I had always thought a genital was a person who looked after a large complex or building like a church or a hotel. I was devastated. As far as I knew there was not a single genital or large building in my family. That night I wrote my parents a letter and told them that although they were very nice people I had to go and live somewhere else so I wouldn’t have to be a schoolteacher one day. Then I threw some clothes into a bag and climbed through the window.
I walked three blocks until I reached the tallest building in our town. It was the house Miss Engelise lived in. I rang the bell and waited. Miss Engelise opened the door and looked at me and my bag.
Please don’t be angry, I said, I have nowhere else to go. You are the only rich person I know of. I just need to know if I can stay here until I have touched enough genitals to start my own business.
Miss Engelise said nothing. She showed me into the dining room and made me sit at the table. Then she took my hand and closed her eyes.
God, she said, I am here with a strange boy. Bless our food and give me strength.
We ate onion soup with thin slices of bread and white cheese. Miss Engelise pointed to a large painting of two very old people.
My parents were both blind, she said.
Then we ate fish with small potatoes and cucumber salad.
Once I ran away, said Miss Engelise, And my parents became really upset. They thought I did it because they were blind.
Then we ate tapioca pudding with red figs. After that Miss Engelise showed me to my room. I was awake the whole night, listening for footsteps, thinking about what the older boys had said and wondering where on this earth I would find somebody to touch.
The next morning Miss Engelise was waiting for me in the dining room. The table was laid with fruit and flowers, pancakes and toast, scrambled eggs and tiny sausages, fruit juice and coffee, and on a glass pedestal, a huge vanilla cake.
I hear you play the piano very well, said Miss Engelise, I hear you won your first competition when you were only six. With a gift like that you can touch thousands.
Who looks after your house? I asked.
Miss Engelise grabbed my hand and closed her eyes.
God, she said, I’m still here with the boy. He wants to thank you for his talent. And for giving him the right parents. Bless our food and make us wise.
And then we ate.
When I was 10
When I was 10 years old, Mother’s sister came to live with us. She was a plump woman with dark eyes, enormous breasts and a voice like traffic. Aunt Pearl had lived in a small town twenty-five minutes from ours until the day her husband told her he was in love with a smaller woman. The night he left, Aunt Pearl ran after the car until she couldn’t see it any more. Then she threw her arms in the air and stood there like a strange tree.
As she stood there, thunder and lightning came from heaven and then it started raining. And the whole time Aunt Pearl did not move once because she couldn’t think of anywhere to go. Finally the storm was over. Aunt Pearl went home and slept for two days. Then she gave the house to a family with slow children and came to live with us.
Father had never been comfortable with having guests. We were living in a small house without a dining room and had to eat in the kitchen. Aunt Pearl had a huge mole next to her left eye. Father said it made her look like three people in a small aeroplane and told her not to sit opposite him because it felt like he was eating on a runway. Mother told her not to pay attention, that was the price they were paying for marrying beneath themselves. Then Father said something that made them both cry. Our house became an unhappy one.
Then one night we were having supper and Mother asked aunt Pearl to pass the peas. Aunt Pearl always leaned forward so her breasts could fit under the table. She looked up at Mother and told her she did not want to use her hands. We immediately realised that something memorable was about to happen and stopped eating.
Father slammed his fork into a large piece of meat and started pushing it around his plate. Mother got up from her chair and grabbed the peas.
I can feel things, whispered Aunt Pearl.
Father dropped his fork.
When I touch something, I feel things inside, said Aunt Pearl.
What things? asked Mother.
Things that are happening, said Aunt Pearl, No matter where, I can feel everything that happens.
Put your hand on the table, said Father.
No, said Aunt Pearl.
And where will you sleep tonight? screamed Father.
Aunt Pearl put her hand on the table. The next moment she was out of breath and tears were coming from her eyes.
What do you feel? asked Mother.
Like I’m under the ground, inside the earth, said Aunt Pearl, I can feel somebody looking for food, there are people running around, somebody’s being beaten. I can hear scratching, like somebody’s trying to hide. I can feel war, I feel people’s anguish and their guilt.
Father looked at us. Tonight you pray your aunt gets better, he said, And I will pray she finds accommodation.
Mother took Aunt Pearl’s hand and lifted it from the table. You need to lie down, she said.
The bed will kill me, said Aunt Pearl, It connects me to all the sadness in the world.
Mother looked at Father. That happens to most of us, she said.
The next day, when we came home from school, Aunt Pearl was missing.
What is wrong with her? we asked.
My sister has a very special talent, said Mother.
What? we asked.
The night she stood in the rain, when she thought she had nothing, she received a great gift, said Mother, She learned that she was part of something, that she was just one of a world of people with incredible needs.
Then why was she crying? we asked.
Knowledge is a huge burden, said Mother.
She opened the kitchen door. In the back yard stood a large port-a-pool. It was filled with water and on top Aunt Pearl was floating on a lilo.
The water disconnects her, said Mother, Too much feeling can kill you.
Our house became peaceful again. And when father was away, we opened the back door and listened to Aunt Pearl splash in the water. And on good days we could even hear her sing.
When I was 11
When I was 11 years old our teacher told us that a very special choir was going to visit our town just before Christmas. She said they were really famous and were going to give a concert in the school hall. She said there were only boys in the choir and they needed to stay with different families, we had to discuss this with our parents and then put our names on the list of hosts. She said we needed to make them feel at home, they were really special.
I put up my hand and said, We’ll take two.
That night I told my parents two choir boys were going to stay with us.
We don’t have room, said my mother.
I don’t like choirs, said my father, It’s not normal.
Then I cried until my mother said they could stay in my room.
It’s not normal, said Father.
The day before the choir arrived, our teacher told us that we had