Living with the Scarlet Letters

GOD BLESS THE LITTLE CHILDREN In the 1960’s, District of Columbia had what was known as “Tourist Homes” (or also known as hostels) all over the neighborhoods. These were temporary rooming houses for people traveling back and forth for different reasons. I turned the age of 14 years in December, 1964, and mom allowed me to join a drum and bugle corps as a majorette. In order to participate in parades, I had to have special boots. So for weeks, every payday Dad promised to buy my boots. At one point, I stopped asking and just forgot about it. I resorted to borrowing used boots from other majorettes. Three months after my birthday – in the month of March – night always fell by 5:00 p.m. One even it was very cold and icy outside. Snow had fallen three days ago. Dad came home from work about 5:15 p.m. Dad said, “Beverly, get your coat and hat so we can go buy your parade boots.” I happily answered, “My parade boots. You getting my boots?” He answered, “that’s what I said. Hurry up now and come on.” Mom said, “the store closes at 6pm. Yawl won’t get there in time. Dad stated, “we got plenty of time, because we catching a taxi.” I was so excited and ready in three minutes. Back then Taxis were plentiful in DC. All people had to do was to hold up their hands to get one. We walked in the direction toward Downtown. I was so happy, I put my hands up first trying to get a taxi. When we were just three blocks away from our home Dad said: “Wait a minute don’t get a taxi yet, I got to make a stop first.” He turned walking up the street that had the Tourist Homes. “I’m gonna stop here and see this lady friend of mine. Don’t tell your mom. You still getting your boots. I won’t be long. Here hold this. This is something special for you to treat yourself.” I knew it was money in the form of a bill but I couldn’t see how much it was because it was dark. However, I put the money in my pocket. We entered one of the Tourist Homes. Once inside, we were standing between two doors before entering the lobby. The second door from my waist up was made of glass where you can see inside. It was draped with sheer brown curtains. Vaguely, I saw a woman sitting at a desk. Dad said, “You stand right here. I’ll be right back.” He went in and talked with the woman at the desk. I noticed the lady went away. Dad came back outside. “Come on.” I followed him passing closed doors and we entered one. In the room was a bed, two chairs and a chest. More importantly, I noticed a black heavy-duty iron Hat Rack made into the wall. He took his coat and hat off and placed them on a chair. He said: “I’ll be right back. Lock the door and don’t open it for nobody.” He left. I locked the door and sat on the bed with my coat and hat still on. I was thinking: “I can’t wait to tell my mother on his behind.” Then I remember the bill in my pocket and pulled it out. It was $5.00. (In the 1960s, a five-dollar bill was a lot to a 14-year old). Still I was angry at the thought of him using me to cheat on my mother. But, him seeing a woman and me excited about the five-dollar bill; for a moment I forgot about my boots. Seems like five minutes later, he was tapping on the door. “It’s me, open the door.” I opened the door and he locked it and sat in the chair. I asked, “are we still getting my boots?” Frustrated he answered, “Yeah, we getting your boots, but I want to talk to you first.” Immediately, a feeling of helplessness fell over me. There was no telephone or clock in the room, so I asked him again: “Daddy, do we still have time to buy my boots?” He yelled, “I’m going to get the damn boots!” I then just stared at the wall and he continued: Dad said, “take off your coat and hat. Why you still have them on, it’s hot in here?” The room was being heated by an old-fashioned iron radiator; and I was burning up) I answered: “no, I’m not hot.” “Well take them off anyway.” I took off my coat and hat and laid them on the right side of me. Note: It’s been two years since I asked him about boys and girls holding hands while at the movie theater. Dad said, “I thought about you holding hands with your little boyfriend while sitting in the movies. I’m proud of you for coming to me first. Yes, you can, as long as you understand you’re too young to date. Is that clear?” With my eyes squinted, and my lips pressing together; I gave him a hateful look and didn’t say a word. I stood up and reached for my coat. “Put that coat down. Did I say we were leaving yet? I’m not through talking to you.” Quickly I turned toward the door, putting on my coat. He jumped up and with one hand, snatched the iron Hat Rack off the wall. Simultaneously, his other hand snatched me back from my coat; slamming me up against the wall. With a threat holding the Hat Rack: “If you touch that door, I’m going to bust this across your head,” while pushing me toward the bed, he yelled, “sit your ass down! Take your jeans off.” “Daddy!” Yelling, he said: “Take them off now!” Startled and crying, I could not move. He pushed me back and starting unbuckling my jeans. I tried to push him off but he was too heavy. When I started to loudly say, “No, no, no!” He put one hand over my mouth and with the other hand pulling my jeans down. Again, I tried to fight him off while he was pulling down my panties. In shock, I felt penetration.