My mother used to tell me a lot of folk stories. She had a grandmother in the countryside of southern France and she would gather her, my aunt, and their cousins around a bonfire and tell them stories about magic, but also about the devils that come out of the flames.
In return, Mum told me about her grandmother’s stories. She even used to wear the costumes and have us try them on to live out the characters.
And by us, I mean Mum and me.
Dad would give us that look — a bit of amusement, a lot of snobbishness — but Mum always managed to drag him in and have him watch us make fools out of ourselves.
Mum, Dad, and me — and Lars serving drinks while silently judging.
We used to be a happy family.
We used to be a family — full stop.
The crack happened when I was eight. It was Halloween. I loved Halloween. It meant shopping with Mum and picking costumes after thinking about it for months.
I was supposed to be a vampire that year because Mum had fallen in love with some film named Dracula that she wouldn’t let me watch. She was supposed to be the fairy princess Dracula was about to save. I remember Dad being grumpy because he wanted to do the saving, not me.
At that time, I didn’t understand what he meant. All I knew was that I got to dress up and play around the house with Mum.
Since I was a special kid from a special family, Mum and Dad said I didn’t get to act like the others in public, so we always had our costume parties at home with only Dad and Lars as the audience.
It was fine with me. I didn’t want anyone to find Mum beautiful and decide to take her away like in the novels with half-naked men that Mum hid from me. I took a peek once, but I didn’t understand much except that Mum read them a lot when she stayed in bed all day.
That year, the Halloween celebration was cancelled — or rather, our private Halloween was.
Dad said he was taking Mum to a party. I begged him not to go, and if he had to, to please take me with him.
“No,” he snapped. “You’ll stay here and that’s final, Ronan.”
“But I want to go with you.” I tugged on my Dracula cape and stomped my foot.
“Ronan, mon chou.” Mum crouched in front of me and patted my cape. “Your uncle Eduard will come and take you to a party. You like parties, don’t you?”
“I like the parties with you more.”
Tears shone in her eyes. “Mon ange.”
“Come on, Charlotte.” Dad glared at me. “Stop being a brat, Ronan.”
“Don’t be harsh on him, mon amour.” She ran her soft fingers over my hair. “Be a good boy for Mummy and I promise we’ll have all the parties you want.”
“Charlotte.” Dad grabbed her by the arm and took her.
Just like that.
I remember running after them to the door before Dad snapped at me one more time to stay inside. Mum got into the car with tears in her eyes. She was still wearing her princess dress and her skin was pale. I thought she wasn’t supposed to wear costumes outside.
Then I was sitting on the sofa, sipping from the juice Lars prepared for me and deciding maybe I hated Halloween after all.
Or maybe I hated Halloween when Mum and Dad weren’t in it.
Or maybe I hated Dad because he ruined our costume party and took Mum to another party for grown-ups.
That was when Uncle Eduard came. He was drunk; I could tell by the shrill laughter and the way he smelled like ‘John’s cheap liquor’, as Lars called it.
He was wearing a green suit and had a clown mask in his hand. When he approached me, he slurred. “Happy Halloween, little nephew. Look at you all scary.”
“I’m Dracula today.” I puffed out my chest.
“Ooh, I’m scared. Come on, I’m already late.” He extended his hand to me, and I took it.
Uncle Eduard didn’t come by often. Dad always yelled at him and called him useless and said he spent a lot of his money. Besides, Uncle Eduard always looked like a clown, even without the mask. He has a nose that’s nothing like Dad’s and mine. Mum calls them beautiful. She’s never called Uncle Ed’s nose beautiful.
Lars intercepted us at the entrance and stopped to look Uncle Eduard up and down then smiled at me. “Would you rather go to bed early, Ronan?”
“No. I want to show off my costume.”
“You heard the kid, Lars. Get out of the fucking way.”
“Language, sir.”
“Oh, fuck you and your sir, Lars.” Uncle Ed dragged me behind him, loosening his tie. “Even the fucking servant thinks he can tell me what to do. You’ll see, Edric. You’ll fucking see.”
“Mum says those are bad words,” I whispered.
“They are, aren’t they? Charlotte is such a good woman, so, so good. Edric always got good things. Even his wife and son belong in a museum.” He smiled at me, but it was fake. Even at that age, I knew there was something wrong with that smile.
