Luna Rising

by Selene Castrovilla

  She reached her head up to bite him, but then something happened. He didn’t finish – at least she didn’t think so. No, he just went limp inside her.

  Thank God, she thought.

  Thank God he didn’t finish.

  And then she thought, What a thing to be grateful for.

  He smiled at her. Just like that, he was back – and acting normal. “Aren’t you glad we didn’t wait?”

  Jesus…

  He was crazy.

  Red stared at her, wanting an answer. Still on her.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I’m glad, too.”

  As soon as Red moved off of her, Luna got out of the bed. She grabbed up her clothes and locked herself in the bathroom to get dressed.

  From the other side he called in, “Why so modest? We just made love!”

  She zipped up her dress – the tight dress she’d gone out and bought just for this date; now she felt pinned inside it – and she rammed on her heels.

  She was relieved that he’d moved away from the bathroom when she reemerged. She had a clear path toward the door. “ ’Night, baby,” he called after her. “Sweet dreams. I’ll give you a buzz in the morning.”

  Luna got in her car and clicked the car lock shut. The seat was freezing and her breath was blasting out clouds but she didn’t start the engine. She picked up the heart Red had given her. It was cold, too. She opened the door, flung the heart into the street. She was so skiddish that the sound of her door slamming spooked her, even though she’d made it.

  She tried to cry.

  She tried to scream.

  She could do neither.

  It’s okay, said Jiminy.

  “The hell it is.”

  This too shall pass… if you let it.

  “Spare me the Bible rhetoric. I just got raped.”

  Luna, why do you think I came to you?

  She leaned against the door and hugged at herself. She was so cold. “I don’t know.”

  Of course you do. I came to restore your faith.

  “In God?”

  Among other things. As we’ve discussed, God is just a word. It’s what you do with that word that counts.

  This was too much to think about at the moment. Luna stared out at all the garbage cans by the curb, waiting for morning pick-up. She felt like crawling into one of them. “I guess I hit rock bottom,” she said.

  Jiminy said, Almost.

  TWENTY-NINE

  Driving home, Luna decided she wouldn’t tell Sunny what had happened. She could hear Sunny’s response already: “I wanna go kick some crippled ass!” – and she just wasn’t up for Sunny’s outrage and possibly her I-told-you-so’s, warranted as they were.

  She crept into the house, not wanting to wake anyone up. Beth, her babysitter, was her next-door neighbor, a college freshman who commuted to her nearby school. The kids had known her for years, and adored her. She was fast asleep on the bottom bunk of Dylan’s tree-house, while Dylan cherubically slept above.

  Inside his room, Ben slept with equal peace.

  At least everything was calm and right at home. Why couldn’t she have just stayed there?

  Inside her bathroom she ripped off her dress and took a shower in the hottest water she could stand. She slipped on her cozy flannel pajamas. Then she tiptoed back outside and stuffed the dress in the trashcan waiting for pick up on the curb.

  The next day, Luna set about the task of making the kids breakfast. Beth had declined to stay¸ saying she was on a special smoothie diet. It was just as well, because Beth might’ve asked about Luna’s date, and Luna might’ve burst into tears. The kids were only concerned with how long the food was going to take.

  She wanted to be a flapjack-flipping, PTA mom like on TV, or something realistically close. She wanted to close her mind to what had happened to her, and do things that mattered – like parenting.

  The thing she’d never had.

  “Yay! Pancakes!” Dylan exclaimed, digging into his stack. He was so easily pleased.

  “Thanks, Mom,” Ben said.

  “You’re welcome,” Luna said. “Love you guys.”

  The phone rang soon after the kids left for school. It was Sunny. For a moment, Luna thought she’d tell her what had happened at Red’s. But Sunny’s tone was agitated.

  “What’s wrong?” Luna asked.

