Once Upon A Time In My Life: Mrs. P-----'s House
It was, I think, the fall of 1982. Things were bad at home. A nightmare really, especially on weekends. I never felt safe at the family house on Fairway Drive in Amherst, never knew when Dad's next eruption would throw the house into turmoil. I had no friends at school, usually made it through the day at Milford Area Senior High School (MASH, it was called) without talking to anyone. During classes I would usually spend my time tracing and retracing and re-retracing the words "I wish I was dead" in my notebooks, the teachers droning on about nothing much, the other students seemingly happy in each other's company, making out in the hallways, planning their parties and after school get togethers in between classes.
My younger brother was, I knew, one of the popular kids. He easily made friends and kept them, something I knew nothing about and was jealous of. I was a Junior, and he was four years younger, still in middle school. He had a friend named Scott, a tight little sphere of muscle who wore thick glasses, had very dark brown hair, and was a ball of intensely packaged energy. Scott lived with his Mom in a small house near the historical center of Amherst. His Mom was divorced from his Dad, I knew, but remember that the subject, in all the time I was around the P-----'s, never came up for discussion. Scott was a good kid and I liked him from the moment I first met him, whenever that was. He didn't seem to know what a weirdo I was and that he shouldn't talk to me or have anything to do with me, something I felt around both high school students and younger kids. Scott was friendly and funny and endearing.
I don't remember the first time I met Mrs. P-----, but it probably happened when she picked up Scott at our house, which was roughly ten minutes drive from theirs. She was just another parent, another adult, for so many of whom life seemed to be a struggle to get through the day without yelling at anyone. Parents and teachers were all the same, I thought. But Mrs. P----- had a gentleness about her. She must have asked me to baby sit Scott, as I began to spend a lot of Friday and Saturday nights at their house, staying up for what was, for me, latenight: midnight or maybe even later, when she would return home with her date and one or the other would drive me home. I never thought about what she and her dates were out doing, what adults could possibly be doing for fun. My parents hated to be around one another and the thought that two adults could spend an evening enjoying one another's company was foreign.
Eventually, Scott, my brother, and I got along so well that Mrs. P----- asked me to come over every day after school to sit for her son. She would pay me five dollars an afternoon or some such ridiculous sum, I recall, and I was happy to do it. The high school bus from Milford would arrive in the center of town at about 2:45pm, and I would walk over to the P----- house from Moulton's market, where I usually bought a soda and some candy bars. The bus carrying Scott (and usually, my brother) wouldn't arrive until near 3:30, so I had forty five minutes to kill by myself every afternoon. This was the time of Luke and Laura mania on the soap opera General Hospital, so I tried to make myself watch the show. God, it was boring. And stupid. I tired of the shitty TV after a few days, and needed something to occupy my time. Mrs. P-----'s bedroom was next door to Scott's room in the tiny house. It was natural that I found myself in her room one afternoon, her unmaid bed smelling of something pleasant and foreign to me. It was an inviting place to sit and wonder about what other people's lives were like. I would sit down on the edge of her bed, drinking in the sights and smells. Having never really even made conversation with a girl before, I didn't know what it was like to be around a girl, a woman. But I had been masturbating as much as any other healthy teen boy and knew that feeling of blood rushing to my groin, and how good it felt to touch myself when that feeling came over me. It took some time to feel OK trying to masturbate in Mrs. P-----'s room, but I at least tried, never succeeding. I went through her underwear drawer. The bras were complicated and smooth and exciting. I knew I was doing something wrong by being in her private space, but that made it better, better than not treating myself. It was like I had forty five minutes each afternoon, Monday through Friday, to test some things out, then retreat back to my miserable but safe cocoon with the boys once they arrived.
Mrs. P----- was really the first woman I ever thought about sexually. In person, she was kind and friendly and nice to spend time with. And I felt comfortable in her room, something that would not have been possible had she not been such a special person. Not that I ever let her know what I was doing in her bedroom each day when I would see her after she got home from work, before she would drive me home to my parents house.
I really liked Scott, and my brother was always good company, too. It seemed impossible, but Scott really liked being around me, I could tell. Fatherless, he must have sensed my gentleness and kindness, despite my being only a few years older than him. The baby sitting lasted a couple of months. I don't remember how it ended, just that my father had taken a job down in Boston, my family was moving to Wayland, my sister and I were going to finish the school year in an apartment in Milford not far from the high school, and one day I was not baby sitting him and getting to have that special time in his Mom's bedroom.
The move to Boston did not work out for my Dad. We wound up back in Amherst the next year. My brother continued his journey through the popular crowd at school. I remember one day when I was home from college, having Scott's name come up somehow in conversation. My brother declared that his friends had always made fun of his friendship with him because Scott was "weird". That summer, Scott and his Mom were moving somewhere new and stopped by our house to say goodbye. I was watching television when their car pulled up in the driveway, out of my view. My heart beat faster, knowing that I would never see Scott or Mrs. P----- again, but I could not tear myself away from whatever it was I was watching and wish them well. My brother did, and they left. I've no idea where they moved to.
