Won't You Love Me?

CHAPTER THREE

!!WARNING: IMPLIED CHILD SEXUAL ABUSE!!

Name: Joseph Levitch

Year: 1935

Age: 9

I would rather be anywhere than here. I shut my eyes tightly for a moment, willing this to be just some sort of demented nightmare, but when they flicker open I'm still in an empty classroom.

"Alright everyone, come in and line up against the blackboard as I tell you all which seat is yours!" Mrs. Davis calls out with a gap-toothed smile, waving to the group waiting just outside the room, and I slouch in my chair slightly with eyes downcast. I can tell by the footsteps ringing throughout the room that they have begun to shuffle inside one by one.

I can already feel their eyes boring into the back of my head, and I bite my lip. I don't want them to think I'm ashamed or that I've done something wrong . . . I am older than them. So, I take a deep, quivering breath and straighten in my seat, meeting their eyes boldly. As they line up against the blackboard, some of them seem to be even more nervous than I am, and avoid my gaze. Others stare at me curiously, whispering to their friends why they think I'm sitting there.

"I know him. He's a year older than us."

"What is he doing here, then?"

"I think he was held back."

"Wow, you have to be pretty dumb to be held back."

My eyes sting as tears fill my eyes, and my cheeks burn with embarrassment. I'm not dumb. I just couldn't catch up with the work because I was moving all the time! I think . . .

Finally they're all inside, and Mrs. Davis has stopped them all from talking, but things aren't over yet. She still has to tell them all which seats are theirs. One by one.

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Name: Joseph Levitch

Year: 1937

Age: 11

"Come on, Joey, she wants to meet you." Dad urges me, a glint of something I can't quite place in his dark eyes. He motions for this lady in a dancing uniform to come over, and she struts towards us, her heels clicking against the wood floor rhythmically.

"Say hello to Marlene, son." I look up shyly at her, and she smiles broadly back at me, dimples appearing on both of her pink cheeks. She's very pretty, with long, dark eyelashes framing eyes just a hint greener than mine, and light brown hair curled around her heart-shaped face.

"H—hi." I eventually manage, my mouth dry and palms sweaty.

"Don't be shy, sweetie, I won't bite you!" She says in a sing-songy voice, giggling at the end. I can't say anything else, so I just smile at her, trying to slow the racing of my heart.

A night later, Marlene takes me into her dressing room and shows me she was telling the truth. It was wonderful and terrifying at the same time. I didn't understand what it was all about and I didn't know how to feel. I was excited and ashamed. I felt like an adult and I felt like I wanted to hide. For some reason, afterward she suddenly bursts into tears and starts saying things about her son. I don't understand any of it, but her red-rimmed eyes and trembling lips prove too much for me, and I slip out of the room under the meek excuse of having to go to bed.