was never one to really drink, let alone get hammered. Maggie made alcohol seem like a crutch. Something weak and disgusting that I wanted no part of. But when Tom insisted I try a certain type of wine, I drank it to make him happy. Followed by another and then another.
By the time we headed back to the car, I was a little tipsy, stumbling here and there. Tom wrapped an arm around my waist to hold me steady. And when he suggested a dip in the river so I could see how good a swimmer he was, my foggy mind thought it seemed liked a fun idea. We stopped at a public swimming area a few miles outside of town. When Tom stripped down to his boxers, I tried not to look. Heat rose to my cheeks, my skin was warm to the touch, and I was thankful the only light was from the moon and he couldn’t see that I was blushing.
I felt foolish, like a child instead of a sixteen-year-old girl. A child that couldn’t even look at a half-naked man without getting all flustered. I sat on the shore while he’d paddled out. He turned after a few feet and waved at me. “Come on in,” he hollered.
“Nah, I’m good right here,” I laughed and shouted back. Last October wasn’t as kind weather wise and I knew the water must have been cold. But he begged some more and I relented.
“Turn around now,” I instructed, twirling my finger in the air. No way I was gonna strip down to my underwear with him watching. I knew my black cotton bra and underwear were no more revealing than a bikini would have been, but still I felt uncomfortable with him seeing me near-naked. He laughed, covered his eyes with one hand, and turned his back to me.
I shivered as the river surrounded my body but I kept going. I kept going because he’d wanted me to and I’d wanted to please him. We played and splashed in the water like children, not getting out until our lips were blue and I was pretty sure I couldn’t feel my toes.
Tom ran to the car and brought back a blanket, which he used to wrap around my trembling body. He ran his hands up and down my arms, trying to warm me. He stopped abruptly after a few seconds and looked at me with such intensity my entire body lit up like it was on fire. I swear I could feel the flames licking my skin, the cool breeze urging them on.
“You’re so beautiful,” he’d told me and I think I was flattered that he even thought of me in those terms. Me. Some sixteen-year-old girl who’d never turned a head in her life. What girl doesn’t long to hear those words? And I’d gone my entire life without anyone ever speaking them to me except my uncle.
The first time Tom kissed me that night, I pushed him away. The second time he leaned down and touched his lips to mine, I didn’t object. I didn’t kiss him back, but I didn’t object. All of a sudden something was happening and I had no idea how I’d gotten there. Stuck in that place. Stuck in that moment. But I knew it must’ve been my fault. A nice man like Tom wouldn’t have kissed me unless I’d given him reason to think I wanted him to.
His hands slid to my waist, resting there a moment. When they continued south, I jerked away, stared at my feet, unsure of how to respond. There’s no training for that kind of thing. They teach us all about the effects of drugs and alcohol, and how the reproductive system works. But no one ever tells you what to do if you find yourself alone on a beach on windy night with your mother’s boyfriend’s tongue down your throat.
Afterward, in the car on the way home, he’d apologized profusely. Blamed it on the wine and the way I looked with my hair wet and my skin glowing in the soft moonlight. I was just naïve enough to accept that for an excuse and the next time he came to take Maggie out, I got an entire bouquet of calla lilies.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Uncle Jim suggested dinner so we stopped at a steakhouse along the way. My stomach growled as our server, a tall, bony boy whose voice shook when he spoke, handed us our
By the time we headed back to the car, I was a little tipsy, stumbling here and there. Tom wrapped an arm around my waist to hold me steady. And when he suggested a dip in the river so I could see how good a swimmer he was, my foggy mind thought it seemed liked a fun idea. We stopped at a public swimming area a few miles outside of town. When Tom stripped down to his boxers, I tried not to look. Heat rose to my cheeks, my skin was warm to the touch, and I was thankful the only light was from the moon and he couldn’t see that I was blushing.
I felt foolish, like a child instead of a sixteen-year-old girl. A child that couldn’t even look at a half-naked man without getting all flustered. I sat on the shore while he’d paddled out. He turned after a few feet and waved at me. “Come on in,” he hollered.
“Nah, I’m good right here,” I laughed and shouted back. Last October wasn’t as kind weather wise and I knew the water must have been cold. But he begged some more and I relented.
“Turn around now,” I instructed, twirling my finger in the air. No way I was gonna strip down to my underwear with him watching. I knew my black cotton bra and underwear were no more revealing than a bikini would have been, but still I felt uncomfortable with him seeing me near-naked. He laughed, covered his eyes with one hand, and turned his back to me.
I shivered as the river surrounded my body but I kept going. I kept going because he’d wanted me to and I’d wanted to please him. We played and splashed in the water like children, not getting out until our lips were blue and I was pretty sure I couldn’t feel my toes.
Tom ran to the car and brought back a blanket, which he used to wrap around my trembling body. He ran his hands up and down my arms, trying to warm me. He stopped abruptly after a few seconds and looked at me with such intensity my entire body lit up like it was on fire. I swear I could feel the flames licking my skin, the cool breeze urging them on.
“You’re so beautiful,” he’d told me and I think I was flattered that he even thought of me in those terms. Me. Some sixteen-year-old girl who’d never turned a head in her life. What girl doesn’t long to hear those words? And I’d gone my entire life without anyone ever speaking them to me except my uncle.
The first time Tom kissed me that night, I pushed him away. The second time he leaned down and touched his lips to mine, I didn’t object. I didn’t kiss him back, but I didn’t object. All of a sudden something was happening and I had no idea how I’d gotten there. Stuck in that place. Stuck in that moment. But I knew it must’ve been my fault. A nice man like Tom wouldn’t have kissed me unless I’d given him reason to think I wanted him to.
His hands slid to my waist, resting there a moment. When they continued south, I jerked away, stared at my feet, unsure of how to respond. There’s no training for that kind of thing. They teach us all about the effects of drugs and alcohol, and how the reproductive system works. But no one ever tells you what to do if you find yourself alone on a beach on windy night with your mother’s boyfriend’s tongue down your throat.
Afterward, in the car on the way home, he’d apologized profusely. Blamed it on the wine and the way I looked with my hair wet and my skin glowing in the soft moonlight. I was just naïve enough to accept that for an excuse and the next time he came to take Maggie out, I got an entire bouquet of calla lilies.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Uncle Jim suggested dinner so we stopped at a steakhouse along the way. My stomach growled as our server, a tall, bony boy whose voice shook when he spoke, handed us our
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