Sweet Sorrow

by Tricia Drammeh

  He’s also been suspended from school. Permanent expulsion is pending review by the school board. No doubt Mark’s father has screamed and threatened and hired an attorney. But, for the first time in his life, there might not be anything he can do for his spoiled son. While the rape might be my word against Mark’s, the assault was witnessed by the principal. Mark won’t be able to weasel out of trouble. I hope.

  Mark has also been issued a restraining order. He is not allowed within one-thousand feet of me, so even when (or if) he returns to school, he’ll have to change classes during a non-passing time in order to avoid running into me in the halls. Mark’s life has been altered at least temporarily.

  “I hope that little SOB spends the rest of his life in jail. Who knows how many other girls he’s assaulted,” Dad says in a hushed voice as he and Mom sit at the kitchen table, sipping coffee. It’s a Wednesday morning, so it’s strange to see them both home. Mom has taken personal days for the rest of the week. I wish Mom and Dad would have gone on with their lives like normal. If such a thing is even possible.

  “I agree. I’d be willing to bet he’s done this before. And he’ll do it again. Especially if he gets away with it without consequences.”

  I make a bunch of noise as I come closer to the kitchen, and their conversation ceases. Good.

  “Hi,” I murmur, still feeling uncomfortable around them. I feel like they’re looking through me. Scrutinizing me. Searching for some sign that I’m okay. Or not okay.

  “Coffee?” Mom asks.

  “I think I’ll just have some juice.”

  My parents are silent while I make breakfast. When I sit down at the table, they exchange a look.

  Mom reaches out and squeezes my hand. “Your dad and I think it would be helpful if you see a counselor.”

  I let out a deep breath. “Okay.”

  Mom’s eyes go wide, like she’d expected me to argue with her.

  “I want to see someone. I’ve been having anxiety attacks since…well, I think it would be good to talk to someone.”

  “I’ll call the insurance company and get a referral,” she says.

  “Is it okay if Morgan comes over tonight?” I ask, looking away from her.

  “I guess so, but doesn’t she have to get up early for school tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, but we won’t stay up late.”

  “If it’s okay with her parents, it’s fine with me.”

  “Thanks.” I get up from the table, anxious to escape back to my room.

  “Honey, can we talk for a few minutes?”

  I sit back down slowly. “Uh, I guess.”

  “Have you thought about when you might want to go back to school?”

  “Never?” I force out a laugh. Mom is staring at me, so I finally say, “I don’t know. Maybe Monday.”

  “That long? What about the play? And your schoolwork?” she asks.

  “Her teachers will wait,” Dad says quickly. “I’ll talk to them.”

  “I’m sure they will be understanding, but the longer you wait, the harder it will be to go back.”

  Dad frowns at Mom. “A few more days won’t hurt.”

  Mom gives Dad a look that promises a serious conversation later. I ease out of the room, startled by the turn of events. I’d thought Mom would have been my greatest advocate in avoiding school, but it seems Dad is my biggest ally.

  As soon as I leave the room, Mom and Dad go back to whispering. I stop a few feet away and eavesdrop.

  “She can’t stay home forever,” Mom says.

  “It isn’t forever. Just for a few days until things calm down.”

  “Things aren’t going to calm down right away. No matter when she decides to go back to school, people are going to talk and whisper and stare. After a couple of days, people will find something else to worry about.”

  “Yeah, well, to be honest, I’m not looking forward to going back either,” Dad says.

  “Have you thought about applying for a transfer?” Mom asks.

  “Before or after I kill Mark?” he asks. “Yeah. I doubt Mark will be back at school. I doubt I’ll have to look that little bastard in the eye. But I don’t know how I feel about facing everyone else. The other coaches. The other students. You know how rumors spread.”

  “Things will settle down for you too.”

  “Will they? Rowan will be graduating in a few weeks, but I’ll always be known as the coach whose daughter was raped. The coach who wrote a freaking letter of recommendation for the rapist.”