Uncle Eduard ushered me into a van. I thought it was cool at the time. It was as big as a bus and there were lights and we had a screen between us and the driver. The windows were tinted like in Dad’s car so I could see the people but the people couldn’t see me.
How cool is that? I thought.
I must’ve spent so long staring at the lights because Uncle Ed asked me if I liked them. I said yes. He was drinking from a blue sparkling bottle.
“What is that, Uncle?”
“This, my dear nephew, is how I remain sane despite all the shit your dad puts me through.” He loosened his tie again. “Fucking Australia. He’s basically sending me to exile.”
“What does exile mean?” I sat on the bench across from Uncle, my feet dangling in the air.
“It means your father hates me.”
“He said he doesn’t. He only wants you to do better.”
“Fuck it. You sound like him even this young.”
“Where are we going, Uncle?”
“My friend’s party. Everyone will be wearing costumes like you.” He abandoned his chair and offered me the sparkling drink. “You want to try it?”
“Is it alcohol?”
“No, it’s juice. Sparkling juice.” Uncle Ed grinned. “It makes you stronger so you can protect your mother. Don’t you want to protect your mother?”
“Of course I do.” I puffed up my chest and took the drink. Mum and Dad said I shouldn’t take anything from strangers, but this wasn’t a stranger; it was Uncle Ed.
The first sip made my face scrunch up. “Eww, it tastes bad.”
“You’re a coward then.” Uncle shook his head.
“I’m not a coward.” I took one more sip and closed my nose like I did whenever Lars made me drink milk.
I hate milk.
Maybe this was like milk but for juice.
The more I drank from it, the closer Uncle got to me. Soon enough, he was hugging me, setting me on his lap.
I didn’t know how it happened, but then, my cape was gone and my shirt was half-open and Uncle was feeling up my wiener.
Why would he want to do that? I always tugged on my wiener and even showed Mum. Dad told me not to do that in front of Mum and said my wiener is for me alone, said no one else should see it or touch it.
“What are you doing?” My voice was wonky, as if I were going to fall asleep.
“I’m not your uncle, my beautiful boy.” His voice was wrong, so wrong. I didn’t like his voice and I didn’t like that he was unbuttoning my Dracula trousers and touching my wiener.
“You’re Dad’s brother…my uncle.” I held on to the glass of sparkling blue with stiff hands, thinking if I didn’t, something bad would happen.
“Not a real one. That’s why he thinks I’m disposable.” He ran his tongue over my cheek, leaving a damp, disgusting trail.
“Eww. Stop it, Uncle.”
He gripped me hard by my wiener over my trousers and I screamed. His other hand wrapped around my mouth, muffling my voice. “Listen, my beautiful boy. You’ll let your uncle take care of you, massage you, and you’ll keep your fucking mouth shut. If you say a word about this to your father, Charlotte will get sick and die. Do you know what death means, brat? It means you’ll never see her again.”
No. Mum will never die.
I didn’t know if it was his words or the fact that I didn’t like the way he touched me or how he took away my cape and ruined my costume, but something made me snap.
I bit his hand and threw the glass and the blue juice at his face. His hold on me faltered and I fell to the floor.
“Mum will never die!” I still spoke strangely, but I managed to slide open the car’s door with shaking fingers.
“Jesus Christ,” Uncle cursed. “Stop the car.”
I didn’t wait for him to say the words — I jumped. I remember rolling once then hitting a pole. I remember his head peeking out then him muttering, “Fucking bastard. Enjoy the cold.”
And then he left me in the middle of a deserted street.
In the beginning, I couldn’t even stand. It was the alcohol, or perhaps it was the slight pain in my side from when I hit the pole.
It was a lot more than that, though.
It was fear — worse than Halloween, worse than the costumes.
I needed Mum and Dad, and I didn’t know how to find them.
They were at a party, and they’d sent me with Uncle Ed. I hated Uncle Ed. I was going to be happy when he went to Australia.
I remember holding on to a pole with stiff fingers and then walking slowly at first. I remember buttoning my Dracula shirt and trousers because Dad had said an Astor always had to look proper.
