UNSPOKEN THINGS: PART ONE

Age: 6

I remember thinking how long his legs were. Maybe for a six-year-old all adults would have seemed tall except this man really was tall. I remember having to push my head back to look up at his face and as my gaze travelled over his brown trousers, pale short sleeved shirt, trim beard and steady eyes, I felt nothing. No fear, no warning tingles up my spine. Nothing.

It was Saturday and we were at the neighbour’s house playing. We usually spent our weekends in their house or them in ours and when a new face arrived in either house, we children greeted them with respect, assuming they were a relative, and then we returned to our play.

I can’t remember if we were playing hide and seek or some other game but we were all running and, eventually, we ended up outside. It was then I run into Long Legs.

His smile was slow. “Hello,” he said.

I must have smiled back because he looked at me for a long moment and said, “You’re a very beautiful girl.”

I remember it was afternoon and I had to move to my left so his shadow could keep the sun out of my eyes. I shifted just as he bent and whispered in my ear, “I have something to show you,” he said.

I kept smiling as he moved back a little and said, “I am going upstairs and you can come after a while but don’t tell anyone, okay. It’s a secret.” He straightened to his full height and patted my head. “Don’t forget, okay?” I nodded in agreement and watched him walk into the neighbour’s house.

I wondered what he had to show me. Whenever my dad came back from England he brought all sorts of goodies and I was partial to goodies. As Long Legs entered the house, I saw my friends, our neighbours who lived in the house we were playing in, run up to him shouting, “Uncle, Uncle!” I still don’t know if he was a real relative or just someone given the title out of respect. Now that I think about it, there is nothing I really know about Long Legs.

The game resumed. I remember that time seemed to go so slowly with the dream of chocolate bar wrapped in shimmering foil burning in my little mind. The maid called us in for tea and while we sat on a mat on the floor waiting and watching cartoons, I saw my opportunity. I was seated by the stairs, right next to my shoes that we’d been told to take off so we didn’t dirty the house. I snuck up the stairs then stopped for a minute and returned. I didn’t want to leave my shoes behind. They were new and who knew what would happen to them with all those kids in the room? I picked them up while all were still distracted and run up the few stairs.

The first storey was arranged just as our own home was so I knew that Long Legs would not be in the first room to the right because that was the master bedroom. He was most likely in the last room to the right which is where guests usually stayed in our house. Was the door open or closed? I can’t remember but he was sitting on a desk facing the wall when I entered the room. He turned toward me and smiled. Did he speak then? I don’t know. I think he motioned for me to come close and when I did, he lifted onto his lap, facing the wall. There were papers on the desk in front of me but no chocolate. I wondered where it was. He put his arms around my waist and I heard the sound of a belt buckle. I remember putting one of my forefingers in my mouth and chewing on it while I tried to figure it what was happening.

I was wearing a white bubble dress with a red and black checkerboard pattern on the top. I remember his hands moving and pulling the bubble part of the dress to my waist. I felt him pull my panty to my knees. I closed my eyes and bit down hard on my finger. Behind my eyes were dancing colours. Between my legs was a strange object, pushing upwards. In my mind were twirling birds and waves of petals. Between my six-year-old thighs was an unfamiliar slick hardness. His hands tightened on my waist and his head was pressed against my shoulder. Within me something recoiled into a thousand silences. I kept my eyes closed and chewed on my finger. There was a heavier dampness between my thighs as Long Legs made strange sounds and held me tighter. It never occurred to me to make a sound, to protest.

His hands loosened and his breathing lost its heaviness. He lifted me off his lap and said, “Okay, you can go back now.” He turned away from me. There were more belt buckle noises as I left the room. Outside the room, the paint had fallen off the walls. Downstairs, the cartoons were stuck in a grey stillness and when my friend’s asked me to play with them outside after tea, I sat on the grass, legs squeezed tight.

I remember, only now, something else Long Leg’s said after he set me down. He looked at me briefly and whispered, “Don’t tell anyone. This is our secret.”

His words were roots, deep and sturdy, invisible and complete.