  “Honey, no one is going to blame you.”

  “They’ll pity me. Is that better?”

  “There are worse things,” she says, her voice trembling a little.

  “Yes, there are,” Dad replies. “So instead of worrying about myself or my career, I should be focusing on helping my daughter get through the worst experience of her life.” He pauses. “Do you really think she should go back to school so soon?”

  “No later than Monday. She has to face this. We’ll be there to support her, but she can’t hide forever. I won’t let her.”

  “I love you, Melly.”

  “I love you too, Honey.”

  I walk away, feeling like maybe my family isn’t going to fall apart. If my parents still love each other and they still love me, maybe we have a chance.

  ***

  On Friday, I see a counselor. It helps, though nothing she can say can make me feel better about going back to school. It’s strange that the more I talk about the rape, the easier it is to talk about it. Or maybe that’s because I know the counselor isn’t going to judge me. I dread having to talk to the police again, and consider withdrawing the rape complaint so I won’t have to deal with it. The assault charge is enough. But when I think about letting Mark get away with what he’s done, I’m filled with rage. The all-consuming hatred I feel toward him has driven away some of the fear, but not all.

  I never thought it would be possible to feel so many conflicting emotions all at the same time. With Mark, the counselor assures me it’s normal for me to feel fear, anger, shame, and guilt all at the same time. But why do I have those feelings when I think about Eddie? I haven’t talked to the counselor about Eddie. Maybe next session. Maybe never.

  I spend the weekend avoiding Eddie’s calls and texts. He eventually takes the hint and stops calling me. I don’t know whether or not that’s a good thing. I haven’t made up my mind about whether or not I want to talk to him.

  On Monday morning, I awaken with a sick feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. I keep hitting snooze on my alarm and going back to sleep. At last, I get up and stumble through my morning routine, praying for an earthquake or other natural disaster that would force school to shut down for the day. Nothing happens. Not even a tremor.

  Dad offers to drive me, but if I have to go to school, I prefer to stick to my usual routine. Morgan drives me instead. We avoid talking about anything serious on the way, but both of us know the day isn’t going to be easy for me.

  When we arrive at school, I half expect to see Eddie standing there, watching for us, but he’s nowhere in sight. I feel mildly disappointed, but relieved too. Morgan sticks close by my side as we walk toward the school. A couple of baseball players—Mark’s usual sidekicks—glare at me as I walk past. I avert my eyes. Other people are looking at me with open curiosity, but there’s animosity too, and not just from the jocks. A few girls I’ve known since middle school sneer at me, huddling together to whisper as I finish my trek across the parking lot.

  Things don’t get better once we’re inside the building. The whispers and stares continue, but those don’t bother me as much as the seething anger. I’d expected curiosity, but not fury. Not scorn. Not the open hatred I’m seeing right now.

  The whole day is that way. Teachers and some students look at me with pity, and it’s obvious they know about my accusations against Mark. Other students look at me with open disdain.

  It’s time for art appreciation, and I dread seeing Eddi
e. He’s stiff and awkward as he takes his seat beside me.

  “Hi,” he says, barely looking at me.

  “Hi,” I murmur.

  Class begins without Eddie and I speaking. He doesn’t nudge me. Doesn’t hold my hand underneath the table the way he usually does. He just sits there, pretending to listen to the lesson. And I sit beside him, fighting back tears. I know I’ve been a bitch by ignoring his calls and texts, but I thought he would have understood. Instead, he acts like he’s pissed at me. After days of avoiding him, I want nothing more than to talk to him.

  When class is over, he asks, “You going to rehearsal?”

  I shrug. “Yeah, I guess,” I reply.

  The only reason I agree to go is because I need to talk to Eddie. I need him to hug me and tell me everything is going to be okay, that not everyone hates me, and that people will get over it soon and move on to gossiping about something else.

  “Okay, see you in a few,” he says, turning away from me. He’s out the door before I can figure out what happened. He doesn’t wait for me like he usually does. He’s just…gone.

