The Tell: A Memoir

Content Warning: This section of the guide includes descriptions of rape and child sexual abuse.

“She had observed something in me that I could not see myself. It was like I had a tell—a giveaway, a gesture, the way poker players do, that indicated I was hiding something. Mine was my need to push harder, to run faster, to keep moving. My fear of slowing down long enough to listen to what my body might say. She could see that there was something so deep within me that I did not even know it was there, a presence with no name or shape.”

In the prologue, Amy describes visiting a physical therapist who suggested that Amy’s body was trying to tell her something. Although she kept her childhood trauma deeply repressed, hidden even from herself, Amy had not forgotten the abuse that she experienced. She had a number of “tells”— habits, reactions, or tendencies—that hinted at her traumatic past, and she just had to slow down long enough to listen to them.

“From an early age, I was told that I was a natural leader. In some ways, perhaps, it was a birthright: My mother modeled kindness and my father modeled achievement. Leadership, I thought, existed at the crosshairs of these two qualities. There was no higher good than to be good to people. Besides, as I was reminded often, I was very fortunate. I knew to pay it forward. Looking back, I can see that this laid the foundation for the person I would eventually become—a people pleaser, someone who was conditioned to think of others’ needs first and who strove to be perceived as a pillar of virtue within the community.”

Amy’s early leadership potential and her desire to set a good example for others made her vulnerable to abuse and contributed to her compulsion to hide what happened to her. Her tendency to be a people-pleaser and model virtue made it impossible for her to stand up for herself and confess the abuse. Her abuser knew her well and took advantage of these qualities by praising her leadership skills and giving her the attention and validation she craved, then taking advantage of her desire to follow rules and please others, knowing that she wouldn’t tell.

“Why do I remember this so clearly? It wasn’t about the award. The image of my parents’ pride, their joy in me, stayed so vivid in my mind because it was the moment I knew that I was the living fulfillment of their dreams. I was to exemplify their finest qualities. I was supposed to be the brightest—perfect. Memory is a sieve that catches only the most important moments. The insignificant details of daily life don’t stick; instead, they flow through the sieve. Then there are experiences that are unusual, set apart from the everyday, that carry an emotional charge. These we often hold on to, turning them over and over. As I do with this image. The roar of the applause, the tears in my father’s eyes, and me standing onstage. Everyone was looking at me. I should have been so happy. But instead, I felt utterly alone. It was as if the girl they were looking at wasn’t me at all.”

Throughout The Tell, Amy contemplates the nature of memory, wondering why she remembers some things but not others. Before she recalls the specific memories of the abuse that she experienced, she relives a number of memories from her middle school years that are especially vivid for unspecified reasons.