Return to 23 River Bend Lane

Note: Characters in this are purely fictional. Situations depicted here are for reading pleasure only.

1: 23 River Bend Lane

My very earliest childhood memories are of 23 River Bend Lane, the house in which I was born. It was an old house, small and cozy, with lots of loud laughter, two fat cats, and the smell of fresh baked goods. The garden was simple but welcoming, with a small but well maintained border of flowers. The driveway was always in the shade of the big oak tree and the car that stood under its shadow was an old Ford Maverick from the 1970s. My parents were young and annoyingly in love. Mom worked as a waitress and dad was a plumber. He drove an old truck that played loud radio.

My recollection of my grandfather was not very pleasant. Old and grumpy, and loud of hearing, he would sit in the living room and watch TV with raised volume. My nana would often come out of the kitchen in her apron and yell at him, partly out of annoyance and partly due to the fact that he could not hear very well. Once he dozed off on his couch, she would lower the volume but it would not be long before he would wake up and they would start fighting again in an extremely loud tone and you could not tell if they were being hostile or not..

It was not long before we moved to the big city and all of this faded into a distant fog of memories that I never bothered venturing into. The new town house was a recent construction, spacious only where it mattered otherwise small and contemporary, with all the modern amenities. Then the bankruptcy happened and our life changed. We were on an upward financial trajectory when the collapse happened. It was a turning point in my parents’ relationship because I saw them argue in ways that made me question if they ever loved each other?

Mom started to put him down in front of me and my older sister Brittany. Britt, though out of her teens and yet experiencing a belated teenage rebellion, started to get mouthy and confrontational with mom and the whole family became dysfunctional. It was not long that the foreclosure happened and after selling it all, we went back to 23 River Bend Lane. But it was different.

The once cozy home now stood as a symbol of neglect right at the end of the quiet street. You would not have to walk past a lot of abandoned and collapsing houses to reach it and when you did, the once simple and neat front yard was now a wild entanglement of overgrown grass and weeds crawling in weird places. Paint on the walls had started to crack and the wood under the front porch was showing signs of age. Not much remained of the old Ford Maverick. It was now a rusting skeleton parked besides the house towards the back. Birds had attempted to make nests inside and there was a strong smell of damp leather and rusting metal. But, for some reason it felt like we were home. Grandpa was no more, and whatever remained of nana was mostly immobile. She now needed the help of a walker to stand up and move to the restroom one baby step at a time.

Every second or third day, she would be visited by a nurse by the name Gabriela Sanchez. Nurse Sanchez was a Latina, with very short hair and a figure that would make most men uncomfortable. Her hair was so short that it seemed that the woman had shaved her head only days ago. But that daring hairdo took nothing away from her femininity. Miss Sanchez was all woman, with a narrow waistline and hips that swayed in ways that tended to captivate the male gaze much longer than what would be appropriate. But Gabriela was quite used to owning the male gaze around her. did not care.

After moving in, my father fixed the plumbing and worked hard to restore the place to its former glory but there was only so much he could do. He did make the place livable again but it was no longer the place of laughter and freshly baked goods. My parents had moved in there with their own marital toxicity and it was a place of insults and abuse. My mother never forgave my father for the financial collapse and would need the slightest excuse to put him down. The man had given up on fixing that relationship or even arguing back. Instead he had become stone faced and detached as if her words did not matter anymore. Whatever mom threw at him, he just took it. When things got too nasty, he would pick up the keys and go out to drive uber. My mother now had a remote job which she did from home. She was the “prime breadwinner” in the house and would not hesitate to remind him of it when they argued.

2: Some Bad Memories

There was one day when I woke up to the usual sound of arguments. “If I am going to bring the money then I can not do the dishes!” I heard my mothers voice, not loud but pronounced and stinging with contempt.

My father’s response was much passive, lacking the same venom. “You are expecting me to drive more than ten hours a day and then come back and do the dishes while you are working from home?”

“Brandon! We are in debt! Do you hear me? It is not because of me but because of you. Now I am the one working to get us out and all that I am expecting is that you take over the dishes and the cleaning,” mom said.