  “I was accosted by a wacko with drawn-in eyebrows and three teeth looking for a hand-out when I was heading to my car this morning,” said Sunny. “There’s no protection against the crazies.” She made a sucking-in sound, which meant that she was lighting a cigarette. “Do all crackheads run out of money at seven a.m.? ’Cause this happened two days ago with some creep in a filthy fedora. Him, I heard coming – calling out to me! I got in the car and kept the window rolled up.”

  “I don’t know about crackheads and their funds, but that makes sense,” said Luna.

  “Yeah, I guess I’d have to ask Sal.”

  “So what did you do about this eyebrow character?”

  “I didn’t have to do anything. She took a look at my car and said, ‘Oh, I see you’re having hard times, too.’ Then she walked away.”

  “Lucky.”

  “Yeah, but tonight I have to sit amongst the crazies!”

  Sunny’s day job was at the library system that ordered books for all of the county’s libraries. Her evening job was at one of those libraries. Good, because Sunny loved books. Bad, because crazies migrated to libraries like immigrants had come to Ellis Island. “It’s gonna blow!” Sunny exclaimed. “There’s a new nutcase who’s been coming in and hugging me every night.”

  “You let him touch you?”

  “Hell, no! But the counter is short, and his arms are long. He keeps lunging when I’m not looking.”

  She made another sucking sound. Her final, long drag. “I gotta go back inside. Shit, I miss the days you could smoke at your desk.”

  “Have a good day.”

  “I’m gonna try… Hey, how’d that date go?”

  No way she could get into it now. “Great. It was great.”

  “Guess I was wrong about Red. I’m glad.” She hung up.

  You never lied to Sunny before, Jiminy said.

  “Yeah, feels weird,” said Luna.

  But she had other things to think about. One thing, specifically.

  Red.

  He called. She didn’t pick up. He left this message: “Last night was so incredible. Call me, baby.”

  He called again, after a half hour: “Why aren’t you calling me back, baby?”

  Fifteen minutes more: “What’s wrong, baby? Call me!”

  Ten minutes later: “Did I do something? Talk to me, please!”

  The next time the phone rang, five minutes later, Luna answered. “Don’t call me anymore, Red.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because you…” she couldn’t get the word “raped” out. It was just too ugly. “You forced yourself on me.”

  There was a silence. Then he said, “Luna, I’m sorry. I must’ve misinterpreted what you said.”

  “I said, ‘Stop.’ I said, ‘No.’ How could you misunderstand?”

  “I was just so excited to be with you. You’re so beautiful, I was distracted. I wasn’t listening… I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  She wanted to believe that, because it was better to accept that then to think he’d just wanted to take advantage of her. But, still…

  “Whatever. Doesn’t matter. Goodbye, Red.”

  “Luna, wait. Can’t we at least still talk sometimes? Chat on the phone? And then maybe, somewhere down the line, if you feel comfortable… we could go on a date again in public?”

  Wow. He was really working for it. No one had ever done that before. They’d just taken what they wanted and left.

  Maybe this could work. Maybe she could be a PTA mom, and talk to Red, too. Build up a rapport. Then date casually. People did that, she’d heard.

  Normal people.

  “Hello? You still there,
Luna?”

  “I’m here,” she said. “Okay. You can call me tomorrow.”

  “Yes! I’m so happy. You’re one special girl, Luna. I couldn’t bear to let you slip away.”

  The next day, even though it was February and the year was half over, Luna went to the school and paid her PTA dues. There was a notice that they had no volunteers to run the approaching Parents as Reading Partners program, so she signed up to do it. What the heck – she didn’t have to look far for an author to do a visit. It would actually be pretty cool to talk to the kids about writing.

  She went home and waited for the call from the man who date-raped her. She could barely write, typing the same sentence over and over like Jack Nicholson in The Shining. (But at least she deleted it each time.) Sunny called, and told her about a new guy she met on Facebook.

  “He likes Metallica, and all the other bands I listen to!” she said.

  The cornerstone of a solid relationship. “So when are you gonna meet him in person?”

  “I don’t know. We’re messaging right now.”

  “How ’bout a phone call?”

  “Eventually.”

