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— Full chapters will appear in the printed published book. —
It was 1966 and I was 15 years old.
I didn’t make friends easily, but one girl quickly became one of my best friends. Her name was Joan Brown. Her father, Jim Brown, was from Scotland and spoke with such a thick accent that I found it almost impossible to understand him. He was always happy and gave me a big cheerful hello whenever I came to their house. He worked at the mill, while Joan’s mother stayed at home. Joan had a very pretty younger sister, Verna, who was crowned the grade nine freshie princess that year. She also had a younger brother, Norman. They were genuinely very nice people. What surprised me was how affectionate they were to each other. They spent a lot of time together as a family. My brothers went out together but I was never included in their excursions, nor did we go out together with my mom as a family. Not once did we all go out for a meal together at a restaurant. It was just not the way we did things.
My brothers were now older and quite independent. They had their own cars so had transportation to go places. I could sense that they didn’t want to be bothered with a little sister tagging along, and I understood that. Perhaps it would have been quite different if I had sisters instead of brothers. When my brothers had friends over, sitting in the living room, smoking cigarettes and drinking beer, I was sometimes there too, so I often heard their conversations and their plans for the evening. I never expected to socialize with my brothers and their friends, and it didn’t seem appropriate for me to do that anyway.
The Browns made me feel welcome and treated me so well. I felt privileged and marvelled at the fact that someone like me from such a poor upbringing could be friends with others whose parents were pillars of the community. And besides, I never forgot that my name was Freak. In the summer, Mrs. Brown and the kids stayed at their cottage on nearby Thunder Lake. Mr. Brown went to work in town but was at the cottage in the evenings and on the weekends. It wasn’t a long commute for him, perhaps half an hour by car. The Browns invited me to stay with them at their cottage. It was a small cottage, but had a sandy beach and was a great place to swim.
They owned a boat and motor, and all their kids could water ski. Even Joan could do it and she didn’t seem like a sporty person. I watched as each of them took turns, it looked like so much fun. Surprisingly, they all encouraged me to do it, too. They told me it was easy and I would get the hang of it quickly. I was hesitant on this. I didn’t expect them to include me in this activity, but I decided to give it a go. So I put on the skis and hung on to the handle that was attached to the rope. Mr. Brown warned me that he would take off quickly and I should lean back. I guessed I didn’t lean back well enough and did a faceplant into the water.
With great patience, over and over again, Mr. Brown reassured me that I could do it and I should try again. He never gave up on me, but sadly, I gave up on myself. I should have kept trying but I felt like I was wasting his time and preventing the others from skiing. He was such a wonderful father to them and made me feel almost as if I were one of his own.
Besides the boat, they also owned a catamaran, a type of vessel with a pontoon on each side and a flat area in the middle. It was anchored out from shore where it was deep enough so it could also be used as a diving platform. We swam out there, sunned ourselves on it, dove from it, and had a very enjoyable time with their beach balls and other water activities. The Brown children had grown up with all this fun. I couldn’t have imagined it, such a stark contrast to my lonely miserable years on the farm, where the word fun hardly existed.
Mr. Brown suggested that Joan and I could take the boat, tow the catamaran into the middle of the lake, and jump from it where the water was deeper. Joan was all for it. I shrugged and said okay. I had no experience with a boat and motor, but Joan was confident that she could manage it. Mr. Brown warned us to be very careful. He said, “Do not let the rope get caught in the motor or you won’t be able to start the motor again.” Apparently, that was something that was easy to do. One of us would run the motor, which would be Joan because I didn’t know how to do that, while the other would keep the rope out of the motor’s propellers, which would be my job.
So off we went, boating to the middle of the lake, towing the catamaran. We stopped the motor and jumped in and out of the water, having a great time, swimming back and forth. Then, very quickly and out of nowhere it seemed, the dark clouds started to roll in, and the wind and waves picked up. We were not paying attention to our location and realized that we were so far out that we couldn’t see the Browns’ cottage anymore.
