Later on, Courtney and Caitlyn slipped back into their swimsuits, enticing the guys to the pool like the mythical Sirens luring the sailors.
But Callie and I remained at the kitchen table, chatting about next year. “Are you and Mike worried about the whole long-distance thing?” Mike was going to Florida State, like his brothers, and even though it was a four-hour drive, it still meant seeing each other on holidays and the occasional weekend.
She shrugged. “Nah.” I expressed my shock, and she patted my hand right hand. “We’re not like you and Rob.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Mike and I live in the now, and we don’t talk about the future.”
“I thought you loved him. I mean, he was your first.”
“And I don’t regret it.” She gave me a slight smile. “Losing your virginity is not that big of a deal. Someday you’ll understand.” I felt like a child when she said that, knowing it would be a long time before I fully understood what it meant to be with a guy. Rob and I talked openly about our sexual urges, but he remained adamant about leaving some things until marriage and continued to restrict our explorations to the northern hemisphere.
“What are you girls drinking?” Austin entered the room and started rifling through the liquor cabinet.
“What are you making?” Callie quipped back.
“For you…” He turned and gave Callie a wink. “Anything.”
“Rum and Coke,” my friend decided.
He looked at me. “The same?”
“Nah, how about a Coke? Hold the rum.”
A few minutes later, he handed us our drinks and took a seat at the table. And it was pretty sad but after years of being friends and months of dating, I had no idea what to say to him. I sipped the soda slowly, and he didn’t bother to start up a conversation as he stared off into the family room.
Mike arrived, pausing for a minute to chat with Austin before he pulled Callie off the chair, and with a smile, he led her to one of the bedrooms at the back of the house.
I went to get up, but Austin placed a hand on mine. “Hey, can we talk?”
“Uh, I guess so,” I said quietly and sat back down.
“I don’t want things to be weird between us.”
My eyes fell downward. “They’re not.”
“Really? When’s the last time we talked, Chlo?” I shrugged, and he continued, “We used to be real close, you know.”
“I know,” I admitted, and maybe it would be better if I didn’t hate him. Next year, we could eat lunch at the same table, and life could go back to normal. After all, we had both moved on. Or in Austin’s case, on and on and on, since he and Aimee only lasted a few weeks.
He leaned forward. “How’s your family?”
“Good. Your dad?”
“He’s the same. He’s still dating Whitney, which means he’s never home. But I don’t mind. I get the whole place to myself.”
“You ever see your mom?” I wondered as I cradled my chin in my palms. I felt a wave of fatigue wash over me, thinking I should call it a night soon.
He shook his head. “No, but I’m thinking ’bout going to Texas this summer. It’s a really long drive, but it’s not like Mom’ll come here. She still hates my dad’s guts.”
I nodded slowly and yawned. He was trying so hard to talk to me, and it reminded me of our second first date, where he showed up at the door with a pale blue polo and a red rose in his hand. He took me to a little Italian place downtown, and he tried so hard to be someone he wasn’t. And I wondered why he was making that same effort now, but it didn’t really matter. I was too tired to analyze Austin Walker’s twisted mind. I glanced up at the clock. The numbers blurred, and I blinked to make things clearer. I pushed out an exhale and mumbled, “I’m going to bed now.” The words sounded funny like when I played back one of my voice mails intended for someone else. Sure, it was me, but I didn’t like the way I sounded.
Austin’s fingers travelled up my arm. “Are you drunk?”
“Unh-uh… juss had one.” I held up a finger and stared at it for a moment.
“Then you’re a cheap date.”
“Shu…up,” I managed inside a yawn.
“Aw, baby, you look so sleepy,” Austin said, but I was more than sleepy. I felt like I had the flu, and the symptoms presented themselves with an uncanny speed. Austin leaned in closer to me; his lips fell to my ear. “But don’t you worry. I’ll take you to bed tonight.”
“No,” I murmured, maybe. I wasn’t even sure if the words left my lips.
Then Austin was at my side, lifting me off the chair and helping me like an injured player off the field, and together, we weaved through the crowded family room and down the hall of closed bedroom doors.
He opened the door to my bedroom and lowered me to the bed, swiftly climbing on top of me, and then I couldn’t escape the scent of his cologne or the taste of alcohol as his tongue slid into my mouth. I started sobbing, and eventually screamed for help, but my sounds never made it beyond the bedroom door. The entire house was loud, pulsating with techno, and I knew no one could possibly hear me back here, especially not now as I grew even more tired. I started slipping in and out of consciousness like a patient with anesthesia coursing through her veins. And the whole time Austin kept his mouth on mine, kissing me in a way no one—including him—had ever kissed me before. I could feel his tongue, his lips, and even his teeth as his hands slid down my body, deftly untying and unbuttoning any obstacle in his way, and as my nearly naked body lay under his pressing weight, his hot breath entered my ear:
Hush-a-bye, don’t you cry
Go to sleepy, little baby
And like an infant succumbing to sleep in her mother’s arms, I drifted into the darkness, sleeping for hours like a baby.