My younger brother was, I knew, one of the popular kids. He easily made friends and kept them, something I knew nothing about and was jealous of. I was a Junior, and he was four years younger, still in middle school. He had a friend named Scott, a tight little sphere of muscle who wore thick glasses, had very dark brown hair, and was a ball of intensely packaged energy. Scott lived with his Mom in a small house near the historical center of Amherst. His Mom was divorced from his Dad, I knew, but remember that the subject, in all the time I was around the P-----'s, never came up for discussion. Scott was a good kid and I liked him from the moment I first met him, whenever that was. He didn't seem to know what a weirdo I was and that he shouldn't talk to me or have anything to do with me, something I felt around both high school students and younger kids. Scott was friendly and funny and endearing.
I don't remember the first time I met Mrs. P-----, but it probably happened when she picked up Scott at our house, which was roughly ten minutes drive from theirs. She was just another parent, another adult, for so many of whom life seemed to be a struggle to get through the day without yelling at anyone. Parents and teachers were all the same, I thought. But Mrs. P----- had a gentleness about her. She must have asked me to baby sit Scott, as I began to spend a lot of Friday and Saturday nights at their house, staying up for what was, for me, latenight: midnight or maybe even later, when she would return home with her date and one or the other would drive me home. I never thought about what she and her dates were out doing, what adults could possibly be doing for fun. My parents hated to be around one another and the thought that two adults could spend an evening enjoying one another's company was foreign.
Eventually, Scott, my brother, and I got along so well that Mrs. P----- asked me to come over every day after school to sit for her son. She would pay me five dollars an afternoon or some such ridiculous sum, I recall, and I was happy to do it. The high school bus from Milford would arrive in the center of town at about 2:45pm, and I would walk over to the P----- house from Moulton's market, where I usually bought a soda and some candy bars. The bus carrying Scott (and usually, my brother) wouldn't arrive until near 3:30, so I had forty five minutes to kill by myself every afternoon. This was the time of Luke and Laura mania on the soap opera General Hospital, so I tried to make myself watch the show. God, it was boring. And stupid. I tired of the shitty TV after a few days, and needed something to occupy my time. Mrs. P-----'s bedroom was next door to Scott's room in the tiny house. It was natural that I found myself in her room one afternoon, her unmaid bed smelling of something pleasant and foreign to me. It was an inviting place to sit and wonder about what other people's lives were like. I would sit down on the edge of her bed, drinking in the sights and smells. Having never really even made conversation with a girl before, I didn't know what it was like to be around a girl, a woman. But I had been masturbating as much as any other healthy teen boy and knew that feeling of blood rushing to my groin, and how good it felt to touch myself when that feeling came over me. It took some time to feel OK trying to masturbate in Mrs. P-----'s room, but I at least tried, never succeeding. I went through her underwear drawer. The bras were complicated and smooth and exciting. I knew I was doing something wrong by being in her private space, but that made it better, better than not treating myself. It was like I had forty five minutes each afternoon, Monday through Friday, to test some things out, then retreat back to my miserable but safe cocoon with the boys once they arrived.
Mrs. P----- was really the first woman I ever thought about sexually. In person, she was kind and friendly and nice to spend time with. And I felt comfortable in her room, something that would not have been possible had she not been such a special person. Not that I ever let her know what I was doing in her bedroom each day when I would see her after she got home from work, before she would drive me home to my parents house.
I really liked Scott, and my brother was always good company, too. It seemed impossible, but Scott really liked being around me, I could tell. Fatherless, he must have sensed my gentleness and kindness, despite my being only a few years older than him. The baby sitting lasted a couple of months. I don't remember how it ended, just that my father had taken a job down in Boston, my family was moving to Wayland, my sister and I were going to finish the school year in an apartment in Milford not far from the high school, and one day I was not baby sitting him and getting to have that special time in his Mom's bedroom.
The move to Boston did not work out for my Dad. We wound up back in Amherst the next year. My brother continued his journey through the popular crowd at school. I remember one day when I was home from college, having Scott's name come up somehow in conversation. My brother declared that his friends had always made fun of his friendship with him because Scott was "weird". That summer, Scott and his Mom were moving somewhere new and stopped by our house to say goodbye. I was watching television when their car pulled up in the driveway, out of my view. My heart beat faster, knowing that I would never see Scott or Mrs. P----- again, but I could not tear myself away from whatever it was I was watching and wish them well. My brother did, and they left. I've no idea where they moved to.
posted by joe sweeney at 3:57 PM
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