We’re The Ones Who Suffer

Several days ago, before school let out, my aide tossed me a book to read during rest time. We have to sit with most of our children, and by “with” I mean, “holding down with our bodies,” and there is only so much work I can get done while sitting on a child, so generally, I read.

On this day, I had forgotten my book. And the book my aide tossed my way was this one.

I said, Wait a second…i think I’ve read this!

This was a novel I vaguely remember swiping off my older sister’s nightstand a time or two. See, I read very quickly, and as a child it wasn’t unusual for me to read a novel every day or two*. Needless to say, I went through books insanely fast, and then would prowl the house looking for something new to read. At this point, Melisa was into some horror novels, and while horror wasn’t something I was big on (still isnt), I was fairly convinced I would shrivel and die without book sustenance of some form, so I would swipe whatever she was reading whenever she wasn’t reading it.

I did this to Natalie, too, but I remember there being more Sweet Valley High and less horror swiping from her.

Based on the fact I only vaguely remembered the plot, and was curious to see how it had held up in my brain, I reread it.

…Holy Jesus fuck, what the hell was that?

It’s a trainwreck of epic proportions. Incest, rape, child abuse, MATERNAL ACCEPTANCE OF THE CHILD ABUSE, possession, freaky paintings, and a little girl throwing her neighbors down into a pit with a dead cat dressed in doll clothes.

And yet, the biggest problem I had, out of all of this mess, was the understanding that the father had gotten drunk one day, and beaten the younger daughter until she was catatonic and diagnosed schizophrenic…and he wasn’t arrested, spoken to about it sternly, or even gotten the shit beat out of him by the mother. Matter of fact, the sheriff SCOFFS about the whole thing! “You don’t even know for sure what you did! I’m sure it was nothing!”

WHAT THE MOTHERFUCK? Geeze, if this is how frustrated I get after rereading a novel I barely remember, I don’t even what to know what I would think about something REALLY crazy like Flowers in the Attic if I read it now!

*I probably read the equivalent now, but a great deal of the fiction I read is online now. Damn, I want a Kindle or a Nook.