Chapter Thirteen: Bullies and Blowjobs
Several weeks after my parents were divorced; I ended up living in Brookline, Massachusetts with my family and Richard Douglas, my new stepfather. My brother Wilfred had left home when he turned 18, and he was living on his own as a freelance photographer.
Brookline was a transition from my old life with my father to something different. It was also my introduction to the world of sexual predators.
Billy Pushkin and I lived in the same brick and brownstone apartment complex on Vernon Street, in Brookline, Massachusetts. We often traveled to school together, as much for mutual protection as out of friendship.
Billy and I were in the 7th grade at Pierce School located about a half-mile from home.
Neither Billy nor I were members of any gangs or cliques; we knew we were fair game for school bullies. We were two shy and scared kids and to survive, we did what we must.
We always tried to travel in convoy fashion. When we spotted a group of kids going our way we tagged along and tried to make ourselves invisible.
One day after staying late at school we decided to avoid the streets and take a shortcut through a wooded section of the Pierce Playground.
Instead of safe passage, we walked into a trap.
Several school bullies set upon us as we entered the tree line. The next twenty minutes is a mish-mash of random memories as the bullies abused and molested us for their amusement.
Most memories of events in our lives are short clips rather than full-length movies. My clip of events has more missing pieces than a flea market jigsaw puzzle.
Swiss cheese flashes of memory have haunted my childhood and beyond.
My master file says I should have about twenty minutes worth of remembrance. A self-inventory of what I recall seems to account for about five minutes. Apparently, my master file is wrong or a quarter of an hour's worth of memories has gone missing.
This much I do recall; one of the bullies was a kid named Jimmy Winter. He was the leader and about a year older than I was, and he was bigger and stronger.
I remember that Jimmy is standing in front of me and one of his friends has just knocked me to the ground, I pull myself to my knees and as I attempt to rise Jimmy moves closer to me and orders me to remain in a kneeling position. “If you try to get up I’ll beat the crap out of you.”
The feeling of danger is terrifying, and I’m trembling as I hold in place.
Jimmy moves until he is nearly on top of me. He unzips his fly, pulls his penis out of his pants, and starts to play with himself. I try to back away, and he slaps me on the head, “If you move again, I’ll bust you up real bad.”
Jimmy is holding his semi-erect dick in his hands and is standing a few inches in front of my face. He demands that I take it in my mouth and suck on it. His prick is so close to my face that I can smell him. The picture fills my field of view as I plead with him, “please stop.” I still have flashbacks of that image today. Accompanying the image are tears and overwhelming feelings of fear, humiliation, and terror. Then the film fades to black and memory runs out.
The next clip is of me with my fly unzipped and a shadowy figure of Jimmy Winter in the background ordering Billy to take me in his mouth. Billy uses his hands to block the view and pretends to suck. Tears, embarrassment, terror, shame, and humiliation are the emotional overlays of this short memory. Again, the scene fades to black.
The last clip is a mirror image of the first; terrified I’m kneeling in front of Billy. He has unzipped his fly, and he is holding himself in his hands. In the background, Jimmy is ordering me to put it into my mouth and suck on it. Mimicking Billy, I use my hands to cover and shield the view from our tormentors, and I pretend to suck as shame and humiliation sweep over me. Billy and I are both so scared we are trembling helplessly. Again, the scene fades to black.
I can't explain the missing memories. Obliterated from each clip is the truth of whatever did or did not happen. Search as I might I can recall nothing more.
In spite of powerful emotions, accompanying each snippet of memory is the fact that there are no additional details or emotional echoes. This suggests to me that nothing else worth remembering happened.
However, fear still lives in the shadows of my mind. Is it possible that Billy and I engaged in oral sex with each other? Did Jimmy rape me? Did I erase the details of each event from my brain?
I favor the first explanation as much from logic as in the hope that I’ve not deleted anything from my life. I don't care for the thought of me, or anyone else editing my mind.
The more I think about it, the surer I’m that not much else happened. Jimmy Winter was only a few months older than we were and he had not yet hit puberty. It is far more likely that Jimmy was an abused boy, and was acting out the abuse he had endured. Jimmy was a sexual predator in training and waiting to happen.