She is here.  Across the living room, doing something arcane with a tablet, with Maya.

April…or, Avril.   I should call her that.  It is, after all, her name.  Has been for most of her 11 years.  I am glad they did not choose a name far different from the one I gave her.  I am glad they recognized that she had been loved from the start.

There was a telephone call.  A clipped, very nervous adult voice.  Avril’s mother, she had to be worried about her daughter meeting me.  I was nearly mute with shock.  But I managed to give my address, and had it together enough to suggest she come over, and just see how things lay.

Then I ran to my bedroom and cried hysterically.

When the knock came on the door, I was surprised at my calm.  I opened the door to a kind looking couple, perhaps 15 years older than me, two small children, and her.

We stood staring at each other.  I tentatively reached out my arms, and she equally tentatively embraced me.  I said something banal, tripping over my tongue, and invited them in.

There was a moment of silence.   Broken by Paul.   He stared at Avril, then burst out laughing.  Puzzled, she did too.

“You are Abby…you are the spitting…”  And he shook his head.   It was true, she looked like some vision of me as a pre-teen, come again to try to do things better.

“You are my sister,”  that from Maya, bless her.

The rest of the evening past in a blur.  There were the difficult moments as I tried to both thank the parents for what they had done for Avril, yet not suggest I wanted to take her from them, and yet, wanting Avril to visit…the sad moment when Avril asked me who her father was, and I had to admit I did not know, and then tell the sorry tale of her conception…not a good time, that telling…made up for when I brought out the letters I had written to Avril over the years, but had been unable to send.  She and her parents, and Paul and Maya, too, it was a first for them as well, sat reading, very quietly.  No eyes were dry.  And at the end, Avril got up and came to me, and this time we hugged until we felt we were one body.

Then Maya brought me my fiddle, and I played The Dark Island, and April/Avril’s eyes went wide and she whispered “I hear that in my head at night, sometimes, it feels so nice.”  And I told her about singing and humming it to her as she grew inside me.

There was another meeting, over a Sunday brunch, and Avril said she wanted to stay.  So, while her family goes exploring around Whistler, Avril stays with me.

Not that I get much time alone with her.  She and Maya have obviously hit it off.  Every so often I see them looking at each other with a kind of mild astonishment  ..’you are really my sister…i have a sister.’

I have a wonderful sense of completion.

I sit, looking at them, trying to stay comfortable.

Paul sticks his head in the room.   “Hey Avril, time to call your parents.”

And the two girls get up.  Maya has chattered on skype alongside Avril.  They look over at me, then trot over, and the two of them lay their heads on my belly.  I put my hands on their heads and stroke them, while they try to detect movement in the sibling-to-be, Paul watching, grinning.

That’s right.  Good ole Paul.  We could have waited, but, we would have missed this moment.  Altho, at the time, we had no idea when this moment would happen.

I spent so much of my life waiting to find April, Avril.  You might ask…what now, now you have found her?

I tell a lie.   I did not spend all that time waiting for April.   She has always been with me.  And always will, only now, she has company, Maya, and Paul, and that all too energetic one waiting to be born.  And Rick, and Brion, and Gio, I feel them looking on, and my family, too, at last, at last.

Now they are gone, leaving me in this quiet room.  I pick up my fiddle, and put a mute on the strings, rosin the bow, and, as quietly as I can, play The Dark Island.

To those who have journeyed with me….slainte!

We, Maya and me, have moved to Victoria, to live with Paul.  Nothing formal, yet, but he is very much her dad,  now.  He seems to have settled into that role, pretty easily.  Good thing.

Maya adores him.

We have been in touch with April’s adoptive parents, and they will be visiting during the holidays.

I am totally nervous, and Paul’s annoyance with my putting myself down now has a standard expression.  I was troubled a bit by that, in relation to Maya.  I have never spanked her, and I know from bitter experience Paul’s adeptness in that department, so, I was a bit worried about how things would sort themselves out, when, inevitably, Maya and Paul had a disagreement.