  Luna wished she could have Sunny’s cavalier attitude. But Red never called, and she was upset.

  It seemed illogical to be distressed about a rapist not calling, but there it was. He’d said she was too good to let get away. What happened?

  Why didn’t he want her?

  Again Luna thought about telling Sunny everything, but she just couldn’t do it. Maybe this is what shame feels like.

  After a week of waiting, Luna erupted. It was like all the rejection and poor treatment in the past had amassed inside, filling her until she burst.

  She scrawled a note to Red on a yellow legal pad: “Red, I hate you and I hope you die. You suck and deserve to be alone. Die, die, die. – Luna.” Rip! She severed the page from its gum binding.

  She grabbed a roll of duct tape and drove to Red’s house. Rip! Rip! Rip! Rip! She tore four pieces of tape and attached the message securely to Red’s front door.

  Luna felt elated after that. It felt so good, letting her feelings flow. She headed to TCBY for a celebratory frozen yogurt.

  Dom called while she was crunching her carob chip topping and reading the current book she carried in her shoulder bag: Fear of Flying. “Hey, whatever happened with you and Red?”

  “It didn’t work out. Why?” The sounds of the yogurt machine whirring and cash register ringing came from behind the counter. Even though it was February, the place was bustling, with a line of customers and most of the tables occupied.

  “I just heard from Butch that Red collapsed in his shop this morning. The hospital doctors found an infection that started in his leg and spread, and something about a blood clot. He’s in surgery right now.”

  Whoa. In her shock she sucked down a chip whole. For a second she felt like she was choking, but then she coughed it out onto her tray.

  “You there?”

  “Yeah.” She stared at the chip she’d hacked back up. “Sorry to hear that.”

  “Well, he’s in Huntington Hospital. Thought you’d wanna know.”

  “Thanks.”

  She ended the call and stared at the page she’d been reading. She scanned the same paragraph three times without grasping what it said. Finally, she flipped the book closed. Suddenly TCBY felt incredibly loud.

  Luna had a lump in her throat that would not go down, even though she’d downed all of her yogurt. All she could think about was the timing of her note. She must’ve taped it to Red’s door when he was already in surgery – Right?

  Oh, what difference did it make? It’s not like she had the power to induce injury to someone via her wishes – Right?

  With our thoughts we make the world, said Jiminy.

  No way, thought Luna.

  According to Buddha: Yes way, said Jiminy.

  Oh, fuck, thought Luna.

  She thought about going back and removing the note, but decided to leave it. The damage was already done.

  And the lump was psychosomatic. It would go away – eventually.

  Her phone rang again. It was Sunny. “It’s off with the Facebook guy,” she said.

  “Already?”

  “He told me he puts in different light bulbs when he has company, so he can save money with lower wattage ones when he’s alone.”

  “Well, that’s odd. But so what?”

  “I’m not dating someone who’s so cheap he screws around with light bulbs! Criminy!”

  “If that’s how you feel,” said Luna. She didn’t have the strength to argue Mr. Cheap Watt’s cause. She needed to share the truth about everything. “Got a few minutes?”

  “Sure, I’m on my lunch break. What’s up?”

  Luna took a deep breath and let it out. Fiddling with her spoon, she told Sunny about the date rape.

  “What? Why didn’t you tell me when this happened?”

  “I’m not sure. I guess I wasn’t up to talking about it.” She flexed plastic and considered the people around her again. People with normal lives, like the one she wanted.

  “I can understand that.”

  Snap! She broke the spoon’s handle as she told Sunny about speaking with Red again.

  “What? Are you insane?”

  “Possibly. But there’s more.” Luna told Sunny about how angry she got when Red didn’t call back. Snap! She broke the spoon again, and again.

  “Are you for real?”

  “That’s not the worst part.” Using a jagged piece of spoon to stab at the chip she’d hacked up, Luna owned up to the note.

  There was a silence on the line. Then Sunny said, “Dude, that’s a bit much.”

