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Another girl I know waited until freshman year at college. She had been dating a guy for a few months before he pressured her into having sex at a frat party. He had been feeding her drinks all night so she wouldn’t say no. She didn’t. She should have. She said it hurt and he stuck his dick in the wrong hole first, so she lost two virginities that night. He broke up with her a week later. Calling her a frigid bitch.
Yeah. I’m good with keeping this my secret and waiting until I’m ready. Even if it means I reach thirty with my hymen intact.
“Right.” I say. I’m at a loss for what else to add to that portion of the conversation, so I decided to lead it back to the problem. “So, what did he do?”
“He started following that slut Abby on social media.” Ah, Abby. A female who shares several classes with Ashley’s boyfriend. I am very familiar with her. Not personally of course. Never seen nor met her.
Ashley looks at me like she expects me to be outraged. I suppose that is the reaction that I should give. I don’t. The conversation usually goes faster for me if I don’t antagonize her into sharing every minute detail, repeatedly. She does enough of it without prompting.
“He liked her profile picture. She’s wearing a bikini. Like come on. Have some class.” I want to laugh. My tongue is pressed firmly between my teeth to stop me. Ashley has a ton of bikini photos online. They just aren’t her profile picture.
Instead of staying quiet, I go for sarcastic. “How dare she?”
“Right! I mean damn. Attention whore much?” Yep, sarcasm went right over Ashley’s head. It usually does. Doesn’t matter. I keep listening and adding minimally to the conversation. It’s what she needs. Besides, her venting gives me time to observe the people around the room. It’s a hobby of mine. Actually more of a passion.
I've always been good at reading people. Reading their emotions, their expectations, their motivations, and even next moves. My dad says I am a human hacker. I'm told I should treat it like a gift. Use it to my advantage. I do. And I hate myself for it. It's become like second nature, and has caused some awkward social interactions on my part.
In recent months, I’ve been working to build on my skills, as well as develop the skill to filter my actions and words. I need to hone them. Too many times I end up divulging someone else’s secrets too soon. Like a woman’s pregnancy to her husband at the grocery store. It wasn’t his baby. He was infertile. Or the one time I got a teen arrested for stealing. Turns out it was baby formula for his hungry little sister. He was wrong to steal but I felt guilty as hell for not finding out why and helping him before the cops got involved. Luckily I was able to get the store to forget the matter, even gave the kid a part time job. I also bought enough formula for the sister to last her until kindergarten. Not that she will be using it that long.
Filtering myself makes me feel like an impostor. My personality is no longer my own. My actions no longer instinctual. Each word, each step is carefully calculated so as to not offend or disgrace anyone else. Even my best friend is not safe from the game I have been forced to play within my head. I don’t want to lose her or anyone else from my life. It’s selfish. I suck at making friends. Suck more at keeping them. So far Ashley doesn’t appear to be going anywhere. I intend to keep it that way.
Guilt eats at me as I realize I have tuned out her venting session completely. “Thanks for listening.” She says. Her hand covers mine before she leans over and hugs me. “You’re such a good friend.” I smile into her hair as I reciprocate the hug.
Twenty minutes later and an overwhelming amount of campus gossip, she leaves feeling lighter and thanking me again for always being there for her. As I watch her leave, I feel my phone buzzing in my pocket.
No. Not tonight.
I haven’t looked at my phone, but I know who it is. My dad.
My insides are turning and I have the desire to vomit. There is only one reason he would be calling me today. He needs help with a job. A mission. Damn.
I take a fortifying breathe before answering the phone.
I can't wait until I am free. Until I can end this charade and find the real me again. Minus the secrets.
I love my dad. I will do anything for him. He's all the family I have after mom died.
Dad makes the call short and sweet. He needs help on a job. Will give me details when I get to the house.
Looks like I’m going out tonight. Double damn.
I get to my father’s house just after dinner. He wanted to eat together. I couldn’t stomach it. Not with the nerves eating away at my belly. I should be used to it. I’m not.
Dad’s in the kitchen when I get to the house. He greets me with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for coming sweetheart. This should be the last time. I can feel it. This is the one we’ve been searching for.”
“You sure dad?” I trust him. He doesn’t send me in without doing his due diligence.
He nods. “Yes. It’s him. Just need the confession.”
“Okay dad.” I pause to steady myself. “Where am I going?”
The bar the target is expected at is a hip new bar in downtown. Tons of college students should be in attendance. Dad goes over the plan. It’s similar to all the others. Get in, get close, get them out. We go over the finer details of the location, the car, the back-up plans, all of it.
“What information are we looking for? What is it he’s suspected of doing?” I ask.
Dad looks like he won’t answer me. But he knows the rules. I won’t go if I don’t know the facts. Even if they make my blood boil with rage or my stomach curdle with fear.
Tonight it is fear. That man is suspected of betraying the family. He’s working with another one. One who deals in far shadier shit than we do. Human trafficking.
