He stops his finger from moving and searches my face for clarification. I nod my head in confirmation as he acknowledges, “Okay, Mik.”
THE SERIOUSNESS OF THIS MOMENT is turning corners in our relationship … breaking down a wall in both of us. Pieces of emotions crumble down each time we reveal or open up more. Reminding me of layers of an onion being peeled with tears that sting our eyes just the same.
The wind picks up significantly and once a big gust blows the loose strands of my hair across both of our faces, Ryan leads us inside. Questions begin to fill my head as I think about if I’m really ready to tell Ryan everything. Do I need more therapy first? Should I wait to do this in the therapist’s office? And then there is the worry of how Ryan will respond.
Now we are both upstairs in our bedroom, sitting next to each other on our bed and leaning against the headboard. Neither of us with more than a couple bites of the cauliflower dip and alcohol in our bodies. My stomach growls, but not from lack of food. I stretch my legs, pointing my toes out and fight the urge to curl them up into my chest. The light from the bathroom shines in at an angle that only catches both of our feet at the end of the bed. Moonlight filters in through our large windows that look out onto the ocean. We sit there like two shadows ready to be exposed to daylight.
Reminding myself that I want to tell Ryan because I don’t want there to be anything at risk to pull us apart again pushes me forward. Yet I hate the unknowns of what my dirty secret may raise in us as a couple. This is something like I’ve never experienced before. Telling my therapist does not even compare to what it will feel like to pour my heart out to someone who actually holds my heart in the palm of their hand. A slow shaky breath releases from me as I prep myself to reveal the truth.
Then catching myself off guard, I speak first. “I’m ready.”
“Okay,” Ryan replies simply.
For a brief second I consider turning myself to face him, but then I realize I can’t. I can’t look into the shadows and see his sweet, caring and loving eyes. What I’m about to tell him will most likely change them, darken and sadden them. I just hope that they quickly fill again with all the things I love about Ryan.
I begin, in the quiet, comforting space of our bedroom to tell him my past from a summer I’ll never forget … a story of broken dreams for a young girl I remember all too well …
It was the annual block party for our neighborhood, just after we graduated from high school. Every year, the Saturday before the fourth of July, our block would shut down for the day and night. There were a handful of us kids that were grown now though. The neighborhood consisted mostly of the same families that had lived here for years. We grew up running in and out of each other’s houses, running to the park at the end of the street and going to the same schools together.
A giant blow-up slip and slide sat in the middle of the street with the younger kids still taking turns going through. Then Mr. Langley, who orchestrated the event every year, blew his whistle and called all of the younger kids off the slide. “It’s adult-only time for the next thirty minutes on the slip and slide,” he yelled into his mega phone. All the little ones booed and a bunch of the parents, who had clearly been drinking all day, jumped up from their lawn chairs.
Mya broke from our group first, pulling her sundress off over her head and racing over to the line. Marisa stayed seated with me on our front stoop while all the other older teenagers surrounded my front yard.
“We should go, too,” Marisa hinted. Both of us had our suits on under our clothes. Of course, Marisa and Mya always had bikinis and I always had a one-piece. My insecurity had slowly been dissipating during my senior year, but I still was the most conservative. I think having that senior rank did that to almost everyone in my class.
“Um … sure, let’s do it!” Marisa’s head snapped up in shock to my response and before I knew it we were following Mya to the line.
Eventually it turned into all the older kids zipping through the slide and the parents standing on the sidelines laughing. I was standing in line for my third time and behind me stood Eric Black, Brad Duncan and Eli Ramirez. Eric and Eli were a couple years older than us and Brad was the same age. Eric was the most attractive of the group and had often flirted with us. In typical Mya fashion, she would dish it right back and Marisa found ways to brush it off. I on the other hand clammed up, but almost didn’t mind it, not that I flirted back ever.
Marisa stood in front of me talking to a couple other girls that were the same age as us, and Mya was just about to go down the water slide again. My parents stood off to the side laughing at how boisterous Mya was and sipping a beer. The feeling of warmth covered me as I looked at my sisters and my parents. Everyone seemed to be happy.
