Paula Sophia Schonauer, LCSW, continues a serial memoir. For those who haven’t learn the sooner elements of this collection, take a look at the underside of this web page.
“The arduous half about one being robust but meek is the phantasm of being a punching bag.”
― Criss Jami, Killosophy
After I regained consciousness, I seen the nail had dislodged from the piece of wooden, punching the tip again by my hand the place it leaned out of my palm like a fence put up in shallow floor. Blood dripped from the again of my hand, a sluggish however regular ooze. I pulled the nail from my palm, fingers reflexively curling inward to attenuate the ache, blood pooling in my cupped hand.
After I tried to straighten my fingers, it damage, piercing ache, and I balled my hand right into a fist for aid, blood seeping by gaps between my fingers, out by a fold line subsequent to my pinky. I grabbed a dishrag from a stack of laundry subsequent to the dryer and wrapped my hand, unsure what to do subsequent, questioning why I used to be nonetheless alive.
I paced the damp concrete flooring, crying and cursing, feeling dizzy and nauseous in waves, afraid to go upstairs, afraid to remain within the basement. Mother referred to as my identify. I didn’t reply, selecting to take a seat down in a depressing nook to ease my dizziness.
I don’t know if I handed out once more or if I had fallen asleep, however the subsequent factor I knew, I used to be being carried, Mother murmuring someplace behind me. I used to be in a automotive, avenue lights illuminating the inside of the automotive adopted by intervals of darkness in successive waves. Subsequent, I used to be in an analyzing room, a lady with a surgical masks gazing my eyes, shining a light-weight into my pupils.
Later, a physician was probing the wound in my left hand. It damage. I screamed in ache.
“You’re a fortunate younger man,” the physician stated.
Mother and Dad wished to know what I had been doing within the basement. I lied. I instructed them I tripped and fell on a bit of wooden with a nail protruding the tip. Fully believable, I used to be recognized to be clumsy. My rationalization, fully accepted. Past that, no extra questions, no extra penalties save a tetanus shot, which left me aching and uncomfortable after I lastly went to mattress.
Some weeks later, it was full-blown spring, the air heat, the grass inexperienced, and a common exuberance within the air that had been missing throughout winter. It was the primary day above 70 levels, so I tied my windbreaker round my waist by the sleeves, the nylon materials swishing in opposition to my legs as I walked dwelling from faculty. Perhaps, this was what it felt wish to put on a skirt or a costume. I danced a number of steps, not caring who may need been watching.
The junior excessive boys stepped from behind a hedgerow close to the backlot of Sparkle Mart, obvious at me. I knew I couldn’t outrun them, and I knew I couldn’t outfight them. I endured their derisive feedback, all the standard epithets, and waited for them to hit me or transfer on, figuring they have been certain to get bored sooner or later.
There got here a curious acceptance of this abuse, a resolve to get by it. I couldn’t keep away from it, nor might I delay it. All I might do was stand it. To some, this appears to be like like weak spot, the shortage of violent reprisal, however it might have been the bravest second of my life. I didn’t cry, nor did I urge. I endured. This was a second of unpleasantness, some ache, that’s all. It might not outline my day. I wished to benefit from the late afternoon, the lingering gentle, to stay outdoor so long as doable.
My silence appeared to upset the junior excessive boys as I stood amongst them, stoic as an alternative of cringing. They have been hesitant, even suspicious. Their taunts died away, and so they checked out one another as if ready for somebody to name the cue for the subsequent assertion, the subsequent motion, like first-graders in a college play.
One of many boys approached me, a bit of taller than me however shorter than his companions. He had blond hair and brown eyes, freckles on his face, cigarette smoke on his breath. I braced for a beating.
With out saying something, he punched me within the intestine, barely low on my belt line the place his knuckles bashed my belt buckle, a small brass rectangle. He recoiled in ache, shaking his hand, sucked the blood off a scraped knuckle. He hit me time and again, this time close to my stomach, bending me ahead in ache, too breathless to cry.
“Come on, Tommy,” one boy stated. “Depart him alone.”
The boys walked round me, laughing, and left me crumpled in a fetal place on the pavement. It was over.
As soon as the boys have been out of sight, I began to cry, proud that I hadn’t finished so of their presence. The ache in my stomach was sharp and nauseating as I stood, and my breath got here in gulps. I slipped into the shadows behind Sparkle Mart till my breath grew to become even, till the tears stopped flowing, and till the warmth on my cheeks had cooled. Assured I had erased proof of getting cried, I walked dwelling, aspiring to keep away from my dad and mom lest they requested me how my day had been.
Later that night, I used to be enjoying tetherball within the yard after I leaped to achieve the ball because it flew above my head, simply past grasp. I should have overstretched my torso, inflicting my stomach muscular tissues to cramp, and I fell ahead, feeling the identical ache from the day’s earlier beating.
I lay within the grass holding my abdomen, making an attempt to breathe when Mother referred to as out to me.
This put up is the newest of a serial memoir Paula Sophia is writing about her life. We’re honored that she selected Free Press because the platform. The next hyperlinks are to earlier elements of the memoir.
- Manhood, from the inside out — Memoir and Mythology
- Part 2 — Cubby Hole
- Part 3 — Magic Carpet Cocoons
- Part 4 — Snips and Snails and Puppy-Dogs’ Tails
- Part 5 — Mirror
- Part 6 – Deep Water
- Part 7 – Limbo
- Part 8 – Dissociation
- Part 9 – Shame
- Part 10 – Judgement Day
- Part 11 – Inferno
- Part 12 – Haunted
- Part 13 – Did I say that?
- Part 14 – The end times
- Part 15 – Alone again (naturally)
- Part 16 – Welcome to Grey Town
- Part 17 — Stigma
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Final Up to date July 10, 2023, 8:26 AM by Brett Dickerson – Editor
The put up Manhood from the inside out – part 18 – Turning the other cheek appeared first on Oklahoma City Free Press.
