What Paul Doesn't Know/Pomegranates & Peacocks

What Paul Doesn’t Know

When I was in eighth grade, I would cut school to go to the public library so I could read books all day. I was quiet and kept to myself, so no one ever questioned me.

The first time I was sexually assaulted, I was twelve. It was the year E.T. came out, so my friends and I bought a lot of Reese’s Pieces. I had a handful of Reese’s when the boy knocked me down and seeing the candy in the dirt,  I whispered, “phone home.”

I was in a cult for almost twenty-five years. It was twisted, chaotic, frequently violent, and sadly, there are still times I miss feeling like I belong.

I don’t like Christmas, but love Christmas music, which I listen to year round. I especially like songs like The Waitresses’ “Christmas Wrapping.”

In my early twenties, I had sex on a wooden picnic table in a public park. My back was rubbed raw, and I still have a scar to this day!

My feet are my favorite body part. I think they’re absolutely adorable, so when a boyfriend called them “Fred Flintstone feet,” I immediately dumped him.

Years ago, I wanted to lose weight, so I ate only nonseasoned, air-popped popcorn and drank Diet Coke. I was cranky all the time and thought about eating regular food again, but I ran into Orville Redenbacher in an elevator and took it as a sign I was doing the right thing.

Peacocks & Pomegranates

My grandma was my favorite human being. Every chance I got, I was at her tiny, rundown two-bedroom house that always smelled of mildew and nopales. Across from it was a weedy dirt lot with a large concrete slab. Beyond that, fences sectioned off the backyards of a gated community.

I had fun playing with my imaginary friends in the field, but I was intrigued by the people on the other side of the fences. I had peered through gaps in the slats for years before I finally saw a human. Within seconds, he called out, “Who’s peeping on me?”

I backed away, then stood looking. He must have been standing on something, but when he looked over the fence, I was convinced he was a giant.

“What are you doing there?”

“Nothing.”

He stared down at me before ordering, “Stay right there.”

I did.

A few minutes later, he came around the side of the lot carrying something. He motioned for me to follow him to the concrete and sit.

He held out a roundish, faintly pink thing. “Do you know what this is?”

I didn’t.

He took a knife from his pocket and split it open. Inside were lots of little red things that looked like jewels. He scraped some out. “Eat it.”

They were sweet and a little sour.

“It’s good, right? It’s pomegranate.”

We sat sharing it. He told me he’d decided to grow them because he loved them so much and was tired of getting ripped off at Bill’s Ranch Market. We were having a great time until what sounded like cats being murdered terrified me.

“Fucking peacocks! I swear I’m going to buy a gun and kill those fuckers!”

I asked what a peacock was.

“You’re kinda stupid, huh? They’re birds. Fancy ones with the feathers.” His explanation didn’t help; as far as I knew, all birds had feathers. “When I kill one, I’ll show you.”

I nodded.

“Stay here. I’ll get you more to take home.”

Back at grandma’s with three pomegranates, I asked her about peacocks. She told me they were royal birds.

Grandma died in 1996. 

I still enjoy pomegranates.

I’ve never seen a dead peacock.

This is Part 1 of Paul's Super Fun, Multi-part Unofficial Challenge.