Time Bomb

Theresa hobbled forward like a broken clock. Tick…tick tock, tock, tick…

She thought about the events in her young life that had brought her to this moment. What was the ticking bomb that pushed her over the edge?

That frat party she went to when she was a senior in high school during which she had lost her virginity was traumatic. She had been pushed by her girlfriend into going. She couldn't recall the guy she had sex with. But no, that wasn't back far enough.

Her uncle had offered her her first “real” drink at Christmas when she was 12. She didn't like the taste, but she liked the way it made her head spin. No, still not far back enough.

Could it be when her friends laughed at her for refusing to play spin the bottle just because she was more into girls than boys? That hurt, but it wasn’t pivotal.

What about the last fight she remembered her parents having? Worth exploring. Theresa was 10. She remembered some of the words being thrown about. Her mom had shouted, “useless slacker.”

Her dad yelled back, “drunken whore.” He threw something.

She screamed, "Get out!"

Not only did he leave, but he never returned. Theresa was numb about that. The two of them had always fought more than they got along. She was pretty sure that had contributed to her lesbianism. This was an important moment, but it wasn't THE defining incident.

Theresa didn't really want to delve into what brought her to this moment, but she couldn't stop the memory any more than she could make the sun appear on a cloudy day, and there had been more clouds than sun in her life.

Involuntarily, the scene appeared in her mind. She was six. Her favorite uncle was watching her while her parents went to a party. He asked, "Do you want to play a game?"

"Sure," she had said, not knowing what she was agreeing to.

He said, "I'll give you something if you let me play with you." He started touching her in ways that confused her. Wasn't that what men were supposed to their wives? His touch wasn't mean, but it didn't feel right. He gave her a candy bar. He said, "Go ahead, eat it. Then, I'll give you something else to eat."

Theresa remembered him putting his private near her face. She thought it was gross, but no words would come out of her to stop it. Theresa screamed at her younger self, "Make it stop!" Her uncle rubbed himself against her lips. She wouldn't open her mouth, even when he asked her. Then, some stuff came out. It smelled funny.

He ordered her, "Lick your lips, Theresa."

She got a tiny taste but ran to the bathroom to clean it off.

Her uncle later said, "If you tell anyone about what we did, I'll hurt you and your mom. My brother won't even care, so don't go running to him either."

Theresa hid under the table for the longest time while her uncle slept on the couch.

Yes, THAT was the moment that brought her to this moment. Never mind that her uncle had died of a heart attack two years ago. The damage had been done.

Here she was, in this moment.

She walked halfway across the room. Everyone in the circle of chairs turned in her direction. They were all passing judgement. Some pitied her. Some looked angry. Some seemed irritated with the interruption. She didn't care.

Theresa stated as clearly as she could enunciate, "My name is Theresa." She took a sip from the drink in her hand. "It's been one second since my last drink. Fuck you all."

She turned and hobbled towards the door like a broken clock.

Tick…tick tock, tock, tick…