And then I ran. I ran fast and hard down the street, then I tripped and fell and then stood up again and ran. There were lots of trees on the side of that road, and they had faces, and their faces looked like the demons from Mum’s stories.
I called out for her then. “Mother! Where are you, Mother?”
When she didn’t answer, I called, “Father? Come find me.”
He didn’t answer either. I didn’t stop limping and tripping and falling, but I couldn’t cry.
There wasn’t a single tear in my eyes.
An Astor doesn’t cry. Dad’s words were the only sound in my head.
I was a proper boy. A good boy. I couldn’t cry.
So I called out for them again. “Mother! Father! Where are you? Come get me.”
They didn’t.
People wearing wolf masks scared me and I screamed, but I didn’t cry.
I couldn’t cry.
I knew I shouldn’t.
That’s when I saw them. Bunnies — or rather women wearing bunny costumes and giggling.
They had bunny ears and their pink bunny dresses were flying behind them as they laughed and giggled.
Suddenly, I didn’t have the urge to not cry. I had the urge to run after them and catch them.
But the moment I rounded the corner, they were gone.
Lars found me soon after. He’d followed us because he was worried. I didn’t tell him what had happened. I said I’d had a fight with Uncle Ed, and he just nodded.
Mum and Dad didn’t come home that night or the night after. They had a Halloween party for three nights, and I didn’t sleep once during that time.
All I could do was have nightmares about dark streets and a weight on my body and a bunny running down the street.
And Lars found me every time.
I didn’t say anything to Dad because Uncle Ed was leaving anyway, and I hated myself. I hated Dad too for leaving me with him that night. I also didn’t want Mum to know; it’d destroy her.
She trusted him with me, and he stabbed that trust. She’d hate herself for not seeing the signs, and she’d suspect something else had happened.
Nothing did, though not for lack of trying on his part — he did attempt to corner me a few times when he visited.
I was Uncle Ed’s forbidden fruit. The more I escaped him, the harder he tried to put his fucking hands on me, but I was smarter.
When I was a kid and couldn’t defend myself, I hid behind Lars. I was always with Lars whenever he came to visit. Lars, who already suspected something, never ever left me alone. He made sure to have me in his sight all the time.
When I grew up, Uncle Eduard kept his hands to himself, as he should’ve, because I told him in no certain terms that I’d beat him the fuck up if he as much as puts his hands on me.
He always brought up my weakness for Mum. Whenever he felt like I would slip and tell Dad about his paedophile activities, Eduard reminded me of how much it would shatter my mum. How much it would make her already fragile mental state worse.
That was and is the only reason Eduard Astor still exists in my life.
I’ve borne the memory all this time. I can carry it until the very end. Mum doesn’t need to know about this, and Dad certainly doesn’t.
He abandoned me that night, and deep down, I never forgave him for it.
I pause after telling Teal the story. I left out the fact that the man who did that to me is my uncle and the part about the bunnies because I don’t want her to be disgusted with me. I don’t want her to think I’m sick for having a fantasy about bunnies when they’re associated with the darkest night of my life.
“That’s why I’m always with people,” I say. “People allow me to think less about myself. When I was a child, I had this idea that having so many people around meant nothing like that would happen to me again, but in order to be with people, I had to be liked by people. That’s the reason behind that image and the parties and the sex. I didn’t shag girls because I wanted to, but because I needed the company. I needed to not sleep alone. I needed to wake up in the morning and find many people in my house because that meant I wasn’t alone and nothing bad would happen to me.”
Two streams of tears fall down Teal’s cheeks. She’s been holding them in for so long while I’ve been telling her that memory, but now, it’s like she has reached the saturation level and can’t keep it in anymore.
“Here’s the thing, belle.” My voice drops. “Since you came into my life, I don’t need people anymore. I just need you.”
I sound like a sappy fuck, but I don’t care. I’m not allowing her to walk away from this. It might have started wrong, but she’s grown to be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“How can you make me cry when I can’t cry for myself?” More tears soak her cheeks, but she doesn’t attempt to wipe them, as if it’s freeing in some way.
“We’re so alike.” She sniffles. “It’s scary.”
I smile tentatively. “Does that mean you’ve changed your mind?”
“No, Ronan. It means I need to stay away from you so I don’t destroy us both.”
