On my recent road-trip to the U.S., I found out about my engagement to an eligible bachelor in Hong Kong, and saw my cousin, someone who is responsible for memories that I have tried to suppress for the last nine years. He is five years older than me and recently married. He came to the U.S. this year for a PhD. Although he used to be my favourite cousin, I am now very uncomfortable around him, because being around him reminds me of a traumatic event that happened nearly a decade ago.
When we were kids, we used to hang out together all the time at my grandma’s, and because of China’s one-child policy, we were treated by our family, and treated each other, like brother and sister. After my family moved to Canada, we fell out of contact, but I returned to China by myself when I was 12 (going on 13) to spend the summer with my grandparents. After a month of living with my grandparents, who never left their apartment and rarely let me leave, I grew restless and bored. So my cousin and their family invited me to stay with them for the rest of the summer. I had a great time with them, and my cousin and I became very close very quickly. He was easy to get along with, and he treated me extremely well. We went on a trip to China’s coast for two weeks with their family friends, and he looked after me and shielded me the whole time (my Chinese was very poor at that time because I had almost completely stopped speaking Chinese in Canada, so many of his friends would make fun of the way I spoke, and I found it hard to join in to their conversations). However, his brotherly affection turned into something else. In hindsight, there were subtle clues along the way, but I was too naive to realize it. I embraced the idea that I had finally found someone resembling a brother – I had always wanted an older brother.
A few days after we returned from the trip, he came into my room one morning and we lay on the bed, just talking about what we were going to do that day. I didn’t make a big deal out of our lying in bed together because I thought of our closeness as if we were siblings, it didn’t occur to me that I needed to be weary of my personal space around him. I had my eyes closed as I lay there, and suddenly, he leaned over and kissed me. I was stunned. I didn’t know how to react, so I didn’t. I lay there, with my eyes closed, still as stone. My lack of reaction confused him, so he kissed me again.
The me today would have reacted violently and reprimanded him immediately. But the 12-slash-13-year-old me didn’t know how wrong it was, and didn’t know how to escape the situation. I was living in his home, and I’d be living there for another few weeks. I didn’t have the courage to reprimand him, even less so the courage to tell his parents. I couldn’t stand the humiliation of letting his family, my grandparents, and eventually my parents, find out about this kind of sibling behaviour. So I let him kiss me.
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