We started drifting farther and farther to the other side of the lake at a very fast clip. We needed to get the motor going, and quickly. Sure enough, I wasn’t careful enough and the rope got wrapped around the propeller, exactly what Mr. Brown had warned us about. The motor quit and now we were drifting again. We didn’t know what to do. We were too far from shore to see anyone. We were helpless, we couldn’t do anything else but wait and see what happened. This was not a good predicament to be in with a thunderstorm approaching fast, which would also be accompanied by lightning. The middle of the lake was not a good place for anyone to be caught in a lightning storm.
Joan and I were beginning to panic and became very afraid. We started shouting and waving, hoping that someone would hear us or see us. Finally, a man in a boat came out from one of the nearby cottages to help us. He assessed that his motor wasn’t powerful enough to tow us back. The catamaran could end up being smashed on the rocks, too. We were so relieved when Mr. Brown then arrived in his boat. He hitched a rope to the catamaran and pulled us back to their camp, and just in time.
The dark clouds now covered the entire sky and unleashed a torrent of rain. The rain drops started to pelt down in buckets, the thunder was roaring as cracks of lightning flashed all around. We would have been so scared, two young girls stranded on a catamaran in the middle of the lake, and we could have been so easily struck by lightning.
What surprised me so much about this situation and why I remembered it so well, was that Mr. Brown never said one harsh word to us. He didn’t say that he told us so. He didn’t yell. All he said was that he was so happy that we were safe and that he got to us in time. We had been very careless and stupid. In all the years on the farm, all I ever heard was criticism and scolding, even when I did things right. I couldn’t even imagine the cursing I would have heard if Cliff had been in charge. The catamaran could have been damaged and we could have been hurt, or even worse. Mr. Brown was such a loving and caring family man. I was not used to such kindness from anyone.
Any time I spent with the Brown family was nothing but delightful. Sometimes they invited me to stay for dinner at their house and they always treated me with respect and love. As far as they were concerned, I was Joan’s friend and a part of their family whenever I was there.
That summer, my brother Doug invited my mom and I to visit him in Toronto. We stayed at the Leslies’ house where he still boarded. The Leslie family bought a cottage in Thornbury, on Georgian Bay, about two hours away. Doug paid half of the cost, so he, in fact, owned half of it. Mrs. Leslie and their two boys stayed at the cottage all summer. Mr. Leslie and Doug worked from Monday to Friday in the city, and joined them on the weekends.
Toronto summers were very warm and humid. In the evening, I could still wear my T-shirt and shorts. In contrast, summers in Dryden could be hot during the day, but the evenings were always very cool. You needed a sweater in the evening. I loved being in Toronto. During the day, mom and I took the bus into the city to look at the sights.
I got a few surprises, too. While we were in the Royal Ontario Museum, I lingered in a darkened area off to the side, looking at some of the exhibits while my mom continued moving into another room. I noticed this teenage boy hanging around near me, but didn’t pay much attention to him. Suddenly, he unzipped his fly and pulled out his penis. My eyes opened wide. Then, almost in the same instant, he ran off. This happened so fast that I didn’t have time to get too shocked or worried. Plus, I was in a public place and this seemed harmless.
I had another incident like that on a city bus. I ventured out on my own to a shopping centre. I sat in the middle of the bus, off to one side by myself. The bus had only a few passengers, some at the front and a few at the back. I noticed some activity going on across from me where a young man sat by himself. He had something in his hands and was pulling on it while staring at me. He kept rocking back and forth. I realized he had his penis in his hands.
I got up and moved a few seats closer to the front. The guy followed me and once again sat across from me, masturbating away. I quit looking at him and stared out the window. I got out at the shopping centre and stood there, but made sure there were some other people around me. The guy didn’t follow me so I was safe. I concluded that Toronto was full of horny weirdos.
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The next thing I knew, the boys drove to the far end of a quiet dark parking lot, stopped and turned off the engine. June almost immediately started kissing and making out with the boy in the front, and then the boy in the back started to kiss me. This was the first time any boy had ever kissed me. He wasn’t particularly exciting or good looking. I wasn’t in any way interested in this boy, except that I was curious and willing to go along with this, for a while anyway. He kept trying to get under my shirt and fondle my breasts, I kept pushing his hands away. I considered that an invasion of my privacy. The kissing part was all right.
