September 14, 2016

My Date With a Pedophile

About a month before I started high school as a freshman, Grace fell in love with the drummer of a band that played regularly at the lounge where she worked as a cocktail waitress on the weekends. 

Grace seemed different.  She wasn't wearing as much make-up and seemed to have lost interest in hurting me.  My sister's new boyfriend was Tony and he seemed to be having a good influence on her.

I didn't trust Grace.  I didn't trust anyone except my best friend and my brother Peter, but my trust issues didn't stop me from being naive.

When Grace began acting nice toward me and wanted to take me to the lounge to meet her new boyfriend, I didn't trust her.  Despite not trusting her, I wanted more than anything to believe that she had changed.  It would be so wonderful to have a big sister that I could be close to, especially since Peter had moved out. 

The naive part of my mind not only misguided me, but led me into a very dangerous situation.

Eventually I would give in to Grace's insistence that it would be fun to go to the lounge when mother told me she would enjoy a quiet evening home alone for once.  I didn't mind the idea of being away from mother and her strange whispering conversations either.

 Grace acted like I imagined a big sister would act the night she took me to the lounge.  She loaned me a blouse of hers that I liked and fixed my hair, all the while chatting away about how wonderful Tony was.  It was the first time I heard Grace talk about her future when she shared her dreams of becoming his wife and starting her own family.

Because mother had always let Grace do whatever she wanted, there was a double standard between Grace and me that had always confused me.

The first time I had worn eye shadow, mother scrubbed my face so hard it looked like I had a rash, the whole time ranting how only whores wore make-up.  On the other hand, Grace wore so much make-up she usually did look like a cheap whore, or in Peter's opinion, a clown. 

When Grace wanted to apply a little make-up to my face for our night out, I reminded her that mother didn't allow me to wear make-up.  She put some make-up in her purse and told me she would apply it at the lounge and wash it off before we came home.

In order to avoid getting in trouble for anything, before we left I asked mother what time I should be home.  I was surprised when she said she didn't care.  I was with my sister so whenever she wanted to bring me home was fine with her. 

Mother did look happy to be rid of us for the night.  She had set up the coffee table with homemade cookies, cake and coffee.  After changing into one of her favorite comfy flannel nightgowns she parked herself in front of the television and was watching an old black and white movie when we left.

I wondered my whole life if my mother knew what Grace had planned for me, or if she was blind and ignorant to how evil Grace could be.  While mother accused me of being an evil demon or alien, it was Grace that she should have been worried about. 

I had never done anything to harm my mother, but the daughter that she loved and appeased was the daughter who would ensure that mother's final few years were full of pain. 

In the end, Grace wasn't only getting revenge on me for her misconception of me never being molested; she was also getting revenge on mother for staying with our father after he molested her.

I had enjoyed the entire evening with Grace at the lounge.  Tony was a very cute and sweet young man who was from the Philippines, as were all the band members.  I didn't understand what he saw in my sister, but if he was the reason she seemed better, than it didn't matter.

Grace had been the perfect big sister that night.  When we arrived at the lounge she took me to the bathroom and applied a little eye shadow and blush.  Before we left she helped me to wash my face so mother wouldn't know that I had worn make-up.  While I still had doubts that she had changed, I had a great time with Grace and found myself hoping that she really was changing to be more normal like Peter.

I went to the lounge every weekend with Grace for about a month, each time she was a great big sister.  Always helping me with make-up and washing it off before going home.  She would tell me stories about all the band members and her friends.  I couldn't believe how different she had become. 

At the end of my last lounge outing with her, I would be astounded by how far Grace had gone in an attempt to cause me immense pain.

All of the band members and other people that were Grace's friends at the lounge were always very sweet toward me.  The only person who bothered me was the singer of the band who always insisted on sitting close to me and trying to get me to slow dance.  I didn't like the way he kept looking at me. 

The singer  looked a lot older than the other band members and I asked Grace how old he was.  It turned out he was in his early forties, while the other band members were either in their late twenties or early thirties. 

When I told Grace he made me uncomfortable she told me to relax because he was like that with everyone.  I never saw him acting the same with anyone else, and small doubts about Grace began creeping into my thoughts.

