“A couple times, but I just puke or have a nasty hangover the next day.” I elaborate, “I don’t like how I feel, so it hasn’t happened much. I live in a sorority house and we take turns acting as the sober sister.”
“Do you typically remember your actions or what happens when you’re drinking?”
“Yeah.”
“But in this case, a good chunk of time – at least eight to nine hours, has just vanished?”
Defensive, I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m not lying. I wasn’t that drunk that I would just pass out on the beach.”
He changes tactics. “How did you get in the bar?”
I repeat his question. “How'd we get in the bar?”
“You're underage,” he states, looking at his notes. “Nineteen and she’s seventeen.”
“Yeah.” I look down at my hands.
“Where’d the IDs come from? The boys?”
“Uh-huh.”
Goodman and Mark exchange another perplexed look. “Usually they require wrist bands to serve. I’ll have to check into this.”
“We had them.”
“Did you ask Will and Nicholas for the IDs?”
“I didn’t have the conversation with Will.”
“So Bristol did?”
Hesitating, I don’t want her to get into trouble. Goodman reads my mind. “She’s not in trouble.”
“Yeah, she asked Will for them during our surf lesson.”
“Do you know what Rohypnol is?” Mark asks.
I shake my head.
“Also called roofies, Mexican Valium, or the ‘forget pill’?”
“No, is it like heroin?”
“When the bartender said Will likes to drug people, what did you think he meant?”
I stare at my hands. “I just assumed an injection or something.”
Goodman shakes his head. “People can inject all sorts of drugs, you’re correct. Roofies are different, they’re a pill that can be crushed up or dissolved in a liquid. We need to take you to the hospital in a little bit so we can test your urine. It has a limited shelf life, meaning it only shows up for about seventy-two hours.”
Biting my lip, I think of the bar, the blue drink that seemed off. “Does it taste funny?”
“It can.”
“My drink tasted odd, like it was diluted or something.”
“Did you finish the drink?”
“Yes.”
“Did your sister drink out of your cup or have her own?”
“Yeah, she had her own, but it was the same drink. A Blue Hawaii or something like that.”
“Did you leave your drinks unattended?”
I pause to think. “They were waiting for us when we got back from the bathroom.”
“Same guys with you?”
“Yes.”
“Let me explain roofies to you. It’s more potent than Valium, do you know what Valium is?”
“Um, I think my daddy took one after a surgery.”
“Yep, probably. It’s a sleeping pill, but very strong. That’s why roofies are used. They cause temporary amnesia.”
“And this is a thing people do?”
“Yes, it kicks in fast, and causes you to forget everything that happened during a period of time.” He watches my face closely. “They can do what they want with you and you won’t remember.”
Inadvertently, I shiver.
“Have you showered today?”
“I rinsed off.”
“Any tenderness down below? Pain? Soreness? Are you sexually active?” Goodman taps his pen to his notepad, pausing for my response.
I squirm in my seat, blushing. “No to all.”
Sulking, I say, “I’m uncomfortable with these questions.”
Mark nods his head, holding his hand up as Goodman starts to speak. “Paul’s asking because the drug does what it says – it’s called the date rape drug because it makes you forget things, things like being raped.”
There’s silence for a moment, all of us waiting on me to answer. “I don’t know...I don’t think so.”
“Your sister’s boyfriend back home?” he asks. “Was she having sex?”
“I don’t live at home, I don’t know… she’s dating that guy, but I don’t know if they have gone…if they have gone all the way.” I’m being untruthful, but it’s not like P.J. is involved in her disappearance. I’m not giving away her secrets. I have to adhere to the sister code.
“I don’t want to scare you, but we’re going to need to take you to the hospital for an exam.”
“Huh?” I’m shocked. “The hospital? What kind of exam?”
“Have you had a pap smear before?”
I shake my head. “My mother said I don’t need one until after marriage.”
“This will be a full-body exam. They’ll check your urine, but we want to make sure we get blood work, make sure no one... make sure no one violated you.”
A pop of red appears in my nail bed.
Blood. I tense up, trying to smooth the pain that I’ve caused.
“Would you be more comfortable with a female doctor?” Mark asks.
“Yeah, I guess, but why… do you think something happened to me?”
Exchanging glances, Goodman shuts off the recorder.
“We need to call her parents first.” Mark says to Goodman. “Just to let them know Blair is safe and Bristol’s whereabouts are unknown.”
The fear of having someone prod around my private parts seems like a walk in the park compared to telling them I can’t find Bristol.
“The number’s there.” I point to the pad of paper near the phone.
“Why don’t you call them and speak to them first?” Goodman instructs. “Then Mark and I can take over.”
Slowly, I rise from my chair. Mark scoots over to make room for me on the bed.
I’m nervous, compounded by the fact they’re both watching me, their eyes drilling into my every movement.
My hands shake, concentrating on the numbers, asking the front desk woman at their resort to connect me to their room.
When my mother answers, my voice loses control.
“Blair?” she says. “You’re stuttering. What’s going on?”
