April Showers Bring Men Seeking Power
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Therasia Brautigam
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The ice and snow leftover from the bitter winter transform into rain. Puddles flood the sidewalks on bad days, and flowers fill yards on the good. Just like the spring attitude, you begin to turn into a blossoming flower. You shed your layers of winter clothes, and your skin starts to radiate color instead of being ghostly pale. Along with this physical newfound you, you also gain some insight on how being a young female turns you into a sexual object.
Every day at work, you walk to the post office to get the mail. You enjoy the short walk; like a kite, you drift through the fresh air and mildly warm breeze. It’s a nice change from the stuffy old building. As you open the post office door, a bell rings. A middle-aged man appears behind the front desk, different from the happy woman that regularly helps you. After receiving the mail and several minutes of small talk about you going away to college, you leave, looking forward to again drifting away in the breeze.
Next week you’re excited for your stroll to the post office again, only it storms instead. Your coworker reporters that you’re not allowed to get the mail again. A puppy trapped inside during a rainstorm, you’re held captive. The middle-aged man suggested he liked you retrieving the mail better, which made you appalled, like a daisy getting stomped on. How could someone be so nasty? The taste of dirt after a long rain fills your mouth, disgusting and hard to swallow.
“It was probably the dress you were wearing,” your other coworker states. She refers to the short-sleeved burgundy sundress that hits right above your knee, perfect for an afternoon picnic. The one that your mom bought you. How could something so simple be so provocative?
After all, you are a delicate flower attempting to thrive in the sunlight.
•••
The grass turns light brown, crunching with every step you take. The sun’s rays have created a smothering heat, one that’s only tolerable when floating in the pool or eating an ice cream cone. That’s when you know it’s summer.
For you, summer includes swimming, barbeques, and spending countless hours with friends. Out of these activities, none compare to the excitement of the county fair. Thousands of people, all ages, gather for this week-long event. Children beg their parents to ride miniature roller coasters and play rigged carnival games. Adults stand in long lines for beer tickets and attempt to relive their glory days, singing to the classic rock bands that occupy the stage. You walk the midway, searching for a corn dog stand.
The smell of warm grease and freshly popped popcorn fills your nostrils. Despite the not-so-pleasant smell, you still want your deep-fried treat. Walking past one of the attraction rides, an older man stops you. His long, unwashed hair and filth-covered clothes make you slightly uncomfortable, like the warmness of your body after spending time in the heat. He asks you if you want to take a ride with him. Then he holds out his pack of cigarettes. “No thanks,” you politely say with an uncomfortable giggle. The thrill of getting to tell this story to your friends later makes you happy. Almost like the rush, just before jumping into a lake. Then you deeply think about what just happened. Your mind takes a plunge into the deep water, realizing how cold it actually is. This was a jump you didn’t want to take.
•••
Fall’s crisp coolness arrives in a hurry. At first, it’s refreshing; the cool weather feels nice compared to summer’s excruciating heat. Green leaves belonging to the tall trees turn into beautiful shades of red and yellow. Round pumpkins cover the ground of countless fields, turning them into a family attraction. Everything becomes much more colorful, more cheerful. Including the high school students in your teaching observation class.
They’ll look at the professional outfit you picked out, the multicolored flower-printed top and gray pants, and disregard it completely. You might even get a long drawn out whistle from a student when the teacher introduces you. The room will fill with both suppressed giggles and surprised scoffs, but the class will continue despite your horror. It’s not too different from being a kid trick-or-treating on Halloween night. Grouped together, clad in your costume that took either hours to find or hours to make, you run to the front door of your neighbor’s house. When it opens, you hold your little jack-o-lantern candy bucket out and watch as the neighbor places a giant gift bag out. As you look closer, the excitement is gone. Instead of being a king-sized KitKat bar, a large, red apple clings to the cellophane bag. At first getting the treat was exciting, but it quickly turned into an unwanted trick. Much like the whistle you received in your student-teaching classroom, it was only somewhat sweet.
•••
The colorful leaves eventually turn brown and crumble on their way to the ground. The trees, in their bareness, get nipped by frost that begins to form on cold, winter mornings. Blankets of plush white snow cover the ground, somehow making it look cozy despite its bitterness.
He grabs your hips and starts to sway, like a snowflake slowly drifting to the ground. The drinks from earlier course through your body, keeping your stomach warm, similar to the feeling of finishing a mug of hot chocolate. Only this time, marshmallows weren’t included.
As he grips your shirt, like a reign on a sleigh, he steers you closer and closer to him. Your mind becomes a blizzard. Thoughts swirl around and so do a mix of emotions.
Isn’t this everything that you hate?
Why are you letting this happen?
But it’s kind of exciting.
He wraps his arms around you, tucking you in. A present he’s waiting to open until Christmas morning. There’s no mistletoe above, but he doesn’t let that stop him. His lips cover yours, nipping them like the frost outside.
Your mind is still caught in a blizzard. Your judgment is snowed-in, trapped deep inside your mind, partially loving the relaxation but afraid of what will happen when the snow melts away. It’s not your fault for getting trapped. Sometimes boys do anything to get the toys they really want. At the same time, you placed yourself here. You drank the warm drinks and floated through the dancefloor. You let him control you, and you didn’t say no.
What if it’s your fault?
•••
But what if it isn’t?