by Landis Lain
DELIVERED
May 23,
Secrets hoard fear and oppression. I let go of my secrets, but my stomach still aches with terror. Should I pray for Suleiman to come back or stay away? Will he hate me for the burden of my troubles? I want to pray. I don’t know if God wants to hear from me after all this time. If I was God I might be like, “Why you only call me when you want something? Can I hear from you when stuff is good?”
On Sunday morning, for the first time in months, Sasha got up to go to church. She went through the ritual of bathing and getting Ricky ready. She fed them both.
“We haven’t seen Suleiman in nearly two weeks,” Sasha muttered. The baby babbled at her and then accepted the mouthful of oatmeal she offered.
“I know,” she said. “I miss him, too.” Ricky wrinkled his nose and blew a raspberry with his tongue. Sasha laughed. Suleiman had taught him that. Her baby delighted her every day, more and more. She couldn’t imagine how much she was going to love him when he got older. She couldn’t wait until he could talk.
“He said that my past wouldn’t matter to him,” said Sasha, smiling sadly. She used a clean cloth diaper to wipe Ricky’s messy mouth. “But I don’t know if I believe it. I gave him the book. He’s vanished like smoke. Just like a man, huh?”
She let him finish his sippy cup full of juice, cleaned off his hands and put Ricky into the playpen. Since he’d started walking, he could climb out of the thing at will. Sometimes he climbed into the playpen and went to sleep. Ricky smiled at her and banged on his toy dinosaurs. She blew him a kiss.
“Hi, baby.”
Sasha pulled her hair into a ponytail and smoothed the curly edges. She wound it into a bun and stuck a couple of pins in to keep the bun anchored. Sasha stepped into her jeans, MSU sweatshirt, socks and sneakers and put on her jacket.
Sasha wrestled the stroller outside and then picked the baby up to put him into it. It was chilly outside, but at least there was sun.
“Just you and me, kid,” she said. Ricky smiled.
She pushed the stroller the half mile to the church on Harrison Road. Church was very relaxed as it was mostly students with a few East Lansing folks mixed in. Ricky liked the singing. He caroled along in his baby voice and people around her smiled.
Sasha prayed for her baby, Suleiman and her family. She prayed that Suleiman would still want to talk to her after he read about her past. She was scared, but she felt relieved that she had finally given Suleiman the information. Halfway through the service, Ricky squirmed and protested to be let down. One of the women sitting in the same pew handed her a marker and a piece of paper and Ricky spent the next twenty minutes standing on the floor, coloring with a marker.
When Ricky tired of his drawing, Sasha returned the marker to its owner with a smile of thanks and rocked the baby on her shoulder while she listened closely. The sermon was about forgiveness.
When church was over, Sasha felt at peace for the first time in a long time. She shook a few hands, and people tweaked
Ricky’s cheek and commented on what a cute baby he was and how he looked just like Sasha. Sasha smiled slightly and greeted people but didn’t linger. She walked out of the sanctuary and put Ricky back in his stroller. She handed him a graham cracker, strapped him in and began the trek back to Spartan Village. Alone.
Sasha passed Suleiman’s apartment. It looked empty. No car parked out front. She sighed heavily and kept walking.
Arriving at her door, Sasha bent down to haul Ricky out of his stroller. The toddler looked past her and threw up his arms, screaming in delight. Sasha straightened and whirled around. She was so relieved to see Suleiman that she couldn’t speak.
Suleiman smiled at the baby and reached past Sasha. He opened the straps and lifted the baby into his arms.
“Hey buddy,” he said. “Where you been?”
Ricky babbled.
Sasha turned to unlock the door and hold it open. Suleiman hauled the stroller one-handed, while he and Ricky carried on a commentary that only they could understand. Suleiman wrestled Ricky’s coat off and sat on the couch. Ricky lay on his chest, tiny thumb in his mouth. Sasha turned the television on and flipped channels until she came to “Sesame Street.”
