Years Of Wait For Those Pair Of Nipples
- 3 years ago
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I mentioned my triggers.
Somehow my wife and I repaired our marriage 15 years ago.
I know that I took a lot of the blame. I knew most of the fault was mine.
At the time I was able to see I was distancing myself. Running away.
It would be another 15 years until I found most of the basis for this.
My sister took me out to dinner for my 53rd birthday.
We made plans to go out for her 49th in April.
We're still trying to get that into our schedule. Hopefully this Monday :)
We hope to try out that new Brazilian steak house. Sounds yummy.
Sorry, I couldn't resist popping in some humor. I may do that more. It seems to hide from me but I've been known to have a humorous side.
Therapy last week. My son's girlfriend coming home crying and upset about some crazy driver cutting her off. She said he looked like the devil.
That picture was in my mind as she started talking to him; I was walking away but caught something about molesting. Brother. Nothing real clear.
I filed that away and then suddenly my wife's trip to a work conference was upon us.
I am the designated airport delivery driver. Friends and family alike. Designated driver for anything since I do not drink and I take my driving seriously.
34 years of driving and one nasty black ice accident. Not too bad in the scheme of things.
Anyway, back to the airport. I dropped off my wife. We hugged and kissed after I removed her luggage from the back of her Escape.
I cried for others many times. I had not cried for myself in quite a long time. I realized that the time for my wife's arrival at her destination had come and gone.
No messages or calls to say, "Hi, I arrived safely".
I started bawling my eyes out. I knew we were close to being done. Our marriage that is. I kept running away. She kept trying.
I got up for a drink. I walked out back for a smoke. I know, I know. 53 and still smoking. I need to quit but it is damned hard to do so.
My neighbor had been out there and was smoking. I saw her young sister and she was being playful. Fell down in the grass and tried to do cartwheels.
Flashing her panties.
I went back into the house and laid down in bed. Just to rest my eyes.
Then I saw that little 10 year old girl lying in that hole in the ground. A small ditch or fire pit of some sort.
I then replayed that scene from 43 years ago and contemplated the reality. How could this be?
I knew it was real as I woke up and realized that I was remembering more of what happened and I knew that sex, at the age of 10, was nothing I had even known about, nor pondered, until I was nearly the age of 15. I was a late bloomer. I didn't really know why I liked girls. Hell, I was a good little boy.
Oh my God I felt so much sorrow for that little girl. Now I think her one brother's name is coming back to me. I will write it down to see if it feels real. Her name still eludes me.
At 100 words exactly discounting title and byline, have I finally found a story format with which I can contribute to this wonderful community? With thanks to Dove for instigating the stream of drabbles and the usual disclaimers as well as permission for Saphire, Fictionmania, and any free site I present: Years Of Pain by Robin Foster The years of pain were finally over. After hormones and therapy and electrolysis and surgery and more therapy and sexual reassignment surgery,...
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