By Sue Silverman
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Additional resources for Because I Remember Terror, Father, I Remember You
I see the parked car clearly. There is no distracting traffic. There are no dogs, no children, no sudden noises. Only circles and circles of silver light wheeling down the pavement. And I must crash. I must. I crash into a parked car, crumpling my bike, shredding skin off my face. Light hurts my face. So now, while I'm healing, I'm allowed to stay in the house with curtains drawn. This is what I wanted: to hide inside, behind curtains, where no one can smell the leakage from my body; to be safe inside, behind curtains, where I can be close to my body clamped to my father's electric saw.
He must drink and drink and drink. D D D My mother throws a pair of my white cotton underpants at my feet. There is a stain on them, she says, and she will not give them to our maid, Sylvanita, to wash. She would be embarrassed. I should be embarrassed. She orders me to wash them until every trace of stain is removed. We have no hot water in St. Thomas, and I stand at the bathroom sink for over an hour scrubbing with cold water. The bar of soap melts to a nub. My legs ache from standing. My fingers are numb.
I close my eyes. I feel the skin of my eyes slip far far back in my skull. As his finger penetrates deep, deeper, I no longer have eyes. I 26 RED no longer have my body. It is Dina, Dina, Dina. You do it, Dina, I say to her, in a voice only I can hear. You do it. You want this. ) with your straight black hair, olive-colored skin, and the blackest of eyes. It is her legs parted like that with his finger inside her . . while I disappear in a bubble of water. Concentrate on the bubbles of water. They make soft explosions as they crash against the surface, but then another rise rise rises out the roof of my head.
Because I Remember Terror, Father, I Remember You by Sue Silverman