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Poison Ivy 2
©copyright 2005 Bonita M Quesinberry, R.C.3
a take apart from novel "Poison Ivy"4
2000 words5
It was rock 'n roll, Elvis, big hair and makeup, poodle skirts flared by stiff petticoats, football games dotted by white mums adorned with miles of green ribbons with fake-gold ornaments and tinkling bells, school dances in long gowns and wrists wrapped in pastel corsages, beach picnics in decent swimsuits, parties in chaperoned homes, Sabbath church, old cars with quarter panels titled. Bad boys stayed out too late and bad girls dressed too flashy and every couple had our song.6
It was late fifties in the Texas Bible Belt, a place untouched by the drug riddled West Coast. Unfortunately, it was the last era southern teenagers would know how to have good, clean fun; the drug movement fast moving south, as would hippie and flower child groups along with permissive parenting.7
Fortunately, it was the last generation to hide painful secrets behind closed doors, those miseries tossed from dark closets into the mid-sixties' light. By then I was grown, married with one child; but, not to the man my heart had chosen. 8
Donald Allen Whitaker, two years my senior, and his sister Yvonne was in the same class as me. She was one of the bad girls with heavy, dark makeup, flashy clothes and wild boyfriend. Don was a bad boy because he stayed out so late but never trouble. 9
Don and I met at the Teen Canteen, a place to dance on Fridays. I was fourteen at the time and dancing with my ballroom partner. Just moments before, we had cleared the floor with dips and swoops amidst yelling and cheering as we twirled around the room. 10
When the waltz ended, my eyes strayed to the stranger who'd been intently watching us, standing off by himself, his arms laced across his chest as he leaned against the wall. Distracted, I murmured thanks to my partner and headed toward a group of friends; then turned to see him again. 11
He was still watching— me. My heart fluttered, leaving me breathless. He was gorgeous; tall, thick hair like a raven's wing swept in a ducktail with Elvis sideburns, incredible blue eyes over a regal nose and full lips, light tan complexion, shirt and tight jeans revealing a muscular frame ending in western boots. 12
He pushed away from the wall and started across the room, his gaze never leaving my face. My heart rate tripled, about the beat of Jailhouse Rock. 13
"I'm not much of a dancer, but I'd like to get to know ya," he drawled, a come-hither twinkle in his sapphire eyes and a wry tip to his smile. 14
He held out his hand, I accepted, allowed him to lead me out onto the floor. Oh, he could dance all right, maybe not ballroom, but definitely rock and roll. We spent the evening talking and dancing. Too soon it was eleven, and just about all of us had the same curfew.15
"Can I drive ya home, Bonnie?" Don asked as we started through the door.16
"Oh, no. My Dad's picking me up."17
"How about a phone number?" He asked.18
"No way," I said and grinned, "maybe next time." 19
Next time Don did ask again and I complied. Remember the Bible Belt: guys had to call a few times, come around a few more to get to know our parents, after which he might be allowed to ask a girl out. Teens were much better off back then; no demands on girls, no unexpected pregnancies, no unwanted marriages doomed to failure.20
Don jumped through all those hoops and we started dating, doing all the things teens did in those days. Then, I entered high school, the one from where he had graduated the year before. Several days a week, his boss let him go long enough to pick up me at school to drive me home, during which interludes we planned our weekend.21
Then I was sixteen and entered my junior classes. Don and I had been dating for over two years. I adored him and felt sure he adored me. He made me laugh; more importantly, I loved his responsible attitude and maturity. Alas, we had yet to find our song.22
He even loved my parents, one evening his maturity and pain reflected in his words. "You are so fortunate to have parents who care what you do, where you go, who you're with. I love that they've taught you strong moral values. My parents could care less what time I even come in at night."23
"Oh, Don, maybe it's because you're a boy, so they give you more space and trust you to always do what is right." 24
I think he might have viewed his parents a little differently after that; but, I hadn't shared with him my secret pain. It was true my movements were closely monitored— that was a good thing. I was so petrified of my mother that I would have died rather than stir up her wrath by doing something wrong.25
Don called one morning before I left for school. "Got anything planned after classes?"26
"Just the usual," I said and smiled, "homework, chores and accordion practice."27
"Mind if I drive you home?"28
I was ecstatic and, later, patiently waiting when Don pulled up in his emerald green, 1951 Cadillac Fleetwood. I promptly hopped in and scooted over by his side, where he placed a gentle kiss on my lips then slipped the car into gear. 29
We hadn't driven more than a mile when Don glanced at his watch, then turned up the radio's volume. "Ya gotta hear this new song!"30
A DJ announced, "Okay girls and boys, this one's for Bonnie from Don." I was almost overwhelmed to realize Don had called in a special request. Poison Ivy began to play: "Poi—son I-I-Iyai-ivy, poison ivy. . . look but don't touch. . ." It went on about a boy who loved a girl he'd never touch until she was his wife, a girl others could look at but had better never touch. 31
