Sweet Sorrow

by Tricia Drammeh

  “No, it’s not like that. I just don’t want him to think I’ve been telling you stuff.”

  “Who cares what the fuck he thinks? You sure as hell shouldn’t care. He’s a piece of shit who deserves to rot in hell for what he did to you.”

  “You don’t even know what he did. Or if he did anything at all.”

  “Oh yeah? Well, I can guess. I know he did something to you, Rowan. I’m not stupid. Maybe you don’t realize what you said in your sleep.”

  “What? What did I say?” I gasp.

  Eddie’s voice goes soft. “Rowan, you were terrified. Screaming. I’m surprised you didn’t wake the whole apartment complex. Mark raped you, didn’t he?”

  All the air has been sucked from my lungs. I can’t breathe. I can’t think.

  “Rowan?”

  “I gotta go.” I disconnect the call and drop my phone. My lack of response is probably the most damning confession, but I had been too stunned and upset to concoct a lie.

  All evening long, I’m engaged in a vicious mental battle. School versus staying home again with a semi-fake illness. Quitting the play versus sticking it out. I alternate between fury at Mark, and fury at myself for having allowed what he did to ruin my life. I waver between resolve and fear. I barely sleep at all.

  The next morning, I get up, not sure whether or not I’ll go to school, or whether I’ll crawl back under the covers. I’m constantly looking at the time, counting down the moments until I have to make a decision so I can call Morgan to tell her not to pick me up.

  My mom knocks on my door. “How are you feeling?” she asks. “Are you going to school today?”

  “Um, I don’t know. My stomach is still upset. I’m not sure if I’m going.”

  “I’d better call Dr. Marsh’s office.”

  “No. I’m not that sick.”

  “Then you’re going to school,” my dad’s voice interjects.

  “Fine.” I finish getting ready, slowly, methodically. I count each stroke of the hairbrush as it runs through my hair. Each second that passes as I wait for Morgan. Each frantic text from Eddie asking why I won’t talk to him.

  Morgan’s car is in the driveway, and with a shaky sigh, I’m clomping out the door, wondering if it’s too late to change my mind. Morgan greets me, but I barely hear a word she says. I’m mentally calculating how many minutes there are in the day. How many minutes in a regular school day versus how many minutes there are if I stay for rehearsal. I calculate how many days are left in the school year. How many actual school days versus how many days including weekends. I want to graduate and go to college so I never have to see any of these people again.

  Eddie is waiting for us outside. My heart thuds. Despite my embarrassment that he knows the truth, my anger at him for confronting Mark, and my fear of actually talking to him, I can’t help but shiver when I see Eddie. He’s so beautiful to me. So perfect.

  My heart thaws when he opens the car door for me to get out.

  “See you inside,” Morgan says, leaving me alone with Eddie.

  He pulls me close, and though I initially stiffen, I eventually melt into him. My body fits against his as if we’re made for each other. Two pieces in a puzzle, the only pieces that could ever fit.

  “I’ve missed you, Row. I’ve been going crazy.”

  “I’ve missed you too.” I can’t lie to him. Not while he’s touching me, holding me close.

  “Why? Why haven’t you wanted to talk to me?”

  “Look, I can’t talk about this right now.”

  “I have to know you don’t hate me. I have to know we’re still okay.”

  “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. But I literally can’t talk about this right now. I just need to get through the day. We’ll talk later, okay?”

  “Okay. You’re going to rehearsal, right?”

  I can’t answer because Mark is coming toward us and the fury on his face takes my breath away. The past comes rushing at me, almost pulling me under.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I hate Mark in a way I never had before. Part of me has blamed myself for what happened, but not anymore. I hate him. Loathe him. I want to hurt him in a way I’ve never wanted to hurt another human being.

  Mark walks past us with a glare. He won’t start anything with me. Not in front of Eddie. He can’t afford to get in a fight at school. He’ll be suspended or expelled, and might lose his scholarship.

  Eddie tenses beside me, but he won’t start anything either. Not right now. Not in front of witnesses. He can’t afford any more legal trouble.

