Without Moral Compass

Welcome back dear reader. It's been over a year since I've posted on this blog. Many things in my life have changed. I'm no longer homeless, living with people who care about me and working at a car wash struggling to get back on my feet still.

Alright, so where was I? Oh yes, my crazy 20's, being promiscuous and getting herpes from a prostitute. Back then, I had no moral compass. I cared for nobody, except my grandmother. Even after getting an STD I didn't really change, except that I would always use protection so I wouldn't spread the disease. So maybe there was a slight change, but not enough to avoid the mistakes I made. I'm about to share one of the most memorable mistakes.

There was this young girl from the high school that fell for me. She introduced me to her mother, who approved of me (for her own reasons which you will soon find out) and I became her "boyfriend" for 2 weeks. I just went along with it because it was convenient. I'd go there to hang out, her mother would make these great meals and always smiling and welcoming. We'd make out, but nothing else because I knew she was a virgin and at one point she'd want more than just my hands in her shirt.

Back then I was very accurate when it came to young females, because to tell the truth, I felt that I was not good enough for females my age (or older).

At the end of the second week of being together it happened. As expected she wanted more. Her mother was at work, so we did it to Gary Wright's "Dream Weaver" song. As soon as it was over, I knew she had realized that we were not meant to be together. She broke up with me, I was a bit hurt but was fine with it and went home. 

Two days later I get a call from her mother and I start to freak out. Her daughter was not 18, so I thought "the mother must've found out that we had sex and anytime now I'm going to have the cops at my door".

Nope. Instead she was consoling me over the breakup with her daughter! Telling me that she was not mature enough to handle a relationship with me, that instead I needed someone more mature. We spoke for about two hours on the phone (no texting back then) and by the end of it, she was clearly flirting with me.

Let me repeat now, I had no moral compass. She asked me to come over that night, and I did. As promiscuous as I had been, that night she taught me a few things. That is not the crazy part. What I could not believe, is that she was being very... verbal, explicit and quite loud. Her room was next to her daughter's. There was no doubt in my mind that my ex-girlfriend could hear me getting busy with her mom.

I spent the night, and the next morning I wake up to hear them arguing. This is what I recall of it (may not be 100% accurate).

"How could you do this to me?"

"You broke up with him, you said you didn't love him. So now that I have him, you want him back?"

"I don't want him back!"

"Good, because he is mine now."

"You don't understand! he is too young for you!"

"But you were old enough for him?"

"It's not the same! This is wrong, he is my ex!"

"You'll get over it. He is my boyfriend now."

I hear a door being slammed, and the mother coming back to her bedroom (I was still in her bed) asking me if I'd like eggs and toast for breakfast. I said yes, and next thing we're eating breakfast in the dining room.

You'd think that after hearing the argument between mother and daughter, I would have had the common sense to leave, nope. I was too selfish. I could tell I had acquired a sugar mamma, my first (and not the last). She'd buy me clothes, give me money, pay for meals when going out and buy weed we'd smoke together in her bedroom. It lasted a few months. I would still have sex with the girls in my neighborhood, I wasn't monogamous. 

The arguments between mother and daughter would get more intense. It reached a point when I thought that if I didn't end things... their relationship would be beyond repair. It was one of the few occasions when I actually did the right thing back then (better late than never).

I can honestly say now that it did affect me, and that it took years to get Gary Wright's "Dream Weaver" song out of my head every time I hooked up with a girl that looked like the daughter. Still to this day the song makes me feel a little sad, like I lost something.

The only person who ever knew about this story was my late wife. I hope in the end that walking away helped mend their relationship somehow.

Until next time.

May you walk in the light of God.

Sincerely.

Luis

My secret revealed

Good day dear reader, I hope you are having a great day.

Today I will reveal how my childhood turned into a nightmare. It is something I've only told a handful of people. My wife knew, and for some reason, still loved me.

Here goes.

After my grandma left Peru, mother took over running the building. I never met the owner; apparently grandma had made some deal with the person decades ago in writing, which limited how much he could raise the price of leasing the building which my family in turn rented out.

I knew from conversations I overheard that the owner tried to force us out legally, but the contract must have been so well done that he just couldn't.

One of the renters was a nice man, Mr. Larrea. He was always kind to me, giving me advice, and candy. He had a niece, who became my first crush. To this day I remember her name. Lina. She was beautiful, a few years older than me and I was in love with her even before I knew what the word meant.

