinced that the end of college would bring the end of his “need” for me. And I mean, sometime, I would no doubt be dating and get married, like everyone else. This had to be over soon. I was sure of it.
Life on campus
As to campus life, it was true that I wasn’t being allowed the total freedom that the other girls had. I was still required to go home every weekend. He missed me. He wanted me home. He said Mom and my siblings missed me. So, I needed to go home. While I wanted to stay, I felt guilty. And I knew I had to comply. If I had resisted, at some point, I was going to have to go home, and he would have made my life hell. So it was the lesser evil to just go home, even as I spent the whole weekend counting down the time for the drive back to my dorm.
Once in a while, I did manage to get him to let me stay on campus for a weekend. I would have to put up with his anger and pouting. But, one step at a time. And it was worth it because those times were glorious.
For the first time in my life, I was totally free to do what I wanted on a weekend. No chores. No parents. No wondering what Dad wanted from me, or trying to avoid him. On campus, I could actually practice “being my own person.” As small as it may have sounded, it was a gift just to be able to decide what I wanted to do in my day, and when. In fact, it was beyond a gift. It was absolutely precious, delicious, and amazing moments of total freedom.
Philadelphia Freedom
And even as everyone else was so focused on what parties, dates, bars, or activities to fill their weekend, and especially Saturday nights, with, I didn’t care. While everyone else was seeking love, dates, sex, and fun, I was happy just being at the dorm. Maybe if I had had a normal adolescence, I, too, would have been ready for those things. I was more like a middle-schooler finally being allowed to go on a first sleepover with friends. I didn’t need dates. Just being peaceful and free was good enough for me. Free.
Freedom. That had been the theme of this past summer when I drove out to campus a couple of times to get arrangements taken care of. It was warm and sunny. I was excited at the prospect of finally being away from home. A brand-new life phase on the horizon. And Elton John was belting out his new song on the radio, “Philadelphia Freedom,” as I drove down the highway. Such a hope-filled moment.
And certainly, there was much to be hopeful about, being here. It was the next step toward my eventual freedom. But for the moment, here I was…waiting for Dad to make me go home, while my roommate was out somewhere starting her weekend plans.
Getting his fix
He got to my room. I reached for my bag, but he had other plans. Shutting the door behind him and locking it, he came over and, without much of a hello, grabbed at me and my breasts. Like a frantic, starved man, he yanked up my shirt, shoved my bra aside, and greedily groped and sucked my breasts.
I was horrified and tried to pull back. But he was oblivious to what I wanted. I quickly pointed out that we were right near the window, and the kids in the dorm across from mine might see us. And I mentioned that my roommate might be back any second.
My roommate. My God, what if she came back and wondered why I was in a locked room with my FATHER? Sure, it was common for roommates to have to negotiate locked doors when someone’s boyfriend was over. But this was my FATHER. This was MY WORLD. This was MY DORM ROOM. Just outside the door were my dorm friends! What if someone figured out what he was doing?!
I pleaded again and tried to pull back, but he held me firm. All he cared about was getting what he wanted. Looking back, I realize that he was oblivious to me as a person and was frankly more like an addict hell-bent on getting his fix. I was his fix.
In that moment, I only knew I was crushed…shocked even more than I had been from his previous gropings of me. And that shock flooded me with despair. This was NOT going in the right direction at all. HOW was I going to get this to stop?
It was going to be a long two years at this rate…
Soul Mosaic 
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