Don glanced a grin and said, "That's our song now." It was perfect.32
A few weeks later, Don called one morning to say he'd pick me up after school; but, oddly, told me to wait on the school's front steps and he'd find me. Later, as I sat on the steps glancing around to not miss seeing Don's car pull up, instead I suddenly saw him sauntering up the walk with a mischievous grin on his handsome face.33
"Hey, beautiful!" he greeted and took me by the hand, pausing to continue, "Now, I wan'cha to close your eyes and ya can't peek. Okay?"34
"Well, yeah," I stammered, "but, I can't see where to walk!"35
"I'll guide ya, tell ya when we're at the curb, and so on until we get to my car."36
We walked down the walk, stepped off the curb, crossed the street and into the parking lot of a small shopping center across from the school. Finally, Don drew me to a halt, my eyes still tightly shut.37
"Okay, now open your eyes." 38
I could hear eagerness and expectation in his voice. My eyes popped open to see his emerald Cadillac with Poison Ivy scrolled in fancy, colorful letters across its quarter panel. "Oh my gosh!" I exclaimed as he led me around to the other side. 39
It was painted there, too. Don opened the driver's door and had me slid in past the steering wheel. Finally, we had our own perfect song. The entire world would know it and every guy in town would know not to touch. At least, that's how it was supposed to turn out. 40
In early spring, before my senior year, Don joined the Navy and was stationed in New York. Letters flew back and forth, each conveying our love and missing one another along with pictures of Don in uniform. Oh, my, what a handsome sailor he made. The last one had said he would be home just before Christmas and had a surprise planned. I could hardly wait, hoping I knew what it might be.41
Upcoming events, however, would change our lives. Just short of my seventeenth birthday, I was violently raped and didn't know how I was going to tell Don. I certainly wouldn't write it in a cold letter. It had to be after he got home; even then I wasn't sure how to go about it. I hadn't even told my mother. She would have just blamed me. 42
His first evening home, Don and I went out for dinner and a movie, later parking on a bluff above the lake so we could talk.43
"Don, a, a . . . something terrible has happened that you need to know about."44
Don slipped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me snuggly against his side. "It's okay, honey. Just tell me. It'll all be okay." Without going into a lot of detail, I told Don about the rape. He was devastated.45
"Damn! That sorry son of—" Don slammed his fist against the dash, then glanced at me and grimaced. "Sorry. I didn't mean to cuss. It just makes me so damn mad! I could kill him. He had no right to touch you. I hadn't even touched you. Damn it, you're mine!"46
I just kept murmuring how sorry I was. Finally, his anger spent, Don turned my face and gazed long into my teary brown eyes, then whispered, "Will you marry me?" Before I could respond, he added, "I just want to give you a ring before I go back to New York, because I want you to finish school and graduate."47
Tears rolled down my cheeks. He wanted me, damaged or otherwise. "Yes, yes, I'll marry you. I love you so much, Don." 48
He grinned, then said, "I have to ask your parents. Then! I'm putting a ring on your finger for Christmas." He reached for the car's ignition, fired up the engine, put us on the road.49
I'll never forget the pain in his eyes when mother turned on Don, "You will NOT ever put a ring on my daughter's finger and you'll not come to this house ever again. You are not welcome here!"50
I wanted to die a thousand deaths. Don had such respect for her. I attempted to argue on Don's behalf, explaining that marriage was for after graduation and the mere fact that I loved him. Mother just kept railing, yelling and screaming. Even my stepfather attempted to come to our aid, only to have her attack him. 51
Amidst tears streaming down my face when Don walked back out to his car, like a mantra I said over and over, "I'm so sorry. I love you, I love you." I never saw Don again, hearing later that, within a month of returning to New York, he'd met a gal in a bar and, while drunk, married her. They had three children, then divorced.52
Secrets. Secrets kill all things good and reach far beyond closed doors to injure innocent bystanders. My home was fraught with every form of child abuse, but Don had no way of knowing. He didn't know my cool mother was anything but. I barely found the courage to tell him of the rape, and might not have had I not felt he was about to propose; but, horrors within my own home were a matter I wasn't prepared to speak of with anyone. 53
I never knew why Don was treated so abominably by the very woman he admired, a woman who crushed him and, through him, reached out to crush another young woman and later three children; to say the least , she crushed me but could not destroy me. 54
In hindsight, it would have been so much better for Don had I been forthcoming about my own home life. Don't keep secrets that have the power to destroy all things good. 55
Author notes
This is just one true story out of a life spanning 61 years. Hopefully, it will help another.
