(“‘Just’ Violated?” Book Excerpt):
…Nine-year-old me was wise.
I was Dorothy from “The Wizard of Oz.” Blue gingham dress, red slippers. Stuffed toy Toto in a picnic basket.
And on high alert for his late-night Halloween demand.
I was ready. I knew the score. I knew my answer. Yes, I’d already Trick-or-Treated. Yes, I was exhausted.
No, I didn’t want to go.
But that didn’t matter.
I had to keep my dad appeased. That’s what counted.
I had no vote here. A “no” vote would bring wrath. Nope. Don’t want that.
“Yes” was the only answer.
And try to sell it, Dorothy, with some faked enthusiasm.
True-to-demanding form, my dad waited, again, until around nine that night to again, enthusiastically bring up going to his friend’s place for Trick-or-Treating. I knew to keep my costume on, even though I would rather put on my pajamas.
Focus, Dorothy.
He says, “jump,” I respond, “how high?”
So, we drove to his friend’s place. I did the Halloween kid’s ritual. “Trick or Treat!” I presented my Jack o lantern; candy poured into it.
Then I was told to sit in their living room and watch television. It was time for the grownups to talk at the kitchen table.
And talk they did. And laugh loudly. And cuss. And smoke. And drink beer.
They did this for hours. I fell asleep, probably around 11 o’ clock.
Eventually, though, that loud, boisterous, inebriated laughter woke me up. We’re still here?
I rubbed my tired eyes and glanced at the living room clock.
Midnight. No longer Halloween. The next day.
Halloween’s over. Didn’t “the grownups” realize that? Maybe I had better go in and tell them.
It was late. Halloween’s over. Time to get the Trick-or-Treater home to bed.
Not too unreasonable, right?
I quietly shuffled to the bright kitchen, interrupting the laughing adults, as they were sitting around the square table. Cigarette smoke wafted through the air. I think I saw beer cans, two per adult.
They stop their conversation as they see me. I mention how it’s past Halloween now, and I needed to get home so I could write in my diary about that day before I turn in for the night. I thought I made a valid point.
They laughed, amused at my earnestness. My dad told me to go back to the living room and wait.
I knew I had to obey. No whining. No pleading my case.
Be a good girl. Prove you’re not completely good-for-nothing.
Go away, now. Let the grownups get back to what they’re doing.
That’s what’s important, not you.
“Children are to be seen and not heard.”
I felt used. I was used. I served my purpose and was immediately discarded.
The main event could now commence with me out of the way.
I was angry, with no place to put the anger. Shove it down. Be quiet.
Watch television, until your dad finally decides to take you home…