  Maybe he’s given up on me because I’ve pushed him away for the past week. Or maybe he’s decided he can’t handle the drama that comes with being with someone like me. Whatever the case, it’s obvious things have changed between us. For the first time in days, I’m not thinking about Mark. I’m thinking about Eddie.

  People are gaping at me when I enter the auditorium for rehearsal, but I’m definitely getting a different vibe here. There’s no hate. No judgment. Just surprise that I showed up today. People say hi to me. A couple of girls hug me without saying a word. I love my drama friends, and I can’t believe I ever considered giving this up. I decide not to quit the play. I might concede my part to Morgan and work behind the scenes instead, but there’s no way I’m dropping out altogether. This is the only place I feel normal.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” Morgan says when she sees me. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

  “Neither was I, but it’s good to be here. I need something to focus on besides, well, you know.”

  “And you’re still performing, right?” What she’s really asking is if I’m still holding on to my role as Juliet.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “I refuse to take the role. If you quit, someone else will have to take over.”

  “Come on, Mo, that’s your dream role.”

  “No, it’s your dream role, which is why I’m not taking it. You worked hard for this.” She lowers her voice and leans close. “Mark has taken enough from you. I’ll be damned if I’ll let him take this.”

  I nod, unable to speak. She’s right. Just like my mom had been right when she made me come back to school. Sure, it’s hard. Harder than I ever imagined. But I can’t quit life. I have to do this. I have to try.

  Eddie walks through the auditorium doors at the last minute. He doesn’t look at me until rehearsal begins and we’re forced to perform opposite of each other. His lines are flawless, but his eyes are dead when he looks at me.

  I swallow my tears and force myself to keep going. The show must go on. And that’s what my life will be until graduation. A show.

  Chapter Twenty

  After rehearsal, I ask Eddie if I can talk to him. He shrugs. Morgan gives me a knowing glance and tells me she needs to visit her locker, and that she’ll see me in a few. I’m nervous as Eddie and I make our silent trek outside to the parking lot. I pause by Morgan’s car, hoping no one interrupts us.

  “What’s up?” he asks, crossing his arms in front of him.

  “Um, nothing. Just wanted to talk to you. You seem…”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know. Seems like you don’t want to talk to me. I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you.”

  “So am I.” His jaw clenches and he glances away.

  “I’ve just been so confused. And stressed out.”

  Eddie looks back at me. His face twists with hurt. “Stressed out? You’re stressed out? Look, I know you’ve been through a lot. But so have I. I sat in jail for two days. I owe my brother a fucking fortune. And I violated my probation.”

  “That’s not my fault. I never asked you to fight Mark.”

  “I’m not blaming you, Row. But I never would have gone after Mark if it wasn’t for you. I defended you. I kicked his ass because of what he did to you. And then you cut me off. Thanks a lot.”

  “That’s not why I cut you off. Well, it was part of it. Just all the memories about what happened…” I look away from him, too humiliated to elaborate.

  “I get that. I really do. The point is, I had your back. You obviously don’t have mine.”

  The double doors by the auditorium open and a few people walk out, looking at me and Eddie curiously. We wait until they get in their cars and drive away before we pick up the tattered threads of our conversation.

  “All I wanted to do was be there for you,” Eddie says. His voice is laced with pain. “I wanted to talk to you, to find out if you were okay, but instead I have to talk to Morgan to find out what’s going on.”

  I knew Morgan had talked to Eddie a couple of times, but I hadn’t realized Eddie would have turned to her for information when I wouldn’t speak to him. Guilt begins to take root as I realize how self-centered I’ve been.

  “Morgan told me you weren’t ready to talk to me. Do you have any idea how much that hurt? I thought we were friends at the very least. I thought we could tell each other anything. I understand why you couldn’t talk about…that, but you could have at least returned my calls, even if it was to tell me you weren’t feeling like talking. Anything would have been better than you ignoring me.”