Standing to the side, I caught a better glimpse of Eric. He had always been a bit of a bully when we were kids, but now he seemed more egotistical and possibly confident. Girls had always drooled after him, but I don’t remember ever hearing about him in a serious relationship. Now his eyes captured mine; they were dark, almost black, except for a hint of yellow mixed in them. I didn’t turn my head to meet his gaze straight on, but nor did I move my eyes downward.
I felt a little awkward and unsure of myself standing there in my swimsuit. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around my mid-section. Eric’s eyes flashed down to my chest and then he winked at me. He did this all while continuing to talk to the other guys. My neck and cheeks heated, but I stayed, viewing him from my peripheral vision.
Jealousy struck me at how easy it looked for him to strike up conversations. Everyone had labeled me the shy one, but it was more than that. I had a deep-rooted anxiety about social situations. So even starting conversations became a fear. This senior year I had my first couple of boyfriends, but they had both broken up with me for the same reason―they felt I was too quiet. I was, I knew that, but still it hurt none-the-less.
Eric stalked forward toward me and my heart stalled on its next beat. Fear gripped me from the inside out. It’s not that we hadn’t talked over our years growing up houses away from each other or when our families got together, but this felt different to me. It hit me right then that I had a crush on him. I liked him noticing me.
“Hey, you’re up, Marisa,” he cockily whispered, while arching his eyebrows.
Swallowing first and then breathing in deep, I turned to see that there was a huge gap in the line now and everyone was waiting for me to take my turn. My cheeks flushed again even though my body was cool from being wet. I mumbled, “Mikaela.”
“What?” he asked, looking confused.
“It’s Mikaela,” I corrected him again.
Laughing, he nudged me forward and as I climbed up the slide he said, “Well, I had a one-in-three shot of getting it right.” This is something we had heard for years from him.
I slid down that slide as fast as I could, afraid he’d seen my embarrassment … Afraid he’d sensed my crush. When I got to the end of the slide, I hopped off and raced to the house. I ran past the front porch where everyone had congregated again and crept along the side of my house to the back door.
Once inside, I raced up to my bedroom. The wooden stairs creaked with each step, the one at the top making the most noise. Luckily, my parents had made sure to give each of us our own room. They were small, but we were each allowed our own private space. I was probably the most thankful for this.
My skin had cooled even more since the sun was completely down now. The first thing I did once in my bedroom was turn off my fan. I shivered as I reached for my towel hanging on the back of my bedroom door. Quickly, I dried myself off and then began the torturous process of taking off my wet swimsuit. My clothes stuck to my skin just like when I got dressed too fast after a shower.
Just as I pulled my t-shirt down, I scolded myself internally for having a ridiculous crush on Eric. It’s not like he was nice to me, or my sisters for that matter. Then I pulled on my white cotton underwear, flattening them straight out over my belly. He was
popular though, in that bad boy kind of way. He had no problem making fun of someone just so the others would laugh and flock to him. I left my shorts on my bed to let my legs dry a bit more.
Then why did I feel like I craved his glance or enjoyed his wink when he looked down at my cleavage? The thing was that over this summer he had been nice to me a couple of times. No one else saw and it was nothing crazy, but just little niceties. I’m sure he didn’t want anyone to know he had this side.
I grabbed my brush off my dresser and started to untangle my wet hair. The sound of that top stair creaking echoed in my room and I wondered if maybe one of my sisters had come in to change too. Once I was finished getting dressed I’d go back down to the party and stick with my sisters. My brush was halfway down my long dark chestnut hair when my door opened. My heart jumped and when I looked through my mirror to the doorway, I saw Eric walking into my room and then shutting my door.
Standing there, shell shocked and stunned, I froze. I didn’t turn around at first and my arm stayed raised with the brush in my hair. I blinked a couple of times and watched Eric stand just beside the closed door and lean against my bare peach painted wall.
“Did I embarrass you?” he asked in a shallow deep voice.
