"How long did this go on," Marlin questioned.
"The back washing went on for probably a year, until my grandparents came to visit from Michigan."
My grandmother Josephine was busy at the counter, getting the final things together for dinner. The tea simmered in a pan on the stove, and the deep well emitted wafts of spicy steam into the room. It would be a home made chili and corn bread night. Tangy apple crisp sat on the cooling rack, ready for the home whipped cream. My mother worked along side of her mother, and they chatted gossipy things, as always, working in harmony. My grandfather John was in the living room purring over the evening newspaper. I was setting the table, and my sister was in our bedroom, when my mother called for her. She came reluctantly to the doorway of the kitchen.
"You father needs his back washed, go and take care of it."
My sister turned and headed towards the bathroom. My grandmother looked at my mother in stunned silence, and turned to me. "Could you get my stomach tablets from my valise in the bedroom for me?" she asked me.
"Sure, Grams!" I headed off to the bedroom in search of the tablets. I couldn't find them in the valise, so I checked the dresser top, but couldn't find them there either. Giving up, I headed back to the kitchen, and passed my sister as she was coming to our room.
"And that's the end of that!" She exclaimed, throwing herself onto her bed. I looked at her, but all she would do was smirk, as she pulled out homework. Puzzled I headed back to the kitchen.
My grandmother was angry, I could see it in her posture, though she didn't say a word. My mother was not so much angry and upset, and her face was flushed red. Neither of them spoke.
"I'm sorry, Grams, but I couldn't find them."
"Oh!" She cried out, "I should have let you know. I found them here in the cupboard; they were here all the time. Thanks for looking, honey."
"No more back washing?" Marlin raised his eyebrows.
"Never again."
"What about the rest, the explicit touching and exploring?"
"Oh, that has never stopped."
"Even now?"
"Even now, and she knew... she knew it shouldn't be."
My mind drifted back to a day when we first came to live forever with the Dunkens. They lived two houses down from my grandparents, and the families were always back and forth with each other. My grandfather loved to treat me to baths in their kitchen sink. He would fill it was warm, sweet smelling bubbles and then wash me from head to toe, all of me. Every part of me. But he crooned to me and told me how lovely I was, and how he would always love me. This might have gone on forever, except that I asked my mother if I could head over to be with my Gramps.
"You certainly love him," she smiled, "but I don't want you to be a nuisance."
"He asked me to come. He wants me to come every day so he can give me a bath."
"What?" Her face flushed. "You stay right here, I'll be right back. And no, you may not go have any more baths with your grandfather!"
With that she slammed out the door, with me on her heels. I didn't want her to be mad, or to get my grandfather in trouble. She was so angry she didn't even notice me, as she pounded up the steps and through the door, yelling for her father. My grandmother wasn't home; she never was during bath time. My mother didn't hold back! She tore into him, and he just smirked at her, and turned off his hearing aid. I quietly backed out of the house and ran home, where I buried myself in my pillow.
"How was your relationship with your grandfather after that?"
"I loved him, and always thought my mother was mean to him. Until the day in my early teens when I came home from school and discovered he had been going through my underwear drawer."
I was furious, and stormed into the living room, where my father and grandfather were chatting, each with a pipe and a beer.
"How could you?" I ranted at my grand father, "You had no business in my underwear? It's private. How could you?" I was crying.
I looked at my father. "He has no business in my underwear, Dad. Do something! He has been ransacking my underwear drawer."
My father and grandfather exchanged glances, and both of them smirked at each other.
"Well," said my father "if he wants to go through your underwear, then he can. I can't see any harm in that," and looking at his father-in-law he asked, "is there?"
Then they both laughed, as I ran from the room.
"Did you speak to your mother about it?"
"No, I never did. By that time I knew more about living among creepy, crawly things. It was the day I stopped loving my grandfather."
"Did you ever get that love back for your grandfather?"
"No. In fact, I never saw him again after that trip. I just couldn't find a way to love him anymore."
"But not your father?"
"No, I never stopped loving my father. Remember? I fell in love with him the first time I saw him at five years old; he was the perfect daddy because he opened his arms to me and said 'Welcome home, sweetheart', and, silly me, I thought he meant it."
"And now?"
"And now I know better, but that doesn't make me stop loving and hoping."
"So how do you perceive this relationship, now, today?"
"It's killing me."
No comments:
Post a Comment