  “He got me angry.” The chip was reduced to a tiny mound of brown specks. She moved on to her yogurt cup. Jab! Jab! She made a jagged rip across the cardboard.

  “Clearly. And he deserved it. I’m the first one to say, ‘Let’s go kick some crippled ass!’ But you don’t usually have this kind of rage.”

  Luna stared at her mutilated cup. “I know. I think I was burying it inside… I just wanted all the guys to like me… so I never told them how bad they made me feel. Even Nick. It’s so important that men like me.”

  “Oh god, Chicky. I just don’t know what to say.” There was a cigarette-lighting pause. Sunny’s finger triggered the flame. “Except, of course, to say that all those guys sucked. Especially Nick. Fuck him!”

  Luna wanted to decimate something else. She shredded a napkin, but that did nothing for her. “I know that, but something in me is crying out for approval.”

  “This is awful. I can’t even think of something witty to interject.”

  You don’t even know the worst part, thought Luna. Luna didn’t want to voice what had happened next, but she knew she needed to come clean completely. She forced the words out. “There’s more. Red collapsed from a blood clot, or something. He’s in surgery!”

  “Well, that’s the first good thing I’ve heard. Karma is a biatch.”

  Interesting reaction. Was Sunny right? Had Red brought this on himself? Or…

  Luna stared at the tray of destruction she’d served up and asked the horrible question: “You don’t think I could’ve caused the problem, do you?”

  “How? By wishing him dead? You think you have the power to wound with your thoughts? ’Cause if you can perform medical magic, cure my cramps!”

  “Yeah, I didn’t think it was me. But Jiminy implied it.”

  “He just wants you to think lofty thoughts in general. He’s a pocket Dalai Lama.”

  At the next table, a couple started to argue. Apparently their relationship wasn’t perfect. But Luna doubted the guy had date-raped the girl, and obviously they’d been in communication. “Why do I have to uphold some higher standard?”

  “That’s just you, babe. You always did – until now. Don’t let this dirt bag drag you down to his level.”

  The couple was still arguing. “Yeah. I know. I’m gonna give u
p the man hunt and seek some help.”

  “A new shrink?”

  “No.” The guy got up and left.

  “Dr. Gold?”

  “Nope.” The girl pressed her head into arms, which were folded on the table.

  “Then what?”

  The girl raised her head. She scraped back her chair, got up and walked out. “I’m gonna join Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous,” said Luna.

  “Dude, that’s a bit much.”

  THIRTY

  At home, Luna searched “Sex And Love Addicts Anonymous” on Google and found their website. The SLAA founders had reworded Alcoholic’s Anonymous’ Twelve Steps to fight sex and love addiction. It was, they said, a progressive disease. Incurable, but also arrestable.

  Do I have a disease, like cancer? Luna wondered. Whatever it was, it definitely progressed. That much, she knew. She read on.

  SLAA members shared a common denominator, repeating obsessive/compulsive patterns, and they were united in dealing with them.

  Wow. Wouldn’t that be great, to meet other people who felt the same as she did?

  The kids were coming home soon, so Luna skipped the rest of the reading material and searched for a meeting. She needed to go, to break free from whatever it was that made her accept Red’s behavior.

  Otherwise, what would she progress to next?

  Most alarming was that relentless tug in her heart, urging her to find a man.

  Any man.

  To protect her.

  She felt like she had the shakes, but her hands were steady.

  That’s your soul trembling, said Jiminy.

  “Can’t I ever just sit in peace?” she asked.

  You can, said Jiminy.

  “When?”

  Eventually.

  God, she hated that word.

  There was a 7:30 pm meeting in Long Acre.

  While most of the meetings were in churches, with addresses provided, the Long Acre listing offered only the name “Stan” and a phone number. She called.

  Stan sounded like a nice-enough guy. “The meeting’s in my house,” he told Luna. “That’s why they don’t list the address on the site.”

  “Okay,” said Luna, though she wasn’t thrilled with walking into a stranger’s house. Right now, she was going to do whatever needed to be done.