Suleiman had said not one word to her. She went to the little kitchen area to make lunch. She was just finishing tuna salad sandwiches and tomato soup when Suleiman got off the couch and went to put Ricky down in the bedroom.
Suleiman looked exhausted. His jeans were stained and his t-shirt wrinkled. She had never seen him look other than militarily neat, even when he was working out. He returned from the bedroom, washed his hands at the kitchen sink and sat at the table.
“Ricky’s down for the count,” he said. Sasha was silent. She carefully placed the food on plates and dug spoons out of the drawer. She pushed it closed with her hip.
“So,” Suleiman’s voice broke. He cleared his throat and tried again.
“You can’t speak?”
She was afraid to turn around to see the look in his eyes, the disillusionment or worse, the pity he was sure to feel.
“Hi,” she said.
Shoulders hunched, she picked up the two plates holding the sandwiches and soup and carried them to the table. She put a plate down in front of him and sat down at the chair across the table. He took her hand gingerly and said a quick prayer for the food. Then he sat back, food untouched, but he didn’t let go of her hand.
Sasha stared at their coupled hands, hers so golden brown, his darker brown and nearly double the size of hers. His fingers were long and lean, slightly calloused, the nails neatly groomed. Her nails were bitten to the quick, the edges of skin around them, ragged.
“Can you look at me?” he asked.
Sasha’s hand trembled. He stroked her palm with his thumb, a feather light touch that conveyed how fragile he must think she was. Sasha met his eyes, surprised to see that they were red. He sighed.
“You still don’t trust me, do you?” he asked.
“I trust you,” said Sasha.
He shook his head.
“No, you don’t.”
Afraid, she waited for him to blast her about making him the bad guy for somebody else’s faults. She could feel herself falling into the rabbit hole of recriminations. How he was a
good man and would never hurt her. How she should just get over it and move on because she didn’t remember it anyway. It didn’t last long anyway. It happened a long time ago. We don’t talk about that. Don’t tell, don’t tell, don’t tell…
“I don’t blame you,” Suleiman said.
Sasha was stunned.
“What?”
Her eyes widened as he locked eyes with her. He clenched his jaw so hard that Sasha feared for his back teeth.
“If I were you,” he choked out the words. “I wouldn’t trust another man on this earth or the next.”
Sasha’s eyes stung with unshed tears.
“I would want to kill all of those fools in extremely painful ways,” he continued.
Sasha moaned.
“You know I don’t talk about killing lightly. God, Sasha, it took me two days to get through that diary. Because I had to put it down. Then it took me a week and a half to get control of myself. It gave me new nightmares, what you went through. I was afraid to go to sleep; afraid I might snap and go get them. Starting with your stepbrother, I wanted to look those jokers up on the internet and find them and just go berserk. I still want to.”
Nausea and relief caused her stomach to rebel. Sasha jumped up from her chair, whirled and dashed into the bathroom. She dropped to her knees in front of the toilet. Her breakfast returned with a vengeance.
“Get it up, babe,” murmured Suleiman. He leaned close, rubbing her back with one big hand She kept throwing up until her stomach was empty. He flushed the toilet.
She heard the water running and next felt a cold wet towel wipe across her nape. She covered her face with her hands and anguished tears bubbled up from someplace deep i
nside of her and burst forth, for the first time in months.
Suleiman swore and then grabbed her under the armpits, stood her up and pulled her into his arms. He walked her out of the bathroom, and the few feet through the kitchenette to the couch. He sat down and pulled her onto his lap and held her while she wailed into his sweatshirt.
“It’s okay,” he soothed, but let her cry.
The words jumped out of her mouth and reverberated around the room like a bomb.
“They raped me,” she sobbed. She could feel his muscles bunch as he tightened his arms around her.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Sasha went through every single detail, an avalanche of agony poured out of her along with torrential tears. She could feel dampness in her hair and realized that Suleiman must be crying, too. That, more than anything, helped calm her down. She was quiet for a long time, an occasional shudder the only sound.
