I had just come home from school and Mom was getting up to go to the bathroom. I hugged her dearly and then grabbed a left over meals on wheels plate and started to drink the chocolate milk. I was sitting staring at one of Mom’s soap operas when there was a knock on the screen door. It was my grandpa coming to drop off some sweet Zellwood corn. I hollered to Mom that he was here and then sat back down to tear into some graham crackers.
Now my whole family jokes about how Grandpa is a flirt and just a dirty old man and they always say he’s harmless and just plain old. My cousins would say he does it to everyone; it’s not a big deal. I guess I was embarrassed that all the touching bothered me. I didn’t like it at all. He repulsed me, just the sight of him. His touch creeped me out every time I endured it. I remember trying to always make sure Dad or someone from the church was around when he we near me, but it didn’t always work that way.
This day he asked me to sit down on his lap. I hesitated but he gave me an authoritative look. I went over and he hugged me super tight. I could smell peanuts on his breath and old man cologne. He rubbed my face with his stubbled cheek and placed my hand in his pants. Oh, how it made me sick to do this. I hated him for this. I thought to myself, don’t I have enough to go through right now. He started to grab my chest and held me down on the floor face first just rubbing me. I felt so worthless, like a piece of garbage. This is all I was to him. Just someone he could break down and touch. I was someone to make feel dirty and ruined. Some one that screamed inside for safety.
But, I never told, I never told my Mom and Dad. This had been going on for years and I hated myself for this until my mid twenties and then I let it go. I Never told until that very day. This was the day I told. After several minutes of his grouping hands and pinches the toilet flushed. And for the first time ever he put his index finger to his mouth and looked me straight in the eye. I looked up at him so scared and he told me don’t you ever tell your Momma what I do to you. I swear it was like he had punched me in the gut and through me across the room. I was so frightened by what he had just said I couldn’t even think. He must have noticed the look in my eyes. The look of realization that something’s not right here and if you tell I will be in trouble. It was the look of I just found out that the problem is with you, you freak. Not me, I am not the problem. You can’t control me! Never again will you ever make me touch your nasty, sweaty crotch. You will never look or touch me under my shirt again. You will never touch me between my legs or put your mouth on me again you sorry ass loser!