Flying toward NYC, straight at the Statue of Liberty, has got to be the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. It was so moving. She looked beautiful. I had an overwhelming sense of pride come over me while I was watching her. This really is an amazing city. The warm feelings are fleeting, though. I was soon panic stricken again. It’s time to go into Newark International Airport.
The security’s intense, to say the very least. I can see lines for miles. This is going to take a while. I toss my bag on the conveyor belt, smile at the gentleman manning his station, and I walk through the metal detector. Fantastic! No beeps. I should be good to go!
“Miss, you’re going to have to step behind these ropes and remove your shoes.” says a surly little security woman.
Wow, this is odd. I’ve never had this happen to me before. So I walk over to their little pen and remove my tennis shoes. They proceed to use their little metal detector wand all over my body.
“Okay, now I need you to remove your sweater.” says the security woman who is now under sexual-orientation-suspicion.
Alright! Now what if I didn’t have a tank top on under this thing? I’d be standing in the middle of this airport half nude! Now I know that I look pretty ethnic, so either this lady has a thing for me, or we’re doing a little profiling here! After the metal detector probe, I finally get the all-clear sign. I put my shirt and shoes back on, and I’m on my happy little way. Or so I thought. I don’t walk more than 20 feet, and this Federal Agent looking guy stops me and frisks me! After I get away from him, I’m feeling a little miffed! I’m not entirely sure, but through all of that touching and commotion, I think I may have just scored.
I walk a little further and no one else stops me. I’m pretty sure I’m in the clear. It is now time for me to get excited. I’m in New Jersey! Just a few more minutes and I’ll be stepping into New York City for the first time in my life. I walk outside to hail myself a cab. I find one, and he loads up my bags for me. The cabbie says something to me, and I can’t understand a damn word he just said.
“Excuse me?” I ask.
“WHERE YOU GO?!?!” he barks.
“Hey! No need to yell at me Ghandi! Take me into the city please.”
Great. I get the cabbie that speaks French and has a ‘tude. We glare at each other and we get in. I see this is going to go well. We ride in silence for quite a while, still mad at each other. It’s taking everything I have not to scream. This traffic is insane, and he’s driving like a maniac. This is how I’m going to die. I know it. There is no way this guy and I are going to come out of this alive. We come to a SCREECHING halt and almost rear-end another cab. The tunnel we need to take has been closed, and we have to find another route. We’re at a standstill for a good 20 minutes, so I decide to break the angry silence.
“So. How long have you been driving a cab here? Where are you from?”
With just a small sign of interest in this man’s life, he brightens. He’s from Haiti. He has been driving a cab here for over a decade. He has his doctorate, but had to get out of his country. I got a very in depth look into the history of Haiti, and what it’s like to live there. He is so intelligent, speaks many languages, yet is driving a cab. I can’t imagine a country that is so bad, that you will do anything to get out. Again I feel so lucky to live where I do.
After two hours of sitting in a cab, this man has learned more about me than most people I have known for years, little to their knowledge. I actually find myself slightly disappointed that I have to stop talking to this man when we finally pull up to my sister’s apartment village. I see her sitting under a tree and my heart leaps with anticipation. This has the vibe of a very cute Meg Ryan movie. I can’t believe I’m finally going to see her again. The car barely came to a stop before I jumped out. We stand there staring at each other for a long time. It’s like looking into a mirror. I’ve never experienced this before. I look like no one on my mother’s side of the family. I stick out like a sore thumb amongst the short, blue eyed blonde haired Brits. I know it seems small, but that has always made me feel like a black sheep. I hope she talks soon. The silence is moving into the awkward sort. I don’t know what to say.
“I’ve waited a long time for this, little sister. Now here you are, and I feel as though we can be together again.” she says. I still can’t talk. “Come in. I want you to meet my husband and see the home that I have made for myself here.”
We walk in and this little Italian man ambushes me inside. All of a sudden I’m being squeezed by said little man.
“I’m so happy to finally meet you! I’ve always dreamed of having a sister!” he gushes.
