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I nodded. “Yeah, exactly that.”
Angie’s eyes went between her mom and me. “Oookay, I’m just going to grab a slice of pizza. Willow, you want one?”
“Pepperoni please, and a Diet Coke?”
“Mom?”
“I’m fine, love.”
When Angie was gone to wait in the Sbarro line, Bonnie reached across the table and took my hand in hers.
“This really isn’t the right place, but I feel I need to tell you that I’m sorry. For what happened to you. It was a terrible crime, and it wasn’t your fault.”
I nodded. My hand squeezed hers to keep my tears back. “Are you going to tell me to report it?”
“No, I am not,” she said. “I think the perpetrator belongs in jail, and in a perfect world, you could drive down to the police station right now, tell your story, and they’d question him as relentlessly as they would you. But in my experience with sexual assault survivors, sometimes coming forward can be as traumatic as the event itself. I don’t say this to deter you. I say this because I believe you’ll tell your story when you’re ready. In your own time, and in the way that’s best for you. Right now, that’s all you should be concentrating on. Okay? What’s best for you.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Somehow, Bonnie had given me permission to stop holding my breath every minute. To just breathe.
“And if you ever want to really talk, I’m here for you.” She turned my hand over and rubbed her thumb over the X. “I’d really like to see these go away.”
“Me too.”
Bonnie patted my hand and let go. She handed me a napkin, took a French fry and sipped her drink. And all at once, I was back to being a girl sitting at a table with her best friend’s mom.
“What’d I miss?” Angie said, plopping a slice of pizza and a drink down in front of me. “Nope, never mind. Attorney-client privilege.”
“Indeed,” Bonnie said. “So back to this play you’re doing. I saw Oedipus Rex back in January. Isaac Pearce is an incredible talent.”
“Yeah, he is,” I said, and nudged Angie again. “Shut up”
Angie’s eyes widened over a mouthful of pizza. “I didn’t say a word.”
“He’s the one who brought you to our house the other morning?” Bonnie waved her hands. “I’m not circling back to the circumstances. This is pure girl talk.”
“Yeah, he was the one,” I said. “I told him. And it wasn’t pretty, as you saw. We’ve gotten kind of close. From the rehearsals,” I added quickly. I still hadn’t told Angie about our dance at the lookout point. I kept that memory for myself, like a little treasure.
“And now you have feelings for him?” Bonnie said, plucking a piece of pepperoni off her daughter’s pizza slice. “Sharing personal experiences will do that. It’s almost impossible not to feel closer to someone.”
“I guess. But we can’t get involved. He’s going to be leaving Harmony soon. Casting agents are coming to the opening night of Hamlet.”
“Oh. So you’ve talked about your feelings for each other?”
“Mom,” Angie said. Her eyes started to roll but then abruptly stopped. “Wait a sec, I actually want to know the answer to this one.”
“Yes, we talked about it.” I struggled to keep my smile and my tone casual. “And it’s for the best. To stay professional. Besides, he’s older and more experienced and I’m…not.” I smacked my hands to my face. “God, I can’t believe I’m talking about this now too.”
Bonnie smiled. “Sometimes talking is like pushing a heavy boulder downhill. It seems impossible at first, but once you get going, it’s easier and easier.”
“There’s not much more to say about the situation,” I said. “Except that it sucks.”
She tilted her head. “You like this boy?”
I nodded then shrugged. “But it’s not the end of the world.”
“Maybe it’s for the best,” Angie said. “If he’s leaving town. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“That makes two of us,” I said, feigning a lightness I didn’t feel.