-26-
The Light
The sun slipped through the bedroom sheers, and I awoke to the horrible realization of what happened the night before. I don’t know why, but I didn’t cry or run to tell any of the girls; I simply got dressed and stripped the sheets off the bed, wadding them into a ball for the Valentine’s maid to discover on Monday morning.
I picked up my overnight bag off the floor, rushed through the pool bath, and raced across the patio. Without glimpsing at Rob’s house, I ran through the woods frantically like a fawn in the height of hunting season, and once inside my home, I checked all of the locks on the doors before I turned on the alarm system and headed up the stairs.
I entered my bathroom, stripped off my clothes, scented from the night before, and tossed them onto the cold floor. As I stepped into the shower, the water hit my body, dissolving the caked-on blood into a rusty stream. And searching for its redemptive powers, I remained under the warm water until the river turned to crimson and then pink; and finally, it ran clear, washing the evidence down the drain.
Inside the white tiled cell, I released unheard screams and fisted uncaring walls, waging a fight of futility hours too late. The crime had passed quietly in the night, taking my most guarded possession; and no matter how hard I cried or searched, and no matter who listened or helped, my innocence would never come back to me. My virginity had been pilfered like love or dignity in a crime of abstraction where objects are easily taken yet impossible to return.
Slowly, I stepped out of the shower and wrapped myself in my pink robe and fell to the floor. The tiles felt cool against my skin, and I curled into the fetal position. I cried like a newborn afraid to face her harsh new world outside her mother’s womb, and alternating between screams and cries, time traipsed by slowly. Eventually, I pushed myself off the floor and walked into my bedroom. I fell onto my bed, staring at the whirling blades of the fan. “No one has to know,” I whispered.
The phone rang again and again, and finally, I turned off the ringer, drowning out all sounds with some music, playing it real loud, loud enough to muffle the thoughts in my own head. Then I got up and started pacing in circles, and I even wondered if it really happened. I soothed m
yself with that possibility until I touched the tenderness between my legs and fell victim to the hot tears again.
“Just accept it,” I said out loud. It wasn’t really rape; he was my boyfriend once. He had seen me in just my unmentionables before and ran his fingers across my skin. He had whispered affections in my ear and told me his secrets while in my arms. I had done more with him than I had with anyone else. And I had even thought about him that way countless times.
“But why now?” I shouted at the ceiling, at the whole world. My heart belonged completely to Rob. My eyes fell to my right hand, and I twisted the ring again and again, watching the heart disappear and reappear, thinking how quickly things could change.
I descended the stairs and trudged across the front hallway, ending up in my parents’ room. I walked across the thick California loop, feeling the softness of the plush carpet against my bare soles, and entered my parents’ spacious bathroom with the high clerestory windows. The rays of light splashed onto the marbled countertops, making the fancy bottles of perfume glisten in the sunlight. I picked up my mother’s signature scent and sprayed the spicy floral into the air. It drew me close to her, and I imagined my mother hugging away my sadness like when I was little girl.
I spied the medicine cabinet on the wall, remembering the reason I had crossed the house in the first place. I reached for my mother’s sleeping pills, hoping they would erase the remaining hours of the day, and after dropping a few tablets in my hand, I headed back to my room. I took an Ambien and turned on my cell. Since my mother was driving the support vehicle for the bike trip, I knew I could reach her, and her alone.
“Hello, Chloe,” she chirped cheerfully. I imagined her driving along the curvy country roads, sipping slowly from her cup of coffee and completely immersed in a book on tape. A long Michener, perhaps.
“Mom,” I spoke softly. “I’m going back to bed, and I turned off the ringer.”
“What if I need to reach you?”
“You won’t. I’m fine.” I dismissed her maternal paranoia quickly.
“You girls stay up late last night?”
“Yeah.”
“Nothing ever changes, huh? You girls will never grow up.” She laughed momentarily. “I’ll never forget the time when I picked you up from Caitlyn’s slumber party and drove you to the mall afterward. Remember that? We had to buy you a pair of shoes for Uncle Doug’s wedding, and you actually fell asleep in the middle of the Macy’s shoe department.”
“I remember,” I said softly.
“Well, go get some sleep then.” She stopped and remembered, “Oh, and would you like me to give Rob a message?” The mention of his name gripped at my heart, and I swallowed down a knot before I answered, “Um, no.”
“No?” she teased.
“Mother, please. I’m really tired, and he knows how I feel about him.”
