You must have known not to leave me alone with your father. You must have know that I would be different from that day forward. Reyna, you must have known I would blame myself. It was the first time I was ever alone with your father. It only took one day of trust and my life was changed forever. You were always with him; you lived in his home. Did you stay awake when your mother went to sleep? Were you afraid to close your eyes? After that dark day I was afraid to close my eyes, needing light.
That day, when I was five or so, I trusted you and my brother Gonzalo. When you asked my parents if I could go to Yosemite, I was excited because I had never been allowed to be away from home without my mother hen. It was my brother, his wife, my two nephews, myself and her father. We were going camping and I was excited, as excited as I could be going to Yosemite National Park. My parents always worked. They could not give me that luxury. Coming from the deserts of Arizona, the trees and green beauty of Yosemite, California smelled of life.
You knew and I hate you or you did not know and I wonder how many girls he hurt. We found a camp site. Honestly, the details of eating or playing are a blur. I remember my brother and you slept in the blazer. Someone, probably my brother, put up a tent. I remember like it was yesterday that it was Gonzalito, Chris, me and your father. We lay in that order in that tent. Reyna why did you put me in there, the only girl, in that tent? Would you have trusted your father with your daughter, if you had one?
That night everything changed. Thank you for not protecting me, Reyna. Thank you for throwing me in the lion's den, Reyna. I remember the grizzly bear outside the tent. I saw his shadow looking for food. Would it have been better if he had found me? At least I would have been his feast and not your father's toy. It goes round and round my head. You had sisters. They had friends. He must have done it before, your father. He must have done it to you, your father. Why did you not protect me? One night, a few hours with no sleep that seemed like eternity.
I knew he was an old man, your father. I was asleep next to him, your father. I cry and cry these days because I can still remember his filthy hands touching me. He touched me where my mommy said no one should touch me, over and over. I was awake but did not know what to do. I did not look at his shadowy face. I was silent. I turned around thinking he would stop and he did not stop. Tears roll down my eyes because there and then I knew he was doing something very wrong. I knew he was sick and he touched me with his diseased hands. How could you let him, Reyna? Did you know!?!?
The sun came out and I was embarrassed. I was a victim and I thought the police were going to come and arrest me. I did not say anything. I was quiet. I did not look at his monstrous face hiding behind that old man. I thought I did something that made him be bad. It was my fault, I thought. I made them take me home as I was sick. My brother was angry because his trip was cut short. If I had told him, would he have called the police? For over 30 years I still feel like it is my fault. I finally told my brother a few years back and he told me to move on. Thank you brother. I would if I could.
He is buried now. Many years now. I smiled when I heard he died. I thought about our maker and how he would have to face his sentence. None such as him can be forgiven. I want to forget, Reyna, what your father did to me. I want to forgive you for knowingly trapping me in his arms. I cry now for my innocence lost so long ago.
That day, when I was five or so, I trusted you and my brother Gonzalo. When you asked my parents if I could go to Yosemite, I was excited because I had never been allowed to be away from home without my mother hen. It was my brother, his wife, my two nephews, myself and her father. We were going camping and I was excited, as excited as I could be going to Yosemite National Park. My parents always worked. They could not give me that luxury. Coming from the deserts of Arizona, the trees and green beauty of Yosemite, California smelled of life.
You knew and I hate you or you did not know and I wonder how many girls he hurt. We found a camp site. Honestly, the details of eating or playing are a blur. I remember my brother and you slept in the blazer. Someone, probably my brother, put up a tent. I remember like it was yesterday that it was Gonzalito, Chris, me and your father. We lay in that order in that tent. Reyna why did you put me in there, the only girl, in that tent? Would you have trusted your father with your daughter, if you had one?
That night everything changed. Thank you for not protecting me, Reyna. Thank you for throwing me in the lion's den, Reyna. I remember the grizzly bear outside the tent. I saw his shadow looking for food. Would it have been better if he had found me? At least I would have been his feast and not your father's toy. It goes round and round my head. You had sisters. They had friends. He must have done it before, your father. He must have done it to you, your father. Why did you not protect me? One night, a few hours with no sleep that seemed like eternity.
I knew he was an old man, your father. I was asleep next to him, your father. I cry and cry these days because I can still remember his filthy hands touching me. He touched me where my mommy said no one should touch me, over and over. I was awake but did not know what to do. I did not look at his shadowy face. I was silent. I turned around thinking he would stop and he did not stop. Tears roll down my eyes because there and then I knew he was doing something very wrong. I knew he was sick and he touched me with his diseased hands. How could you let him, Reyna? Did you know!?!?
The sun came out and I was embarrassed. I was a victim and I thought the police were going to come and arrest me. I did not say anything. I was quiet. I did not look at his monstrous face hiding behind that old man. I thought I did something that made him be bad. It was my fault, I thought. I made them take me home as I was sick. My brother was angry because his trip was cut short. If I had told him, would he have called the police? For over 30 years I still feel like it is my fault. I finally told my brother a few years back and he told me to move on. Thank you brother. I would if I could.
He is buried now. Many years now. I smiled when I heard he died. I thought about our maker and how he would have to face his sentence. None such as him can be forgiven. I want to forget, Reyna, what your father did to me. I want to forgive you for knowingly trapping me in his arms. I cry now for my innocence lost so long ago.
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