I could not have guessed how it would.

Paul is standing in Maya’s doorway, shaking his head.

“Ever going to tidy up, Maya?”

Maya stood there, in her standard arms akimbo defiant look.

“No!”

“Why not?”

“I can’t.  It’s too much.”

“It wouldn’t be, if you had cleaned up when we told you to.”

Dead silence.

“Okay.  Suit yourself.  But if we are going to clean your room for you, you are going to have to pay for it somehow.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well.  If we clean your room, I think you should be grounded for a week.  How about that?”

“What about school?”

“Don’t be silly.  Of course that continues.  I mean, swimming, McD’s, music lessons…playing on the computer.   We will play it by ear.”

“I don’t like that.”

“I know you don’t.  You know how to fix it.”

Maya folded her arms, and pouted.  Most becomingly, I thought, then bit my tongue.

“So, you want to be grounded, instead?”

“No.”

Paul turned to me.

“What are we going to do?”

“Let’s just clean her room and be done with it.”

“I think, in the words of the immortal Weird Al, it may be time to ‘get medieval on her heiny’.  I think you should offer her a deal.  She does not get grounded, she gets a spanking, instead.”

Maya looked in shock, and I shook my head.

“We don’t do that,” I said.

“Perhaps you should start.  It’s quite easy.  It is quick and over in a hurry, and then you can get on with life.  You ought to know how.  You have had enough experience on the receiving end.”  Paul laughed.

“I can’t do that.”

“Can’t, or won’t?”

I shook my head, again.

“Then maybe I should spank you, instead. Somebody needs to ante up for that mess.”

I had no answer to that.  Frankly, if it was a choice of Maya or me over his knee, I would rather it be me.

“What do you think, Maya?”  He looked at her.

“Don’t spank my mummy.  I will clean up my room.  I promise.”

“We are past that, now, Maya, sorry.”  And Paul led me into Maya’s room.  Once again, the familiar standing in front of him, as he bared my nether regions, then his drawing me over the lap.

That delicious long pause.  I actually like that moment when I first feel the cool air on my bare bottom.

And then, a brisk spanking.  I could hold back, not wanting to upset Maya, until he stopped spanking evenly, and staggered the slaps so I could not anticipate them.   I was soon making very undigified cries.

Which is when he stopped, set me upright, and dressed me.  We stepped into the living room.

“So, that is why you walk funny, sometimes.”  That was Maya, and both Paul and I broke up.  Then, Maya got very serious.

“Does it hurt a lot?”

“Not for long, Maya.  Not the way Paul does it.”  I hugged Paul, and, invisible to Maya, he grabbed my bottom.  I tried not to wince.

She looked at us, quite silently.

I stepped to her.

“Let’s begin again.  Are you going to clean your room?”   She shook her head.

“It will take forever.”

“Then you will be grounded.”  She shook her head, again. “Maya.  I really do not want to be spanked again.  We are caught here.”

“You could spank me.”  she said it almost in a whisper.  I had an idea of what it took for her to say that.

“I can’t, honey.  I just can’t.”

She stood, quietly for a while, again.  She looked at Paul.  Like I said, she adores him.  But, this time, there was both pleading, and fear in her look.

He looked at her, and nodded.   He stepped to her.

“Okay?” he said.   She nodded.

He bent her over, raised her dress, and lowered her panties.  He looked at me, and I looked away.

“You watch!” he snapped.  He was obviously furious, and not with Maya.  He stood, breathing deeply.   He very gently tousled Maya’s hair.  Then raised his hand.

Six slaps on each cheek,  each slap sounding like a gun-shot.  He did not hold back.   Maya’s eyes went wide,  and filmed over.  She actually only had time for a couple of little gaspy shrieks, before it was over, and Paul was crouching in front of her, pulling up her panties.

She stood there, very still, then, suddenly began to tremble.  Her lips shook, and tears streamed.  She opened her mouth, and wailed.