Dad paused for a bit and then spoke, “Jess, make up your mind once and for all please. Do you want me to drive Uber or do you want me to do the dishes because I can not be at two places at the same time.”

I brushed my teeth, took a shower and when I came out the argument was still going on but had only gotten a little more heated with Brit trying to act as the referee and getting confrontational with my mom. I decided to get away from it all so I put on my tshirt and jeans and just strolled out into the main street.

We did not have any immediate neighbors, since the houses around us were falling apart. But I still felt embarrassed because my mothers abuse could still be heard outside. I looked around to see if there was anyone who would hear my parents arguing and my eyes went to the hiking trail. There was this dirt road trail that led down to the stream and we would often see bikers and hikers finding their way up through that. I could hear a distant sound of two female voices approaching. It did not take long for the two women to appear into view. One was a tanned, bronze skinned Asian woman with dark eyelashes and the other …

My childhood bully, Destiny Williams! If there was one person from my childhood years that probably scarred me for life it was her. She was a few years older than me and taller. She did not have a mean streak but being the only sister to three brothers, the girl could fight. There was this one time when we were at the playground on the swings. I was waiting my turn while Destiny was swinging back and forth. After waiting for some time, I told her that it was my turn and her response was, “No it is not!” Every few minutes I would tell her that it is my turn and her response would be the same, “No it is not!”

Finally, I grabbed the rope of the moving swing causing it to stop midway and Destiny went flying off the swing to land on her knees. Boy she was upset! I was getting on the swing when she came and pulled me off violently. “It is not your turn! I told you it is not!” She said as she grabbed my arm.

I pushed Destiny and a scuffle broke out. She reached above my head and grabbed a handful of my hair. Then she forced my head down and said “It is not your turn!” I reached above my head to grab her wrist but she stepped back pulling violently to get me off balance forcing me on my knees. Then she applied all her weight to practically rub my face into the dirt.

Children started to gather around me and very soon, I was the spectacle in the playground. The skinny little boy who had lost his glasses somewhere and now had his face into the dust, held there by a girl called Destiny Williams. I tried to free myself but it was humiliating to be held in that position, face pushed into the dirt. I did not know what made me cry, whether it was the taste of dirt? the pain or the humiliation of helplessness, but I started to cry.

“Let go. He is crying!” Someone said and that is when Destiny let me go. I went back home beaten and humiliated and would never tell anyone that it was Destiny who did that to me. Soon the word went around the neighborhood that Destiny Williams had beaten Cody Miller and kids would come and ask me if it was true. I would say yes and then they would go away. Even girls would come and ask me if that was true and I would say yes.

From that day onwards I hated myself. I did not hate Destiny as much as I hated myself because she had shown me what I was. A weak and helpless wimp who could not stand up for himself even against a girl. But as I grew up, I promised myself that I will never allow anyone to humiliate me like that. I started ;lifting weights and got into martial arts. Every time my workouts became hard, I would think of that time in the playground and what Destiny did to me and it would get me very triggered. My poundages went up and soon I was bench pressing two plates on each side and squatting three on each for multiple reps.

Now, many years later, I stood over six feet in height, weighing almost two hundred pounds and the woman in front of me was Destiny Williams. Her blonde hair was in an extended bobcut that ended low on her neck and nicely framed her square features. She still had those raised cheek bones that gave her that distant gaze and the air of superiority and her delicate but square jawline boasted a certain facial perfection that made me reevaluate my childhood hate.

As my eyes ran down her figure, I was torn between the boy who wanted to hate Destiny and the man who stood in awe of her. She was athletic hourglass, with wide shoulders that tapered down to a narrowing waist until and then those legs. Destiny was wearing old worn out denim jeans that had been cut just below the knees for the hike. I could not help but admire the feminine swell of her calves. The child in me protested as it felt abandoned by the adult. I felt bad for the kid who had been beaten in the playground by the same woman and now she was conquering the adult? I was not going to permit that.