What did you think? Please comment!
Comments
1 - 14 of 14
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Ah...this is the life..and the story line you stated here is intense making me curious to read your complete identity...wonderful and thoughtful sharing once again..can't forget forever...thank you so much...
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Wonderful-Profound...
Salutations and benisons to Author-Poet Bonita M Quesinberry, R.C.
It is always a privilege to read from a Pen that has as holder a quil from the Eagle's nest.
Very impressive and instructive story. "Poison Ivy" shines.
In respect and admiration,
Andre Emmanuel Bendavi ben-YEHU -
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Oh, Andre! Long time no see. It is so good to see you here at A/P. Frankly, I had forgotten that this short story was posted in the Story room of A/P. Thank you so much for such encouraging, uplifting words.
Much love & hugs, SisBon
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Oh, Bonnie, reading this, and having grown up only a few years after the poodle skirt era, the times were about facades. Your point that secrets destroy give me a lump in my throat, and tears in my eyes because there were so many silences I lived with growing up, too.
A friend once said to me, "I remember how it was at your house. Everything looked right, but so quiet. You always walked on egg shells." And we did, trying hard not to make any noise as they turned to powder beneath our feet.
Remembering the volatility and instability of my step dad in my own teen years, I have so much compassion for you in the experience of your growing-up years. 
~ Karen
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Wow, this is soo sad. I loved the way you described the romance. This is like a fantasy...wicked step mother...true love...exept that it doesn't have a happy ending. This awesomely true, though. One secret can destroy everything.
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I did not see that ending coming from anywhere, and i was so shocked at the way she reacted, it sounded like a pure fairytale romance ... This story brought tears to my eyes, it was wonderfully told and thank you for sharing it with us ... At least Don can live on memories, if nothing else
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Look at what a sad life can produce! I am sure this will help someone else Bonnie. You are such a strong woman to have overcome the odds. This is a heartbreakingly, poignant story. You spilled your heart to us. I do appreciate your sharing. There are parts of my life that were haunting but I had wonderful parents and siblings that were also friends. I wish I could hug you right now.
You are so precious to me, and this story is one I hold close to my heart.
I WISH YOU ALL THE GOODNESS GOD CAN RAIN DOWN ON ONE PERSON FOR THE NEW YEAR!
You are so beautiful! Your spirit abounds!
All My LOVE,
Renee
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A masterful masterpiece
Your muse brilliantly and expressly conveys such wisdom from experience. You captivated me with “exquisite descriptive words,” and I felt your story as if it where my own. What a great talent you have BonnieQ. It's always a privilege and a pleasure to absorb your creativity and style. This was simply marvellous, I must say. What a masterful memorabilia that has a moral, to the story, beside. Well done little Sister! No matter what contest you enter, you will always fine “a richness of grace’ and favour.
Love and hugs, ~*Milly *~
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WOW... This is so sad!! It is one of the saddest stories!!! It is very well written but still so sad!!! Good luck in the contest!!!
Hugs,
Beth -
Oh, Bonnie, my heart was breaking for you, Sweetie. I know what it's like to give your heart to someone only to have all hopes of spending your life with him dashed! I don't think my life had ever been broken that much again.
I enjoyed reading this very much. I loved the emphasis you put on how this 'bad boy' turned into such a fine young man. True love can do that to a person whether they be ready for it or not.
Thank you so much for sharing this part of you. I feel the same way about getting things out in the open. Why should those who have hurt us stay hidden in the dark while we drive ourselves insane with guilt and pain? My sisters have never told anyone what happened, and they are walking proof of what it's like to bottle such things up and hide them. You're a very brave woman, Sis, and I love your honesty in this. Hugs, Patricia -
Oh, Bonnie, I am sad. I wish we could reverse the clock and take you back to that day and you guys could pick up where you left off. Now that you are single, can you at least try to find him and have a nice conversation?
please!!!! I want there to be a happy ending to this story. ♥ vj
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You've put your life out in the open in order to help other people. I find this very tender and caring. Your story kept me captivated throughout. I'm so sorry for you. Nothing happens by accident. God has everything planned. Sometimes we get to see a little of it but mostly not. Thank you for sharing. Shancy.
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Incredibly sad mom! I agree that secrets can devastate a persons life. I've had so many of them myself... sometimes I'm not sure if I've ever got them all off my chest or not! My home life was horrible as well, only it was my stepdad that was the monster and mom just stood by and said nothing. Later on, she even joined him in the frequent beatings he liked to administer, for if he was beating me, that meant he was leaving her alone for a while! Oh well... I'm glad to know this part of your life although it pangs me so! I love you so much! Your ability to forgive and overcome is amazing!
Blessings and hugs xoxoxo
~daughter -
awesome
It was really good but sad....
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