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When our teacher says something that could be a dirty joke, Rae stifles a laugh, then pokes me in the shoulder with her pen before slowly dragging it across my back.
And this. God, I’ve missed this.
Rae
“Nathan is by far the superior brother,” Sarah says, popping another potato chip in her mouth as we stare at the TV screen.
“Obviously,” Mackie agrees, watching as Nathan Scott does something swoony for Haley in the episode ofOne Tree Hillwe’re watching. We’ve watched through the entire show at least three times in the last year, but that’s what we do. We get hooked on a show and rewatch it, rather than watching new things.
I make an affirmative noise, because hell yes, Nathan is the better Scott brother. But my mind is elsewhere. And that is now evident to Sarah and Mackie, who turn to look at me.
“What’s wrong?” Mackie asks.
“Nothing’s… wrong. I need to ask you guys something.”
“What is it?” Sarah asks.
“So, I told you I went to Hope and Healing. Well, the director told me about this support group that meets at the Methodist Church down the street on Tuesday nights. I was wondering… would you guys go with me tomorrow?”
Mackie wraps her arms around me. “Of course, we will. I’m so glad you’re going. We’ll be there a hundred percent.”
Mackie pulls back and Sarah rubs my arm. “Of course, baby. You know there is nowhere else I’d be.”
I let out a long exhale. “Thank you. I’m nervous, but I know I should go. So, just… thank you.”
Sarah reaches over and squeezes my hand. Then we all turn our attention back to the TV as I try to quell the nervousness building in my stomach about this.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My nerves are ramping up. I turn to look at Sarah and Mackie. “Are you sure you guys are okay going with me?” I ask for what must be the fiftieth time since yesterday afternoon.
Sarah stops what she’s doing and looks directly at me. “Rae baby, I’m so glad you’re going. I’m glad you’relettingme be there to support you.”
Mackie puts her hands on my shoulders. “Stop asking me that. Seriously. I know we all say we’d do anything for each other so often that it feels commonplace. But it’s not. It’s real. We’re walking in there hand-in-hand because we’re a team. I’m glad you’re going. I’m glad you’re doing this. Youneedthis. And you need us. So, we’ll be with you every step. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good,” she says, giving me a kiss on the cheek.
I take a deep breath as we head downstairs.
It’s just a support group. It’s not a classroom. No one is going to force you to talk. It’s a safe space. Sarah and Mackie will be with you.
“Where are you three off to?” Mom asks with a bright smile. She and Dad are snuggled up on the couch in the front room, each reading a book.
“Just gonna have some girl time.” Sarah grins at her and pulls open the front door. “Don’t worry, we’ll be home early. Love you guys.”
“All right. Have fun. Be safe,” Mom says.
“Will do,” Sarah calls, ushering me out the door.
“Thanks,” I say quietly to Sarah.
I’m nervous. I didn’t think I would bethisnervous. It happened seven months ago. Of course, most of those months I’ve been handling this alone. I tell myself over and over that this is a good thing, but I can’t stop the tightening in my chest.
The church where the group is held is only two-and-a-half blocks from my house. When we get to the side door where the sign for the group is, I start to lose my nerve.
I stop and stare at it. The sign on the door has a black arrow and the wordsSexual Assault Survivors Support Groupwritten in bold teal font.
My heart starts pounding, and I feel clammy.
