* *
*
Rated: TEEN
Susan was silent at this. While she never had any need for money, it seemed mankind was always in the market to earn more - and it was never enough - he still wanted more and more.
The voice continued for a final time,
"I remember one book got marked up badly when they were mad at me with all kinds of colors, and while I never did explain to the librarian what happened, I did eventually have to wind up paying for it. So I never fought them after that.
I was also never given despicable Swirlies, always clean ones, and I often did struggle a bit anyways as they always pushed me WAY too hard to keep me down in there. I wondered at times if they really were trying to flush me down that little hole in the bottom so I'd disappear forever, and out of their hair.
Spending so much time down there, I had a lot of time to think about things. Introspective reflections you might call it. I did learn to play the piano at college later and named one of my pieces the very same name, "Introspective Reflections." remembering my times in the porcelain.
I also thought about God and how little influence he had in my life and how little time I'd give him in the future for letting this terrible thing take place to me for so many years. I vowed to be an atheist though continued to go to church with Dad every Sunday because I wanted him to be happy with me.
But I thought about it. Psychologically, they had to feel guilty about what they were doing. So by being this forceful with me, it was their way of suppressing their own shame about what they were doing to me. So that's why I think the Swirlies were so regular every week. Every time they did it, they could feel superior to me, and they always wanted that.
It was their kind of way of putting me in my place so I was always beneath them and incapable of ever speaking out against them with the knowledge they could do much worse if they so chose.
Fortunately, being quite zealous in their flushing, I rarely got too much water up my nose. I felt like I was going to develop gills before I got to college.
I probably made it too easy for them as well. They'd appear to finish and stop flushing, letting their grip go on me. I'd raise my head up a bit, my hair dripping. I'd start to get up from my knees as they stepped back giving me room, and then they'd laugh, as a group, and splash my head back in the bowl for more treatment usually saying something like, "Get back in there."
At least 3 times, and more people crowding in to watch, tugging on my shirt and pants trying to get a closer look, with the occasional camera flash at the back of my wet head.
Having had so many in the past myself though, one might ask, has it made any psychological impact on me ? I believe it has. It has definitely had an effect in writing my novel BARRIER, which, as you may have guessed by now, does detail aspects of my own life in several parts, especially Tyr, very similar to a girl I dated years ago.
As for me, I can still close my eyes at night when I sleep now and occasionally, if I thought about it, see the bottom hole of a commode which I imagined to be from Elementary School.
And if I listen carefully, I can still hear the laughter of the little girls teasing me, feeling their delicate little fingers pushing gently against the back of my head and shoulders to hold me in my place, down against the bottom of their toilet, where they believed I belonged.
... Which I would let them do as long as they held my hand ..."
* * *
Then the voice was silent.
Susan remained quiet so I spoke, "Yes, I did get out of it ultimately. I took a GED, a test to see if you know enough High School that you are ready for college - even without actually completing all the courses in High School."
"And I passed, so I was free, forever free of High School and swirlies now. The only link between college and High School was when I was signing up for classes. Someone - somewhere yelled, "Poindexter !" really loud.
I looked around for a long time but I didn't see anyone. And - that was the end of it. The teasing, the bullying - all of it ended. I guess since we are considered adults now and doing that sort of thing would definitely wind them up in jail."
"Well, there was a time when I was college - I was invited to a party, which turned bad quickly - but - I'll save that story for another time."
Susan spoke, "What about the piano ? Did you continue to play on it in your free time ? Did you write any songs ?"
I nodded, "Yes. But I don't know if I would call them songs per se. More music that paints pictures in the mind. While a few had words, most of them didn't or, in my head just had a choir oohing and ahhing at points. I remember writing Entropy Entry when I was in my 20s, one of the first songs I wrote, and I would sing to it."
"And curiously enough after the first week of being in the recital room, it gathered a bit of an audience outside my door. One woman, also in her 20s, knocked and asked to enter so she could hear it more clearly."
"I said sure, come on in."
And she sat and listened and was very quiet. I finished and she asked if I would return tomorrow. I said I would. Then the conversation changed and she said she had a piano at her own house and would I like to try it out ?
"And - I said the wrong thing, Susan. I said NO."
"At that point her face looked a little crestfallen, but she nodded and quietly said okay."
"And today - I wonder just what sort of relationship I would've had with this girl had I agreed to play the piano at her place. Would we be friends ? Would we be boyfriend/girlfriend ? Would we get married ? I just didn't know - and all because I said NO instead of YES.
Susan consoled me, "We all make decisions in our life we regret. But we DO make decisions - and they forever shape us and our future. It is possible she was a link to the bullying from High School. You just don't know - you can't trust people by first impressions - not anymore, David."
I smirked, "Sounds to me like you'd be a bit jealous."
Susan replied firmly, "Now you and I both know that is not the case. What we have between us is a special friendship that spans decades. One that doctors and psychiatrists over the years have tried to take away from us. And they have never been successful."
"Sure, they can pump you so full of drugs you can't hear me and they assume you're 'cured,' but that doesn't mean I've stopped talking to you - it just means - you've stopped listening ..."
END
OF CHAPTER 32
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