“Sorry, Olivia. This is my husband Greg. He’s a little excited to finally meet you. He’s been hearing about you for years. I’m sure it’s a bit overwhelming to finally meet the myth herself!”
“Hi Greg. It’s so nice to meet you.” I say. I’m a tad uncomfortable because I kind of flaked on their wedding. He should have met me then. I said I was coming, I was planning on coming, but I panicked and just couldn’t do it. She was pretty pissed because I guess my centerpiece was like $400 or something. I’d like to think it wasn’t just because of that that she was mad. For so long I was terrified to leave the safety zone that was my house. My mom wasn’t invited, and I didn’t understand that. It was just too scary to venture out to NYC at the time by myself with these people that are strangers to me. I know they don’t realize it, but when you leave a child that is only 3 years old, they are not going to remember you all that well. I’ve never really understood how my brother and sister could just move away from me, knowing how our father was, and then expect me to just be fine with it. I’m amazed that I’m out here right now. I really am turning over a new leaf. Maybe I won’t be so afraid anymore.
“Let me show you to your room. This can be yours for as long as you like, as often as you like. I’ve been getting it ready. I just knew this day would finally come.”
My sister led me down the hall to the room. This apartment is fantastic. I knew I would love New York. And now I have my own room here! This is so great. I go into the room and my sister gives me some time to get settled. I shut the door and sat down on my bed. An unbelievable amount of panic washes over me out of nowhere. I need to get out of here. All I want to do is go home. It’s only Friday, and Monday feels like a lifetime away. I see a phone. I have to call my mom. The old Olivia is trying desperately to take over.
“Hello?” my mom answers.
“Mom? It’s me. I’m freaking out. I want to get out of here and come home right now!”
“Honey, what’s wrong? Was your flight OK? Is everything OK out there?”
“I don’t know what’s going on with me. I feel so scared. My flight was fine, Sissy is fine, Greg is great. I’m just really, really, scared. I don‘t like doing things like this by myself” I start to cry.
“Honey, you’re going to be fine. Calm down, and call me later. I don’t want you to be so upset. Just give me a call later if you need to.” she says. I can tell she’s fighting the urge to baby me right now. She knows I need to get a little more independent.
“Ok. I love you. Bye.”
“Bye, honey. I love you too.” And my mom hung up. I’m sure she’s crying right now too. I’m proud of her that she was able to let me go like that.
I compose myself and decide to go out and get to know my sister all over again. This is so scary.
“Are you hungry? Would you like to go get something to eat with us?” my sister asks.
Actually, I’m famished.
“I’d love to. Where are we going? I’m so excited to see the city!”
“We’re going to the diner right downstairs. It’s super greasy, but really good. Let’s go!”
We’re all walking out together and they both want to walk arm-in-arm with me. It occurs to me that I feel like a giant. They are both really short. I feel like I’m thundering through their apartment like a big ogre. Anyway, they are being really nice. Maybe I will be okay.
We walk down and this place is so cool. It’s actually underneath the building. It feels so small and cozy down there. My sister ordered this giant platter of fish and Greg ordered a homemade chicken pot pie much to my sister’s dismay. She became a militant vegetarian at some point and decided it was her duty to try to convert the world. I ordered some oven-baked macaroni and cheese. You can’t go wrong with that dish. It’s one of my all time favorites.
“So,” Greg started, “what’s it like in Toledo? I heard it’s really rough and scary. Real high crime rate. I drove through there one time and I just could not wait to get through it. We were freaked out!”
This coming from the guy that lives in New York City? Does he think Toledo is like Compton or something?
“No, no. It’s not that bad. I actually really like where I live. Our family’s there, my job is there, the only things that aren’t there are my siblings.”
“You understand why your brother and I had to go, right?” my sister asked.
“Oh, of course! No hard feelings,” I said and smiled. No, actually I didn’t. I’ve never understood why they deserted me, but this is not how I wanted our first conversation in ten years to go. Hopefully I’ll have the time, and the courage, to ask my questions later.
Dinner was great, but I couldn‘t eat much of it. Every bite felt like it was getting trapped in my throat. I guess I was still all nerved up. I really don’t do well in situations like this. Have I said that yet? It was such a neat little place, and the short walk there was so fun. I think I am going to love this city. Nevertheless, I will have to love it tomorrow. After dinner, I was just about ready to pass out. I had not done that much, but it was an exhausting day.
We got back to the apartment, and my sister wanted me to see her wedding video. They have this insane TV that lowers out of the ceiling. It has to be as big as a movie screen. I cannot imagine wanting to watch yourself on a screen that big, but she was totally into it. Maybe it stems from being a model. You have to like to be on display if you are going to be a model.
The video is really well done and very touching. They look so happy. My brother walked her down the aisle, and for a moment, I felt very sorry for our father. There have been two weddings with two of his children, and he hasn’t been involved in any of them. He wasn’t even allowed to attend. I will not do that to him. I know he has severe problems, but it’s not his fault. It’s psychological. It would be like blaming some one for having Down’s Syndrome, right? He probably does not even care though.
I notice some stifled sobs coming from the couch. Greg’s cousin that was killed in the Trade Center was also in the video with his wife. It is so sad. She looked so radiant. They looked so happy with their children. They looked so pure, yet naïve. They have no idea what is in store for them.
After watching the video, I felt even more like an ass for bailing on their wedding. I am going to give her the benefit of the doubt that it was not her intention to make me feel horrible. She did point out the $400 centerpiece though. They never said anything about me not being there, but I know they were thinking about it. It was a very, very large polka dotted elephant that sat in the corner, but nobody addressed it. I decided to go to bed before it finally did come up. Dodge that bullet. We had a long day ahead of us.
Greg also declared that he was going to bed and began to follow me down the hall. Just as we hit our respective doors, my sister called out for me to come back.
“Olivia? Can we have a talk before bed?”
“Sure,” oh crap, “why not?”
I creep back over and nervously sit in the chair farthest away from her. I’m so worked up that I would lick a porcupine if it would give me a Xanax. “I’ve been waiting for 10 years to have this discussion with you. I’ve talked to a psychologist, and got a degree in psychology myself. I’ve done the free-writing, dream analysis, and hypnosis and came to only one conclusion about my childhood reoccurring dream. I just need this solidified by the only other girl there. Did dad ever inappropriately touch you when you lived with him?”
Oh my God. Oh my God. My mind began reeling from this most unnerving question. Did I hear her right? Is this what we’re talking about on our first night together? Could this be what’s always been wrong with me? Could this be why I’ve always been terrified of men and intimacy? Is it possible to make it to 21 years of age and never recall being molested? No, that’s not possible, is it? It’s amazing how quickly your life up to that point can run through your mind and question it all.
“Uh… um… not that I ever recall. Wouldn’t I remember something like that? I mean, why would you ask me that?”
“Well,” she began, “I now realize that our father is a child molester. I use to have this dream where monsters would break in to the house, sneak into my room, and tickle me where they shouldn’t. I finally put it all together during a free writing session with my psychologist and I started to remember that the monsters always smelled like alcohol…”
Yeah, our dad was a drunk, but that doesn’t prove anything.
“And then I just started to put it all together with my psychologist’s coaching that it must be dad. So think back to all the times you were with him alone. Did he ever do anything that made you uncomfortable?”
“Well, I hated it when he helped me try on clothes, but…”
“Exactly!” she cut me off, “Really think about those times!
Is she trying to make me think that he did? “Well, he would get out of the shower and sometimes I’d see him but…”
“See! It’s all of that inappropriate behavior that I’m talking about!”
I see what she’s saying, but do those small things a child molester make? She’s the one with the Psychology degree. Maybe I’m in denial or repressing.
“I think that you’ve probably just been in denial for a long time. And my psychologist said that it’s amazing how the mind can repress memories for decades.”
Holy ESP Batman! I think she can read my mind!
“I don’t want to overwhelm you on your first night,” yeah like that hasn’t freaking happened yet. Were you here for this conversation? “So why don’t you lay down for bed and we can talk more tomorrow. I have so much planned for us!”
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