William Bernhardt - Dark Eye

“Do you ever miss Mom and Dad?” Ginny asked, one such afternoon.

“I dunno.” He stretched out, sunning himself. “Kinda sorta. You?”

“Maybe. Sometimes.”

“I don’t miss Mom yelling all the time.”

“No.”

“And I don’t miss Daddy’s spankings. Which really weren’t spankings because they weren’t on my butt.”

“He never spanked me.”

“That’s ’cause he liked you. He spanked me all the time. He just liked you.”

“Yeah,” she said, drawing her arms inward as she spoke, staring at the leaves. “He sure did like me.”

“I hated it when they acted all weird and crazy and couldn’t hardly walk.”

“Me too. But that was when Daddy liked me the most.”

“And Nana’s pretty nice. Even if she is old and kinda strange.”

“Yeah.”

The breeze blew a trace of honeysuckle between them, rustling the leaves and giving them both a slight chill.

“But I still miss Mom and Daddy. Sometimes,” Ginny said quietly.

“Yeah. Me too, I guess.”

True to her word, when they returned from the forest each day, their grandmother performed full and thorough inspections.

“Those ticks are insidious. They dig down deep and they never let go. Strip!”

And she meant it. The inspection did not begin until both children were standing before her starkers. “No underwear. Nothing.” Now they really looked like wild animals, primordial wood nymphs, hair tangled and full of leaves, even bugs, dirt sweat-stained to their skin. Their grandmother checked each nook and cranny, every fold and orifice. The children didn’t much enjoy this assessment. But it did not deter them. Next day, they were back in the forest.

“Do you want to touch it?”

He had seen her looking at him while he went to the bathroom behind a tree. It was not the first time.

“No way. Gross.”

“Isn’t gross. It’s just me.”

“Well, I don’t have anything like that.”

“That’s ’cause you’re a girl.”

They sat on the stump in silence for a few moments. He knew what she was thinking. It was always like that, and not just with her. He could tell what anyone was thinking, sometimes before they knew themselves. And he knew Ginny’s mind as well as he knew his own.

“Okay,” she said, something like fifteen minutes later, out of the blue.

“Okay what?”

“Okay I want to touch it.”

He considered. “You’ll have to let me touch yours.”

“I don’t have one.”

“Well, whatever you got, I want to touch it.”

“Okay.”

Ernie dropped his shorts. And his Sears-bought Underoos, which drooped over his shoes.

And she touched it.

“That wasn’t so much,” she remarked, then giggled. “It’s all sticking out now.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Why’s it doing that? Just ’cause I touched it?”

“You didn’t do it right,” he said defensively. “You’re s’posed to kiss it.”

“How would you know?”

“I saw it in one of Dad’s books. You kiss it and it makes people happy.”

She obliged. Afterward, he did the same to her. It was weird and gooshy.

Later that day, when the inspection was done, their grandmother kept Ernie after she let Ginny get dressed and go up to her room.

“I saw what you did,” Nana said. “You nasty little boys with your nasty little things, you’re all alike. Well, I won’t have it. You understand me? I won’t have it.”

“Y-Y-Yes, Nana,” he managed to squeeze out.

The cat curled around his grandmother’s ankles, staring at him with large accusing eyes.

“There will be no nastiness on my property, hear me? Your father may have gone in for that sort of thing, but I most certainly will not. The Good Lord doesn’t like it. And neither do I.”

“Okay, Nana.”

“Nasty. Nasty, ugly boys. Here. Put this on.” She held out a sky-blue pinafore, one of Ginny’s.

“But-that’s a dress-”

“Put it on!” she commanded. He obeyed. She did up the buttons in the back, tied the bow, and spun him around a few times, admiring him. “There, that’s better. Not so nasty now, are we?”

“But Nana-”

“Since you’re so interested in girls, we’ll let you be one from now on.”

“Nana-”

“Go to bed now. And leave the dress on. You are not to remove it until I give you permission. Understand?”

He did as he was told, but the dress was scratchy and uncomfortable and he had a hard time sleeping. She made him wear it forever, days, weeks, including the night one of Nana’s lady friends from town came over. Nana thought the children didn’t know because the lady came after bedtime, as she had come many times before. But the dress bothered Ernie so much he couldn’t sleep, and when he heard screaming, it scared him. Scared him so much he ran into Nana’s bedroom.

“What the hell is this?” the lady said, sitting up in the bed.

Nana leaped out of her bed, wrapping a sheet around herself. “Nasty little boy! Nasty little boy!”

“Nana, I was scared-”

“Did you think you might see something? Is that what you were hoping for? That you might see something nasty?”

“No-I-I-”

“I tried to help you. I tried to make you not be such a dirty little boy. But I can see this dress wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.” Enraged, she ripped it off him, her nails like claws, then ran to a sewing kit resting on her dresser.

“Nana, please-”

“My last sewing needle,” she said, holding the silver shaft between thumb and finger. “Shame to have to use it like this. But what’s got to be done’s got to be done.”

She lowered the needle and jabbed it into his little penis.

Ernie screamed. He tried to squirm away, but the old woman’s hand held him firmly in place. Only after an eternity had passed did she yank the needle out, leaving a trickle of clear fluid in its wake.

Ernie clutched himself. He fell to the floor, curled up, hoping if he squeezed hard enough it wouldn’t hurt anymore.

“I don’t want you playing with Ginny. Not in the forest. Not anywhere.”

His eyes widened with horror. This was even worse, the most horrible punishment possible. “B-B-B-But-”

“You heard me, boy.” She held the dripping needle between her fingers. “Do I need to tell you what will happen if you disobey me?”

“N-N-N-No, ma’am.”

She would not help him or allow the lady in her bed to help him. Ernie had to crawl to his bedroom, holding himself, biting back the pain. He lay on his bed for hours, not sleeping, empty, devastated, in every kind of agony. A swelling began and he didn’t know what to do about it. He started to cry, and once he started, he found he could not stop. His whole body shook with the force of his tears. He did not cry so much for the aching, although that was great. He cried for Ginny. Because she was his life. And now his grandmother had taken his life away.

The next few weeks were torturous. The swelling eventually subsided, but in its wake the shaft of his penis turned an odd mottled color and bent to the left as if it were permanently broken. He was not allowed to play with Ginny or even to talk to her. He sat at the opposite end of the breakfast table and if he so much as glanced her way his grandmother made a motion toward her sewing kit. He learned to stare at his cereal bowl. At night he would lie awake in his bed, sleepless, thinking of nothing but her.

“Ernie?”

He sat bolt upright, on that memorable night so long into their forced separation.

It was her.

“Come outside.”

It was dark as a cave in his room. What time was it, midnight? Later?

“Hurry!” He heard her tiny footsteps scampering down the stairs.