Cousin Denise

Cousin Denise was 7 years older than me.  My oldest first cousin. The daughter of my 2nd oldest aunt.  She was also our Grandfather's daughter. She was mildly slow and moderately dangerous.

She threw knives when mad and pushed family members down stairs.  She broke Uncle Mark's hip that way.  RIP Mark.  She taught the younger kids how to French kiss like her parents had taught her!

She liked having sex with her Grandpadaddy as she called him. He died when she was 16.  Everyone knew she and her mother were the favorites.  The only ones in his will not that there was much to inherit.

Friday nights, the family would get together to cheat at cards and make sex bets. Often using their children as betting chips. They would drink and snack heavily noon til bed.

Denise would sit under one of the tables sucking, licking, fingering and munching on dropped chips. She didn't even seem to mind all the stinky silent farting coming from the elders.

The women in the family tended to be shaped like either Olive Oil or Petunia Pig. Denise was the piggiest. But, they always fought over her because she did it all and enjoyed doing anyone.  I mean anyone!

Those card nights the adults paired off about 10pm if they weren't fighting or passed out. Being there like the sex was non-negotiable. Denise was the only minor who enjoyed it. Is it better handled being slow like her?  

Before she went home, Denise had always earned Saturday bingo money and left with a full belly. Without playing cards!  Sweet Home Alabama but in NY!  Do those folks make fun of us?

The family was shattered and they splintered when Denise and Uncle Lou announced their pregnancy!  Everyone was either routing for or deeply against the happy couple.  

They all fought til the little black baby was born and Denise ran far far away with all Uncle Lou had bought for it. It wasn't racism - it was the lying!  Then the family made up and resumed the card games.

I was twelve by then and my younger brother became the new toy under the table.  Denise sent one postcard from WVA writing in block form:  I DINT KNOW!  She told her mom she left the kid on a city bus.  Lucky kid.

Cancer, three deaths and an AIDS scare ended the family card games when I was sweet sixteen.  Then they MADE ME date the fat kid across the street to marry me off!  Being married is another form of abuse.