I don't remember the first time I met you. I was young. Perhaps you remember though. Did you always fantasize about me? I've always been known for being naive, but that was no excuse to take advantage of me. I used to love seeing you. I really did. I loved how you always gave me hugs and bragged about me to your friends. I loved that you spent time with me. I can remember feeling disappointed the few times you ignored me, wondering if I did something wrong. If you abused me way back then, I don't remember it now. Did you? My mind tends to forget things now. Things that are too painful to remember. I guess I have you to thank for that. I don't recall the things that led up to that summer, or how we arranged to carpool. Did I ask you? Or did my mom? Did we call or come to see you w
hen we asked? The only thing I remember is the feeling of dread as we drove over there. Why would I dread seeing you if nothing had happened previously? I can only assume there's some piece of memory I'm missing there. I was so nervous, sitting in your truck, waiting for you to pack things in the back. Why was I so scared? The drive was awkward.
You have terrible taste in music. When we stopped at the restaurant to eat, I was so embarrassed by how much you stared at me. Didn't your wife ever notice? Surely she must have. I couldn't eat much because you were watching me. When we left, I lied about needing to use the bathroom with the other girl, just so I wouldn't accidentally be alone with
you. All week long at camp, I was very uncomfortable around you. I didn't know why, but my gut was telling me something was wrong. Every time I turned around, you were there, looking at me. But I was trying so hard not to be rude to you, because I was taught to be polite and to respect my elders. So I spoke to you when you asked me something, and I didn't push you away when you'd put your arm around me. I didn't like it, and tried to find excuses to leave, but I made sure not to be rude. That day we were all in the kitchen, I figured it was fine that you had your arm around me, because there were so many people around. And again, I didn't want to make a scene. As everyone filed out, I expected you to let go of me. I can still remember in slow motion when I turned to look at you and you were staring at my lips. Before I could react, you had already kissed me. I didn't know what to do except leave, so I did. You stayed behind. But as soon as I walked out that door, I forgot the incident. Two weeks later, I was still trying to avoid you. I was playing cards with the cook when you walked in. Then the cook got a phone call and had to leave. I got up as well, wanting to leave so we wouldn't be alone, but you already had your arm around me. Again, my mind goes in slow motion. I look at you and you're staring at my lips. I flash back to the first time you did this, and before I know it, you're doing it again. But this time, it's much longer. I was so disgusted to feel your warm tongue on my lips, and I think that's where I snapped out of my flashback. I pushed you and hurried to the door. You sat on a bench outside, watching me and licking your lips. I was trying so hard not to completely panic. Why did you do this? And what did you tell your wife, so she would be mad at me? It wasn't my fault. I wish I could have overheard your conversation with our boss, when you denied it all. Did you really think he'd believe you? And how did it feel when you were told not to touch any other child for the rest of the week? Did you feel like a criminal then? An outcast? Were you ashamed? Or were you still innocent in your own head? I've had so many confused memories about you. Other memories, like being at your house, waiting for my mom to come get me. Praying she'd be there soon, and watching out the window. I remember the panicked feeling when you followed me onto the porch and stood behind me. Things like that are what I remember... I remember the feelings, even when I don't remember the actions associated with them. I always have this nagging feeling there is more to this story, but I still try to give you the benefit of the doubt, and not blame you for anything more than what I remember. But even so, that is enough. You hurt me. If not physically, emotionally. You had no right to do that. You were easily 60 years older and married. Your wife is the only one you should have ever been sexual with. And you cannot blame me for your actions. We both know it was not my fault, no matter how much you blame me. But I am through crying over you. I am through being scared. You will never touch me again. And that's how this story will end. I have found peace now. Have you?
Sincerely, that girl you used to know.