“I need to talk to you and Daddy,” I manage to squeak out.
“What’s wrong? Did you hurt yourself? Where’s your sister?” She asks rapid-fire questions. I close my eyes for a second. “Can you please just get Daddy? Now,” I add, an edge to my voice.
It cuts through her continued questions.
My father comes on the line. “Blair? Blair, what’s wrong?”
I lick my lips.
If I say the words, they will come true.
They will be true.
Like gospel.
“Is this about your phone?”
“No.” I sigh. “I found my phone.”
“I thought you lost it in the water?”
“False alarm.”
My eyes shift to Mark and Goodman, both intently watching me. I better get this over with. Shakily, I whisper, “Bristol’s missing. We can’t find her.”
I wait for the screams, the yelling, my mother to have an outburst.
Nothing.
“Did you hear me?”
“Your sister is missing?” My father enunciates every word.
My mother chimes in, “What do you mean missing?”
“You were just with her this afternoon.” My father’s confused. “Did you two get separated? Can you ask a policeman for help?”
“I wasn’t with her this afternoon.”
“So you lied?” Now my mother’s tone turns acrid.
“Yes.”
“When did you last see your sister?” My father asks, my mother starting on a war path behind him, her voice rising an octave. “Catch me up.”
“Last night.” I take a deep breath. “She’s been missing since last night.”
“Wait, back up. Didn’t you two stay in the hotel room?”
“Did you get her drunk
? I knew it. I knew you would find some way to corrupt her. Oh my god, my baby!” My mother starts launching into a tirade, I have to hold the phone away from my ear. “Is she with someone?”
Goodman pulls the receiver from me after my mother starts yelling what a harlot she has for a daughter.
That would be me.
My father’s calm, but he can’t talk over my mother’s ire.
“Mr. Bellamy?”
“Yes, who’s this?”
“This is Detective Paul Goodman. I’m with Mark Matsen, head of security for the hotel. Your daughter contacted us immediately for assistance.”
“Wait, the cops are involved?” I hear my mother wail in the background.
“I need your wife to take a breath so we can have a conversation, it’s very important you both hear this. Can you help her calm down? I realize this is all very fresh and with you being halfway across the country, even harder to stomach.”
“Yes, can you hold a moment?”
“Absolutely.”
My father must’ve put the phone down as Goodman covers the handset and says to Mark, “I’m going to have you take Blair outside for a minute while I talk to them.”
He nods, motioning for me to follow him out.
I slide into my flip-flops, hearing words like, ‘hospital, exam, rape, drugs, and Blair.’
Goodman is fielding their questions, but he has no answers for them.
Mark opens the door for me, ushering me out into the hall, my mother’s screams following me out as I shiver underneath the Hawks sweatshirt.
17
Blair
At the hospital, Goodman rushes me into the emergency room entrance, speaks to a nurse, and then sends me back with her to an exam room while Mark has a seat in the waiting area.
“Hi, aloha, I’m Elaine,” a middle-aged woman with a black braid secured by a hair clip says.
“Blair Bellamy,” I mumble. “What exactly are you going to do to me?” I’m nervous, wringing my hands apprehensively.
“I’m going to be right by your side tonight, okay?” She has a clipboard with pages of forms. “This looks overwhelming, but we will go through it page by page.”
I nod, exhausted just looking at the sheaf of papers.
She asks me if I’ve had a vaginal exam before. I stare at her, unsure exactly what they do with my private parts.
Just a physical, I tell her.
She sees the frown lines across my forehead, my brow furrowing in confusion.
Explaining what the exam entails, she also adds, “We’re also going to do a rape kit, also known as a sexual assault kit. This includes a urine sample, physical exam, and blood test.”
“I don’t think I was raped,” I offer.
Wouldn’t I feel different? Shay told me she bled the first time she had sex. Other sorority sisters have said their first time was painful and uncomfortable. I’m not experiencing any issues down below, just memory loss. I mention this to the nurse.
“I understand.” Her kind eyes are warm. “This is a long process, but we want to be thorough. I understand you might have been drugged last night, and that’s why we’re doing this.” She lightly pats me on the shoulder. “Hopefully you weren’t raped, but this can help with determining if you were under the influence of drugs and alcohol.”
She goes through my medical history, prescriptions, and asks me more personal questions than I’ve ever even asked Shay.
“Okay, the doctor will come in and assist. Luckily we’re able to grab Dr. Kalani. She’s sweet and gentle… and a woman.”
Elaine fills out some paperwork and walks me to the bathroom, holding a cup with my name and date of birth written on the side in permanent marker.
“I need you to pee in the cup and then bring it back out to me.” She smiles, her teeth small and even. “Take your time, and just make sure it’s filled up to here.” She points to a line on the cup.
“Will this tell if I was drugged?”
“Yes.” She’s candid.
I struggle on the toilet. Peeing on command causes me to have stage fright, just like when I was in a community theater play as a middle-schooler and forgot my lines during opening night. I froze, the bright lights causing me to break out in a sweat, the audience watching me expectantly for my dialogue.
