I listen to a lot of audiobooks. I enjoy them…usually they’re a good yarn while I’m painting my kitchen. But the one I’m listening to now? Holy mother of Jesus. It’s excruciating.
The title of the book is “My Dark Vanessa.” And it’s a story about sexual abuse, told in the first person. It flips back and forth chronologically…Vanessa as a 15 year old schoolgirl who has a crush on her 42 year old English teacher, and Vanessa now -as an adult in her 30’s.
To me, the absolute best part of this book is how it shows the emotional complexity of her situation. She sees this as romance, and she sees herself as having volition. When what’s really happening is that she is being groomed for sex. I totally get how immersed she is in the romance of it all -how she interprets his small touches as intimacy, how his compliments make her feel special. At one point he tells her that her hair reminds him of the color of maple leaves. And it all feels so sweet and innocent, his comment makes her glow. Then she goes home and repeats it to her mom, and it just sounds stupid! When her mom asks who said that to her, she also knows enough to lie about who said it.
When she goes to spend the night, she’s packed a black nighty (what she thinks an adult woman would wear…your first sexual experience is, afterall, is a rite of passage, to adulthood)…but he gives her cotton pajamas with little strawberries on them. You know, the kind you had when you were 6.
Promises her he’ll stay dressed, and then starts touching her.
…for everything he does, he asks permission. Before he takes her top off, he asks if it’s OK, and before pushing her underwear over and going for the goods. Then after awhile, he starts asking for permission AFTER he’s already done the thing he’s asking about. and you can just feel how this has gone…she said “yes” to one little thing, and now “yes” is the presumed answer to everything that follows.
Him saying: “We won’t go further than that right now.”
Only to wake up a couple hours later and find him naked next to her. Her exclaiming, “OH! Ok…wow! OK…” and what follows is ONLY difficult sex scene I have EVER read in ANY book in my ENTIRE life. Her feelings of guilt for finding him disgusting, for not wanting to touch him. Then the way she tries to stall the moment of penetration. the way she moves away from him…and finally, the way he doesn’t give 2 shits what she’s going though and forces himself in anyway. “It’s OK if it hurts; it won’t hurt forever.” Oh god how I hate him.
I find myself wishing so hard that I could swoop down from where I stand (on my ladder, painting my ceiling) and pick her up and bring her anywhere but there. That I could give her cookies and coffee, and just listen for awhile.
There is a bit at the beginning of the book -a disclaimer, I suppose- where the author states that “this is a work of fiction.” It’s not fiction. Not a chance. I mean, I’m sure the characters’ identities where switched out, and the spaces and situations changed. But it’s hard to get around how spot-on this is.
I’m not even halfway done with this book…not sure what’s going to happen, but I have the distinct feeling that “justice” is not forthcoming. Maybe it’s also not possible.
Anyhow, we’ll see where it goes!
So far my previously white kitchen is looking like this:
It’s a serious mess, still pots, pans, paint cans, brushes and crap all over the place, but I am beginning to see where it’s going to end up, and I like it. I need one new piece of furniture and to have multiple lights installed…will take pix that are more representative of the space when i get more done…which won’t happen until the virus blows over.