(Disclaimer: Some names have been changed to protect their privacy. Some information may be disturbing for some readers. Read at your discretion. 18+)
I am unable to remember where Sydney’s camp was located. I do remember the drive there was over an hour from my home in Kanata. I also remember there were many trees surrounding her family’s campsite. I also remember her trailer vividly. Even though I was drunk for the first time at twelve years old.
You would enter Sydney’s campground by a gravel road, then a short driveway on your right. When you got out of the car, you would walk up the side of the trailer on the same side as the driver’s side door, to reach the front entrance. At the entrance, there were two metal steps which led to a metal screen door, and the inner front door, combination. Inside you would find a small couch budding up against the elongated trailer’s end wall and window on your right. You would also see a small table acting as a television stand against the wall in front of you, closer to where the built in sofa was located. Across from you, and just slightly left within your peripheral vision, you would see a countertop, cupboard space, and a small trailer sized stove. Directly to your left, when standing at the front door entrance, you would see countertop space, a sink, with a window to look out from, and a decent size fridge. When you looked beyond the kitchen area, you would reach a narrowed space. To your left would be a small bathroom. To the right, directly across from the bathroom, was a narrow linen closet. As you walked past the closet, you would reach a dining table on your right which could fold down and be used as a bed for two grown adults. Mr. Steinfelt slept on that bed, whilst Sydney and I slept on the bunk beds in the designated bedroom. If you kept going you would reach Sydney’s and her sister’s room. That room housed the bunk beds for the girls.
It was the Saturday night of the camping weekend. Sydney and I were sitting at the campfire talking about our adventures of that day. My favorite part was the boogie boards out on the lake. The lake was located about three trailers down the gravel hill from where their camper was located. I had fun on the water with her boogie boards. All my worries and stresses disappeared when I was in the water. I was thinking, “finally. I have a true friend for life. I am seen, and accepted”.
To this day, I enjoy sitting by the water. Water is my peaceful place. My sacred place. Water is soothing to my soul. It’s where I prefer to be when I am in deep contemplation. Listening to the beautiful inner voice and guidance inside my head whilst breathing in the fresh air, and wonders of our natural world. It’s my perfect spot to ask myself meaningful questions. Walking in nature is when I often receive intuitive answers to those questions as well. I hear the loving voice the loudest when mother nature is soothing my soul.
Mr. Steinfelt drove their boat whilst Sydney and I zoomed around the lake being pulled behind it. It was my first time riding on top of a board, on my belly, being tossed side to side, as Sydney’s dad maneuvered in ways to knock us off. At one point, Mr. Steinfelt was too aggressive. His sudden jerk of the steering wheel sent me flying into some other camper’s dock. I got a little banged up. Not too big of a deal.
Today I recognize Mr. Steinfelt’s reckless behavior. I sensed he did it on purpose back then. My intuition tells me this is still the case today. I will only come to know for certain, after I have left this earthly experience permanently. What I do know for certain today is, his decision to toss me in the water so aggressively was a red flag for what was to come.
Sydney and I were laughing, talking about boys, and enjoying the s’mores we were making at the campfire, when Sydney’s dad appeared from the trailer. He had brought two tumbler glasses of red wine. One for Sydney, and one for me. “Here girls. Have some wine.” Mr. Steinfelt said, as he was handing each of us a glass. “I don’t think I should drink this Mr. Steinfelt. No thank you.” I knew it was alcohol. My mother used to complain about my dad’s heavy beer drinking.
I didn’t care for the smell of beer. My dad drank approximately two and a half, twenty-four bottled cases of beer each week. My intellect was telling me not to. I knew if I drank the wine I would be going against my parents trust.
I wasn’t thinking about the possibility of getting drunk when I accepted the wine. After Mr. Steinfelt’s reassurance. “Think of it like a vacation away from responsibilities. Don’t worry. I’ve got you.” Mr. Steinfelt said with a smile. I looked over at Sydney. She was sitting on a lawn chair just to the right of her dad. Sydney was already sipping the wine. She didn’t look my way. She simply sat there gazing into the campfire, quickly consuming her drink. In my mind, Sydney didn’t seem too bothered. It looked as though drinking a little wine would be harmless. I was wrong.
After about fifteen minutes or so of continued wine drinking, fire gazing, fun, Sydney’s dad offered up a suggestion. “Hey girls, wanna go inside and play some cards? We can play crazy 8.” Sydney and I looked at each other, made a face, and in almost unison replied “sure. Why not.” All three of us put away the lawn chairs, by placing them back underneath the front door’s canopy, then went inside. Inside, Sydney and I were sitting across from one another at the folding table bed. It was reverted back into a sitting area from a bed at that point. Sydney’s dad, Mr. Steinfelt sat beside Syd.
“Would you like a little more wine Clair?” he would ask, in the form of a rhetorical question. I say rhetorical because he was pouring the wine into my glass at the same time he asked me the question. After, I don’t know how long, I became drunk. I did have the awareness to place my hand on top of my glass the last time Mr. Steinfelt attempted to pour wine into it. I paid little attention to the amount of times Mr. Steinfelt had topped me up. I was focused on the card game. When I did see him from the corner of my eye, I covered the glass with my hand and said “No thank you” respectfully. Followed by, “I need to go to bed. I don’t feel so good.” It was at that moment, Syd and I retreated to the back room. Syd opted for the lower bunk. Leaving me and my woozy little buttocks on the top bunk.
