Choices

Chapter 3

For almost three weeks after I found the intimate items in the boys’ closet my life seemed normal again. I checked the closet regularly and each time I felt relieved when I found nothing. I closely observed my sons’ behavior and unusually tucked each in bed at night receiving some indignation from the oldest. I saw nothing unusual. Whatever it was it had passed just as I hoped and I literally thanked God.

Then just when I had again found solace with God the Creator, not necessarily God the Controller, it happened again forcing me to again consider the theory of Divine Coincidence.

September 27, 1955 – Tuesday – It’s been a couple of weeks since I discovered the hidden items. I had decided the issue with the bra, slip and panties was an isolated event. I had dismissed it, mostly. But today it resurfaced with a vengeance. I was moving some summer clothes to the unoccupied third floor of the house. There is a huge dresser up there and a large area to hang clothes. As I unzipped a dresser bag to hang a couple of Brenda’s summer dresses I noticed a paper sack in the bottom of the zipper bag. I pulled out the sack and inside was the strapless bra Brenda wore with the gown from her dance the previous spring and three pair of panties. Then I noticed that the gown hanging in the same zipper bag was not hanging straight and the gown’s zipper was only partly zipped up. My heart stopped and I felt like I had been kicked in the gut. And now I am mad. But I’m at a loss about this, or what to do.

Something wasn’t right and I couldn’t ignore it. I had to do something to fix this before it got worse. I wasn’t sure but I felt in my heart that it was Jack, my youngest son. He often played on the third floor; he had some of his toys up there and he kept a stack of books there. I quickly fixed the gown and put the bra back in the dresser where it was kept. I raced down stairs to call Don. I picked up the phone and gave the operator Don’s office number. As I heard the click and then the ring I realized I couldn’t say anything over the phone. It was a small town and phone operators heard all the dirt and most of it became the town gossip. Phone operators, it seemed, had no ethical standards or moral obligations.

I was relieved when Don didn’t answer the phone. It also gave me time to think. Was I ready to tell him? How would I explain it? I didn’t know what was going on but I knew I had to protect my children, especially Jack. I knew that if this became known in the family, and especially outside, that I wouldn’t be able to control what happened or how we dealt with it. Moundsville was probably like thousands of other little towns. You really couldn’t hide anything. People talked; no they gossiped, and speculated, and judged. Sometimes people were literally shunned, or at least ignored because of what was being said, true or not. Little escaped notice. Everyone knew who was drinking too much, or was cheating. And everyone knew whose kids were having problems, in school or otherwise. It seemed you were always being observed, and you were; not that we had anything to worry about. We lived a pretty sedate life, went to church, socialized with the best, and our kids were popular and normal. If anyone knew what Jack was probably doing everything would change. I decided I needed more time; more time to fix this before it got out, literally, or out of control. I had to talk to Jack; I had to confront him.

Finding the right moment when I could confront Jack proved more than difficult. I was determined to keep it between him and me.

September 26, 1955 – I’m up in the middle of the night. Don is sleeping and I am beside myself with whatever is going on with Jack. He went to the third floor today after school but I decided not to surprise him and Tim was in the house. I need to talk to Jack when we are alone. I just can’t imagine what is going on, or why. I’m so afraid he might be… I can’t even write the word.

Those few days after this second incident were torture for me. I worried constantly and watched Jack carefully, searched his face, his expressions, his demeanor; I suppose I was looking for a clue, a hint of what might be going on, yes what might be wrong with Jack. But I saw nothing that I could say was unusual. He seemed happy and showed no strange behavior. I listened to him closely and he didn’t verbalize anything I thought was, well, not what a normal 10 year old boy would say.

Finally, I found the perfect time when Jack and I had the house to ourselves.

