What My Mother Never Knew #12: Numb in the Bunker

Changing schools was old hat for me - this was my eighth school due to many moves. Even though I was placed in the enriched program for high achievers, I immediately latched onto the smokers who hung around on the treed hill behind the school. There were many insane times for me in that school - none of my memories involved academics though. Perhaps, after three years there, my grade 10 year-book entry said it all: Goal in Life: To stay comfortably numb.

There were three kids from the same family who were all in cadets. They were all a bit on the dorky side but their parents allowed them to convert their basement into a bunker of sorts. We sat around there butting our cigarette ashes into an empty three foot shell and listening to reel to reel tapes of Peter Gabriel, the Who, ZZ Top, Judas Priest, The Doors and of course, AC/DC and Black Sabbath. This hang out was the centre of many foggy adventures and burnt out mornings. I still don't know why their parents allowed us to hang out there with no supervision - in all that time, I don't remember meeting the parents once! I'll start with my worst memory there and one of my first. The term 'memory' though is a bit of a stretch given that I only recall falling into the hedge in front of the house and being dragged out by some faceless boy. Everything else that I learned about that night, I heard from others at school the next day. Apparently a creepy pimple-faced ass-hole had sex with me in the bathroom all night. I was mortified. Despite my substance abuse, I was a virgin and had no idea what had happened. I felt like running from the school when I heard and wanted to vomit. Could I be pregnant? Was it rape? I went and spoke with the school counselor, in a panic of tears. She was a good listener but in her late fifties, I sensed that she really had no idea what to say. I never felt more alone, and was filled with shame. There was no way I could talk to my mother about it as I would have had to confess to the partying.

Two days later I found out that this hideous kid's brother told two of my friends that the story had been made up - all that had happened was kissing (I was so drunk that I even doubt that). I was so relieved but not necessarily any wiser. My drinking continued, as usual, and vomiting and blackouts were common. Getting booze was easy and somehow we always had enough money to all get quite high. Of course we frequently partied all night, claiming to be sleeping at each other's houses and we were never actually caught. I'm sure I wasn't the only one in my crowd prepared to sell my soul for "the high" but I certainly was at the front of the pack, giving myself completely to this intimate and reliable friend.