Paul stayed crouching in front of her.  He let her cry for a little while, and then:

“Take a deep breath!”

Maya stopped crying, and automatically took a shuddering breath.

“Let it out slowly.  Now. Another breath.  Let it out again.”  He was smiling at her.  Slowly, her breaths became less shuddery.  He leaned to her, and kissed her cheek.

Paul took her into the bathroom, and helped her wash her face.  When they came out, Maya was idly rubbing her bottom, but, no longer crying.  She looked at us.

“Am I grounded?”   Paul and I both laughed.

“No! of course not!”  Paul laughed.  “Go get ready, we’ll go out for a dessert.”

As Maya ran into her room, Paul looked at me.

“You,” he said, “are in big trouble.  I love that kid.   I never want to do that again.  That is your responsibility.  I promise you this:  when we get back, and Maya is tucked up and asleep, I am going to spank you, very seriously.

“And tomorrow, we are going to tidy her room.”

Later that evening, much later, I made a solemn vow to get rid of every hairbrush in the place.

Once again,  it will be cushions on the kitchen chair, and sleeping on my tummy, for at least the next few days.

Will I never learn?

 

 

 

 

 

Well, he was always full of surprises.  After my great family reunion I went through a series of emotional ups and downs…from bliss to the dark night of the soul…over and over.  Paul was a victim of these swings, listening far too patiently to what was all too often simple self-indulgence.  Mea culpa.  Paul tells a story

So, we went back home, Maya and me.  But, everything had changed.  Paul.  Paul is in my life.  And I felt a huge burden about Brion.  That lovely man, who, completely unaware, gave me Maya.  At this point in my story, my father has my address and telephone number, which he is ready to pass on to April’s adoptive parents.  I will wait, no longer anxiously.  I know she is well.  My life goes on.  Weekly Pilgrimmages

Yes, but not much later.  After the events of the early evening, I was both exhausted and exhilarated.  Even if I did not have to talk to them downstairs, I knew that I would not sleep for some time.  But, I did have to.  If for no other reason that I had to reassure them that although I had suffered hurt, there was no harm done.  Far from it.  It was catharsis.  So, I knew, even given the pain I suffered still, there was more to be done.  Homecominglater1

This is one of the most difficult posts I have written.  All I can say is:  you sometimes have to pay for suffering you cause, by suffering yourself.  Now, isn’t that a truism!  Yes.  So.  This one is embarrassing, possibly mortifyingly so.  Or it should be.  But, it isn’t.  I am not proud of what I did, recorded in this post,  but my brother’s pride in me is almost too wonderful to bear.  If you are of a delicate disposition, if you are easily offended, please pass this one by,  there will be others, with less problematic content.  What happens here happens of my own free will.  No one is to blame.  There is no blame.  I did not feel there could be any other way to record this, other than the way I have here.  This post is the reason I no longer harbour ideas of showing April this blog, as a record of what I have been.  Maya, too,  it is not for her.  They simply would not understand the need that is answered here.  Homecoming 2

Here it is.  I return home.  Of course, it is never simply returning.  All is the same, and all is changed.  How very trite!  I write this one, because I am still a little shy about writing the complete Homecoming sequence.  Next time.  Homecoming

Things have happened.  But I must present them slowly.  In the order they happened, for once.  I must be honest, no matter how painful or how embarrassing it is.  This next one has its share of pain, among other things.The years slip by

I must present what follows, now.  It reaches back to my family, to my father, whose name is Don, and my brother, whose name also is Don.  I have had few men in my life.  They are two of the most important.  This is for them.   Sorry, Dad, if by chance you are reading these, this one is going to surprise you!  The Two Dons

Oh, boy.  Discipline!  I have always had trouble with it, in myself, and of course in raising Maya.   I thought I should rewrite this one for now, as I prepare some more earthshaking posts to come…ha ha ha.

Anyway…call me a sucker…but here it is   a lesson learned