An elderly woman recounts the events of her life to a stranger she encounters late one summer afternoon on a secluded park bench.
Suspend your disbelief and immerse yourself in a tale of hard times, incest and maybe even love.
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I grew up in the East Texas hills during the early years of what came to be called the Great Depression.
My family was dirt poor and struggling even before the Depression, and found ourselves destitute and perpetually hungry during and afterward. We had a large family, but Daddy and Momma always managed to hold it together for the sake of us kids. There were nine kids, myself (the youngest), my older sister Frannie, and my seven brothers. I celebrated a very happy eighteenth birthday in 1932, but by the spring of 1933, we were on the verge of losing our pathetic little farm in a bank foreclosure. My sister had run off with and married a shiftless bum by the name of Billy Merkelson and my brothers, except for the two youngest had one by one drifted away looking for work that didn't exist.
We struggled along for as long as we could, and finally one day Daddy packed up our battered pickup truck, and we left the old farm. After a long, dusty three hundred mile drive, we ended up at my Uncle Jim's place. Uncle Jim was actually Daddy's Uncle, my great uncle. Following a quiet, hushed conversation with Daddy and Momma, Uncle Jim agreed to let us stay with him and his family in exchange for Daddy and the boys working on the farm, Momma helping Aunt Dee Dee with housework and cooking, and me tending to the animals.
Happily, things seemed to work out well for all of us for a while. Daddy, Uncle Jim, my brothers and Uncle Jim's son Jude who was about twenty-five at the time, even worked together to build on two additional bedrooms at the rear of the house. For the first time in a very long time, I had begun to feel as if things would be okay, that despite the difficult times we had already endured, we could be reasonably secure here with Uncle Jim.
At least that's what I thought in the beginning, but within that first year of our moving there, my life was turned upside down.
It was because of Jude, my cousin Jude.
*****
Sure, we were relatives, but I didn't really know the folks on Daddy's side of the family that well. Though Uncle and Auntie were sweet and helpful to us, they were still practically strangers, especially cousin Jude.
Jude was a ruggedly good looking man, tall and hard bodied from years of working on his family's farm, thick dark hair and piercing grey eyes. From the beginning, in spite of his being my cousin, I was attracted to him, but at the same time cautious of him. He made me uncomfortable the way he would watch me, follow me around, always trying to touch me. I think I might have even been a little afraid of him. It wasn't until the night that I caught him peering through my bedroom window while I was changing for bed that my apprehension suddenly became real. Standing there naked, I pulled on my robe, ran down the hall to Momma's room and tried to tell her what had happened.
As soon as I entered her room, I blurted out what had happened. I could tell by the look on her face and the way she spoke to me that she didn't believe me or was afraid to believe me.
"You stay away from that boy, she said, you hear me? Keep away from him."
I looked at Momma and thought I saw a brief flicker of concern in her eyes.
"Momma?" I asked
Just as quickly, her concern was replaced with accusations. "I'm not surprised, she said. If I can see the way you flaunt yourself around here, no wonder the boy is always looking at you."
"Momma, I never . . ." but before I could finish my denial, she cut me off.
"You better stop swishing around here and teasing these boys . . . you're just asking for trouble, girl."
Did she actually believe I had intentionally done something to encourage Jude's attentions?
I remember from the time I started budding out, Momma was forever cautioning me to be careful when I was alone or around any of the menfolk. Before we lost our farm, she had already noticed how the boys from school had started coming by and how the farm hands would watch me lustfully when they saw me around the farm tending the animals or working in the garden.
I wouldn't say I was an innocent exactly, I liked boys, and they liked me, but I wasn't a slut or anything like that either. My folks didn't know, but I had a "boyfriend" who I had let take small liberties. At night, I would sneak out to meet him and I even allowed him to fondle my breasts under my blouse and finger me occasionally. Though now nineteen and having lived in the country with seven older brothers, copulating farm animals, infrequent visitors and a myriad of itinerant farm hands, I was still a virgin.
Hurt and disappointed by her reaction, with tears brimming in my eyes, I walked back to my room and closed the door.