That was awful.
But it’s nothing compared to this.
After I manage to trickle out enough to reach the designated line in the plastic, I meet Elaine in the hall, warily handing her the cup. Her light blue scrubs and white sneakers glow in the dim light. She leads me back to the exam room and instructs me to change into a pink paper gown.
I hesitate, not wanting to take Bristol’s sweatshirt off. Elaine notices how I falter when I start to remove it.
She gently guides my arm back down. “Keep it on for now. Make sure everything else is off. Were you wearing underwear last night?”
I nod, puzzled by the question.
“We will want you to leave it behind.” She points to a clear plastic bag, the words evidence written on it. “What happened to your clothes from last night?”
“They got wet from the ocean, they’re hanging up in my hotel room.”
“Okay.” She pats my knee. “Dr. Kalani and I will be back in a few. Just disrobe from the waist down and slide onto the table.”
The flimsy fabric covers my lower half, my bare legs shaking as I wait anxiously for the doctor. My pediatrician always had magazines in his exam rooms, even The New Testament in one.
I wiggle my toes, the aqua nail polish reminding me of the blue concoction of God knows what last night. There’s a clock hanging on the bare white walls. I watch the seconds tick by, growing more impatient and petrified the longer I wait.
What if something did happen to me?
What if I’m pregnant?
Caught a disease?
My mind wanders to stories my high school friends told me about pap smears. “A cold metal object’s shoved up your insides, twisted like a knife in your ovaries.” That’s how one girl in my class described it.
My thoughts are interrupted when the door opens and Dr. Kalani enters, followed by Elaine.
“Hi Blair,” she says, reaching out to touch my shoulder. “I’m Dr. Kalani, and I’ve been with this hospital for over a decade. I understand something traumatic happened to you last night?”
She waits expectantly for me to nod my head.
“If you’ve never had intercourse and aren’t experiencing any pain or symptoms like blood in your urine, there’s a good chance there wasn’t penetration. In that case, we’ll just keep the evidence to check for any drugs in your system.”
My face goes ashen.
“Are you taking any prescription medications or street drugs?”
We go over my night again in detail, ending with my sister still missing.
“I’m going to do a quick examination of your pelvic region. Have you had one before?”
“No,” I utter, twisting my hands on my paper-laden lap.
She pulls two metal stirrups out of the table, explaining what they are and how to position my feet in them.
Elaine hands her some long, cotton swabs. Instinctively, I close my eyes after she squirts some lube on her gloved hand. “I’ll also take a quick peek over your entire body, but you can keep your sweatshirt on until the end.”
The speculum is cold, but not as cold as the K-Y Jelly coating it.
Squeezing my eyes tight, I imagine Bristol and I lying on the beach the other day.
Was that really yesterday?
Already it seems like last year.
Silently, I say a prayer, asking God to help my sister, protect her, and bring her back to me, uninjured and unharmed.
It only takes the doctor a few minutes, but in that time, I feel violated. I shiver as she feels around my insides, poking and prodding.
Something inside me snaps, and I cry out in pain.
Elaine moves to my side, stroking my hair, tears runni
ng down my cheeks. She dabs a tissue, wiping my dripping nose like you would a child.
“All finished.” Dr. Kalani rolls her stool away from the exam table. “Now let’s quickly check out the rest of you.”
“This will be quick.” Elaine senses my trepidation at removing my sweatshirt. She helps me undress, setting the worn shirt next to me.
Dr. Kalani grabs her camera, telling me why they take pictures – in case there’s evidence something happened. “This can help with prosecuting a case.”
A blood test is next.
The phlebotomist comes in and silently administers the needle as I turn away from the prick draining blood into a vial. Elaine never leaves my side.
More paperwork.
By the time I’m sent back to the waiting room, I’m mentally and physically drained. I don’t want to answer any more questions, my brain hitting a wall.
Detective Goodman is seated, Mark is gone.
He offers an explanation before I can ask. “He had to go home.”
I get it, he probably has to work in the morning.
“Are you okay?” He glances at my dejected face and slouched shoulders.
“I guess.” I shrug. “If it helps bring Bristol home, I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
In the unmarked car on the way back to the hotel, I think about being alone in the hotel room. What if someone comes back to get me? The other key card is missing. Could they track it to our room somehow?
Sweating bullets, I wipe a trickle of sweat from my brow. My armpits are wet with perspiration.
As if he can read my thoughts, Goodman says. “I have an officer that’s going to be outside of your room all night. I’ll walk you up and introduce you to her.”
I breathe a sigh of relief that a woman’s going to be near. Does she carry a gun, I wonder? Could a man overpower her?
He’s on his phone when we arrive back to the hotel, barking orders, mentioning a lot of words I don’t understand and names of people I don’t know.
An overweight black woman with short hair and a permanent smile on her face is standing alert when we arrive, a cup of coffee at her feet.
“Blair, this is Officer Chapman.”
“Moira.” She flicks her wrist at him. “You call me Moira, honey.”
“She’s been doing patrol for five years.”
Into the Night Page 12
