The Man with Little Words

Part 7

Mr. Decking came home early on January 26th and I was sitting on the couch. He asked me why I wasn't preparing dinner. I didn't have an answer, I had no motivation to do anything. He sat next to me and put his hand on my thigh. He asked me if I was dealing with inner conflicts. Which was true but I denied his accusations. My initial response was to kiss him. I went straight in for it. No hesitation, and to my surprise he kissed back. He grabbed my hair and ran his fingers up and down my thighs. He pushed my head back and moved his head down my body still holding onto my hair. He kissed my chest and began unbuttoning my top. I didn't know what to do with my hands. Where do I touch him? This was my first real sexual experience and I froze up. He assured my everything was alright and that his wife would never know. He pulled down my skirt and exposed my innocence. That day, January 26th, my innocence was taken away at the age of only 16, by a married man that I babysat for. What a nice conversation starter.

After he cleaned himself up, I remained on the couch still in awe of what just happened. I don't think I was able to accept what I had done. He sat next to me and pulled my skirt up. He noticed my sense of shock and tried to ease my inner pain. Continuously telling someone "it's okay! You're fine! Don't worry about it, it was just a little fun" doesn't excuse the fact that I wasn't okay. I was not fine. It was not just fun. Maybe for him it was just a little fun but for me it was much more. I was in love with him. The core of my being loved his touch, his smile, his voice. I knew he could never be mine but I loved living the fantasy. I loved to dream. Now today, All I do is see in black and white. There are no dreams, because I understand some dreams are not always as great as they seem. They have no silver lining.

Maybe I don't believe in love today because my first experience with love was distorted and unrealistic. Maybe I try too hard to be pessimistic. Maybe I lost my ability to have passion and desire. I feel as though love is a dream. It is unattainable and only a fantasy. It's a goal that can never be accomplished. It's a novel that ends in a cliff hanger.

I read Mr. Deckings email as I made my way to my apartment. It was chilly out because the sun had just gone down. I would say it was around 6:15 pm. The road to my apartment was always dark because kids in the neighborhood broke the street lights. I lived in a rough area. Children were set up to live a life of incarceration. I saw mothers cry as their children were taken away from them by social services. I saw women being pimped out every morning and every night. People in this area were set on a cycle of despair. Their whole future was predicted for them and it was awful to watch their lives spiral out of control. I payed more attention to their problems than I did my own. I remained an outsider looking in.