“Aren’t you going to ask me?”
Her voice was whisper soft.
“What babe?”
He shifted her in his lap and used one finger to gently tilt up her face. He met her eyes. His were red and swollen, too.
“Ask you what?”
“Aren’t you going to ask me why I didn’t tell the police?”
He was silent for a long time.
“No,” he said simply.
The loosened pieces of Sasha’s heart were suddenly warm and floating closer to one another instead of lying in a frozen shattered heap in the pit of her chest.
“Everybody asked me why,” she whispered, “Craig s-said that he would kill me if I told anybody it was rape.”
“I figured.”
“I felt s-so dirty,” she said, her voice hoarse from crying. She laid her head on his shoulder. He kissed the top of her hair.
“You’re not dirty,” he said.
“Like I could never get clean,” she continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “I was weak.”
“It’s okay.”
“Gabby wanted me to tell the police, but I knew Craig would hurt her, you know?” she said. “I didn’t want her to get hurt, too.”
“It’s all right.”
“I couldn’t tell my daddy about Teddy, either,” she said, the stories jumbling together in her mind. “I didn’t want him dead. Because he was a kid, too, you know? I was bad.”
“He was older,” said Suleiman. “He knew better.”
“Me too,” said Sasha. “I knew better. I realized I shouldn’t do that with Teddy. I also understood that I shouldn’t go to that party or take an open drink. I was stupid.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Suleiman. “You were a kid. It wasn’t your fault.”
“I lied to everybody about Damon being Ricky’s father,” she said, shame twinging her voice.
“True.” Suleiman nodded. “That was messed up. But the truth came out. He could have been the baby’s father for all you knew.”
“I thought you left me, forever,” she confessed this last tidbit with shame at her lack of faith.
“Oh no!” he said, hugging her. Sasha burrowed closer, trying to crawl into his warmth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”
“I wanted to die all over again.”
“I’d never leave you.” Suleiman’s voice was firm. “Not like that. I had to get control of myself.”
“You came back.”
“I always will.”
Sasha quieted down after that. She cast around for more things to confess and found that she had emptied her basket. Like dumping out dirty laundry, it was all gone. She listened to his heartbeat.
“Don’t kill them,” she said finally.
“I am trying to stay out of jail my whole life,” said Suleiman. She could feel his whole body relax. Could visualize his crooked half smile.
“You’d be all messed up again.”
“I won’t do it,” he said, sounding resigned. He inhaled deeply and let the breath out in one long sigh. He tightened his hold. “Not if you don’t want me to.”
The air felt warm and clean. Lighter. For the first time in two years. The pieces of her heart fused together a bit, battered but no longer broken. She listened to Suleiman’s heartbeat. It was calm and steady, a beautiful rhythm. Sasha fell asleep to the sound of a perfect moment.
DISCOVERED
May 30,
Confession is like a drug. Once you do it, you just want to keep on doing it. It feels like I’ve had a two-year bout with the flu. Stuff spilled out that I didn’t even know was hidden inside until it came spewing out like vomit. Then I’m like, whoa, was all that in there?
“I still don’t remember the rape,” said Sasha. “But at least I can say the word.”
“I’m sorry,” said Dr. Michelle. Now that Sasha had told her story, she couldn’t stop talking about it. Each confession lifted her spirits and made her feel lighter.
“It wasn’t real to me,” said Sasha. She looked at her feet, shod in sheepskin suede boots. “I pretended it happened to somebody else. But I could see in everybody’s eyes at school that it had happened to me. The death lords said I wanted it to happen. I became the school skank two months before I graduated.”
GENTLED
June 2,
My life feels like it is changing colors every day. Every time I think I’ve figured out green, it pops up red or orange. I’m running to keep up and always short of breath. My inner coward asks, “What next?”, but good or bad, I seek the answer.
“Hey.”
