The Summer of 62 - so this is what happened that last night with RA. Since Sharon and her family had already left for their home in Freeport, L. I., I was alone on this date with RA. Since we had gone out a few times already with Sharon and Fergie , I felt completely safe being alone with him. He and Fergie were a bit more pushy with their advances than the Decker Brothers had been, and when I finally shared a kiss with RA in the back seat of Fergie’s car, he jumped up from his seat rather dramatically and gave a fist pump into the air, yelling, something like “Hallelujah! “ I remember we all laughed at his antics that night.
On the way back to the Farmhouse, RA took a back road (from Scott’s Family Recreation building past the outdoor shuffle board court) and all of a sudden he abruptly stopped his car. Before I had a second to question him, he grabbed my arm and roughly pinned it tightly behind his back. He held back my other arm with his hand, leaving me completely defenseless and terrified. If you remember from my earlier blog entry, RA worked road construction, and he was no lightweight!
With both my arms held tightly in place, he was free to do whatever he wanted with his free arm and hand. “What do you think you are doing? “, I screamed. With an angry, aggressive smirk, he began to grope. We were on a pitch black, deserted country road, still too far from the Farmhouse for anyone to hear my screaming but I screamed anyway and as loud as I had ever screamed before in all my 17 years of living. I began to squirm and kick and maybe I even tried to bite him. I probably pleaded.
He stopped and then started laughing as if it had all been a joke. This was no joke to me. He was nasty and rough and aggressive and I was terrified. He was abusive and I was being abused. He started the car up and drove me to the Farmhouse and I jumped out of the car and quickly went to the safety of my family. I never mentioned a thing to my parents or to anyone else for that matter.
I am not sure why. Maybe I felt it was somehow my fault or I was making too much of it. After all I hadn’t been raped. Maybe it was just a joke. I had no witnesses. No other human being was there when it happened and I hadn’t told another living soul.
Approximately four decades later, after a weekend with friends at the newly renovated Chestnut Inn, and before heading back to Albany, Bob and I stopped for an early dinner at a place named Crane’s Restaurant in Deposit. What I found out that day, helped me to piece together the truth about RA.
Sent from my iPhone
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