My mothers best friend Lynn, and my mother sent my 11 year old self, Kim, Lynn's 12 year old daughter (who occidentally I'd lost my virginity to earlier that month) and VJ, Kim's 7 year old son (who ironically witnessed both the loss of my virginity and the approaching accident) to the store. We loved in duplex apartments in Yonkers part of a complex so all we three had to do was go downstairs, cross the courtyard and go around a facing building to the shopping complex. 1 block in total at best.
It was snowing badly, a blizzard but just literally around a corner, not a street to even cross.
Off we went, bundled, dashing to and fro tossing snowballs. I lived on the 9th floor and Kim and VJ on the 12th, due to duplexness our apartments didn't have terraces but the first floor ones did. But they too were duplexes so the molded cement brick duplexes were raised 3-4 feet from the ground. Just high enough for intrepid snow playing kids to play around and under as we made our way to the open gates to the store. It was evening, maybe 7pm but getting dark.
Oh how we frolicked.
Bobbing.
Ducking.
Bobbing as we ran the gap between terraces.
Ducking as we crouched and ran under them.
Bobbing .
Ducking.
Bobbing.
Ducking.
I should've ducked.
Or possibly I bobbed too long.
I sliced my head open on the corner of the terrace cement.
Kim, temptress who wasn't a virgin when I lost my virginity with her, didn't panic. She pressed my hands onto my head and rushed me back home.
Three snow covered children burst back in, sans food, screaming trying to explain what had happened. My mother understands takes off my knit cap that is soaked in blood, expecting to see a bump, s bruise, a minor cut (I had run into walls before...long, odd stories...generally from reading books while walking) and to her surprise she said she could see the white of my skull. She nearly fainted.
Luckily Lynn was NYPD, doesn't panic, calls emergency services as if she's on duty (Lynn took pride in being able to call in mass emergency services once calling in an officer down code when the group of us were cut off by a motorist....we literally watched him get dragged out of his car and deeply frisked as half a dozen cop cars surrounded us. Lynn explained that he'd said he had a weapon and here she was with her friend and kids. Lynn enjoyed her badge.) and she begins wound treatment to hold my head together.
My mother begins freaking out and cleaning. She and Lynn had been playing music, having some drinks and my mother thought it might look like they drunkenly hurt me.
Ambulance arrives. Whisked to hospital, my mother gives me a lucky dime to squeeze as she tries to hold down her liquid dinner holding the other hand as they sew up my head.
(I have like a sense memory that they sent us out for Chinese food, isn't that weird after all these years?)
Luckily, it was a clean gash and no skull trauma, we walked out a few hours later.
Off we went, bundled, dashing to and fro tossing snowballs. I lived on the 9th floor and Kim and VJ on the 12th, due to duplexness our apartments didn't have terraces but the first floor ones did. But they too were duplexes so the molded cement brick duplexes were raised 3-4 feet from the ground. Just high enough for intrepid snow playing kids to play around and under as we made our way to the open gates to the store. It was evening, maybe 7pm but getting dark.
Oh how we frolicked.
Bobbing.
Ducking.
Bobbing as we ran the gap between terraces.
Ducking as we crouched and ran under them.
Bobbing .
Ducking.
Bobbing.
Ducking.
I should've ducked.
Or possibly I bobbed too long.
I sliced my head open on the corner of the terrace cement.
Kim, temptress who wasn't a virgin when I lost my virginity with her, didn't panic. She pressed my hands onto my head and rushed me back home.
Three snow covered children burst back in, sans food, screaming trying to explain what had happened. My mother understands takes off my knit cap that is soaked in blood, expecting to see a bump, s bruise, a minor cut (I had run into walls before...long, odd stories...generally from reading books while walking) and to her surprise she said she could see the white of my skull. She nearly fainted.
Luckily Lynn was NYPD, doesn't panic, calls emergency services as if she's on duty (Lynn took pride in being able to call in mass emergency services once calling in an officer down code when the group of us were cut off by a motorist....we literally watched him get dragged out of his car and deeply frisked as half a dozen cop cars surrounded us. Lynn explained that he'd said he had a weapon and here she was with her friend and kids. Lynn enjoyed her badge.) and she begins wound treatment to hold my head together.
My mother begins freaking out and cleaning. She and Lynn had been playing music, having some drinks and my mother thought it might look like they drunkenly hurt me.
Ambulance arrives. Whisked to hospital, my mother gives me a lucky dime to squeeze as she tries to hold down her liquid dinner holding the other hand as they sew up my head.
(I have like a sense memory that they sent us out for Chinese food, isn't that weird after all these years?)
Luckily, it was a clean gash and no skull trauma, we walked out a few hours later.
A few years later, Lynn and my mother are out to dinner (my mother having wheedled out of me at 14 that I was no longer a virgin and with whom the double-backed beast had been made) and makes an offhand, off color remark that Kim, now pregnant in her twenties, for the third time, always mentioned the accident blood and perhaps the impact influenced my adult proclivities for the pole and not the hole.
My mother, gentle rhinoceros that she was retorts , " No, matter what he may do now, like seemingly many others, he got a piece of your daughter's hole too."
Classy like.
The woman and daughter perhaps saved me , at the very least sexually deflowered me (Kim not her mother) but my mother always kept it Dominique Devereaux.
Deuces, Patricia. Deuces.
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