I think there is something
in the recesses
yes….. something there…. within the recesses….
come let us search ….
my dearests whoever may still be there; my sub-self…. I say to you that if for no other reason
if
for
no other reason
….indulge me my darlings
and follow me into my deepest
deepest …. chasms and …. recesses of
a crew tangled cerebral passages
The wikkawizard awaits you—said the rider to the fly
well, anyway—
As Jim Morrison said, “back there in seminary school….” when I was just a lad
The first thing I did when I got to Holland was lose the twang. The southern drawl. Which I’d not any knowledge I was guilty of until Steve. Steve— he came sailing by to make fun of me whenever he could. He was a lot older than me. He was a bad boy. Bright red hair and cheeks and handsome as a prince. He had that Lady Diana smile; the big teeth. All his sisters had the same smile and the same bright red hair. Looking back, Prince William kind of looks like him but he had green eyes. One was scared; he’d jabbed his eye with a fork as a kid.
Steve was one in a million. I think that after him no other male could ever compare. Caroline hated him. But for some reason Steve decided to never leave me alone. In this funny way he provided the needed buffer against Sargent.
Hierarchy
Steve was like the one everyone admired. Mr. Page was crazy about Steve. I pretended a friendly hatred toward him.
I was eleven.
But there it was— the dreaded recess. God, how I hated recess. Sargent with his horny hand grabbing for my sex was beyond suicidal for me to want to wake up for school.
Why did Steve chase me? Why me? I mean, I was the most unwanted person to ever be picked for gym class teams. So humiliating. To be there wanting to melt into the walls. And there was Caroline so great at volley ball —God, I could not reach the net nevermind get a ball over it—would I feel better at the end if the day doing their shit? No fucking way
Suddenly …. cough …. God I’m so sick ….
Was I above faking illness to get out of my bad coordination challenges? Oh ….yeah
Mr. Melchers ….no I won’t even say what he was like but I conjured Vanessa Redgrave at that moment to explain my ailment
So lucky!
I sat on the bench that dreary gray Dutch day ….as Caroline did amazing volley —yay—don’t I suck?—and sunk into the book my mom gave me “Mrs.Mike” I still remember it ….and Mike ….
then there walked Steve ….! Shit. Damn. So even worse than before as humiliating —he was great at everything in the gym, of course. While—me? My trip my ice skating instructor back in Florida who then lands prone on top of me in front of the entire ice skating floor at ….the fucking Miami Beach Fontenblau
the flashback when he threw me down just sealed my humiliation with him too ….
and since that day,
I’d realized staying in the classroom during recess to avoid Sargent?
…..only made him corner me in the fucking empty classroom …. Mr. Crabtree? Never anywhere useful
I’d say there were at least half a dozen times
I was cornered in that room. Fred just standing there laughing. Fred. He’s another story. And his dude kick JP. Jean Paul—yes, actually from Paris. Fred—Hawiian, and the spitting image of Freddie Mercury as a boy. Fred and JP would play Queen and copy Freddie and Brian May respectively —convincingly. And while both those boys were clever, they were stupid. They were idiots. Like Moshe and David from Israel and why?
Because they followed
Sargent
in that fucking chase —I was cornered by all the boys in my class. Where was Mitsuko when I needed her? Where was Caroline?
After endless minutes sweating it out, I ran past, calculated, endured Sargent’s raping hand in exchange for the door out
but Moshe and David stood at the doorway that lead to the outside. I had no choice but to turn to the bathrooms. They faved the doors leading outside. Six doors. Three marked like little girls. Three marked like little boys.
I ran for a girl’s. Locked myself in.
What happens?
Sargent leading, they climb the walls over the stall! I am surrounded boy all the boys and all alone!
I was seriously terrified. I could have cried if it were not for my pride.
When Sargent jumped from the ledge to join me in that stall —telling me what he intended to do ….nothing innocent
I ran. I fucking ran out that door—knocked off who it was hanging on it, I ran out that barrack door, I ran in search of Caroline, I headed for the playground with the swings …..
and all the while the boys are behind me!!!!
And so that was when Steve appeared —it was that day…. not too long after the ice skating moment we had and by magic there he was when it seemed as if I was ….no, seriously I think it was a Lord of the Flies situation; Sargent had a decisive goal in mind and he had all the boys backing him
but Steve was that ace because the boys idolized him even more than Sargent—and Sargent too
For me it was like trauma but the ninth grade teacher showed up, only after Steve herded up the boys— Mr. Morton and what did say….? “I can’t really blame the boys!”
sexist and shocking for my virgin ears to hear this from a Quaker teacher!
But it was Steve who —made me laugh about it that day when he kicked Sargent’s ass. Literally. And looked right at me. Primitive leadership
So, this day he found me with Mrs Mike at the gym sitting alone on the bench faking sickness …. and there he was showing off to me as he shot baskets, never missing as I pretended not to notice until he came right over and took the book away from me. He stood there looking at it. Thumbing it. He was thoughtful. Then he looked at me and did that bright big smile and asked,
“do you’d rather read books than play sports with your class?”
I wasn’t used to being put on the spot.
Or noticed —for me
and it didn’t make sense to me why the most popular boy at school cared enough to take some interest in me. I mean, really, back in Florida I was usually forgotten when it came time to passing out the cake and cookies. Nobody took any interest in me except to remark on how different I seemed (is she a gentile?) I looked or the unusual shade of my red hair so having a moment like this stunned me
I decided to be honest
“Yes.”
He handed the book back to and said,
“just be sure to not spend your whole life hidden behind your books.”
It seemed uncharacteristic to me he should say such a thing. Wasn’t he a bad boy? Why did he care?
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