Today is a much better day. I took the day off work, got caught up on some much needed sleep, stayed around the house, and later I took the family out to eat. So I feel up to going on with my story even though I know this will be the hardest part.

Something happened that I did not expect, Father Christian was transferred to another parish! It happened so fast no one saw it coming. He was so popular, church was always packed during his masses. He had started a new program here. Sunday after church he would show movies for the kids! Shows like Abbot and Costello, cartoons, Laurel and Hardy, just fun kid shows. How could someone who was doing so much for kids just get moved? I cried. After he moved he still came to see me even though it was about a 30 mile drive. Mom would take me up for the day and we would ride bikes, and just hang out. Sometimes he would come down here and we would go swimming out at a hard to find swimming hole called the blue hole. He told me it was owned by a friend of his and that I could go there anytime. If anyone asked me just tell them Father said it was Ok. (I don’t remember anything ever happening here, but it would play a big role some 30 years later.)

The big day:

Then one day he asked Mom if I could stay all night at his new parish. Man it couldn’t get any better than that, I thought! Mom of course said yes and we picked a date. He told Mom “We’ll have to pick a weekend that the senior priest was not going to be there, “because he was a grumpy old bastard.” Sure what ever, I thought, not every priest was as cool with kids as Father “C”. So that’s what they did and the big day finally came. I took my clothes and my bike! This was going to be the best weekend of my life! Mom took me up to St. George and I unpacked my stuff. We went up to his room, he told me to just put my stuff over in a corner for now. Mom left, I sat at his desk and started to enjoy! Just me and Father Christian all weekend!

As we talked he turned out conversation to a discussion he had had with a friend of his. He told me his friend was so weird that he would not use a public restroom. He asked me if I didn’t think that was stupid. I said I hated to use a public restroom, and would not go poop in one unless I just had to. He really made fun of me for that, it made me feel bad. He stopped just short of calling me stupid. This was an uncomfortably long conversation that he had control of and when it was finally over I had never felt so dumb, then we went on a bike ride and he sort of smoothed things over. By the time we got back I was feeling much better about myself. Father said we needed to get ready for supper so he went and showered. When he came out he was naked. I turned my head away. He laughed at me. He said to me “This bothers you? I thought you wanted to be an artist.” (I have always been artistic and everyone knew I wanted to be an artist) I told him a lie. I said “No.” and that I had just been surprised by him. He seemed mad and told me to go take a shower. I came out after my shower, with a towel wrapped around me. Like most 10 or 11 year old boys I had forgotten to bring my clothes into the bathroom with me. He was in his bedroom fully clothed, he asked me if I wanted a back rub. I said, “Sure just a sec.” He said just come over with my towel and lay down on the bed. I did. He started on my back and then rubbed my legs. he asked me to roll over. I did. He pulled open my towel and touched me. I quickly rolled away, got dressed and felt very ashamed. He never said anything. We went out to eat. There was noting said about what had happened. We came back to the parish and it was getting late. I asked where I was going sleep. He told me that his room was the only one with an AC unit in it, but if I wanted to sleep in there I would have to sleep with him because he would not sleep without an AC. I said sure, and asked where I could change into my PJ’s. He shook his head and said he slept in the nude, UNLESS this bothered me TOO! I felt stupid again, and told him that was fine with me. We went to bed and I went to sleep. I woke up and fear swept over me. I was to afraid to move. He raped me and I pretended to be asleep. I remember thinking “Jesus this can’t be happening” but it was. When he was done I jumped out of bed grabbed my clothes and went into the bathroom. After a wile I came out. I went to his phone and called my mom.

“COME GET ME!!!”

“What?”

“COME GET ME!!!”

“What’s wrong?” She asked.

“COME GET ME, NOW!” I hung up the phone. he came in the room.

“What’s going on?”

“GET AWAY FROM ME!”

“What, what’s wrong, Tim?”

“STAY BACK’ I said, as I made my way to the door of his balcony. And there I sat looking for mom, with just the door between me and him. It took her a long time to get there. She had to pack up my little brother and sister and drive over 30 miles. She finally got there. I remember seeing the car come around the corner but I don’t remember how I got down to it. Next, I was in the car and crying, he stood by the drivers door talking to mom. We left. He followed us home. Mom asked me several times what had happened. It was too hard to talk. My chin was quivering and my jaws hurt, all I could say was “Just ask him.” When we got home it was daybreak. The kids went inside and went to bed. Mom and him went somewhere and talked. I don’t remember anything that happened that day. That night he called and talked to Mom. She called me into the room. She had the phone in her hand. She looked at me and said; “tell him it’s Ok and you still love him.”

“What?”

“Here.” She shoved the phone at me.

“NO!” I said.

“Tim!” “Here!” “He loves you and he is hurting.”

I stood there with the phone shoved up to my head, and finally I said it, just like she told me to.

For 30 years I never asked her what he had told her when they went and talked that morning. It was not until the detective on my case asked me ”What did he tell her?” that it even crossed my mind that he might have lied to her. I’m not sure what he told her. She is now old and very sick with diabetes, over weight, and takes a truck load of medicines, much of which is for depression. As I have gone through therapy and tried to rationalize what he could have told her that night, nothing worked for me. I could not think of anything that would make me act the way she did. It was the early 70’s and not today, times were different. She grew up in the 40’s and 50’s Priest could do no wrong. None of that made me Ok with it.

Then during a session I said; I told her ”it’s about me!” That this is my story and not hers. I told her “it’s about me, NOT you”. And then it hit me. This is about me and not her. How am I going to deal with this? It’s not how she did. That’s over. Was I going to cut her out of me life? Would that help me? This is about me! I looked at her for the first time in my life and felt sad. She has cried a million tears and told me she was sorry a million times. It was never good enough, but now I chose to forgive her and by doing so I chose to close this horrible chapter in my life. I no longer even want to know what was said that morning. She made a very bad mistake. There is nothing more.