The Repeated Movie

It was like a movie that played over and over in Carl’s mind. It wasn’t one of the westerns he loved so much, or even the love stuff his Mom liked, but some horror-type of film he had only heard whispered about; a sex-type of thing. Not only could he see the movie when he went to sleep, it was there every time he even thought about going fishing or taking a walk in the woods with Duke, his black Lab. A nightmare that existed to cause fear of mirrors because he was certain a huge “Q” would show up on his forehead at any time now, telling the world he had been a part of something shameful.1

At sixteen years of age life should be easy, or it appeared to be that way for all of his friends. This was the 1960s after all and not the Dark Ages, so why were certain things so behind and not progressed with the times? An adult could still say something and have the world believe them, regardless of what a child (or even teenager) said. Not fair!2

Just three years ago his life had been simple; hunting, fishing, running through the woods with his dog, stealing a watermelon in summer. All the things a kid his age did; the same things his friends did, or even those boys he knew that were a few years older. After all, living in the country meant hanging around with whoever lived within a few miles, playing pickup baseball games and being satisfied to be the last guy chosen until you got good enough to be the third guy. Just hanging around and listening was what you did if you wanted to belong. Life was simple, or so it had seemed.3

Listening. That was the problem, he listened too much. Then one day after turning thirteen he went for a walk in the woods and decided to experiment with something he had heard---what some of the older boys had been talking about. It seemed to feel pretty good; after all, things had started to feel kind of---itchy, was the best he could describe. 4

Hearing a sound he looked up to see his Dad with a near-wolfish smile on his face, standing at the edge of the tiny clearing of bushes where he had been standing. Instead of being angry or giving a lecture his father had insisted on “helping” with the experiment. Things had gone from bad to worse at this point, there never seeming to be a time when the older man was not around.5

Even with passing birthdays it didn’t become any easier to live his life; now he actually looked forward to school or work; any activity that would keep him away from home. Without giving it a lot of thought high school was also a place to join things like football and baseball; they took time and gave an outlet for some of the violent feelings. Baseball, track and even the debate team meant hours away from home and the leering looks and constant attempts to get him to “Go for a walk” by his father.6

There had to be some way to deal with the problem, someone who would listen and believe him. His pastor maybe? No, this would only end with the man coming to the house, confronting his father and the world would end. Maybe not the world, but at least the world as he knew it, and that was all that counted. His world, his Mom, baby sister and even the father. Every single person Carl knew had two parents, at least they did unless one of them had been killed or died from some disease or something. If his Mom heard about what was taking place she would believe it…and she would take action. She would kill his Dad. The end result? His father would be dead, his Mom would be in jail and he would be separated from his little sister. 7

Over a period of time some of his friends had learned to drive and even gotten some type of old car. During summers he could get away while his Dad was working and go with his friends, riding around in their cars, clambakes, swimming or just hanging out. By now girls were a big part of his life and his father had seen him a number of times with at least three girls he had dated at some time. This only led to; “Well, how about it? Are you getting much of that stuff? Tell me, how does it feel?” sort of questions. Not that it changed much, the man still pressed his case for walks and the desire to “help experiment,” leaving a dirty feeling as well as the question in Carl’s mind about what other’s would think if they ever found out about the few times this had happened.8

One ray of hope was in his life; Carl and his friends spent a lot of time on the beach during the summer, and over the past years had made the acquaintance of a man who had a house close to where all the teens held their gatherings. An electrical engineer, Mr. Thomas shared the large house with a math teacher from the local high school (not the school Carl attended), and was well respected in the neighborhood. There was a shower outside to wash off the sand made available to all, and an occasional beer for those teens deemed discreet. All this took place within a fence-enclosed backyard where classical music usually was playing on outside speakers. Late evenings his beach house could be found filled with young people of all ages, any different music that was going had the volume kept to a; “Reasonable level please, there are neighbors.” 9

This man was going to be Carl’s way to salvation. Someone with enough education to be an electrical engineer and own, or at least own half, of this big house on the beach had to be a fairly intelligent person. Since so many teenagers knew and seemed to trust both these men; as well as the adult community, then here is where he could find the person to listen to his dilemma and give him some advice. All that was needed was the opportunity, some opening. What would it be? 10

“Say Carl, the place needs to be painted. Would you be interested in earning some extra money? You could come Friday and just spend the weekend. Bring some old clothes for painting, bathing suit of course and clean clothes for evenings and stuff. You can sleep in the spare bedroom we have up in the loft,” he said, pointing up to a large window on the second floor.11

His chance! Not only could he earn some extra money, this would be the time he wanted to talk about his problem with his father; get some advice from a man so many teenagers in the area seemed to like and trust. 12

“Why sure, I’d love it. Thanks Mr. Thomas,” he almost spluttered.13

Leaving the house to join the group back at the beach Carl was almost running and jumping with joy. If there was a way to solve his problem and not destroy his family he was positive this would be the man to confide in; the person to guide him. It had been a long time; almost three years of avoiding his father at every turn. Getting snide remarks about girls he was seeing, wondering if others could see inside him, knowing what had taken place in that tiny clearing in the woods. He just wanted to be able to take a deep breath and sleep one night without that dream.14

