When Clara had been about 17, her aunt’s boyfriend had tried to kiss her full on the mouth. With tongue. Clara had been staying at her aunt’s for a few weeks, and, in the way of teenagers, had slept in late when her aunt had gone to work. He let himself in with a key and lamp he was repairing, then came in the bedroom and sat on the edge of the tiny bed with its white metal frame. Clara did not accept his overtures. That evening, everything felt quite awkward, but Carl acted as though nothing was different than before and Clara never told anyone, but her own mother after she returned home.
About 20 years later, Carl was now living with the aunt full time. Clara found herself staying at her aunt’s house again. She took a bath in the upstairs bathroom one morning and in walked Carl. He said, “don’t move, don’t move,” fetched his shaving kit, and went back out. If only there had been bubbles in the bath, thought Clara. She got out and dressed. On the way back downstairs, she passed Carl sitting in a tapestry chair with his bathrobe open, waiting to get dressed. She went out and took care of the unpleasant business that had brought her to town. That didn’t go well. When she got back to her aunt’s, she was in a bad mood. She decided to call Carl out. When her aunt got there, Clara said, “what kind of manners is it to walk in on a guest who is bathing? And then sit there with your private parts hanging out?” He denied any wrong-doing, so Clara mentioned the incident from 20 years before. He denied that it had ever occurred. Clara was completely taken aback, all the more so when her aunt said she had had no business taking a bath upstairs, and then went on to say that if Clara wasn’t her niece, she would kick up out that instant. And was she delusional to think that she was even Carl’s type? Clara wondered if she might have made up the kissing incident, as Carl was claiming. After a very terrible evening, Clara went home the next day as planned. She cried all the way home. The stewardess on the plane took one look and didn’t even ask her if she wanted food. Luckily for Clara’s sense of sanity, her mother remembered the earlier incident
It took many years for the aunt and Clara, who had always been close, to reconnect. Still to the present day, however, Clara is baffled at the utter betrayal of that moment. She can’t decide whose betrayal was greater, Carl’s or her beloved aunt’s. She also has never been back to her aunt's actual house, where Carl still lives.
it's a story told so many times and most of the time, nobody wanted to believe. carl didn't betray clara, he betrayed her aunt. but her aunt betrayed her and that's the thing that hurts most.
carl should be buried live up to his neck, pour honey on his head and let armies of red ants feed on him. that should be the punishment meted to all the carls in the world. ah...that felt good!
Now I am looking at your innocent image, and imagining those red berries are the red ants that @summerfield has set on Carl and his honeyed head. I wish your story were too fanciful to be true, but alas, not so.
July 31st, 2019
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carl should be buried live up to his neck, pour honey on his head and let armies of red ants feed on him. that should be the punishment meted to all the carls in the world. ah...that felt good!
i like the photo, too!