Villa de circque

Our family is a small generation but I have learned as a young child how extensive it's vocal spirit stretches. We live in a small French Villa no secrets, no privacy, but lots of history. I was ten when my parents fessed up to why we kept to ourselves. "Walls have ears!" They said. I didn't know what they meant until I went to school the next day. A young girl who had been in my class was absent. I didn't notice it at first until the end of month because she was quiet, shy and kept to herself.

I had just learned, through the locker room that she had been sent away. "Pregnant" whispered a girl to another. They were close enough to me that even their stifled giggles told me that the father was to blame. Hard to imagine at my age. She seemed nice. I was sad and disturbed by this. Brooding, Mother saw the look on my face and turned Ashen. She knew. She knew before I did. How cruel.

By the end of the week the girl's father was gone. Then the house they lived in was strangely vacant. I felt bad for the girl. But because of the story I heard, I was scared of what people might say about our family. I wanted to find this girl so I listened carefully and avoided all contacts. I ate lunch alone, pretending to be busy with my schoolwork. But I was listening to the chatter. Nothing.

When our family went to church, the pastor was talking about the family as if they were an abomination. "Poor girl!" I wanted desperately to stand up and yell "let them be" but Mother's grim face stopped me. When we got home, I went to the kitchen and heard my parents talking in their native language unaware that I learned their language from books I got from the library. Father was angry. I saw that look before. In translation I discovered the girl's whereabouts. And sadly. That she was my cousin. I walked to my room and closed my door, leaning heavily against the hard wood. Sighing. She was at a home far away to have the baby. I never really knew her, but wondered if she knew us. I had two years before my eighteenth birthday but began the plan to leave the Villa because I was scared of my family's history. As I researched our family's history I found out some more grim news. This wasn't the first time or family member who had been raped. She was the fifth, and apparently most of her recovery was from the violent nature of her rape, not that she was pregnant. "God, how sick!" I was convinced. This is why our Villa got its name. "Circle" I wanted out. Period. My family had a violent past that I wanted no part of. I looked up the town she was sent to and began to save up money for small jobs for the innkeepers and started to stash my clothes, money, a wig I stole from Mother, and some make up. After about three months I had saved for the bus ticket and packed things slowly into my locker at school. I would purposefully take another bus out of the Villa, saying I was going shopping for stuff for school. I pinned the money inside the lining of the backpack I was taking and produced a second back pack I had purchased a week before for my books. Nobody noticed. "Good". By the end of that week, my supplies were assembled and I made my plans to leave. I made up a friend I had met to use as an excuse that she was sick and had no phone. It worked! That Friday after school, I locked my books up in my locker. Took my notebooks and packed them first, then the clothes and make up and a small mirror. I slung the pack over my shoulder, grabbed my jacket and boarded the bus and sat in the back. When the bus began to move, I ducked down until we got into the city. I got off the bus and walked with a smile on my face. I went into the bus station and into the bathroom in one of the stalls and retrieved my money and changed my clothes, donned my wig and applied the make up. I went to the counter and purchased my ticket. To my surprise the clerk didn't even glance up. I took my ticket and went to wait next to where my bus would depart. I had a peculiar flutter of excitement. "Free!"

When the bus arrived, I gave the man my ticket, kept the stub and boarded and went to the back of the bus. I again, not sure what, ducked down again until the bus pulled away from the station. I wouldn't be "missed for some time" as my parents thought I was at a friend's house for the weekend.

When I got to my destination, I disembarked and threw my old clothes in the garbage. I took out a little more money and found a cheap store and got a few more things, found the house the girl was in, she was sitting in a chair by the window staring out. I went to the door and knocked. She came down. I introduced myself quietly and asked if we could take a walk. She was four months pregnant and her face paled when I told her we were cousins. I explained everything and I would get her away safely and we would love somewhere else. She smiled thankful that I was there to help her. When we returned to the house I told her to carefully pack and keep quiet. I would meet her after the sisters left.

The next morning I arrived and two tickets in hand grabbed her hand and we left. I hugged her. And we sat back as the bus pulled away from the station. We were free.