Seven colorful senses at my service

The day I walked to school alone was the last time it happened.

On my way, I approached the house my two older brothers told me had a 'pet crow'. There he was, perched high up on a leafless branch. He stood out like a black crayon surrounded by the other seven colors in my Crayola Pack. He tilted his head and disapprovingly looked down at me. I smiled up at him and shared my thoughts. I know I'm going to get into trouble for this but I'll never do it again. At that moment, a car pulled up from behind and stopped. I moved over as the passenger door opened. An older man was leaning over with his left hand holding the steering wheel, and supporting himself with his right hand outstretched on the front seat closest to me. He smiled, waved me in, and cheerfully said,

"Hi! Your mommy asked me to give you a drive to school."

• His eyes looked into mine with anticipated excitement, my pupils widened
• His voice reverberated from my eardrums down to my tummy, I honed in on his tone
• Titilated pheromones escaped his glistening skin penetrating my sinuses, my nostrils flared
• His alcoholic breath quenched my dry mouth, I swallowed the gushing saliva
• Five individual fingers tips slowly waved in towards him, I widened the distance between my feet and braced myself
• Emanating energy stimulated my vagina into warm tingling wetness, my nails pierced into my fists
• His twisting facial expression revealed my surroundings and abilities, I calculated the slanted drive-way was three lunges behind me

I was in grade three. That's when I was allowed to walk with my brothers. We walked to school in the morning, home for lunch, back after lunch, and then straight home after school. The walk was fifteen minutes each way. When I was with them, I felt like a brother. When we played at home, I could do anything they did. If I did it better, they would tease me for it. Away from home, I followed them everywhere. I did everything they did. If their friends teased me, they punished them for it.

It was my parents who reminded me I was a girl. They did so in different ways. My mother presented herself as the model woman. She taught me how to behave, dress, cook, clean, and serve a man. My father acted like what he thought was the model man. A man you looked up to, listened to, did not question or talk back, and did as he asked. I wore the clothes my mother chose, helped with chores, spoke like a lady, acted like a lady, and served my brothers and father. The most important lesson they shared was, a lady does not gossip. What happens behind a closed door, stays in that room. I had grown into an obedient young lady with my head filled with many rooms, all with closed doors.

I was never told not to walk alone. The day I did was when there was a special event in the gymnasium during lunchtime. I didn't want to go. I didn't complain. I didn't talk back. I didn't disobey. I never felt comfortable in large crowds, it made me feel nervous, confused, and sick to my stomach. Going home was my only option. So I did. After lunch, I was halfway on my way back to school when I was approached.

"Come on, get in," he said.

He sat upright without breaking eye contact and slowly moved his left hand off the steering wheel reaching for the door handle. His hand found the silver leaver with the help of his fingernails that had eyes of their own, eyes that never closed, eyes with long black eyelashes. I felt like I was playing chess with my father again, who had taught me well. He had laid the game board before me and knew I had to play if I wanted to win. I kept my opponent in mind, each move was thought out, each move was an action, each move was a reaction until the last move was played.

I said, "My school is right there", pointing in the direction he was headed. His move.

He replied, "No, it's not. I know where your school is. Now, do as I say and, don't talk back to me. Get in!" I was never told my father's rules applied to another man. My move.

I lifted my right foot, spun halfway around on my left heel, landed back on my right foot, and lunged into a run. I ran the fastest I ever had, down the driveway to the front door. I placed my hand on the door handle and thought, I should knock. Then, I heard the car engine roar with one tire spinning on the pavement and the other in the gravel. I turned to see the white station wagon drive off with the passenger door slamming to a close and leaving behind a mixture of grey smoke under a black streak of burned rubber and rolling brown dust from the edge of the road. I walked up the driveway back to the road and saw his car disappear in the distance, I had won. I took one step, knowing I would be in trouble for arriving late at school when suddenly, I saw black and lost my breath. The crow had flown in front of my face. I stopped to watch it turn, fly higher up in the air, change direction again and fall into a dive with his wings tucked at his side. He was coming straight for me. I turned around, crouched over with my hands over my head, and felt a gush of wind. Not looking back, I sprinted into a run all the way home, crying, upset that he had attacked me.

I only told my mother about the crow because he was the reason I had not returned to school. That night, my mother was on the phone for most of the evening. I was getting ready for bed when she came into my bedroom and said, "Starting tomorrow, I have made arrangements for someone to drive you to school and back. You are never to walk to school again." I didn't complain. I didn't ask questions. We heard my father arrive home from work when she said, "I'll come back soon and tuck you into bed" and went downstairs to greet him. I could hear them whispering. I quietly stood at the top of the stairs and heard her say,

"A little girl in town didn't make it home from school today."

That was the last day I walked to school.

My bedroom door never closed again.