I'll bet they knew

My brother's instant, furious response to my account of being molested by Daddy as a toddler took me aback:  Why did you send this out?  What possible good can it do for us?  I'm angry, not at [Dad], I dealt with that long ago, but with you.  Are you punishing us because you can't reach him? Skimming it made me sick, I couldn't read it. Sorry, but this is my first reaction. I love you, but really . . .

This was the first time I knew my brother had ever been mad at Dad for molesting me. (I had told him about the time it happened when I was 13. For most of my life that was the only time I remembered it happening. It was the time I based my book New Every Morning on.) Knowing that my brother had been angry at Dad on my behalf was briefly comforting before I realized he was now angry at me.

I was stunned. I thought, He's a father of a just-past 13-year old daughter himself! Would this be his reaction if she e-mailed him that she had been raped as a tiny, defenseless child? I'm angry with you. . . Are you punishing us?. . . made me sick. . . couldn't read it. . . I love you, but. . . "

Where had all that rage come from? I wondered. He almost sounds as if I am accusing him of something. Complicity maybe. His response sounded guilty, couched as it was in such violent denial. It almost sounds as if he knew it happened.

The more I thought about it, the more it confirmed something deep inside me. He knew. Mum sent him upstairs to tell us breakfast was ready and he saw or heard something. The bedroom door was open and Daddy had me in bed with him and was doing something to me. I'll bet Ted knew.

And he wasn't the only one. My mother knew, too.