Amidst my inner struggle I noticed that Destiny turned towards me and our eyes met. The girl she was walking with, a shorter brunette, also looked in my way and there was a moment when I did not know how to respond. Should I look away and would it be a sign of cowardice? Or should I lock my gaze and stare back? Years later, would this not be a creepy thing to do for I was a grown up man and she was a woman quite pleasing to the eye. Before I could make up my mind, she smiled at me and then waved as if she had recognized me.

Caught totally unprepared by the friendly gesture, I responded with a “Hi!”

The next instant I saw them both walk towards me. “I heard you guys were moving back.” she said as she came and stood a few feet away from me.

Allowing the friendliness of the moment to claim me and said, “Yes. I am glad you remembered.”

Destiny turned and looked towards our house and I was glad that my parents had stopped arguing. She then said, “Your grandmother needed us when you were away. My brother and I took her for groceries sometimes. She would always talk about you so … we knew what you guys were up to.”

“Thanks.” I told her.

“This place has changed a lot,” Destiny continued. “A lot of families left and these houses are falling apart. Most of these lots are on sale and only for the price of these lots. Look, I am in a hurry but I would love to give you a tour tomorrow if you are up for it?”

After that we exchanged numbers and then she walked away leaving me broken into two. The unforgiving child who felt abandoned and angry and the adult who was having thoughts that only a grown up man would have.

I walked across the neighborhood until I reached the playground where Destiny and I had our childhood scuffle. There were a few new additions, such as a monkey bar, a slide and two parallel seesaws. But in a corner I could still see the old swing stand, rusty but sturdy. I stood next to it reliving the brawl and how humiliated I felt after she bullied me. It brought back the child in me. The angry child, who stopped wearing his superhero tshirts after that episode.

My father had given me a lot of superhero tshirts, from Superman and Hulk to Spiderman and my favorite, Batman. But after Destiny thrashed me, I felt unworthy of them. I would always resist wearing them and while all children identified with their favorite superhero, my childhood superhero days came to an end that day, with my face into that same dirt where I stood.

3: The Night with Strange Noises

My mother was a toxic presence. She had practically torn my father apart with her verbal abuse, and when he was not available for bullying, there was my sister Brittany. I, being the third and last in the hierarchy, was never the prime target but this did not mean that I was not indirectly affected. But then there was that one night when I suddenly woke up to a new reality.

There were sounds of moaning coming from my parents room. I woke up and listened and heard my fathers heavy breathing. I stood up in bed and moved to the wall that separated our bedroom. Pressing an ear against it I listened and there was the strange sound of scuffling in the bed. Then my father would moan again and there would be the sound of scuffling in the sheets like she was killing him and he was breathing his last breaths.

For a second, I was convinced that they had argued and now my mother was taking my fathers life, but then I heard her voice. “You have been a very bad boy Brandon.”

There was silence and then my father spoke in a deep, gasping voice, “Yes mommy.”

“Hands to your sides and you can not touch your mommy. Do you hear me?” She spoke in a deep husky voice that was almost manly.

“Yes mommy,” replied my dad.

“Good boy! Now you can not cum until I tell you” she said in soft voice but conveying authority.

“Yes mommy,” he said.

There was a strange, dark silence that left me confused. The next minute, I heard the sounds of deep breathing and then there was the sound of the bed squeaking slowly, like someone was moving over it and it grew louder and faster. Heavy breathing grew with it until both had reached their mutual point of climax. Then I heard my fathers suppressed moan and when it subsided, I could hear my mother giving a long “shhh…” to silence him. When it was all over, I heard her say, “See what you did? You did not have my permission to do that. You have been a bad boy. Very disobedient.” There was mumbling and then we heard one of them, probably my mom stand up and walk away followed by the bathroom door closing.

I went to bed wondering what kind of a relationship my mom and dad really had?

4: Destiny Williams

I never followed up with Destiny. She had offered to take me around town to show me how things have changed but the child in me remained defiant and resentful. Then one day, I ran into her at the convenience store. I had picked up a cold can of Monster energy drink when I saw a female figure bending over at the freezer next to me. I could not help but notice the wide back and narrowing waistline when she turned her head around and up to look at me. “Hi there,” she said with a smile, her square face looking up at me in all its symmetrical perfection.

