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I screamed. The stepbeast had me by my hair, pulling me back, dragging me back, because I was clinging to the front of the bus, looking for hand holds. I had my fingers hooked into one of the recesses for the lights for a moment before he yanked me free and I stumbled back into the square.
The first blow hit me like a memory. I don’t think I even felt it, but I tasted blood. I just knew I had to scream and kick and fight for my life to get out of his grip. I didn’t have time and I knew it. If he got me down, I knew I’d never get up again. I screamed for help, I screamed for Dale, I screamed and lashed out with every limb, gouging his skin with my nails every time I came in contact with it. In the end, he was just too strong. He overpowered me, forcing me to the asphalt.
I had absorbed most of the fall with my hip and I struggled to stay on my back instead of letting him roll me to my stomach. His full weight was on me and he panted with the effort, grabbing my arms by the wrists and pinning them over my head. His face hovered over mine in the dark. I smelled his fetid breath, cigarettes and beer and a wasted life.
“Listen here, bitch.” He spat the last word, spraying spittle on my cheek. “We’re gonna have a little fun before we say goodbye. We can do this easy or we can do it hard. It’s up to you.”
How old had I been the first time? I was still a virgin, certainly. I remember that much, having to throw away the bloody sheets I couldn’t get clean. I washed and washed and washed them like Lady Macbeth, but the blood never did come out and my mother complained about my missing sheets for a month.
We can do this easy or we can do it hard. It’s up to you.
When I finally, tearfully confessed to Dr. Jarvis—it was probably six months or more before I admitted the truth—it was my fault, really. He had given me the choice and I had chosen the easy path. Two roads diverged and I let my stepfather rape me. Dr. Jarvis didn’t placate me. He didn’t tell me it wasn’t my fault. He asked me a question.
What do you think your stepfather would have done if you’d put up a fight?
And I sat with the question a long time.
He would have raped me anyway.
But wasn’t it still at least, a little, partially my fault?
If I had fought, if I had screamed, if I had run away…
And then Dr. Jarvis had said something that changed my life.
Let’s take emotion out of it for a moment. Let’s say we’re doing an experiment. I want to cut the tail off a mouse. Yes, I know, it’s horrible to think about. But this is our experiment. This is our goal. Our aim. Our objective is to cut the tail off this mouse. What can the mouse do to stop it?
oys were on their feet, whooping and hollering. Dale jumped up onto the coffee table and did a dive onto the other couch, flopping on it like a fish. Terry and Rick high-fived and danced around in the midst of the empty soda cans, making a huge racket.
“How many is that?” I asked—yelled, really. I couldn’t hear over the noise.
Chelsea came closer, grinning. “Ask him again.”
“How many is that?” I yelled into the receiver.
“Platinum is a million!” Greg’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Double platinum is two million.”
It was a good thing I was still sitting down. I think I would have fallen down if I hadn’t been. Dale jumped from his sofa to my sofa and then pounced on me like a cat. I laughed and he kissed me all over my face and then, just for good measure, licked me too, right up the side of my cheek.
“Ewww!” I wiped my cheek with the end of my t-shirt—I always wore Black Diamond t-shirts on concert days, and it was a double bonus, because I was also advertising my own art work at the same time.
“Shamu kiss!” Dale called, doing it again, this time on the other cheek.
Chelsea was laughing, sandwiched between Terry and Rick jumping up and down and trying to kiss her, holding out the phone.
“Dale!” she called. “He wants to talk to you!”
Dale grabbed the phone, turning it off speaker and flopping down on the other couch, on his back.
“Hey Greg, my main man, my favorite man in the whole damned world, whattya say?”
I smiled, turning around to look at Bear and Pixie, still involved in their chess game.
“Hey, didn’t you hear?” I called over.
“I heard.” Bear moved his knight, glancing up at me. “Awesome.”
I laughed, shaking my head. Dale always said, “Drummers are weird.”
