Little story #28

As I was writing the post yesterday I realized that I wasn't writing about a specific thing that happened. A thing that was central to my life and my relationship with the mommie. I told the story the way I've always told it. And it was all true. Our relationship was shaped by the divorce, living with the grandparents (particularly Grandmom) all of the changes and moves, the times. I left out the mommie bringing K into our lives.
She met him at work. He was married at the time. He had a car pool and she joined despite the fact that she couldn't drive. I'm not sure how she contributed to the "pool" or if it was K's way of being close to her. I only know the little red Volkswagen would pull up in front of the house and Grandmom would make a face. She never like him.
I spent the night at his house once. Not sure why. He had a daughter my age. It all seemed innocent to me and when I asked the mommie she assured me that they were just friends. At some point he left his wife. That's really their story but I will say he had good reasons. He became a bigger part of our life. He took us on weekend trips. He helped around the house. He carved out pineapples for the orange sherbet punch at the Hawaiian birthday party.  He was so interesting. The mommie and I were able to move into our apartment because he was around to help with things. Our move was not good for the grandparents. I've written about the falling apart of the family, which was about many things but our moving was a big part of it.
And.
My Me-Too story happened in that apartment.
K moved to Virginia so he could get a divorce. I don't know how it is now but divorce laws then were convoluted and different in different states. He'd drive back for the weekend from time to time. He slept on the couch.
I adored him. I loved pushing my nose into his cheek to smell his aftershave. He was the father I'd never had. He pushed the line of appropriate behavior in many ways. The worst of which was coming into my room when the mommie was in the shower to"say goodnight". There were too many kisses and too much rubbing against me causing so much confusion. He sucked on my breast one night and despite my confusion I knew it was too far. I pushed him away. But I didn't say anything.
His divorce came through. He and the mommie got married. We moved to Maryland. I lived with a constant fear of what might happen next. He continued with a thousand little transgressions.
When I wrote the post yesterday I felt stuck in the old way of telling the story. I never told the mommie. She never understood why I wanted to be so far away from her (him).
I didn't include it in the first writing of the book. The book is a memoir focused on my experience of being fat. I didn't want the abuse to take over those ideas.
But there is no doubt that what he did changed me. Hurt me.
There is also no doubt that he and the mommie were a great love story. He was very good to her.
For me it is a complicated story. Now that the mommie is gone I feel free to tell it but I'm not sure how. I've been holding it for so long.