“Hello,” I replied, noticing that deep down inside I was feeling happy and excited.

She looked at the energy drink in my hand and asked, “You drink that?”

“Sometimes,” I replied.

“And they do not give you a beating heart?” she inquired.

“Well isn’t that what a heart should be doing anyways?” I chuckled.

“Ya. So silly of me to put it that way. I meant palpitations,” she said.

“I know what you meant. I was only pulling your leg.”

Destiny then looked all around to see if anyone was near us and listening. Then, assured of privacy, she said, “Cody, if you have a moment, I would like to sit down with you over a coffee, or that energy drink or whatever you may fancy.”

“Okay,” I said, surprised at her proposition. First, she had come out of nowhere and offered to show me around town, and now she wanted to sit with me over a coffee? I was curious what she would say so I agreed.

Five minutes later, we were sitting on the bar stools in the convenience store looking out of the window at the storm that was forming. She had an iced coffee in her hand while I sipped my energy drink. She started to chit chat about how things were going and how I was adjusting to the town but I kept my answers short, implying that I was not interested in opening up to her. I wanted to know what she wanted to talk about.

Noticing my lack of eagerness to engage her in a conversation, she went silent for a moment and then said, “Cody, I am sorry. I was a spoiled child and the way I acted in the playground was uncalled for. I know that it affected you while growing up and I hate to be anyones bully.”

I was totally taken aback. How could she remember something from so many years ago and also know that it affected me.

“What are you talking about?” I asked her as if I had no clue what she was referring to.

She took a deep breath and said, “We had a brawl at the swings and I pulled your hair and pushed you into the dirt. I remember that. You would leave town a few years later and then your grandmother started to get ill. I would sometimes do groceries for her and she started to open up to me. I guess she did not have anyone to talk about so she would talk to me. She told me that when I was a child, I beat you up in front of other kids and you went home crying. After that, you would refuse to wear superhero shirts or even play with action figures. The older I grew the worst I felt. I just want to tell you that I am really, really sorry. This is a sincere apology and if there is anything I can do to make it up to you then please tell me.”

I did not know what to say. Destiny Williams, my childhood bully, who had matured into this beautiful woman, whose feminine charms I was refusing to acknowledge was now sitting next to me apologizing. The rain kept beating the glass window in front of us as I sat there thinking how to respond. It was a bit embarrassing because she had not only bested me in a brawl as a child but was so much more of a woman than I was a man. All of a sudden my rage was gone. I felt guilty for still being a child while she had matured up.

“Yes you can make it up to me. You can take me around town and show me all the places, like you mentioned,” I said.

The rain had slowed to a drizzle and we walked around the town from place to place, sharing old memories and talking about days gone by. Lost in the conversation, we crossed the high school parking lot, into the dirt bike trail that led to the children’s playground. It was the same place where we had our scuffle many years ago. On a good day, the place would be bustling with kids running around but the rain had caused it to be empty and serene.

It took us both a second to realize where we were and then I had a flashback. I was on the ground with my face pressed in the mud while she had my head pinned down with all her weight. I was attempting to move but she had a tight and painful grip over my hair and would keep my face pinned into the dirt. When I moved it, it would get scratched and I started to cry.

I felt a hand on my arm. It was Destiny with a smile on her face. “We are here. Care for a rematch?” she asked playfully.

“Sure.” I replied.

She took off her hoodie and shook her head shaking her blonde bob with it. Then she took a deep breath and assumed a low fighting stance. I started to circle around her, eyeing her from head to toe. There was a certain feminine charm to her madness that started to grow on me. I felt like at that very moment, I was too focused on her beauty to be offended by her behavior many years ago. Then suddenly she sprang like a pantheress. Her speed caught me by surprise as she did a low dive for my legs. I stepped back and she grabbed my front leg in a playful attempt to lift it up. But she couldn’t. Her forward momentum caused me to limp back on my rear foot as I laughed at her failed attempt.

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