I Just Turned Eleven. I had No Idea Girls Did Things Like That...
Previously, Part One: Where All Dem Gypsy Women At?
I lived in my aunt and uncle's basement once before. When I was seven, my father sold our house because he had gotten a promotion, and we were moving to Johnstown, Pennsylvania. When that didn't work out, and he didn't take the job, we moved back two weeks later. My father tried to void the sale of our house, but he couldn't; it was too late, and we needed a place to stay in the interim. That's when my uncle stepped up. What I remember most about that time in my life was being unable to fall asleep because of the crickets that gathered for choir practice around the perimeter of the foundation every night…
The house was a tri-level, and the only room in the basement was a wood-paneled playroom with commercial linoleum squares glued to the concrete floor. It had one narrow, rectangular basement window that didn't let in much natural light. A full-length wall at the rear of the basement created a long, narrow room behind it where the furnace and water heater were. In addition to the appliances, there were long metal shelves full of toys and board games against the foundation wall. I wandered in there for nostalgia's sake.
In addition to all the childhood toys and board games that were still there, preserved in what looked like a time capsule, there were some books. One in particular caught my eye. It was a Bob Dylan poetry book, probably my cousin Arthur's. He was into music. I took it and started reading it while I lived there.
Arthur was 16 months older than me and took full advantage of it, especially when we were young and not yet teenagers. He was a bully, at least four inches taller than me, and he outweighed me by 30 lbs. He always pushed me around. One year, he won an NFL Punt, Pass, and Kick contest, and his head swelled to even larger proportions. He was too heavy to play Pop Warner football, but I think he played Bantam.
My uncle rented a walk-in basement apartment in Hull every summer, and I stayed there for two weeks when I was a kid. It was two blocks from Nantasket Beach and only a five-minute walk to Paragon Park. There was an outdoor shower, and when we returned from the beach covered in sand, my aunt wouldn't let us in until we rinsed off. It was my first experience with an outdoor shower, and I loved it. The guy across the street had an ice cream truck, and he didn't mind selling us ice cream right out of his circular driveway. It was always the best two weeks of my summer.
At night, all I wanted to do was go to Paragon and ride the roller coaster, and my aunt and uncle let me go there with Arthur. As soon as we left the house, his demeanor changed, and he walked ahead of me quickly like he was trying to lose me. He got mean and barked out the rules, and I had to speedwalk to keep up with him.
"As soon as we get there," he said. "You're on your own. You're not gonna hang with me. I'm gonna be looking for a chick who'll give me a blowjob…"
I just turned eleven and had no idea what he was talking about…
"You know what a blowjob is?" he asked. I shook my head no.
"It's when a girl puts your penis in her mouth and sucks on it…"
"I'm never letting a girl do that to me!" I retorted. "That's just weird, and it's gotta hurt. They got teeth…"
"No," he said. "It feels great! In a couple years, you'll know exactly what I'm talkin' about…"
Once we got to the amusement park, he ditched me and went looking for a chick who would go down on him, and I got in line to ride the roller coaster. He never told me if he found the right girl for the job, but I always assumed he did…
Arthur was right. A couple years later, I had a change of heart. I fully understood his obsession and that what he was talking about was a whole lot better than a roller coaster ride…
I'm no thief, but before I moved out of my aunt and uncles in 1976, I stashed that Bob Dylan poetry book in my duffle bag…
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*All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental…