The Day I Walked Into the Wrong Room
Chapter 5: The Fear of Social Situations
The scary lady, with the sparkled fingernails, moved to the other side of the pillows, opposite Gale. She stared with narrow eyes at Gale, then lifted my head, twisted it, and forced me onto her breast. Milk squirted over my face, up my nose, until I latched and drank the asparagus and garlic flavored sweet milkshake.
I kept my eyes open. A cheerleader, like the ones in school who laughed at me and my only friend, Donny, the same ones who gave inspiration speeches at pep rallys, how to shoot for the stars, be yourself, act on instinct, try, fail, and try again, and then, laughed, critized, as when I asked them out for coffee, or asked to come to their parties.
Like my first babysitter, whom I hated, not a mother at that time, but she had a baby on the way, her belly round like a beach ball, who sent me to bed as soon as Mother left for the night. Who pretended not to know me at school, who always called me JoJo, Jonny, or little J, instead of my full name.
But strangely, as I suckled, as the milk rolled down my throat, Jenny’s life emerged. Not a cheerleader, a swimmer, almost no time for school, morning and night swim practices, weekend swim meets, but pretty, toned, popular, but no time for boyfriends, parties, or friends outside of swimming. In class, half asleep, guys asked her out, never the cool ones because she didn’t go to parties, but the other ones, the ones she didn’t like, she didn’t feel attraction for, but even those, she had to say no, no time, at first with kindness, but then, after a few stuck-up bitch comments, with more force, and a need to make them fear her and stop their side-of-the-mouth hurtful comments.
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