I realized this morning, rather remembered something I probably will wish I hadn’t, that the Old Lady knew I was being molested.  I mean, I know she knew because I told her but I always kind of thought she was just one of those dreary naïve kind of people who wanted to believe the best in the man she’d married, that he surely wouldn’t rape his own niece.  I mean, that shit’s kind of unforgivable, right?  So although I did blame her, I really didn’t hold it against her too much or maybe that’s vice versa.

Then this morning I remembered the year I lost my virginity.  Well, not my ‘real’ virginity, but you know the first time I slept with a guy on my own, not the someone who raped me the first time or the someone who molested me the first time, but the someone I chose to sleep with the first time.  I found him because I was in a place where I normally wouldn’t have been.  The old Centro Asturiano Hospital in Tampa.  The Old Lady had went in to have another piece of glass removed from her ankle.  Apparently in the 1950s or some time after that, she had been in a car wreck and had her ankle caught in the windshield.  Every few years a piece of glass would work to the surface and she would enter the hospital to have it surgically removed.  This is where I met the security guard.

So I asked myself this morning a question that I’d never thought of before.  Why was I there?  I’d went with her to the hospital and apparently I’d stayed there the whole night but why?  Obviously I was wandering the halls or I wouldn’t have met him.  Why did she bring me there, to stay all night?

She didn’t want to leave me alone at home.  She knew.  She…knew.  She was naïve after all if she thought her presence at home kept them out of my room at night.  Good one.


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