It was Easter 1988, and my husband Russ was overseas. We had just moved into the brand new officers' housing at Camp Pendleton, where the ocean view greeted us every time we walked into the room. We had only been there a few months when Russ had to leave for a six-month deployment. It was the first time I lived alone. I loved where we lived. Our home was on a cul-de-sac with only six houses, and we just had to step outside for Kevin to play in the small park. I never really saw anyone.
Kevin and I were excitedly driving to the park for Easter. Our family met there every year to celebrate.The morning sun poured into the car, illuminating the day as the sky radiated a deep blue. We were heading to a small park in the heart of the city—simple yet inviting, adorned with a few trees, picnic tables, and a little playground bustling with children. My relatives had claimed a picnic table beneath a sprawling oak tree.
As we parked, the cheerful sounds of laughter surrounded us, mingling with the mouthwatering aroma of roasted chicken wafting through the air.
“It was a good idea for us to come today,” I said to Kevin with a smile as we made our way toward the gathering.
I settled beside my mom, content to watch the joy of family conversations and children's laughter. Eventually, the food made its rounds. To my surprise, I ate eagerly—my appetite rekindled after a long time. After feasting, Mom wandered off while I basked in the gentle breeze, engaged in laughter and stories with my relatives, all the while keeping an eye on Kevin as he played on the grass.
Amidst the children's laughter, Kevin broke away from his cousins and started walking towards me. As he approached, something caught my eye—a figure in the distance. At first, he was merely a silhouette against the sun, but as he drew closer, details sharpened into focus. A man in Levi's and a red short-sleeve shirt.
A chill coursed through me as I recognized the familiar posture—the broad shoulders, the confident stride. A wave of nausea washed over me. “It couldn't be. Not now.” Yet, as he came nearer, that gut-wrenching fear solidified into horrible certainty. It was my cousin, Jim McClure.
Jim, the monster who had haunted my childhood, was now standing before me. He had violated not just me, but many others, leaving scars on countless lives. When he greeted me with a casual “hello,” I felt frozen. Panic seized me, and without a word, I scooped up Kevin and hurried away, the bright sunlight blinding me for a moment as tears threatened to spill.
Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I shuddered, dreading that it might be Jim, but when I turned, it was my mom.
“Why are you acting this way? You didn’t even say hello to Jim!” she remarked, confusion painting her face.
I was taken aback, my silence profound as I struggled to comprehend her words.
“You should treat him better; he's a nice person who has paid for his mistakes. The years have changed him. He's truly sorry for what he did,” she continued, her voice dripping like a child.
Disgust surged within me, and I started walking away again. Mom hurried after me, her voice unwavering.
“Listen to me, Becky! We’ve talked since his release. He mentioned how you and he played together when you were young."
I stopped short, battling to find my voice as rage and humiliation closed in. My cheeks burned with shame. How could my own mother misunderstand everything so completely?
“I think it's sweet that you had a childhood crush on him. There's no need for guilt, honey.”
But my frustration finally erupted.
BECKY
“I... NEVER... HAD... A... CRUSH... ON... HIM... MOM! THE... TRUTH... IS... JIM... MOLESTED... AND... RAPED... ME... THROUGHOUT... MY... CHILDHOOD... AND... I... AM... AFRAID... OF... HIM!”
Her reaction was startlingly dismissive.
“If that makes you feel better to say that,” she said flatly.
“When did he get out of prison? Where is he staying? I need to know where to avoid!”
“He's staying with me. He has nowhere else to go.”
The weight of her words crashed over me.
“Well then, I guess you’re the one I must stay away from."
“Becky, you're being ridiculous. When are you going to grow up?”
I turned away from her, my heart heavy with sorrow and frustration. I grabbed Kevin's hand, and we got to the car, leaving my mother behind.
As we drove off, I stole one last glance in the rearview mirror—there stood my mom, conversing with Jim, their proximity a stark reminder of the shadow he cast over my life. I took Kevin to the playground when we got home. I sat on one of the empty benches, trying to make sense of everything. The playground was quiet, with only the faint sound of leaves rustling in the breeze. It felt surreal to be in such a peaceful place while my mind was in turmoil. I began drinking heavily, feeling like there was no one I could talk to. Russ was far away, and even if he had been closer, he wouldn't have listened. When I told him what Jim had done to me as a child, he got upset, almost as if he blamed me for it.
--To Be Continued!--
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