IMPORTANT NOTE: This chapter reflects on past, prolonged sexual assault against a child. While not overly graphic this may be triggering for some.
Chapter 3
His father had discovered the camera and polaroids by chance on a rare day off. Chance, helped along by 12-year-old Brian's inability to pick up after himself and put his baseball glove back into his kitbag like his mother had been asking for days.
A gruff NYPD detective, James "Jim" Cassidy wasn't an unkind father, but at 6'2" his presence could be intimidating. He'd called Brian inside that afternoon telling him to come sit at the kitchen table. Brian had frozen at the threshold as soon as he noticed the camera and the three photos he'd anxiously taken of his body in the bathroom the night before, waiting until after both his parents had gone to bed. He wanted to run but he couldn't move. He wanted to beg his dad to not be angry with him but he couldn't speak. He couldn't even hear his name being spoken until he felt a large hand on his shoulder and he was thrown back into reality, flinching away from the touch.
"Brian. Sit down." The large hand had pulled the chair out and big Jim Cassidy was staring at him expecting him to do what was being asked of him. Brian willed his legs to work just for those few steps and slid into the chair. Bracing for the interrogation.
It didn't take long for Jim to figure out who Brian kept referring to as him and he. Detective or not, the items had been in the bag that was meant to be taken to his youth league practice the following day. Brian swore he hadn't wanted to take the photos. But he asked and he said it's to help him with our training. And his parents had always told him you don't say no to an adult, right?
He wondered why he wasn't being told to toughen up and stop being a baby when he started crying until he glanced up and saw a terrifying, silent look he'd never seen before from his father.
Brian hadn't said that it was more than the photos. He was asked if Gary Dolan had ever touched him, but wasn't ready to face the consequences. He felt disgusting and dirty enough without it being confirmed by his father and then ending up shipped off to wherever disgusting, dirty boys who do that get shipped off to.
He didn't need to say anything else in the end anyway.
Jim had collected up the offending items, storming out the door with purpose and returning half an hour later. He entered into Brian's room where he'd since retreated to, with drops of blood on his shirt and bruised knuckles.
He pointed at his son, anger and adrenaline still flashing in his eyes. "You're done for the season. If that Dolan creep is ever even on the opposite side of the street to you, you tell me. You got that?"
"What do I tell mom?" Brian responded, confused.
"There's only two weeks left, we can say you're out with an injury. She doesn't need to know about any of this. It's finished."
Brian nodded wordlessly and that was the last it was ever mentioned in their house. Case closed according to Detective James Cassidy.
He heard two days later from a teammate that Coach Gary had shown up to practice that week with a broken nose and black eyes. Brian's stomach flipped as he cautiously asked what had happened. The kid shrugged, "Said he got mugged."
It was around five years later when Brian first truly realized that while the Jim Cassidy way of dealing with the situation had been out of love, protection, and probably a fair chunk of his own ego in not wanting his son being groomed on official police record - it hadn't really done Brian any favors.
He'd tried to tell his best friend at that point, testing the water by flippantly mentioning some creep baseball coach had grabbed his junk in the locker room once. The horrified look told him everything. He quickly shut it all back away in that box of shame and rage that was always threatening to explode inside him. They didn't stay friends much longer after that.
The fact of the matter was that teenage boys didn't get sent to shrinks in the 80s, and as far as his father was concerned, the problem had been resolved. The photos were gone, the kid had been removed from the situation, and the pervert had been warned off with a spray of threats and a swing of fists.
What the detective had missed was the four months leading up to those three photos he'd found in the kitbag.
The other boys would head home and his parents both worked a lot, so Coach Gary offered to give him a ride - "but why not a closer look at that pitching arm first?" The photo requests had started early on, prompted by lies about helping Brian grow into a strong man. The drives home would begin to take detours "so we can talk game strategy more."
There wasn't much talking after about two months when one night Coach Gary decided a blowjob in the backseat wouldn't do and flipped him over. He held Brian's head down against the seat, and pushed a finger inside him. The pain had been so intense he heard ringing in his ears but he still unmistakably heard the words, "You're my star player Cassidy."
That was the first night Brian woke up to find he'd wet the bed. This started to happen on a semi-regular basis until months after the abuse stopped, and after she caught him trying to load the clothes washer at 4am one morning, clean ups became a secret held between him and his mom. Because god forbid if Jim Cassidy found out his only son was pissing the bed.
Anyway, for everything else that was bad about him, Brian felt he was becoming really quite good at keeping secrets.