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I was never going to allow my life to be ruined by any guy in that way, and I was determined that I would never be dependent upon anyone again. I had been through hell on the farm when my fate was controlled by irresponsible adults. I would not allow myself to be put into a predicament like that ever again. So, having sex before marriage was not ever going to be an option for me — and my private parts were going to stay private.
The next time this happened was with two different guys. Again, it was a Sunday night. This time I got in the front seat, and the other guy climbed in the back with June. Already I could see a pattern. June grabbed the better-looking one and I got the one she didn’t want. This time, my guy was a disgusting slob. He had big thick lips and he was quite revolting in both looks and demeanour. I should have refused to get in the car as soon as I saw him, if I had been smarter, but I didn’t want to cause a scene. He drove to a quiet deserted area behind an old building and parked. Already, June was busy tumbling around in the back seat. I was not sure what all was happening back there, or how much she was allowing that guy to do with her.
Somehow, to my dismay and surprise, this sleezy guy was able to reach down and open the button and the zipper to my pants. He was slick, fast and determined. I couldn’t figure out how he learned to do all this when he was so unattractive. He must have gotten some experience somewhere with someone. I kept pulling up my zipper and he kept pulling it down to try to get his hands in there. While I was contending with this, he unhitched my bra with one hand like a flash. I had to fight him off everywhere. What a slimeball!
After about 10 minutes of this, I got away from him, got out of the car, tapped on the back window, and told June I was walking home. She realized I wasn’t joking about this, unwrapped herself from her partner, and got out too. She gave a friendly wave to them, but I just walked away.
I didn’t realize that this pig left me with a hickey on my neck. Joan noticed it right away at school the next day and started to tease me. A few other girls chimed in. I didn’t even know what a hickey was. I denied being with a boy, but they didn’t believe me. I made up my mind that this was the end of this Sunday night game for me. It wasn’t a great way to meet guys, in my opinion, or to start a meaningful relationship. Who needed these creeps? I decided that if a car drove up with guys in it and June got friendly with them, I wouldn’t get in the car the next time, even if she did.
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Innocently, I came out of the washroom that Monday, expecting to easily glide across the hallway and merge in with my usual group on the other side, as I had always done. As soon as I opened the washroom door and stepped out, however, I assumed my timing was off. There was not the usual hubbub of a lot of people talking at once. It was absolutely silent. The entire middle area of the foyer was empty. So I was visible to everyone from every side, standing there alone, no one else around except the guys who stood around the perimeter of the area. I quickly scanned 360 degrees around me. Everyone was staring at me.
Unwittingly, I had just entered the circle of fire. Valentino was directly across from me. He immediately stepped out towards me and announced, so loudly and clearly that the entire hallway of 20 or so guys could hear him.
“Bitch! Yooouuuuuu bitch!” he shouted.
I almost fell over. I was stunned. I felt like I was standing by myself on stage with the spotlight directly on me. Less than 24 hours ago, this guy was happily necking with me in the back seat of a car, trying to undo my bra. Now he was calling me a bitch in front of all the people who I considered the best and hottest in the school, including him. I slowly retreated, inching my way back inside the washroom. I was horrified and shocked. I didn’t feel I deserved that at all. My stomach was so upset. I waited inside until the bell rang when I knew the crowd would be dispersed.
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Or maybe Valentino felt tricked and betrayed, that he had been duped into getting together and making out with a Freak. Maybe he didn’t know who I was last night, but came to find out after. He might have been boasting to his rah-rah buddies about his conquest with me, how little it was.
“You were kissing a Freak and you didn’t even know it!” maybe they taunted back to him.
I was sure he would have preferred that no one ever knew that he kissed me.
I figured that was it, but I never really knew why he called me that horrible name. I could only guess.
June had no time for me anymore. Basically, I felt like I had been dumped by her, but I didn’t blame her for that. I might have done the same thing. I would have loved to have been in her place. She met a nice-looking guy and he seemed to treat her really well. Whenever they were together, it looked like they were true sweethearts. There was no doubt about it, she had a lot more charm than I did.
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