As the evening of my last outing with Grace wore on and the singer kept looking at me and touching my hands and arms in a way I felt was inappropriate, I began to wonder if the woman who had paid someone twenty dollars to rape me could ever change.  If she had paid the singer to rape me, he didn't look like he would refuse like the Native American man had.

It was the latest I had ever stayed out with Grace.  We usually left after the band played their last set, but this time we waited for them to pack all their equipment up.  They only played at the lounge on the weekends, so Saturday nights they packed everything up until they came back the following weekend. 

It was almost three o'clock in the morning when Grace told me everyone was going over to the singer's apartment for breakfast.  When she took me to the singer's car I asked why we weren't riding with Tony and she told me his car was full of his drumming equipment and there wasn't room for both us.

As I sat in the back seat of the singer's car, I noticed that he kept looking back at me through his rearview mirror and I began wishing I was home.  In Hungarian I asked Grace if he could drop me off at home because I was tired.  When she told me to stop acting like a baby I felt a knot in my stomach.  I began telling myself how stupid I had been to believe that she had ever changed.

When we arrived at the Singer’s apartment, Grace told me to have a seat on the sofa.  I went and sat in the corner of the sofa, and prayed that we would leave soon.

The singer started a pot of coffee and Grace asked him if she could use his phone to call Tony.  The singer told Grace she could use the phone in his bedroom which was at the end of the hall.  For a moment I thought maybe he was going to follow my sister into the bedroom and that’s why he invited us over.

No one else from the band came to the singer’s apartment.

While Grace was in the bedroom talking to Tony, the singer came and sat next to me on the sofa.  He sat so close his leg was touching mine.

He put his arm around me and began whispering in my ear to relax and that he wasn’t going to hurt me.

I felt myself wanting to jump up and run but then he turned my face and began kissing me.  As I felt him force his tongue in my mouth I could feel him touching my breast.  I struggled as hard as I could but I was just a little girl and he was a full grown man who was much bigger and stronger than me.

After he raised my blouse and lowered his mouth to my breast and moved his hand under my skirt, I began screaming for Grace to help me.

As I turned my head I saw Grace leaning against the wall watching and smiling as she smoked a cigarette.

I began to scream as loud as I could and I heard Grace yelling at me to stop being such a fucking baby

After a few minutes Grace told the singer to stop.  He was upset and reminded Grace that she promised there wouldn't be any problems.  She said it wasn't her fault that I was a fucking cry baby.  She told him I was being too loud and someone would call the police.

When he told us to get out, Grace told him he better drive us home or she would call the police and tell them he tried to rape me. 

During the ride home I sat in the backseat and despite my best efforts, I couldn’t stop shaking.  Grace told the singer that if he ever said anything to Tony or anyone else about what happened she would go to the police.  He assured her he wasn't going to say anything to anyone.  Instead, he suggested bringing me back next weekend and trying again.

In the lobby of the apartment building where we lived, Grace grabbed me by the arm and told me that if I ever told anyone what had happened, she would take me back to the singer and let him do whatever he wanted and then let his friends do whatever they wanted. 

I never went back to the lounge and I would never trust Grace again.  To this day I can't believe the lengths she went to deceive me in order to get revenge and have me molested. 

It was such an elaborate and well planned scheme.  I always thought Grace was less intelligent than Peter or me and that's why she didn't finish high school, but looking back on what she had planned and executed, I had to admit that it took a very intelligent and patient mind to do what she had done.

Because of what happened with the singer, combined with my father's addiction to porn magazines, constant cheating on my mother and molesting my sister, I was becoming convinced that men were perverts.  They didn't care about anything but sex.  I made an unrealistic vow with myself that I would never let a man touch me.

Since Grace knew that I would never trust her again and it would be more difficult for her to have me molested, she decided to get revenge through mother.  If she couldn't have me raped, then she would use mother's delusional ideas about me being evil to emotionally and mentally destroy me.

Between my mother and sister, I had become an empty shell with a mind that had been torn apart.

I began high school convinced I had no future and any dreams I had for my life were nothing more than wasteful thinking.

I had no idea what would become of me, and I no longer cared.  But then a strange thing happened, a young man, a senior at the high school began leaving poems in my locker.

My daydreaming skyrocketed and a tiny light of hope flickered in the back of my mind.  Maybe, just maybe mother and Grace were wrong.

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