Twelve: Part Three

In one minute, I was standing at the back of the church nursery facing the wall length window overlooking the sanctuary, watching my mama and sister running toward me. The next minute, blackout. When I came to, my mom was standing over me with a look of terror grimacing her face. She was saying something. Her hands were on my shoulders, shaking me. I watched her lips moving but I couldn't make out what she was saying. As the room threatened to return back to black, I heard the sound of a man's voice calling out my name. "Erika!"

As my heart began its attempt to push itself out of my chest, my eyes frantically searched the room. I noticed the man standing near the church entrance wearing short grey corduroy shorts and a loud Hawaiian button up. He looked harmless. I dared to look the devil in the eye and found that they were filled with a look of love, warmth, concern and... there was something else. I could barely make it out. Evil? Yes, that what it was. I saw glimpse of evil in his eyes. I wondered if anyone else saw it too. 

I hid behind my mom as she helped me to my feet. He started toward me, and I let out a shriek that stopped him cold in his tracks. My body quaked. I gripped tightly my mom's arms for fear that without her support I would topple down behind her. She took my waist, guiding me past the man with the evil eyes whom I called "daddy," to head for the exit out the front of the church, my stunned sister following behind us. Without my permission, right as we walked past him, in what seemed like slow motion, my head turned to look his way. The touch of evil I thought I saw just a few moments earlier was no longer a question. No doubts remained to cloud my perception. I saw something wicked within the eyes of the man that was my father; and it looked back at me.

He followed behind Donna, and we were all outside my mom told him to take my sister and the blue and silver schwinn back to the house. I would ride with her. We arrived home first, and I hurried straight to my room, accidentally slamming my door shut. Immediately, I began to violently brush out my unkempt, relaxed hair. Tumbleweed puffs of my hair fell around me. I was possessed.

I heard my dad announcing that we were having a "family meeting." My mom came to the door and told me to come to the front room. I felt a rage rise up within myself. Unadulterated fury. I threw my brush across the bed and left the false safety of my room. I was having some sort of out of body experience. I floated down the hall toward the front room knowing full well that I was walking into the lion's den.

I found the three of them sitting there on the beige and brown sofa and loveseat. Mama and Donna looked as if they had just been caught up in an unexpected windstorm. I felt sorry for them. I sat down opposite him and my mom, next to Donna. I stared him down as he began to speak.

"I will not live in a house where there is no love expressed."
"I HATE YOU!!!" I hissed loudly. I was pulsing with a pure hatred for this man whom I had worshipped up until 6 months ago. I wanted to jump out of my seat and strangle him with my bare hands.

"You are clearly possessed by satan!" He countered.

I was breathing heavy through my nostrils. It felt like I was going to explode at any moment. Maybe I was satan possessed... In that moment I definitely felt a hate inside me that I had never experienced before. Maybe I was the evil, dirty little girl he was always reminding me I was. Sitting on that sofa, on that summer night in 1983 in Kaneohe; and on so many days and nights before then--and after, I did feel evil, and dirty and vile and completely destroyed. I didn't feel innocent. I never had. 

He got up and went to the kitchen, which was located in another room, out of sight from where we were sitting. It sounded like he was making soup. Chicken noodle soup no doubt. His favorite. I sat there listening to the resounding silence of my mom and sister. From the kitchen he commanded, "I don't want to discuss this night ever again!" The funny thing was, there weren't any discussions made that night. We hadn't talked about what had happened that night. Didn't mama and Donna wonder what this was all about? They just sat there as if the mute button on the remote had been clicked their way. 

Sitting there quietly, uncomfortably, awkwardly; really wanting to just get up and get out of there; I realized, in real time, that I would not be blessed with peace or safety of any kind. That I was unequivocally, alone.