It is interesting, because I remember so much of my childhood. I am unusual, I think. I remember taking a bath in the kitchen sink and I could not have been more than two. I remember when my brother Michael was a tiny baby and we got our dog King. I got to name him, and suggested Duke (my grandma's dog), Butch (my neighbor's dog), Princess (he's a boy) and finally King (whew!). I remember leaving my red tricycle on the corner when my mom called me for lunch and running down the block after to find it GONE. I understood theft for the first time. I remember all my preschool teachers and every elementary teacher I had and details of events that happened in each grade. I remember the first "big word" that I learned how to read: helicopter. It is hard to grasp my "most distinct" memory since I have so many distinct memories. I'll share one that still carries a strong emotional impact on me.
I was in third grade, Mr. Isermann's class. I had a friend in class named Javier. He used to call me and we would talk on the phone, a novelty to talk to a friend and not just out of town relatives. Although Javi and I were in the same school, we did not live in the same neighborhood. He lived across Sheridan Road, a busy road that had a real crossing guard on it to stop traffic when kids needed to cross, not just the sixth graders with patrol belts and badges on. I don't know how he got permission from his parents, but he came over sometimes. We played together in my yard, pretended we were in a street gang and had to fight to defend our territory. One day at school he invited me to visit his house, he said he had a fort he wanted to show me. Oh heck yeah I wanted to go see his fort! So after school I turned left instead of right at the front of the school and walked with him to the busy street, waited for the crossing guard to stop traffic, and went with Javi to his neighborhood. His street was very quiet, right next to an elevated train track and had no cars driving on it. His house was pretty and white with yellow curtains and I went in and met his parents. The fort was down the street, another boy joined us as we walked toward a grey house. That boy was older, a sixth grader I didn't really know at all. They showed me a hole in a fencing area underneath a porch on the grey house. I looked at them. "Go in," they said. "It's inside."
As I am writing this, I am feeling anxiety building in my chest and a part of my brain is shaming me for going with him, for not going home after school, for going somewhere I didn't even know how to get home from, for being so stupid. I also know I was eight or nine years old, and had no fear at that moment. I wasn't afraid of Javier, I wasn't afraid of that older boy, and I wasn't afraid of going under some strange porch in a strange neighborhood and no one knowing where I was.
I got on my hands and knees and crawled in. My backpack scraped against the wood of the porch as I wormed my way under the porch. The first thing I noticed was a dirty mattress taking up most of the floor space. Then I saw a black armchair with no legs stuffed up in a corner. The boys were coming in behind me and I looked at the mattress and then at the chair. I sat in the chair because something told me not to be on a mattress with boys. They came in. I don't remember how tall the little area was, if we were squatting or kneeling or what but I can't imagine we could stand up.
"Isn't it cool?" Javier asked.
"Yeah, really cool." I smiled. It was creepy and dirty and I didn't like it. Javi leaned in and started to kiss me, putting his hands on my arms and holding me down into the chair. I struggled, said, "Stop! What are you doing?" He pressed his tongue into my mouth and the other boy reached over and held my legs down. I struggled harder and they gripped me harder, both of them with their hands on my body, moving their hands around over my clothes. I was terrified and already getting tired, and I decided to go limp and store up my energy for one, big break out. As I went limp, Javi said, "Yeah that's right just relax and enjoy it. Don't fight." At that moment, as I was coiling my muscles for my huge burst of energy to escape, I heard a voice.
"Angela! Angela!" Javier and the boy let go of me and looked at me.
"That's my grandpa! I have to go, he is looking for me." Oh thank god, thank god for my grandpa! How did he find me, how did he even know where to look? I grabbed my backpack and crawled out from under the porch. My grandfather was walking down the middle of the street, his hands to his mouth, calling my name. I hugged his legs and looked into his face. He smiled and hugged me. He wasn't angry. I asked, "How did you find me?"
"When you didn't come home I went to the school and the crossing guard remembered you going home with some boy and she thought he lived down this street. So I came to get you, honey. You should have come home first."
"I'm sorry grandpa, I should not have come here. I'm so happy you found me." The boys and the fort were forgotten behind me and I held my grandfather's hand as he and I walked to the corner where he had parked his red Oldsmobile.
"Were you lost, honey?" he asked.
"Yes grampa I got lost and didn't know how to get home."