Without my grandma around, mother felt free to do things which probably wouldn't have met Chila's approval. She opened up a small business right in front of our home. She sold jewelry that she made herself and women clothes that she bought wholesale.

She started with a table, then moved onto a nice glass display on wheels which I helped her carry back upstairs. Our front door lead straight to stairs going to the second floor of the building, because the ground floor was taken by a shoe store that paid us rent.

Mother would go out often at night, but always spent time with me during the day, helping me with homework and making me part of her business downstairs as her "little helper".

She didn't bring men home, until one day she introduced me to a "friend" of hers. His name was Manuel.

It was obvious that he was less sophisticated than my mother, but I didn't care because he seemed like a nice man. Within a few months, I saw him as a father figure. He would take me to the movies, give me money for the local arcade and gave me the attention I wanted from a father. All three of us would go out to eat every week like a family.

I never heard him talk about what he did for a living, but mother always said he was a hard worker. Little did she know that she had invited a predator into our home.

One day mother told me she needed to be away for a few days and that Manuel would take care of me. She trusted him, I trusted him. There was no way for her to know that my life would change because of that act of trust.

The first night she was gone we watched TV in the living room until late at night, which wasn't out of the ordinary. I was tired and wanted to go to bed. He told me to stay on the sofa and turned off the lights. He then said that sometimes good friends sleep together. He asked me if we were friends and innocently I said "yes".

In the darkness he stripped me of my clothes, I thought he was helping me get into my pajamas. He then moved me to lay down next to him. He was naked and I could feel him laying behind me. I was confused, because nobody had ever told me that something like that was wrong.

He moved my hand and placed it on his privates. I didn't know what to do. I thought he was going to become my father, I feared that if I didn't do what he said my mother may become angry at me for disobeying,

That was the first night he sexually abused me. I don't want to go into great detail, it has taken me decades to forcefully push the memories down into a locked room in my mind.

The two days my mother was gone, was just the beginning. He would molest me at every chance we were alone or out of sight of others. This went on for months.

Eventually my mother noticed that my behavior was changing. I was easily startled, afraid of the dark to the point I always wanted a light on in my room; even when going to sleep.

One night she sat me down in her bedroom and I don't even remember what she said. But sometime during our chat I must have given her enough information for her to figure things out. I do remember her face, she was shocked, and angry.

For a moment I thought she was angry at me and perhaps she could see my fear because she hugged me tight and spoke softly. The words she used still escape me, but whatever she said made me feel at ease.

She told me not to move, and then left the room furious. Next thing I hear my mother screaming, cursing and I had to get up and look at what was going on. I saw my mother attacking Manuel, punching him and calling him names, telling him to leave, that she was going to kill him.

He only put his hands up defensively, fortunately he didn't fight back. Renters started to come out of their rooms due to the ruckus. Manuel was smart enough to know that if the men in the building heard what he had done, they would probably kill him, It was Peru after all. He left quickly.

I could hear the neighbors ask her if she was alright, and what had happened. She just told them that she had broken up with her boyfriend and that he didn't want to leave.

Apparently the truth was too embarrassing for her. No police was ever called. Not that day, or any other day. All she could say was that she was sorry. Not too long after she hired a female psychiatrist which to be honest, didn't make me feel any better.

The woman would mostly ask me for details of the abuse, how he did this and that. I hated her for doing that, and started to hate my mother for making me go through it in my head again with someone I considered a stranger. I did learn that what had happened to me was very very bad. Realizing that I had been abused gave birth to a hatred that was quite alive until just a few years ago.

She kept me out of school for a few weeks, spent time with me, buying me new clothes and toys as if that could fix anything. However as weeks passed by, I saw the sadness she carried. Slowly I started to get closer to her again. A sense of normality started to form. It didn't last long.

Two months after the night she had kicked out the man who had raped me, we had a conversation that numbed me. She was pregnant with Manuel's child, I was going to be a big brother. Her religion prohibited her from not having it. Then she told me I needed to forget what had happened to me, because her child needed to have a father.

I did as I was told. I had to pretend in front of everyone that he was a good man. At the time my mother was smart enough to distract me with the pregnancy, because I had always wanted to have more siblings.

Fortunately Manuel was never allowed to be alone with me or to move back in.

My feelings were a storm of fear, anger, sadness, disgust and shame.

I can't continue typing right now, I'll try to continue in a few days.

May you walk in the light of God.

Sincerely.

Luis