The Hole Within

CHAPTER 4

I met Linda at church camp when I was twelve. We were instantly drawn to each other. With long brown hair and honey gold eyes, she was a striking girl. We enjoyed the intimate close quarters of the camp. Drawn together, we indulged in caressing one another before sleep. One evening Linda took my face in her hands and tenderly kissed my lips. Fear enhanced the thrill. My heart raced and my stomach flip-flopped as she pressed her face into mine. I wanted the kiss to last forever. We continued to explore our intense feelings for one another over the next few nights. We kissed and lay in one another's arms at night, stroking each other's faces with gentle fingertips. We would talk to while we lay, arms around each other. Linda would raise up on her elbow and hold her chin in her hand. Laying there like that she was so beautiful. I would reach up and brush her hair away from her face as she laughed quietly. She would trace the lines of my face with her finger then stop at my lips, bending down and kissing me full. 

It went on like this until someone told on us. We were questioned by the camp counselors and told that what we were doing was wrong and sinful. I felt guilt and prayed for forgiveness. Linda was not as devout as me. She had a wild streak and would constantly defy authority. Despite my desire, I feared displeasing God so I limited our affection to holding hands and cuddling.

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I went to visit my dad that summer of 1979. He packed me in his truck and headed to the mountains. I remember feeling a deep sense of dread as we wound our way higher and higher up the mountain. Finding a remote place, he finally stopped the truck. He wanted to talk to me. I squirmed in my seat as he turned off the ignition and turned to face me. I stayed as far away as I could get from him, my body pressed against the passenger side door. He began to tell me things I did not want to hear. How my mom was evil and an adulterer. I cannot recall all of what he said, but it seemed to go on forever. He ranted against my mom, about how badly she had treated him. He told me that he missed me so much and asked if I would like to come live with him. I was fiercely protective of my mom and his words stung me. I certainly did not want to leave her and come be with him. I remember feeling uncomfortable and frightened to be trapped in such a remote and tight place with him. His very presence scared me. I was confined in a small place with him and my anxiety was so high I could barely sit still. The time passed with agonizing slowness. He begged and cried and told me he needed me to be with him. I wanted to bolt out the door and run deep into the mountain side. I sat stock still as I tried to drown out his words. Finally, he started the truck and to my intense relief we backed out of our precarious parking space on the side of the mountain. I only remember bits and pieces of that excursion. Large sections are forever black to me. I cannot say what might have happened in that isolated spot in the mountains. Maybe he just talked. But that alone would not account for the fear and revulsion I was consumed by.