Other Voices Magazine

The Monthlies

Winner May 2010

“I wonder how many of us, feeling unsafe and unprotected, either end up running far away from everything we know and love, or staying and simply going mad. I have decided today that neither option is more or less noble than the other. They are merely different ways of coping, and we each must cope as best we can.” —Shani Mootoo, Cereus Blooms at Night

Pigs Cannot Fly
Annalise Glinker

Sunday school was a grim daycare for little prisoners. Our footsteps down the arthritic stairs to the basement were louder than links in a chain gang. Next to the entrance, a hole in the wall exposed the kitchen, allowing for easy delivery of food on mass. On the farthest wall, a framed portrait of the building hung, standing in dirty snow, boxy, and dressed in plain siding.

Un-folded tables were set between un-stacked chairs that faced one another. I imagined that the coolness of the seats I took were spirits already occupying them. As the ghostly drown of hymns seeped through the ceiling, the teacher spoke in a hushed voice as though she was afraid of interrupting unheard conversations.

Afterwards, the stale smell of church lingered in whatever uncomfortable dress I wore and I still felt conditioned to keep my head down. Sometimes church goers came to my house. Like this mom and dad and their two sons. They were older than my oldest brother, and he was eight years older than me, and I was only three. The oldest was even old enough to vote.

In my bedroom, I stared at his colossal feet sinking into my yellowish-brown carpet. The tightly woven yarn was textured with risen patches like a miniature of sand islands, empty riverbeds, and windstorms. My Lego men and My Little Ponies depended on giants like me for food, water, and shelter. The man suggested a game for us and told me to keep quiet about it. I was small enough to be his ragdoll and I didn’t seem to have the option to say no.

But I did not have a permanently stitched smile because I screamed anyway. This was not the kind of squeal made by children playing tag. As kittens and cubs are familiar with, I was using my best defense, calling for help. When he heard my mom running to my room, he put me right-side-up again.

My mom invited a lady over to sit with us and record my account of the incident. I knew that dick was a bad word, but I said it instead of penis anyway—to be accurate. He was bad and I was to tell the truth and the truth would get him punished. When the police came to my mom and dad’s door, Dad said not to charge the man because his mom and dad had begged for mercy.

My mom was angry and questioned what horrible things my dad had done that would make him drop the charges. She’d wanted to leave my dad for a long time but he threatened to kill her if she tried. He was a scary man who yelled through clenched teeth. So the final decision was his to make.

I felt as empty as the carpet in my bedroom was lifeless. What the man did was illegal, but it happened to me and I wasn’t worth the trouble. The man and his younger brother stopped going to church, and soon after, my mom didn’t make me go either. A few years later, my mom and dad’s house caught fire, so we lived with my Oma and Opa until we built a new one. My Oma insisted I come to church with her. Sundays were worse than they were before. In church, the man’s mom and dad sat a few pews in front of me. His mom would look over her shoulder and smile at me, pretending nothing happened, assessing if I’d keep the incident a secret.

Wanting to be good and feeling worthless, I’d smile back. I knew this wasn’t fair and I didn’t want to feel worthless. I wanted out of this bogus ball and chain contract. Finally, one Sunday, instead of smiling back at her, I faced her stone cold. Her cheeks relaxed as she realized that I was not okay with being wrongly done by. She never looked over her shoulder at me again.

The minister carried on, treating everyone like good Christians. That’s when I began to question the systems that failed me. I began to realize then what I know today. No one can have a tea party inside a whale, family members do not always look out for one another, and bad guys don’t always get what they have coming to them. I became as sure of this as I am sure pigs cannot fly, the earth is round, and no one belongs to another.

Annalise Glinker grew up in Englehart, Ontario. She now lives in Edmonton, Alberta. Ms. Glinker recently graduated with a Bachelors of Applied Communications in Professional Writing from Grant MacEwan University.

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