HE - chad redden

When we moved to Mason Street, a neighbor introduced himself to my father as a registered sex offender.  I don’t know what he did.  My father never told me.  On Halloween, the law required him to keep the lights off at his house. He waited in a church basement with other sex offenders for hours until children finished trick-or-treating while his wife waited in the dark at their house. 

He repaired lawn mowers in his garage.  I watched him.  I threw frisbees into his yard while he repaired the lawn mowers. He never looked at me or the frisbees.  I threw footballs on his roof.  I walked around without a shirt in the spring, summer, and fall.  He never noticed the footballs or me.  I don’t know what he did, but I wanted to know if he’d think about doing whatever he did to me.  I wanted to know if I’d be worth it to him, or maybe someone like him. I just wanted a stare.  At the time, I didn’t trust my reflection in mirrors.  

Chad Redden
Swimming to Cambodia
Spalding Gray