Spa Day

I did a double take, and there she was…looking almost identical to the teenage her that tainted me so long ago. My eyes spoke disgust while the air of a heavy hello fell over my lips. She was whole-heartedly happy to see me. It instantly softened my heart without my mind’s permission. Did she not realize what she had done and how it had jacked up my life? Or, was she glad to see that despite her contribution to my hell that I survived?

She was with her mother so I couldn’t embarrass her when she reached out to hug me; my left side going numb as she touched me again for the first time in 15 years. I think I heard my 7 year old soul cry out to her mother to tell her to stop, but it didn’t part my breath. I screamed inside. I fought for my temple. I kicked. I cursed, but really I kept my mouth closed and my arms opened wide for the attack of disdain. I played the role. We were in public for goodness sake. The way I saw it I had two options: slap the shit out of her n tell her what she’d done or move on. Right then, the Christian in me chose against my will, engaged in meaningless banter on the whereabouts of my family and their well-being, and then we parted ways. My mind went back to spa day…

Everything was laid out: nail polish in every color, toe separators, nail files, lotion, a bucket of warm water for our pedicures…Livvy and I had just got out the shower n had towels on our wet heads, prepared for her big sister Angie to do our hair. I didn’t have any sisters so this was going to be amazing.

1997…Usher Raymond playing in the background, she painted our feet and hands, did our hair. Wet curls slicked my back as she brushed my hair, I wrapped in my bath towel. We had girl talk (as much as you can for a 15 year-old hanging out with two 7 year-olds) and she told us what a period was, amongst other things she shouldn’t have. Livvy went in her moms room right after and fell asleep, as usual. I never knew a young child to sleep so much. Me and Angie continued spa day.

“There’s one thing we didn’t do, ” Angie said, “….massages.”

My mom was a nurse so I was all to familiar with massaging her. Her feet and back always hurt.

Angie layed in the bottom of her and Livvys bunk on her stomach, and I on my knees began massaging her back. She’d tell me where and I’d add more lotion and go. I looked up to Angie. I’d do anything to be as cool as her. About 3 minutes into it she asked me to unhook her bra so I could rub her easier. That was my first time doing so. I was still in sports bras. She then took off her t-shirt/bra. I continued to rub her, still thinking nothing of it. It was spa day.

5 minutes later, Angie told me to stop and then flipped over on her back and said, “Now you have to massage the front.” WHAT?!…I said in my mind. My mom definitely never made me do that. She was a slightly thicker girl, and the only thing covering her was a thin pair of shorts…her thighs, legs, stomach and Double D breasts bare. I put my hands on her, not knowing at all what to do. I began on her shoulders and minute after minute she insisted I move down until I was essentially fondling her breasts in what I thought was massaging. She took my hands and placed them over her nipples and she began to make sounds…sounds that made me confused…sounds that made me uncomfortable…and then proceeded to touch herself where I could see. I think I wanted to stop, but didn’t know if I should.

And then she touched me between my legs and asked me put my lips on her chest, and I did it. And she told me how. I did everything she told me to do until she told me to stop. And for the first time of what would be many I disconnected logic from emotion and from my physical and became nothing. I heard and I did. Because it pleased someone I admired. Because I knew if I said anything I’d lose her…and Livvy.

When it was over, I made myself forget. Every time I remembered I’d beat it out of my head until I forgot. She molested me. I was 7, she was 15, and at 23 and after 6 years of being a lesbian and not knowing how I got into that lifestyle, I now remembered the gateway. The spirit she put on me. And with no apology, I forgave her 16 years later in a mall.



2 thoughts on “Spa Day

  1. Thank you for sharing this…. sometimes we blame ourselves for things in ours lives that we wish were not… when if we could understand why they have such a grip on us, maybe , we could know that it isn’t us— we aren’t bad— we aren’t “OK” with it— it actually isn’t us at all… we were victims, but we don’t have to be any longer

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