The Chair
When I was a young child,
My parents would sit me in a chair
And force me to watch them have sex
–
I’d say, if I recall correctly,
This happened frequently,
When I was between the ages of 7 and 9
Definitely before I reached puberty
It happened in evenings mainly
Sometimes afternoons
And was usually on weekends
Even more precisely,
Saturdays
They would call me into their bedroom
I’d see the chair. Or shall I say,
“The Chair”
It was a chair specifically for one type of usage
For me to sit on
When my parents had sex
So, when they called me into their bedroom
And I saw the chair
I knew what was about to happen
And I knew I had to take a seat
I would never see the chair
On any other occasion
In fact, I’m not sure where they stored it
In a closet? In the attic? In the basement?
It was not a folding chair, so, obviously,
It had to take up a significant amount of space
It could not have been hidden in a corner behind curtains
Or behind the laundry hamper
The chair was made of wood
No idea what kind. Pine?
The wood shade was on the lighter side
Does that make it Pine?
I am no wood expert
I am not a carpenter
The chair was not stained
The chair was not painted
Just the raw wood
The chair didn’t seem old
But didn’t seem new
But it did seem used before it was used by me
But for different occasions than I used it for
The chair had a back to it
So, I was able to sit, somewhat comfortably
At least in a physical way
They did not tie me to the chair
In reflection, I don’t know why I didn’t get up
Perhaps out of fear for retaliation
From my parents
Sometimes you just do what you are told
I thought this was normal
I never spoke of this to my friends at the time
I figured many people have done this with their parents
I did not find it strange
I did not find it awkward or a violation
Or an abuse
It’s what I grew up with
I sat in the chair
Always clothed
Usually in clothing an average kid would wear at that age
I was never naked
Maybe once or twice in my pajamas
I was never degraded
I was never made to feel belittled
I was never made to feel out of place
In a way, I was welcomed
I sat in the chair
Somewhat relaxed
Sometimes my hands were in my lap
Sometimes my hands gripped the edges of the chair
I’m surprised, if I recall correctly,
I never did get any splinters from the wooden chair
I sat in the chair
And watched my parents have sex
On rare occasion
My father would say to me,
“Are you watching?”
And if my father didn’t say it, my mother would say,
“Are you watching us?”
That is distinct in my mind
My father just said it more simply,
As if he was more concerned with me
Being aware of the action
Whereas my mother added the word “Us”
To the end of her question,
As if she was more concerned with me
Acknowledging that these two people
In front of me having sex
Were my mother and father
My parents
Growing older, it often came up jokingly in conversation
Among friends and partners,
“Have you ever walked in on your parents having sex?”
I would always dodge answering or just say that I never did
The reality is, I probably sat in the chair one hundred times
Watching my parents have sex
Could that number be accurate?
I’m shrugging my shoulders
Could this be possible?
I think so?
Every time when I see a chair
Especially a wooden chair
I think of my childhood
And how I sat in the chair
And watched my parents have sex
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.04.07.15.29.03@130BklynNYC