Friday arrived with blue skies, clearing the way for a weekend of work, but most of all, opening the door to freedom. The young man almost jumped out of bed, hurriedly getting dressed and down the hall only to be sent back by his Mom to take a shower. What a thing to forget! Lost minutes on a day like today with one of his friends to show up at any time. A quick shower, changing clothes now to please his Mom, and back to the kitchen to eat the breakfast she had waiting. Before he had finished a car had pulled in the drive and a horn was blaring; a staccato call that even his mother understood.15

Less than an hour later sweat was dripping from Carl’s forehead as he worked on the upper story of the beach house. It seemed the lower portion of the place had been finished at some earlier date, leaving only the stepped-in second story to be completed. There was no doubt a couple of days steady work would finish this job because the house didn’t have a lot of trim, just an even green with white shutters on the bottom floor. 16

Dressed in cut-off jeans and old tennis shoes the teen worked in the sun, splotches of paint standing out on the suntanned body. He wasn’t even aware of the music playing; not the rock he preferred, but the classical that was always heard from the outside speakers at this house. His hands were busy with the paint brush, but his mind was rehearsing what he was going to say tonight. Tonight! 17

Evening finally arrived with appearance of numerous teens and what promised to be a great party. The two adults were known to have friends from all over the community; teachers, a judge and even one or two liberal pastors had shown up tonight. Interspersed in the group were various teenagers or young adults there as guests, but could be seen serving drinks or food. The music was constantly changing; a rock song here and there to be broken by selections for the older people. 18

A party isn’t what Carl had wanted, but time to speak with the man who had taken time over the past few weeks to speak to him, then offer both work as well as a possible counselor. Maybe later tonight after the party was over and everyone had left? He still had tonight and tomorrow for that matter; even Sunday morning if he wanted to push things. With this thought in mind he walked down to the beach in search of some of more familiar faces; those at the house were people from the local area and he barely knew some of their names. For now a swim in warm water, tossing a football, and maybe finding his girlfriend, Cristina, was what he needed. 19

Returning to the house almost three hours later Carl found the party had broken up, just a couple of people left in the drive getting in their cars. He quickly took a shower to wash off the brackish water and sand of the Chesapeake, and headed upstairs to his bed. Since there the party tonight had upset his plans to talk with Mr. Thomas there was always tomorrow; a good nights sleep would be a start.20

Laying in the bed and looking at the stars through the skylight a strange sound reached Carl’s ears…or at least he thought it was a noise. Listening carefully he wasn’t certain if it had been something heard as much as felt, but there was definitely a feeling of something moving in the house. Body tense the young man watched and listened, finally hearing a small creak of the stairs, then seeing his door slowly open to show the figure of Mr. Thomas.21

“Wow! I knew something or someone was moving around but for a few minutes it was beginning to look like everything was in my mind,” Carl said.22

The older man smiled. “No, everybody’s gone and I just wanted to tell you I noticed how much you got done today. Also it seemed like you wanted to talk earlier and we never got the chance. So, here I am.” With that he sat down on the edge of the teen’s bed.23

As Carl was commenting on the party, the older man never looked away but gave him his full attention, unlike many adults. Gradually he relaxed and remembered that this was the man trusted by so many people, teenagers in particular, and the one person he had decided to tell about his problem. Slowly working up the courage to bring up the subject, the world then started to fall apart as a hand touched his leg under the cover.24

Looking down to be certain it wasn’t imagination, he could see Mr. Thomas’ right hand under his cover and back up to the face, a smile on the face of the man. Throwing back covers, his hand hitting the older man in the process, Carl jumped out of the bed as he grabbed his clothes.25

“What do you think you’re doing!” he yelled. 26

“I was just being friendly,” was the reply.27

“You do that to every teenage guy that stays here?” Carl asked.28

The man didn’t answer, just sat on the edge of the bed, his head down. 29

Jamming feet into his shoes the youth jumped up and opened the door, only to be stopped by,30

“Wait, you haven’t been paid for your work.”31

“It wasn’t the money I was after, you fool,” Carl yelled, “I thought you could be trusted! The work was fine but you have been trusted by all the kids so I thought you would be the one adult I could talk to---and just look at what you—you—you’ve gone and tried to do.” With that he ran down the stairs, stumbling at the bottom against a small table and knocking over a lamp. Not stopping to pick up either lamp or table he went out the back door and out to the beach, his only hope that one of his friends would still be at an overnight party.32

Three days later a car pulled into the drive at Carl’s house and a man got out, came to the front door, stuck an envelope in the screen, turned and got back in the vehicle. His Mom had hurried to answer the door but the man had left before she had the opportunity to even describe him. The envelope? It was addressed to Carl and contained a sheet of paper which had the words: WAGES FOR PAINTING and a one hundred dollar bill. 33

What happens when there are no adults you can trust? That is another story; one very, very long, very painful story. Let me tell you this much, no matter how much a parent hurts you; even if you are certain you hate them, search deep enough and you will find love.34