  The first bell rings and students quit staring at Eddie and me, and move toward the building. Eddie and I have been objects of curiosity ever since the day the news of us dating became common knowledge. Now that Eddie and Mark have come to blows, speculation runs rampant and Eddie and I have attracted a growing legion of gawkers.

  Eddie squeezes my hand before we go our separate ways. I wade through the sea of students, avoiding eye contact, and make my way to class. The room is half full, and the students who are seated watch me as I walk to my desk. Maybe I’m only imagining the knowing glances, the curious stares. Maybe it’s paranoia that makes me believe I’m the talk of the school.

  I’m relieved when the final bell rings and class begins. The teacher’s droning voice gives me a focal point, and even though I’m not completely absorbed by the lesson, it’s better than listening to the hissing whispers of my classmates, wondering if I’m the subject of their covert conversation.

  The day is halfway over and I’m beginning to believe I might survive the day. Maybe even the rest of the school year. I walk into my creative writing class, and a runner from the office is standing at Mrs. Abrams’ desk. My teacher motions to me and as I approach, the runner leaves, on her way to her next errand.

  “You’re needed in the office,” Mrs. Abrams says, handing me an office pass.

  “Um, now?”

  “Of course,” she replies, sounding annoyed.

  The bell rings. I leave the classroom as the final student slips in the door. The hall is empty. I turn the corner and Mark is standing right there. I halt, my breath coming rapidly. I start to turn away, but he closes the distance between us and grabs me by my ponytail, jerking me backwards.

  “You fucking bitch,” he hisses. “You think you can send your new Mexicano boyfriend after me to start some shit? Think again.”

  “I…I didn’t…He…”

  Mark repeats my stuttered denials in a high pitched, mocking voice. “I don’t know what you told Eddie, but you’d better un-tell him. And if you told anyone else? You’d better un-tell them too, or I’ll fuck you up so bad, you won’t be able to open your mouth. You make me sick. I hated every minute that I was on top of you. I did you a favor. And this is how you repay me? By making up a bunch of bullshit and telling Eddie to kick my ass?”

  He releases his grip on my hair. He spins me around and pushes me against the row of lockers. The back of my heads slams into the hard metal and I cry out in pain. My vision blurs. I begin to slide to the ground, but Mark hauls me to my feet. He squeezes my throat. I’m praying for someone—anyone—to walk down the hallway.

  “You’d better make sure you don’t open that useless piehole of yours again. Not unless it’s to suck my…”

  “What’s going on?” A stern voice calls out.

  “Nothing, Mr. Dansen,” Mark says calmly, releasing me.

  I crumple to the ground as Mr. Dansen rushes toward us.

  “She tripped in the hallway. I was helping her up,” Mark says as my vision fades in and out. “I’ll go get the nurse…”

  “Hold it right there, Mr. Evanston,” the principal says. A classroom door opens and other voices join us in the hallway. Mr. Dansen says, “Call Coach Murdoch. Tell him to meet us in the nurse’s office.”

  Strong arms help me to my feet. I’m crying as the principal leads me down the hallway toward the clinic. I can hear Mark protesting, but his voice sounds far awa
y. Voices collide and drift apart. I’m aware of my dad holding my hand. The nurse telling someone I should be seen right away. And then paramedics wheeling me down the hallway, past wide-eyed students, into the sunlight.

  My protests are weak as I’m loaded into an ambulance. There are no sirens, but paramedics fuss around me, taking my vitals, telling me not to sit up. At the hospital, I’m x-rayed and CT scanned, examined by a doctor, and told I have a mild concussion. At some point, my mom joins my dad at my bedside.

  “Mark did this? Mark? I never liked him, but I never imagined he’d do something like this,” my mom whispers to my dad when she thinks I’m not listening. My eyes are closed, but I’m not sleeping.

  “I can’t believe it either. Maybe it’s in retaliation for what Eddie did, but that’s no excuse. That little bastard. I hope he’s expelled. If I have any say, he will be.”

