‹ Prequel: Trust Me
Glow
prologue
It starts out as a feeling. Nothing big. At first, you don’t even register that it exists. Because the idea is so absurd that you can’t fathom that what you feel is real. So you ignore it. And when it doesn’t happen again, you feel that everything is fine.
But then it happens again. And you feel that feeling grow. It appears as tension in the head, an inability to swallow down food, a tightness in the chest that briefly immobilises you. You don’t know exactly what to do with that feeling. How do you confront such a feeling when the ramifications are bigger than you are even aware of? How do you face it?
And then the kicker: you have proof. Real, intangible proof and you can’t deny it any longer. There’s nothing more that you want to do but to ignore it, and while you know ignoring it will only make the pain worse, it at least gives you – or tries to give you – some peace. Not clarity. Just peace. But not anymore. You can no longer ignore it. The pain of watching the only parental figure you have ever had and kept close to you, no longer close. Never again, close.
It starts out as whispers, things that could be easily ignored as you tell your peers he’s always been a good dad. Drove me to all my soccer games. Assistant coaches from time to time. Tutored underprivileged children after school, at home where you have always been. A regular at local churches, organising food drives and dog walking for the elderly. A truly compassionate and giving man accused of such crimes is blasphemy.
But then the whispers turn into something much bigger, and it’s no longer a rumour. Those can destroy your reputation, but without tangible proof, they are just whispers. But it’s no longer a rumour. Because there’s not just one case of, he said he said.
It was one victim who came forward. And I thought I could stomach it. And then the next, a few days later. And then three reports from three different groups who shared the same sentiment. And instead of facing these comments with a head held high, a lawyer to sue for defamation, I find myself standing in an empty house, clothes strewn everywhere, house turned upside down, explaining to the police that I don’t know where my dad has gone.
And to be honest, I don’t think they will ever see him again.
But I will.
I’ll make sure of it.
But then it happens again. And you feel that feeling grow. It appears as tension in the head, an inability to swallow down food, a tightness in the chest that briefly immobilises you. You don’t know exactly what to do with that feeling. How do you confront such a feeling when the ramifications are bigger than you are even aware of? How do you face it?
And then the kicker: you have proof. Real, intangible proof and you can’t deny it any longer. There’s nothing more that you want to do but to ignore it, and while you know ignoring it will only make the pain worse, it at least gives you – or tries to give you – some peace. Not clarity. Just peace. But not anymore. You can no longer ignore it. The pain of watching the only parental figure you have ever had and kept close to you, no longer close. Never again, close.
It starts out as whispers, things that could be easily ignored as you tell your peers he’s always been a good dad. Drove me to all my soccer games. Assistant coaches from time to time. Tutored underprivileged children after school, at home where you have always been. A regular at local churches, organising food drives and dog walking for the elderly. A truly compassionate and giving man accused of such crimes is blasphemy.
But then the whispers turn into something much bigger, and it’s no longer a rumour. Those can destroy your reputation, but without tangible proof, they are just whispers. But it’s no longer a rumour. Because there’s not just one case of, he said he said.
It was one victim who came forward. And I thought I could stomach it. And then the next, a few days later. And then three reports from three different groups who shared the same sentiment. And instead of facing these comments with a head held high, a lawyer to sue for defamation, I find myself standing in an empty house, clothes strewn everywhere, house turned upside down, explaining to the police that I don’t know where my dad has gone.
And to be honest, I don’t think they will ever see him again.
But I will.
I’ll make sure of it.