When I was four, I used to play with my friend, Tiffany, across the street like every other kid in 1987.
We’d hang out in her backyard, play in her room and basically, had the run of the house.
I’ll never forget the day two police officers came to my door. I thought I was in deep shit. I didn’t understand what I had done wrong. I never went across the street again after that day.
Tiffany had an older teenage brother who would, somehow, always end up out in the backyard with us. She had the coolest play structure in her yard. Her dad was a contractor and built the whole thing himself. A mini merry-go-round was the most unique thing out there. We could lay across it and spin around.
Her teenage brother would offer to spin us around. But something was off about the way he would do it. As my friend and I laid on our bellies, holding on to the rails, her brother would spin us with one hand, and cop a feel of our vaginas with his other every time we came back around.
Now that I’m a mother and remembering the whole experience, I’m beyond disgusted.
I remember looking over at him later that afternoon and seeing him expose himself to us with a smirk on his face. He was hiding behind the chimney bricks so his mom couldn’t see him from the kitchen window.
What a creep. That’s why the cops were at my door.
My mom and dad were livid.
I was scared. Sobbing. I was confused about the police at the front door asking me questions about who touched me and what happened earlier that day.
My daughter was invited to a pool party this weekend. It was a hard pass. It was more of a ghostly silence because I never replied to the mom’s text message.
A few months ago my daughter told me that her friend forced (her words) her to pull her pants down and show him her vagina.
I lost it.
“Never discredit your gut instinct. You’re not paranoid. Your body can pick up vibrations, some better than others, and if something deep inside you says something’s not right about a person or situation, trust it pushing.” — Somewhere on Instagram
No wonder the red flags were flapping right in front of my face when I let him have a sleepover last year.
I chose to ignore them. And I still beat myself up over that day.
My daughter said she started to pull her pants down a little and then stopped. I praised her for this. I don’t think I’ve ever been so proud of my daughter as I was at that moment. She listened to her gut and as a woman that will be a skill shes going to have to hone in on. I was proud. I made sure to ask her how it made her feel to be forced to do something she wasn’t comfortable doing.
Since then she has told me quite a few more stories about this boy that are major red flags. My daughter said she doesn’t feel safe with Noah.
I feel good about cutting that friendship off unapologetically.
What doesn’t feel good is that I never told the mom what happened. I do feel bad solely for the fact that I would want to know if I was her. Something is stopping me from having this talk with her.
In all honesty, it has been much easier to avoid that family than to tell her what happened and how uncomfortable I am with my daughter being friends with her son anymore. My guess is it has something to do with my history with being honest and vulnerable with my friends.
Author’s note: Do I owe it to her to speak up after all this time? Am I being irresponsible by not saying something?
Thank you for listening. ❤ D
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