After a while, the room started to spin. It was spinning so bad that I feared falling off of the top bunk. Sydney was fast asleep drooling on her pillow. She was gone to the world. Me, I could hardly sit up without having to hold onto something. I managed to get down the little ladder of the bunk beds. Not sure how I managed. I couldn’t see straight, nor walk straight. All I could think to do was to move to the front couch so I could sleep. In my mind, the couch was lower than a top bunk. Safety measures, you know.
As I stumbled down the short, little hallway, I saw Sydney’s dad sitting on the sofa. He was watching tellie on a wee little boxed television set. You know the kind you would see back in 1986? My stomach flopped when I saw him. I instantly wanted to retreat back to the bedroom as I was holding the wall up.
“Can’t sleep?” Mr. Steinfelt asked. “The room is spinning. I don’t feel so good.” was my, putting it lightly, response to Mr. Steinfelt’s inquiry. Mr. Steinfelt was tapping his hand on the sofa beside him whilst looking at me with a look of daddy-like concern. “Come. Lay here. You can place your head on my lap.” I was instantly frightened. I knew I was in a predicament. I had little choice at that time in my mind. All I wanted to do was make the room stop spinning.
I couldn’t sleep on the floor in Syd’s room, there was little space with all the clutter. The room was also quite tiny as well. I couldn’t sleep on the table bed. That’s where Syd’s dad slept. The sofa was all that was available. I was unnerved stumbling towards him. At the same time, relieved to get back down into a laying position. As I laid there, with my head upon Sydney’s father’s lap, I must have passed out for a few minutes. My plan was to remain alert long enough to see Sydney’s father go to bed. No such luck.
I was startled awake with Mr. Steinfelt’s hands inside my pajama pants and underneath my panties. He was fondling my vagina. I froze at first. I was in shock. I didn’t stop him right away. I was too busy thinking about Necklace Man. I was being physically abused in that present moment, and abused in the past in my mind, all at the exact same time. After I snapped out of the shock, I pretended I was dreaming so I could close my legs and roll over. When I started to move, Mr. Steinfelt removed his hand from my pants. He stayed there for a few minutes, pretending to watch television. After, what seemed like an agonizing long time, probably five minutes or so, Mr. Steinfelt got up. He retreated to his bed. I waited another five minutes or so before I decided I couldn’t trust sleeping there any longer.
I sobered up pretty fast after that incident. As I walked past Mr. Steinfelt, heading towards Syd’s room, I looked at him leaning up against his pillow, on his bed. I looked him right in the eyes, as if to say “I know what you did.” He looked at me as if to say “oh shit. She knows what I did.” I didn’t say a word. I went back into Sydney’s room, closed the door, and curled up into a ball on her floor. I slept there the remainder of the night.
I woke up before anyone else the next morning. I didn’t want to be there. With water being my refuge, I decided to go down to the beach whilst Sydney and her father slept. As I was replaying the nightmare of an experience the night before in my head, I was rocking back and forth on a 2×4 wooden plank. I was so deep in thought that I hadn’t realized I had stepped on a heavy construction worthy, rusted nail.
The nail was sticking out from the wood about a quarter length from the end of the wooden plank. My feet kept inching wider and wider apart. As they inched apart, my foot landed on the spike of the nail. The nail was so long it went through the sole of my shoe, into my foot, out the other side of my foot, and beyond the top of my shoe. I still have the scar on the top of my foot.
Sydney was making her way towards me that morning, when she explained “we have to start getting packed up. We have to head out soon.” I was relieved that we had to go. I was agonizing over the idea of telling Sydney about what had happened. Her telling me that we had to go made things simple. There was no private time to tell her so I kept it quiet.
I acknowledged Syd, then went to move from my spot. I was stuck. “Uh, Syd, my foot is stuck.” I exclaimed. “What do you mean, your foot is stuck?” ” My foot. I can’t move it.” I looked down at that moment only to see a wee little spike sticking out of the top of my shoe. “Holy shit! I stepped on a nail!” I said with horror, and curiosity at the same time.
I didn’t feel any pain. I only felt stuck. I used Sydney’s shoulder for support as I slowly pulled my leg up to release my foot. The drop to the ground pain I felt the first moment I took a step on that foot has no words. My God it hurt. Sydney helped me limp back to the campground. I could hardly put my foot on the ground. With each press of my heel, a stabbing pain pierced me.
When we arrived at the trailer, Syd and I explained what happened with the nail to Sydney’s father. Mr. Steinfelt felt it best we hurry home in the event I would need a tetanus shot. I bet Syd’s father had a slight sigh of relief thinking, “distraction from my travelling fingers. Woohoo!”. He hardly acknowledged me that day. He went back to his normal nice distance. The rest of the details of that weekend, and how my foot was treated is a blur. I truly cannot remember.
After visiting that life altering rabbit hole in my mind whilst Bill was driving me back to Fredericton from Rosie’s, exhausted me. All I wanted to do was minimize myself enough to where I could disappear from people’s view. My spirit was exhausted. For the remainder of the drive from Montreal to Fredericton, I dosed in and out of sleep. I awoke about thirty minutes from Fredericton. Bill and I made it to Liv’s without incident.
Before I end this entry, I would like to mention, I am so pleased you decided to join me through this doorway in my mind. Again, just like the necklace man, this is my first time offering this much detail of this experience to anyone. You, reading this now, know more than my family.
There is a reason, a purpose for sharing this story. With the help of this experience, I am an incredibly empowered woman today. How do you move past an experience similar to this? How do you overcome the shame of being the predator, or the victim? Those are the questions I asked the voice. I received an incredible response and have every intention of sharing it with you, in time.
LivWithClairity 
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