  “Eddie, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…”

  “That’s fine. Whatever. I’ll leave you alone from now on. You’ve got your issues, and I’ve got mine. I guess we’ll work through our separate shit separately. Good luck with everything, okay?”

  He walks away from me without another glance.

  “Eddie,” I call. He keeps walking. I know he can hear me, but maybe he wants to give me a taste of the same crap I’ve been dishing out. Maybe he wants me to feel what it’s like to be ignored by someone I love.

  Love. I love Eddie. And he loves me. Or at least, he did. Tears roll down my face as I realize how badly I’ve screwed up. I should have handled everything differently. I should have resolved my issues with Mark before I ever began a relationship with Eddie. I should have turned Mark in last spring, instead of waiting so long and then dragging my family and Eddie through the mud. I should have stayed home that night long ago instead of going to that party with Mark.

  I’m mired in regret, and as Morgan walks toward me, I try to wipe away my tears. But Morgan knows I’ve been crying. She pulls me into a hug and lets me cry on her shoulder until all my tears are dry.

  ***

  Laura, my therapist, taps her pen on the notepad in front of her. I wonder what she’s been writing about me, especially after I told her about Eddie and what he did to Mark.

  “What do you think you could have done differently?” she asks.

  “I could have returned his phone calls, for one. I didn’t realize how selfish I’d been by ignoring him.”

  “Did Eddie say you were selfish?”

  “Not in so many words.”

  “Do you think you were acting in a selfish way by not communicating with Eddie?”

  “Yeah, in a way. It wouldn’t have killed me to send him a text or something.”

  “Maybe. But do you think it’s possible that you needed some time to process everything that had happened?”

  “I guess.”

  “You’ve been suppressing your feelings for months, so I think it’s perfectly reasonable that you needed to put yourself and your emotions first.”

  “True, but after what Eddie did for me, I could have at least called him.”

  “Eddie made his own choice to confront Mark. He’ll have to deal with the consequences of those a
ctions. You don’t owe Eddie anything in exchange for what he did. You can feel sympathy for the situation he’s in, but you are not responsible for it.”

  “I know. I can’t help but feel guilty.”

  “Rowan, most victims of rape struggle with feelings of guilt.”

  “This has nothing to do with the rape.”

  “Are you sure?” she asks.

  I think for a moment, turning over my thoughts and feelings in my head. If I really think about Eddie and what he did for me, there is an overriding element of shame. Shame that I’d been raped. Shame that Eddie found out. Guilt that being raped led not only to my relationship problems with Eddie, but to him getting in trouble as well. If I’d never been raped, Eddie wouldn’t have fought with Mark. Or would he? Eddie and Mark already had a history. Maybe Eddie would have eventually fought with Mark.

  “I see what you mean,” I say. “All the guilt ties back to what Mark did to me.”

  As I leave Laura’s office, I think about everything we’d talked about. Sure, I’d had a revelation while in her office, but does that really matter? Maybe I can eventually get rid of some of the guilt I feel, but it won’t change what happened. And it won’t fix my crumbling relationship—former relationship with Eddie.

  ***

  I continue to go to rehearsals, though part of me wants to quit the play. It’s torture facing Eddie day after day knowing we’re through. Our scenes together are awkward. At least for me. Eddie is obviously a better actor than I am, because on stage, he’s Romeo. He stays completely in character, never lapsing at all. Off stage, he’s detached. Everyone in the cast can tell something happened between me and Eddie. Some of the girls give him mean looks, and I can tell they think Eddie broke up with me over the whole thing with Mark. But for the most part, everyone gets along and the cast members are a cohesive team, dedicated to the play.

  In the hallways between classes, people still look at me weirdly. Some people look at me with expressions of open hatred and anger, especially members of the baseball team. Due to Mark’s indefinite suspension, the team has lost its star player. If Mark is expelled, he could lose his scholarship and his spot on the college team. It’s evident many of the students blame me for this.