You will come to know things that can only be known with the wisdom of age and the grace of years. Most of those things have to do with forgiveness. — Cheryl Strayed
Plenty of humans are monstrous, and plenty of monsters know how to play at being human. — V. A. Vale
For many years, I held a big secret — about a monster — but it was helped, I suppose, by the fact that I am, for the most part, a naturally pretty forgiving person.
I don’t want to hold on to anger or bitterness or bad feelings if at all possible.
However, some things are impossible to forget — ever. They are just etched into the fabric of our being if they are traumatic enough. And this was one of those things.
What Happened.
When I was about four years old, my father’s best friend since he was a small child touched me inappropriately, molested me, while my father had gone next door to our neighbor’s house. When I attempted to go and get my dad, my dad — having no clue what was going on — sent me back to our house, where this friend began doing the same thing again.
Thankfully, my father returned home shortly thereafter.
As a small child, I was afraid to say anything, thinking I would get in trouble, that it was my fault.
So I kept this secret — and hated this man.
Of note, the friend had been intoxicated at that time — that is definitely relevant to the rest of my story.
The Passing Years
In the next years, my dad and his friend found sobriety. My dad stopped drinking when I was five or so. I’m not sharing any personal information he wouldn’t gladly tell you himself. He shares his story often.
His friend also sobered up — and I tolerated him as long as he was sober and he stayed the hell away from me. I still thought he was a total pig. He made sexist jokes and commented on women’s weights and bodies and whatever else he felt like — thinking he was funny — and I HATED him when I was growing up — but he was my dad’s best friend and I shoved it down.
Since I’ve been an adult, my dad would talk about him from time to time — but, of course, I would never actually see him so I would just listen.
Until. . .
The Break
A few weeks ago, my dad called me, so upset, reporting that this friend had started drinking again after thirty something years of sobriety and that “he is a mean drunk.”
And I just broke.
Without planning, without warning, with the secret I honestly thought I would take to my grave, I told my daddy every bit of what happened, from where I was sitting, to what I was wearing, to what our old chair looked like — because I remember every damn bit of it, like it was yesterday.
Because, if he if he is drinking again — and is a “mean drunk,” then God only knows what he is capable of again, and it was more than I could handle or excuse anymore, no matter how damn long it has been.
And, of course, my father was horrified, so upset.
But, then, there was more.
Another Victim
It turned out that, during the same time that this man molested me, another best friend’s wife said that he had been drunk and raped her. He said she wanted it. Because he was such a “great guy,” he was believed at the time by the group — but, thankfully, the woman’s husband DID believe her — and they left.
That’s right — he RAPED a woman also.
Another “best friend.”
And got away with that as well with his white male privilege bullshit.
I. AM. SO. PISSED.
A Monster On The Loose
With this much time having passed, there is some relief in the truth being out — but there is nothing to be done.
However, knowing what I do now about another victim, and hearing about his current behavior, which is not good, I am beyond concerned.
I. Hate. This.
I have to both continue to work through my own issues with this, as it has confronted me again, and also try to determine if there is any further action I should take to prevent him harming someone else at this point.
I hate knowing there is a monster on the loose again.
