Excerpt from Sequin Boy and Cindy
Expect this novel out on Kindle and Amazon Print the end of September
My apartment is really one big room with a bathroom and a kitchenette on one sidewall. The walls are exposed red brick except for one wall, which is a fake knotty pine plywood affair slightly warping away from the two by four wooden beams that the panel is nailed to. In my room, which is fairly neat, except for a small pile of underwear in the corner, which I have the foresight to hide in my closet before we meet, is a desk, a table with two metal chairs, and a red and black plaid convertible couch that I sleep on most of the time without opening, and a twenty-seven inch HD TV that I splurged on. The couch sags in the middle and looks like I got this wreck at a thrift shop. I’ve got to get rid of the damn thing.
Cindy sits down with me on the couch and we kiss and hold each other gently. This is wonderful. We are two kids in need of affection: Alone and afraid of our own feelings, scarred I guess by our pasts and all the bad memories we’ve accumulated. How come I can see some things so clearly, but don’t know what to do about them?
I say, “You smell so good. Your skin is so smooth.”
Cindy says, “You are so gentle, you don’t push me, I like that.”
“I really don’t know what to do. I want you, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to say, or how to act. I have no social skills. I’ve never talked to a girl this way. I have never been with a girl before.”
Cindy must have noticed I was getting aroused. She says, “Let’s take our time. Things will happen naturally. I think I should go now.” She abruptly pulls away from me and starts to cry.
“What’s the matter Cindy? Did I do something wrong? Is it the sequins?” Her face turns a ghostly white and she clenches her fingers as she looks away from me as if she’s scared I wouldn’t accept or understand what she is about to say to me.
She turns white, takes a deep breath and says, “ It’s not you. I don’t know how to tell you this. I’m not even sure I should so soon. I don’t want to ruin our relationship before it even gets started. It’s not you. It’s that bastard of a stepfather of mine. He sexually abused me from the time I was fourteen until I was sixteen and could leave and go to a group home. I’m so embarrassed. I know its not my fault, but I can’t help feeling like I did something wrong. I feel guilty.” Then the color starts to return to her face as if a giant weight has been lifted from her heart. Cindy has revealed her terrible secret.
I gently touch her hand and say, “You did nothing wrong. I don’t know why adults feel it’s okay to abuse us one way or another. We can take our time. We don’t have to do anything until you’re ready. As long as I can be with you and hold you. I can wait as long as you want.” She sighs with relief.
Suddenly I feel myself turning red with rage at the thought of her bastard stepfather taking advantage of her. I ball my fists. Then I start to cry out of frustration because there is nothing I can do. We hold each other and cry together for the abuse we have both suffered, and for our lost innocence that has left us so inhibited we can’t even enjoy doing what comes naturally. Eventually with the resiliency of youth we manage to comfort each other.
After a while I walk Cindy downstairs. “Will you come back on Saturday?”
Cindy looks at me in surprise and flinches in my arms. “Don’t you want to see me tomorrow?”
“I do, I do, but there is something important I have to take care of. Come back Saturday afternoon. I’m planning a surprise for you. I really care about you.”
“Can’t you tell me what the surprise is, Billy?”
“No I can’t. Then it wouldn’t be a surprise, but I think you’ll be pleased. I’d do anything for you, Cindy.”