  I don’t know if he’s referring to Mark or to Eddie.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Murdoch?”

  I open my eyes to see a police officer standing in the hospital room.

  “Yes?” Dad asks.

  “We’d like to ask your daughter a few questions before she’s discharged,” the officer says.

  “Can it wait?” Mom asks. “She’s in pain. Completely traumatized. Can’t we come down to the station tomorrow for her to make a statement?”

  “It won’t take long,” the officer assures us.

  “Rowan?” Dad asks, looking at me.

  I’m hesitant. Nervous about what the officer is going to ask me. Hoping his questions won’t go beyond what happened in the hallway today. “Um, I guess,” I finally say.

  “Thank you, Miss Murdoch. Can we call you Rowan?”

  “Sure.”

  Mom moves her chair closer to me and takes my hand.

  “Can you tell us what happened today?”

  I describe Mark surprising me in the hallway.

  Dad interrupts. “Apparently, Mark talked one of the office helpers into getting Rowan out of class. He ambushed her.”

  “I’ll make a note of that,” the officer says. Then turning his attention back to me, he asks, “Did Mr. Evanston say anything to you before or during the attack?”

  I swallow and look down at my hands, wondering how much I should say. I tell the officer what Mark said about me sending Eddie to attack him, but I don’t say anything about Mark warning me to keep my mouth shut.

  “Mark is your ex-boyfriend?” the officer asks.

  “Yeah.”

  “And he was in an altercation with your current boyfriend?”

  “Yeah. Over the weekend. I wasn’t there when it happened.”

  The officer takes notes. He doesn’t look up at me. One corner of his mouth is turned down. I know what he’s thinking. That I’m a little slut who’s playing one boy off the other, stirring shit up just to get a little attention. I’ve seen girls do that before. It’s always ugly. And it’s something I would never do. I wonder if my dad is thinking the same thing.

  “Did Mr. Evanston say anything else to you?”

  I look away, blinking back tears.

  “Rowan, if you don’t tell us everything, we can’t help you,” the officer says gently.

  “He…” Blood is rushing to my head, increasing my already pounding headache. “He…”

  I’m stammering, on the verge of spilling my guts. The burden of secrets is too heavy. The pain too intense. Shame holds the words inside me. I’m choking on them.

  “Rowan? Honey?” Mom’s voice is tremulous, like she knows, but doesn’t want to.

  “He threatened to… He said if I told anyone what happened…” Sobs burst forth, and the words tumble out. I don’t look at my parents, but the expression on the officer’s face is grim. A sob escapes my mom’s throat and Dad is cursing, fighting back tears.

  My secret is out, and no one in my family will ever be the same.

  “My baby. My poor girl,” Mom cries, hugging me.

  “I should have known. That sick bastard. If I get my hands on him…”

  “Mr. Murdoch,” the officer says before my dad can articulate his threats, “I’m going to talk to the DA’s office. Given your daughter’s accusations and the nature of today’s incident, I don’t think we’ll have any trouble getting an order of protection. Here’s my card. I’ll be in contact with you later today or tomorrow with an update. Rowan, I’ll probably need you to come down to the station to make a written statement.”

  I nod. I can hardly look at my parents. I’m ashamed. Regret wars with relief as I’m discharged from the hospital with nothing but a mild concussion. At the very least, Mark is facing an assault charge. Possibly rape.

  The secret is out. For so long, my life has been defined by keeping that secret. And now it isn’t a secret any longer.

  My face burns with shame when I think of how many people will eventually hear about what had happened. Now that I’ve confessed, Mark might tell everyone about my “lies” in order to try to sway public opinion. If everyone at school is talking about me, the rest of my senior year will be unbearable. Maybe I can do my schoolwork at home or something.

  Mom and Dad are silent as we leave the hospital. Mom sniffles occasionally, but Dad is stony. I wonder what he’s thinking. It isn’t long before I find out.