“Hey yourself,” said Sasha, pulling the door open. “Come on in. I just have to get Ricky up and then we can go.” She turned to leave the doorway, but Suleiman reached over and grabbed her hand to turn her back to face him.
She looked up. “What?”
He leaned down slowly and pulled her into his warm embrace. Tilting her chin up slowly, he covered her lips with his.
The gentle kiss on her lips stunned Sasha and made her wary. Suleiman was unfailingly affectionate with Sasha. He was a toucher. When they were together it wasn’t unusual for him to pull her into a hug or throw his arm over her shoulder. This kiss was different than the subtle buss Suleiman usually smacked on her cheek or forehead. It wasn’t the slobbering,
almost hurtful tongue stuck down her throat that Craig had treated her to or Damon’s sloppy lip mashing of a bumbling boy following her lead. This kiss was all soft lips, affectionate, a prelude to more. This kiss felt like, well, a kiss kiss. She responded by pulling away. Suleiman dropped his arms and stepped back.
“What was that for?” Her eyes were wide with surprise.
“Just because,” said Suleiman. His voice was whisper soft, like he was talking to a small child.
Sasha frowned. “I didn’t tell you the truth so you could act like I’m fragile.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Suleiman, scowling down at her.
“Now that you know, you’re all gentle in the way you treat me,” explained Sasha. “You’ve been throwing me around on the floors and knocking me down for weeks.”
“I know that, Sash,” said Suleiman. He looked away briefly and bit his lip, then met her eyes and continued. “But that was because I was trying to teach you to defend yourself and martial arts is very physical. That was a kiss.”
“I know.”
“A man is supposed to treat women gently, especially a woman he cares about.”
“Oh,” said Sasha. “So, it’s not that you are scared I’ma’ nut up and jump off a bridge because of what happened to me?”
Suleiman winced.
“That’s not funny, Sasha.”
“I’m not laughing, Suleiman.”
“Lady, do not talk like that, ever!” He looked like he wanted to cry. “It would make me crazy if something ever happened to you.”
“I thought that you were already crazy,” said Sasha, smiling slyly.
“I am,” he said. “About you.”
Sasha swallowed, checking herself for fear or revulsion.
Suleiman jammed his hands into his pockets. “Was it okay?”
“What?” asked Sasha, puzzled.
“The kiss,” asked Suleiman, exasperated. “Is it okay if I kiss you again? I know I should have asked first. I don’t want you to feel scared of me, or like I’m pressuring you into anything more.”
“You don’t?”
“I just want to kiss you.”
Sasha pushed her hair behind her ears. She had left it down around her shoulders for the first time in two years and it felt odd. She smoothed her hands down her jeans.
“I’m not scared of you, Suleiman.”
“Good,” he said. His voice deepened to almost a growl. He took his hands out of his pockets and reached over and cradled her face with his fingers. “I would hate it if you were afraid of me.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready for you, though,” said Sasha. “I’m not that used to gentle.”
“You deserve gentle,” he said.
“Because I got raped?” she asked. Suleiman’s jaw tightened.
“Because you are Sasha,” he said.
“You know I love you, right?”
“Yeah, but…” She hesitated, but didn’t want to tackle where the answer to that question might lead. Didn’t want to tackle the layers of what ‘I love you’ might mean. “Love is scary.”
“But is it good scary or bad scary?” asked Suleiman, relentless, cupping her face with both hands. “Because I know you don’t really like scary stuff.”
Sasha thought about it. Suleiman stood patient, caressing her cheek with his thumb. She grasped the backs of Suleiman’s hands.
“I’m not sure,” she said. Suleiman looked crushed and moved to drop his hands. She gripped his hands more tightly to keep them in place and hastily continued.
“It happened so quickly.” Sasha moved her face closer. “Maybe you should try it again.”
Suleiman’s grin flashed like lightening, illuminating his whole face.
“Yeah?”
She returned his smile.
“Yeah.”