September 28, 1955 – Wednesday – I was able to talk to Jack today. Jack and I were home alone late in the afternoon. Tim had some activity after school and Jack went up to his room. I waited a few minutes and went up to see him and talk. When I approached his room I heard him jump on the bed. As I entered the dark room Jack was under the covers of his bed. I sat down on the bed and brushed my hand over Jack’s forehead. I talked to him and tried to get him to open up to me but I noticed he was wearing one of my slips. I didn’t react and he then asked me why he was born a boy. Why would he ask that? This is serious and I’m beside myself. We did talk though and I promised to help him and to be there for him. I hope I can keep my promise because I am crazy about what he is doing and especially what he asked me. How could this be happening to me, to us? I just don’t know what to do. I have to help my Jack, somehow.

I remember that afternoon like it was yesterday and the conversation I had with my son is still vivid.

“Are you o.k., sweetie?” I asked.

“I’m just tired, mom,” he said.

It was a quiet and peaceful moment and I thought it was a good time to just come out with it.

“Jack, you know you can talk to me if there is something bothering you, don’t you?”

“Yes”, he quietly said.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” I ventured as I brushed my hand over his forehead.

“No, not really,” he mumbled.

I thought about how far I wanted to push him. He seemed so innocent and was about to turn eleven. I resisted telling him I knew he had been playing with my and his sister’s things. Playing? Is that what he was doing?

“Jack, you know I love you, don’t you?” I continued.

“Yes.”

“You know I will always love you and help you?”

“Uh, huh.”

Then I just said it.

“Are you doing something that you don’t want me to know about?”

He didn’t respond. I noticed he had the covers pulled up to his neck. He seemed to be hiding something but I didn’t want to embarrass him. The light was dim and I couldn’t see much but I noticed that the covers had slipped from his shoulder and arm as we talked. I didn’t react when I saw the strap of a slip on his shoulder. Jack had taken the opportunity of being (almost) alone to put on one of his sister’s slips or mine, I couldn’t tell. I didn’t understand. He was just a boy; only 10. He was so innocent. Had something happened to him that I missed? What drove him to do this? Was he doing this a lot? I couldn’t grasp his motivation. I was torn between being a dictating parent and a loving mother. I wanted to yell, rip the covers off him and spank him but I just couldn’t.

“Jack”, I heard myself say softly, “its o.k., whatever it is or why, I will be on your side and will help you”. I really wanted to tell him I would help him stop doing this but it didn’t come out that way.

He didn’t respond. He pulled the covers back up close around his neck. He was obviously embarrassed. I decided to leave it there for now. Don and Tim would be home soon and I needed to give Jack some space to pull himself together without embarrassing him. I had let him know that I knew he was doing something and that I loved him. I hoped that would be enough for now.

So I stood up and told him to get up and get ready for dinner. As I was leaving the room Jack softly called to me.

“Mom, why was I born a boy?”

Mothers sometimes face difficult and unexpected things with children, but this was more than I could fathom. I was so shocked I almost just ignored him. It was a question out of the blue; one that I had never considered nor could understand. It was so obvious I was speechless but I knew I couldn’t leave without some response. I went back over to the bed and sat down. I drew a deep breath. My words surprised me. They must have come from a mother’s love and instinct.

“God Jack, what do you mean? I love you. The easy answer is because that is the way it is. But I’m guessing you need more of an answer than that. I can’t give you one now but I promise we will get one together. Jack, I just don’t understand this and it scares me. I don’t know why you are doing what you are doing. I don’t understand why you would ask that. I am so afraid. I need some time, Jack. For now though I need you to stop doing this, so I can figure this out. You know it’s wrong to take things that belong to other people.” I was talking to Jack but really speaking to myself, to my heart, to my fear.

“Mom, you won’t tell Dad or anybody will you?”

“No, Jack, I won’t. Now get dressed and come downstairs.”

So I made a promise I knew I could not keep. I didn’t have an answer for Jack, at least not one he could understand. Now I was not just worried, I was frantic. I decided that I had to have a deeper conversation with Jack; that I had to understand him more before I could search for an answer. My problem was that I had no idea where to look for an answer, or if there was anyone in this world who could help me, and my precious Jack. I felt so alone in the world and suddenly ready to have a deeper relationship with God the Controller.