graceland's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ghosts of Christmas Pasts I went home to my parents for Christmas. It was nice, we hung out. My parents were really excited to see me. They always are. I don't go home much. Twice a year, Thanksgiving and Christmas. When I left that town, after graduating high school, I really left. I see my family a lot, we meet up thoughout the winter in Philly where my brother lives and go out to dinner or whatever. And then Memorial Day thru Labor Day I spend every weekend at my parent's place at the shore, so it's not like I don't see my family. I just don't go home to where I grew up. Since that's the case, when I do go home, I either hang out with my brother who also didn't keep in touch with any friends from high school or with my parents. My Dad's god-daughter is someone who I grew up with but didn't go to school with. We were the same age and played together but were never super tight; in the last couple of years we've become friends since we both lived in NYC. She taught me to knit and along the way, she fell in love with a guy from our hometown; this summer they got engaged and she moved home. The last two years, I've gone out with them when I'm home. We have a great time. He's an absolute sweetheart and he's kind enough to come pick me up and take me home, since I don't have a car and this is *gulp* suburbia that I'm from. In truth, there are taxi's and I could call one, but my friends think that's crazy and they pick me up. So we went out after Christmas for our annual evening. We went to this family-run bar downtown that we all like. Doesn't get too crowded, is an old-school dive that's been cleaned up pretty good. I ran into another guy we all know, that I've known since kindergarden. He's a sweetheart too and never left my hometown. That's pretty much the M.O. there, no one leaves. He was hanging with the owner's grandson, who made his way over and bought us shots. I figured he was buying us shots because he was friendly with the guys I was with, but he lingered a bit behind me after we were introduced, making me feel compelled to make polite conversation for a bit. This guy came back and forth throughout the night and by closing time, he was sitting with us, chatting with my friends' fiance. I was pretty hammered and so was my girlfriend and I really wanted to leave by midnight, but it didn't look like our driver had any intention of moving a minute before last call. Last call came and went and I suggested we leave, but apparently, we were with the owner, so we were in lockdown. Inside the bar. I heard this and almost audibly groaned. It's bad enough I can find myself in lockdown inside a bar in Manhattan, but now in my hometown where I am a virtual stranger at this point? How does this HAPPEN? Finally around 2am, this guy wants to close the bar but he and my friend's fiance suggest LATE NIGHT. I'm all "wha...ahhh, do we really think that's a good idea? Maybe we should just go home." I got a "yes. no" from both of them and the next thing I know I'm in a car heading to my friend's apartment for late night. Late night was a bust. That guy tried to talk to me, I think I made a smartass comment that made me sound like a complete asshole if you didn't know I was kidding and I was making very little conversation anyway. I wanted to go home. My girlfriend and I left the boys to chat in the kitchen and we played with this old 70's treehouse toy she had found at her parent's that we used to play with when we were kids. Finally the other dude left around 4am. After he left, my girlfriend mentioned that he never stays out late except when I'm around. That was news to me as I didn't think I'd ever met him before. Apparently I have. Several times, she told me. He made a comment when we were talking that the other guy that I grew up with at the bar has said that he'd known me since we were knee-high. I thought that was odd that I'd come up in their convo., since I didn't even know this dude and he was talking to that guy before we were even introduced that evening, but whatever. After he left, my friend's fiance starting talking about the dude and let slip that this guy used to live near my Dad's office. I used to walk home from grade school every day starting in fifth grade, wearing my little catholic school uniform. Often I walked with the daughter of a family friend who was a year older than me and lightyears ahead in sexual development. She was hot and fast. So, more often, we walked two or three blocks together until she could meet her HOT high school, upperclassman boyfriend (she was in grade school!) behind a building and hook up. More consistently, and after that girl graduated a year ahead of me, I also walked with a small, smart Vietnamese girl, Tam. I wonder what ever happened to Tam? She went to the public high school and I went to the Catholic, we never spoke again after eighth grade. A couple of silly boy classmates always used to follow us and taunt me. One of them ended up asking me to the Junior Prom. (I didn't go with him) Aside from that, it's funny, but when I used to walk home, right on my Dad's block I used to walk past this giant abandoned parking lot. Where I come from is very cold, so for a big part of the school year there were piles of snow in that lot. I always walked a little bit faster past this lot, because once or twice, a snowball would graze me, or more often, I would feel eyes watching me and I would turn quickly toward the lot. A few times I swore I saw the tip of a knit cap shrink down behnd a mound. So my friend's fiance told me that that he and this dude (both are older than me) used to play in that lot with some other kids from the area and they would watch me walk past. And that this dude that I just met had mentioned to my friend's fiance that he used to come outside every day regardless to watch me walk to my Dad's. Weird, right? At first I was flattered. You know, maybe he had some school boy crush on me back in the day. That's sweet. But then I thought about it the next day. The time that I would see these caps behind the snow mounds more and more was from sixth through eighth grade. In sixth grade, one gray, winter day I was waiting outside of my grade school after cheerleading practice. My mom was late picking me up. My mom was always late picking me up, she still is. My school was just a few short blocks from my Dad's office, that's why I walked everyday after school. When I had practice in the winter, I was always picked up because it would be dusk and I would have had to walk through a dark, tree covered empty park alone to get to my Dad's. No taunting classmates to follow me at that hour; no Tam. So my mom was late and some boys from the local public high school decided to come across the street and give me a hard time. I can't even remember how it started, but there I was on the stairs wearing my cheerleading uniform and I knew I was in trouble. I was outnumbered. There was no one left at the school. So I ran. I was almost as tall as I am now by sixth grade, definitely over 5'4" at that point - at that age, just all leg. You know that awkward stage when your knees can't seem to do anything but knock each other? I was all legs and boobs. Early bloomer. I looked a lot older than 11. Jesus - was I really 11? I was 11 but I probably looked 14 or 15. So I ran and they chased me. I can't even remember if I screamed. I just remembered that I needed to run or something bad was going to happen. I don't even think I took my school bag. I left it there on the stairs - I leapt off of a 5-foot tall brick wall, because the boys were coming up the stairs toward me, to get away. I hit the pavement and turned right because they were coming down the stairs to my left. Now I remember why I went that way. After this incident I was taken aside my one of the nuns who reprimanded me for this incident - they had heard about it somehow, I must have screamed at some point then and made noise. Or maybe my parents alerted the school. I have no idea.