  ***

  Morgan wants to come over and spend the night. At first I tell her no, but the more I think about it, the more I want her around me. I don’t want to be alone with my parents, alone with a phone that’s constantly ringing. People I’ve barely talked to this school year are calling me. Texting me. Asking if I’m okay. It’s obvious the word is out about today’s incident. Do people know about what Mark did to me last spring? Morgan will know what people are saying. She can fill me in.

  Eddie’s been burning up my phone all afternoon and evening, asking me if I’m okay and begging me to talk to him. I don’t know what to say. Before I talk to him, I need to sort out my feelings. I need Morgan.

  I have to check with my parents first, but after everything that happened, I’m sure they know I really need a friend right now. They won’t turn down my request. I raise my fist to knock on their bedroom door, but I hear Dad’s voice, and I pause.

  “I’ve failed as a father, Melly. I’m a failure. Did you know that at my last high school reunion, I bragged about my job? In front of doctors and lawyers, people who make two million bucks a year, I bragged about my job even though I barely make enough money to keep us alive. You know what I said? I said, I might not make much money, but I make a difference. Kids come to me for advice; they look up to me. You know who didn’t come to me when she needed it?”

  “Oh, Randy, don’t do this to yourself…”

  “My own daughter. My own daughter didn’t come to me when she was hurting. Who cares about all those other kids who confided in me? My own daughter didn’t come to me when the worst thing that could ever happen to a person happened to her.”

  He’s crying. My dad is crying. Because of me. I squeeze my eyes shut and tears leak from the corners. My chest feels like it’s going to explode from the pain.

  Dad’s voice is choked with emotion and self-recrimination. “You know what else I told my old friends? I told them the best part about my job was that I was there for Rowan. I could watch out for my daughter. I knew her teachers. I knew if she didn’t do her homework, or if someone was picking on her. I knew the kind of boys she dated, and could put the fear of God in them. Well, I lied to them, and I lied to myself. I couldn’t protect my own daughter. And the boy who hurt her was a boy who looked me in the eye every day after school and lied to my face.”

  “Honey, you couldn’t have known.” Mom lets out a huge sob.

  “Mark came to my office at the beginning of the season. He told me he was sorry things didn’t work out between him and Rowan. He told me…he told me he still loved her, that he’d do anything for her. I told him sometimes things don’t work out, and that I didn’t hold it against him. I respected him for coming t
o me, man to man, to set the record straight. If I’d known then what that little bastard had done…”

  Dad’s voice rises to a volume usually reserved for the football field. Mom shushes him, murmuring what are probably meant to be soothing things. I can barely hear her through the door.

  “That son-of-a-bitch raped my little girl. And I couldn’t protect her. I failed her. I failed our family.”

  “We both did,” Mom cries. “I thought Rowan and I were close. I thought she could talk to me about anything. Why couldn’t she talk to me about this? I knew something was wrong. She barely got out of bed all summer, except to go to work. There were times I could tell she hadn’t showered for a few days, but I chalked it up to teenage laziness. One day when she was at work, I even searched her room for drugs. I should have forced her to tell me what was wrong. I should have taken her to a counselor…”

  Dad interrupts. “You never liked Mark. You knew there was something wrong with him, but I didn’t trust your instincts. I told you he was a good kid, that I knew him and his family. I told you I’d keep an eye on him, but I didn’t. I don’t trust my own judgment anymore, Mel. I used to think I was a good judge of character. I wrote a letter of recommendation for Mark, vouching for his strong work ethic and character. How many other sociopaths have I recommended through the years?”

  “Mark fooled everyone. Not just you,” Mom says.

  “He never fooled you.”

  I step away from the closed door and go back to my room. I call Morgan and tell her it isn’t a good night for her to come over. And then I turn off my phone, shutting out my classmates and Eddie and the rest of the world.

  But I can’t escape my own thoughts. Or the fear that I’ve made a terrible mistake.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I stay home from school. So does my dad. According to Principal Dansen, Dad can take as much time as he needs.

  Through Morgan and my dad, I discover Mark spent a night in jail. So far, he’s only been charged with assault. The alleged rape is under investigation. Mark is out on a fifty-thousand dollar bond, which is pocket change for his father.