But as I hung up the phone, I started to wonder how Rob would feel about me. Me: defiled. Him: perfect. And I hated to think where that would leave the two of us.
-27-
The Truth
“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Rob’s voice entered my room on Monday morning. My family was gone for the day: Dad caught a 9:40 to Chicago-O’Hare; Brad headed to the beach with some guys from the tennis team; and Mom had already left for work.
“Are you awake?”
“Yeah,” I answered groggily like I was thick with sleep. I remained under the covers, facing the window as he lowered himself to the other side of the bed.
“You know,” he said, his voice moving closer. “I should be mad at you for standing me up last night. I kept calling you, but you never answered your cell. And I even went to the tree house just in case you were already there.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
“Well, I need more than an apology.” He inched closer to me, the antique bed registering every movement with low-pitched creaks. “What I really need is some—” His voice cut into a low chuckle. “No, seriously, Chlo. I started thinking about next year, and if I miss you this much after two days, just imagine what I’ll be like after a month or two.”
His hand rested on my arm, but with a deft reflex, I brushed it away.
“Hey, what was that for?”
I said nothing, and Rob tried to touch me again. He stroked my hair. He caressed my back, but I swatted at his every advancement like pesky flies on a hot summer day.
Without a word, he rose from my bed and started pacing around my room. I listened to his footsteps, and my heart raced faster and faster until the beats crept into my head, and I felt so scared, not knowing what was going to happen next. He lowered himself to my side of the bed, but as I tried to turn from him, he grasped my shoulders and held me in place, his face inches from mine. “What is wrong with you?”
I turned my head and squeezed my eyes shut; hot tears burned a path down my cheeks.
“Did something happen on Saturday night?” he deduced correctly. “I talked to Courtney on her way to the beach, and she said you left her house without saying goodbye. Why? What happened, Chlo?”
I wriggled free from his grasp and faced the other wall, knowing that the truth was creeping to the surface like drops of oil in a pan of water, and I had to tell him what happened. Sure, I had tossed the conversation around in my head countless times in the last twenty-four hours, but no matter how I phrased it, I knew that the next few minutes would be exceedingly painful. And by revealing the truth, I would hurt him, and he was the last person I ever wanted to hurt.
“Talk to me…please.”
“Rob,” I started, but instead of more words, I heaved out heavy sobs.
“Chloe,” he paused. “Just tell me what happened.” He leaned in closer, careful not to touch me again. “Listen, I hate to ask this, but did you…” His voice trailed off, and I listened to each breath he took, one and then another. “Did you cheat on me or something?”
I flipped over and faced him, anger raging inside me. “How could you think that!”
“What else am I supposed to think?”
“I don’t know,” my voice weakened. “But not that.”
He got up and paced, and as he moved back and forth across my room, he spoke, “Fine, then just tell me why I can’t touch you. And why you won’t stop crying.” His voice faltered, “Just tell me the truth, because nothing in the world could be worse than thinking you were with someone else.
“I know,” I muttered weakly. I sat up in my bed, pulling my knees into my chest. “On Saturday night…Austin…uh…”
“What?” he asked harshly.
The tears rolled freely down my cheeks, and my stomach twisted into a row of knots.
“He…uh…”
“What?” he repeated, his tone revealing his rising anger.
I pulled my legs tighter into my chest and sniffed back the tears. “I can’t say it,” I protested with more tears, shaking my head. “I just can’t.”
“Chloe,” he spoke uneasily. “Just tell me the truth. I can handle it.”
I tried several times to swallow the impossible knot growing in my throat. “He…uh…” My mouth went completely dry, yet the tears flowed freely down my cheeks. “He r-r-raped me.”
“How could you let this happen!” he roared. “How could you!”
I said nothing, not knowing what to say.
He walked across my room and seethed, “I swear I’m gonna’ kill him.” And then I heard a loud thump, figuring he had punched my wall. I glanced up at him, watching as he fisted the wall relentlessly until he just fell against it, motionless. Eventually, he pushed himself off the wall and crossed my room. He sat down on the bench, dropping his face into his hands, mumbling.
As his anger receded, sadness took over him, and for the very first time since his grandmother’s funeral, he didn’t hold back the tears. The sound of his sobs wrenched at my heart, and all I could do was watch my boyfriend, my very best friend, cry. Occasionally, he would lift up his brown eyes and look at me,
and then he would return his face to his hands again. The sight of me was more than he could bear, and I remained in bed, alone.
I stared at the space between us on my bedroom floor and thought about the Berlin wall, which divided Germany for over twenty-five years. There, two parts of a whole were separated by an impervious force, and as the minutes slipped from the day and the distance grew between us, I wondered how long it would take us to tear down the wall and be reunited again.
****