When I was a young I often went with my parents (in this case my mom and her boyfriend) to her boyfriend's parents house for dinner. The house was huge and there was a big piano in the basement. I used to often go downstairs and play on the piano to waste time because I couldn't give a fuck about the adult conversation that was going on upstairs.
On 1 particular night I recall my mom's boyfriend coming downstairs to see what I was doing. He showed me a song on the piano that he knew and I watched and waited for my turn to get back on.
The piano was part of an old living room downstairs with both a t.v and stereo and other assorted items. This place was my mom's boyfriend's father's place and I guess he had some old vinyl stocked there. He played a record and somehow we ended up on the floor. He got on top of me and was rubbing my front and breathing on my neck. I felt pretty weirded out and wanted to get out of there.
I managed to get away and go upstairs. I joined my mom in the main living room and just sat next to her until the night was over.
Pretty disturbed about the whole thing, I told my mom some time later on. She was pretty shocked and didn't really know what to think about the whole thing. She spoke to her boyfriend about it and of course he denied everything. She kept focusing on the fact that there was no record player downstairs. She's never really spent time in the basement to know otherwise but was going by what her boyfriend was telling her. The whole thing was blown off and I was told this didn't happen.
Now that I'm older looking back on the whole thing, I always wonder why she never just went over to the house and checked for herself if there WAS in fact a record player. What's worse is that sometimes I even doubt whether it in fact happened even though every frame in my mind is very real. I can still imagine him on top of me.
I also now look back on some of the other less obvious things which he did through out the 10 years that he was my mother's boyfriend and wonder if this was his way of indulging in his perversion.
Luckily my mother ended up leaving him after 11 years because he was pretty abusive all around. The summer I was with family in northern Ontario I was with my aunt and grandmother when the phone rang and it was my mother. She had left her boyfriend!!! This is where you cue the choir like hallellulia and I was elated to say the least. He was always my enemy, and I loathed him for being part of our lives. He was mean, intimidating and volatile.
After I got off the phone with my mom, my aunt told me what pushed my mother to take the plunge. The physical abuse escalated on one particular occasion and he punched my mom in the face. She had a huge bruise and was unable to conceal it. There was always physical pushing and shoving when they would argue, but I've never quite seen it escalate to that point personally.
I've always resented the fact that she didn't believe me, but I suppose she was in denial and just didn't quite know how to handle a scenario like that. I'm pretty sure she was really stressed for that entire 11 years.
Deep down she knows something went down but we've never really talked about it specifically. There was once (only once in my entire life) that I've seen her cry and it was very awkward because we were having a heart to heart and she wept. I think it was partly exhaustion from what seemed like an eternity of crap with this guy and partly relief that we were free. She felt really bad about putting me through a living situation with a guy like that. That was good enough for me.