This nun made it seem like I brought this on myself, that I was silly not to just run to the convent. When she said that to that me the next day, I think I was still in shock. And I was mortified. Her accusatory tone shamed me even more. I just didn't want anyone to know what happened to me. I turned pink. Long story short, she asked me why I didn't come to the convent for help - it was just a few feet from where I was standing, rather than run through alley's to an abandoned parking lot - and I stood there silent staring down at the floor until I was able to whisper "I don't know." I remember now, why I did that. I would have had to sprint left to go to the convent. They would stopped me in my tracks. They were right there on my left. I never would have made it! So I cut right and then right again through an alley behind my school. I made it two blocks, to an abandoned parking lot, when they caught up to me. They surrounded me and there I was in the center of this circle of high school boys like a fucking afterschool special, right? I even spun around like an after school special scene, with my hands in front of me to signal 'stay away.' They were throwing things at me. Like snowballs but sharp - like icicles they had broken off something. I was bleeding. My bare legs, my neck, my face. There were so many of them, it must have been 5 of 6 and they were moving in, closer and closer to me. I was about to give up when I heard a familiar voice yell, "Hey! Whatchoo doing?" Some of them turned and I could see who it was. It was a boy from my class. The biggest, dirtiest, rowdiest boy in my class who resembled Pigpen from the Peanuts and everyone shunned. He was able to see then that I was in the middle of this circle and he came running over. He ran, head down and bent at the waist like a BULL, straight into the biggest dude there. Guy must have been 5'10" and I heard this fellew sixth grader let out this warrior-like moan and take this kid down on the pavement. Suddenly the other smaller kids kinda backed off. I didn't stay around to watch what happened. This messy white knight was rolling around on the ground throwing punches and I ran through an opening in the circle. I ran back to where my mom was supposed to pick me up but I didn't have to run far. My mom found me running down that alley, crying hysterically, covered in cuts. She had started circling the area searching for me when she saw my bookbag left on the sidewalk or the stairs. I could barely catch my breath to explain what happened. But somehow, I got the gist of it out. I think she insisted on driving to that lot where they attacked me. I was crying and begging her not to and she was trying to calm me down, stroking my disheveled hair. I was completely hysterical. It's coming back. I think I was rocking myself. Trying to breathe and sobbing. Making a sound like small scream from deep inside me. There was no one there in that parking by that time. That pigpen must have sent them all packing with his mad rush. God Bless him. Instead of going home she drove me directly to my father's office where I sat in his office bleeding and they went into the hallway to speak. The door was open but I couldn't hear anything. I guess I was in shock. I couldn't figure out what the fuck just happened to me. I just stared into space. The events after the attack are equally fucked up but not really important to this story. The reason I'm writing this is because suddenly, when my friend's fiance told me about this guy who used to watch me, this secret that I spent 20 years hiding reared it's ugly head back into mine. Not completely buried, I took it out two years ago when I decided to deal with it since it seems to be the event that created pretty much all of the issues I have now. But here it was again, much more vibrant. I started trying to remember their faces. Trying to remember if I had been "dating" that high school boy at that time - that would have been way too early for me to be talking to boys. I think he I "dated" him in eighth grade. But it would have made sense for them to target me, if they knew I was seeing a guy from their high school. No, that wasn't it. He was definitely eighth grade. I kept trying to remember their faces, but nothing came into focus. I put it away so long ago. So I was left there to wonder, if this guy, who used to watch me walk home and knew all this information about me and my family, if he could have been one of the guys who attacked me that day. And maybe that guy has felt guilty all these years and wanted to meet me to ease his conscience? I'll probably never know but I'll tell you, it's a pretty fucked up idea for this guy to be one of them and to still be carrying some crush on me. I left town a day after developing this theory. Truth be told, I briefly thought about staying to retrace my steps that day. End up in that old parking lot that still there and really see if I could remember more. 8:32 p.m. - 2005-12-29 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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