I turned around and faced him with my eyes staring at my wooden floor. He crossed his legs, one over the other, as if he was getting comfortable for a long stay. My eyes veered to the right and focused on the small dolphin stuffed animal my dad had gotten me on a trip years ago.
“Mikaela, I asked you something,” he pressed.
My eyes flicked up and he looked like a shadow standing along my wall with only my low-lit desk lamp on. I begged my voice to sound strong, or at least stronger than I felt. “I, I don’t know.” I knew that I had failed. I was torn with mixed emotions, a bit of fear and wanting to leave my room and the excitement of him possibly liking me, kissing me.
“Have you even kissed a boy yet? God, sometimes I don’t even notice you and then other times you seem to be the sexiest one.” The comment came like a slap to my face, but again I felt torn between mixed emotions. I questioned if he was paying me a compliment or being mean.
Being in the small space of my room, I didn’t know how to respond. I didn’t have Marisa or Mya to respond for me. “Yes, of course,” I replied sharply, hoping that I hinted that I had more experience than he gave me credit for.
“Good,” he returned with equal bite. Then he moved his arm slowly and locked my bedroom door. My heart dropped and all the air seemed to have left my lungs. My head felt like it was spinning, but I didn’t feel fear, only nervousness. Eric was going to kiss me. My sisters would be appalled, and yet here I stood light-headed.
Eric came to me and I dropped my brush to the floor. His lips were the only thing that touched me at first; my still cool lips smashed against his and then began to warm upon the entry of his tongue. The taste of what seemed like stale beer covered my taste buds. I figured he had been drinking; his dad had been letting him drink for years now.
All I could think was Eric Black was kissing me, in my bedroom with the door locked. No one would believe this. Then my next thought was that I wanted to make sure I was kissing him back in a way that told him I had experience and knew what I was doing.
The kiss had barely started when I felt Eric’s hand grab onto my waist. His tongue became more forceful as it slid across mine, so I tried to match the intensity of it. Then his fingers touched my bare waist just under my shirt. I flinched and worried he felt it, but it didn’t stop him from kissing me. He gripped my waist, now with both hands under my shirt tightly and pulled himself into me.
Again I flinched because I could feel the length of him at my abdomen. The wetness of his swimsuit seeped into my underwear. He groaned into my mouth and this time I tried to pull myself from his hold. Our mouths separated, but his body stayed in contact with mine, his grip still tight.
“So you do know what you’re doing,” he stated huskily, his voice sounding raspy and dry. Blindly, I took it as a compliment and turned my head down and slightly to the side. I couldn’t stop the small smile that hovered on my lips. I was partly ashamed of my joy about his praise and partly proud. “Don’t turn away.” His fingers released the one side of my waist and came to lift my chin up. “I want to keep kissing you; you’re quiet but I think I like that.”
This time when our lips met, I whimpered from the force of his tongue and teeth. He nipped and pressed too hard, but I could tell he thought I was enjoying it. I tried to pull back again, but he only drove his tongue in further. My sounds of protest became muffled, and when I tried to squirm out of his firm hands on my hips, I couldn’t get away.
Suddenly, the strength of Eric’s body, presence, even his scent, was too much. I weakened with each passing second. My sounds more and more muffled. His hands grabbing me closer and closer to him. I had no room to breathe or move. My body sunk into something soft and the wetness of my towel hit my bare behind. The heaviness of Eric consumed my body. Somehow my underwear was already halfway down my thighs. I could feel the slick skin of his hardness move up and down along my abdomen … and then down further.
I felt small and then another minute passed and I felt even smaller. A ripping sound shrieked through my ear canals, as if that was all I could hear. My underwear was gone. I started to scream into Eric’s mouth, but he grabbed part of my comforter and covered my mouth. The only sound that could be heard by anyone outside of this room was the music from the block party.
“Shh, just be quiet, like you always are,” he heaved out in between deep frustrated breaths along my sweaty forehead. “It’ll only take a minute.” I didn’t stop though, I kept screaming. My legs and arms were strained but I kept fighting. Even in my fitful fight I could feel my soul being taken somewhere dark with no point of return anytime soon.
