Ignorance

My early teens were filed with surprises- some happy, some sad, and some frightening. I so vividly remember an icy cold winter day. It was the first snowfall in the Bronx. The children on the block greeted the thick powdery snow with delight. The sky was lit up by the moon and stars. It was clear and biting cold. The hill that ran from the Concourse down past Walton and River Avenue to Jerome Avenue was steep and slick from sleigh riders going down and walking up in regular cadence.

I felt particularly good because I had Charlie Heitman as my partner. He was blond and handsome and humorous and tall and athletic and he liked me. Together we honed his big “Flexible Flyer” to a sharp edge with sandpaper. We rubbed and rubbed the blades until they gleamed. Then we climbed to the hilltop, Charlie pulling the sleigh.

You could get the best run out of the sleigh if there were two people on it because the weight made it speedier. Charlie would lay on his belly, hands ready to steer, while I gave us the push to get a fast start. After running a few steps, I jumped on the back of the sleigh between Charlie’s legs. Downhill we went, me snuggled close to his back to get the least resistance from the wind and to allow us the greatest speed. Ecstasy- the biting cold wind in my face, the warmth of Charlie’s body, the speed, the moon to add romance and the long run. My eyes teared, my nose was wet, and my teeth clattered. When our sleigh came to a stop at the bottom of the hill, we got off and kissed and hugged unselfconsciously from sheer delight.

Together we pulled the “Flyer” back uphill. We held hands, running, walking, talking, our breath steaming in the air. Down again, whizz, swoosh, going over bumps made by the crowds. It was such fun flying on Charlie’s back and feeling the bumps, the warmth, and the closeness. But good things must end and after our last ride and last hug and kiss, we had to go home in time for curfew.

Papa would surely be at the door. Mama would be upstairs waiting. She had more trust and empathy. Papa, in short order, greeted me and dismissed Charlie.

Upstairs, Mama shouted, “Get into your tub so you’ll be fresh for school tomorrow morning.” I always followed instruction. In the bathroom, terror struck. When I undressed I found my panties red. Instinctively, I knew to run to the linen closet to get the necessary equipment.

Back in the bathroom, I couldn’t stop crying. What had Charlie done? Were we too close on the sleigh? Did our kissing and hugging make this happen? In my room I continued crying. I kicked the wall. I banged my fist against the back of my bed. I lay in bed crying.

Mama walked in to say goodnight. I blurted out, “I’m bleeding.”

She slapped me on both my cheeks. Then, for sure, I knew I had done wrong. When I cried harder, she said “Welcome to my club! I slapped you to keep your cheeks pink during the menstrual period. It occurs every month at the same time. “

In spite of Mama’s logic, I continued crying and running to the bathroom all night. I thought if I kept washing, it would go away.