The whole time I knew it wasn’t enough though. This horrible act would occur regardless of how loud or quiet I was. Eric was probably right, it only took a minute, but for me it felt like I lost a lifetime. June 30th, 2007 would forever be embedded into a dark compartment in my mind. The mixed emotions I felt about Eric Black would haunt me relentlessly. The shame I felt was nothing compared to how incredibly stupid I felt for trusting him, for liking him even. It made me feel as if I asked for it. In the end, I felt completely and utterly destroyed.
When Eric rolled off me I gasped, but no noise came out of my mouth. My sobs were quiet, yet my ears were flooded with white noise. He mumbled some words that were incoherent to me and then as he opened my door he said, “Fuck, let’s not tell anyone about this.”
I DID IT. I SPILLED my guts, telling Ryan every gory detail of that night. I never even paused to cry or take a deep breath. Now, besides my therapists, Ryan is the only person who knows everything. Even my mom did not know all of this and she certainly never knew that Eric Black was the reason I stayed in my room locked up for months. No one knew that it was because of Eric that I stayed at home, never went to college with my sisters and became recluse.
Deep heavy breaths fill the silence of the room from not only me, but Ryan too, while my mind and body swim with anxiety. The fear I felt before the words left my mouth has only increased. Now that I have something solid and concrete to lose, my heart feels the heaviest it’s felt in ages.
The thing about rape is that it’s one thing for your mind to know what occurred was indeed rape, but that reasoning is never delivered to your heart and soul. My heart and soul seem to always doubt and put the blame on me. Still even now, after just reliving the event, I curse myself for ever having that stupid crush and for liking it when he kissed me.
I can only imagine the thoughts swimming through Ryan’s head right now … I sit here stiff, praying that he isn’t angry with me for keeping this from him. I’m sure there is a pool of memories between us that had struck him as odd, but now make some kind of sense. The thing is though, I know I’m odd, certainly more odd after that day, but I also know I’ve made p
rogress over the years.
Sitting there stiff, barely able to take in my next breath, I notice the dip in the bed beside me. Ryan is pacing the small space between the bed and the windows, fists clenched at his sides, jaw ridged and head shaking ever so slightly.
“Shit,” I hear Ryan grit out, even though his jaw is locked.
My breathing picks up in speed as dark thoughts and feelings begin to invade the open space of my mind. Red and blues swirl through me as I think that maybe I shouldn’t have shared this. It’s too much. Maybe Ryan views me as damaged goods or feels I deserved it or …
“Did your parents know about this?” Ryan demands, still pacing back and forth. Not being able to read his reaction, I stand up in the hopes of evening my breathing out. I beg myself to not panic. “Mik, answer me.” His voice is hoarse and raw.
“No … not really. My mom knew something, but not the details.” One breath at a time I begin to step closer to him. Tears stain both of his cheeks and his wet lashes lay clumped together along the tender skin just below his closed eyes. He’s standing still for the first time since I finished telling him.
“Fuck, I’ll kill ‘em, Mik,” he states clear as day, jaw slackened a little now.
“Ry?” I whisper, but he doesn’t answer. “Ry?” I ask a little louder.
“What Mik? What?” he questions too loud, anger prevalent in his tone. His eyes open and they look wild, unfocused.
“You’re scaring me,” I mutter with my eyes beginning to pool with tears.
“Why didn’t you tell them? It’s been too long now. He should have paid for his crime.” Again he starts pacing.
“I didn’t tell them because …” I pause remembering exactly why I didn’t tell them the horrid details. I would never have told my dad, but my mom I could have. Instead I kept it locked up inside me, unsure of my own wrongs. My mom is gone now, so there’s no way for me to know if I could have ever told her. She did her best to comfort me considering she only knew I was hurt about a boy. She knew it ran deeper than a crush, yet I knew it had all started because of a stupid crush on a ‘bad boy’. Had it not been for her persistence, I would have never gone to therapy, moved out and pursued my own life though. Those notions had built in me because of her. Her passing only encouraged me to do what I know she wanted more than the sun to rise the next day.
Love Found in California (The Washington Triplets) Page 8
