TWELVE MINUTES

by Kathryn Hewitt

  This was Charlie’s world. We were just living in it.

  He was tall, muscular, and universally attractive. Add his intellectual prowess to the mix and…well…he was kind of the total package. And said package was currently staring at me expectantly.

  “Cassandra?” Charlie asked. Shit. He must have asked me something and instead I was doing my best impression of a potato.

  “Umm..sorry, I guess I spaced.” Harrison groaned. Then he put his face in his hands. Apparently I did not have a fan in that one. Luckily, Charlie just chuckled. Even that low rumble sent chills through me. How was I going to make it through this??

  “I said that we should exchange numbers so we can meet up. Class is almost over and as old-man as this sounds, the time is going to fly quickly and this will be due before you know it.” Charlie handed me his phone, indicating that I should put my number in it.

  As I bent my head, allowing my hair to cascade down my perfect cheek, hiding myself from the world, I pretended to slowly input my number. Really, I had to move slowly because my fingers were shaking too much. Finished, I handed it back to Charlie, still not having spoken. I think I heard Harrison snort.

  My phone immediately started ringing in my bag and my heart dropped. Why was someone calling me when I was at school? What had happened? I’d frozen.

  “Cassandra?” I looked at Charlie. “Anyway, I just called you so now you have my number.” He handed his phone to Harrison, who quickly handed his own to me. We went through this same routine and then it was time to go. Packing up our stuff, Harrison had already diverted his attention to his phone, texting and clearly having moved on from this part of his life.

  Imagine that? Being able to just Move On.

  “Ok, I’ll be in touch with you guys,” Charlie said as he pulled his backpack on. Turning to go talk to the Professor, I was so thankful that I didn’t miss his, “Bye Cassandra,” as he walked away.

  Bye Charlie.

  TWENTY-ONE

  “I thought you were such a bitch.”

  “Gee, thanks a lot, Harrison.” I nudged his shoulder, encased in his beloved white tee, freezing in the microsecond that it took me to realize that I had just touched him. By choice. My shoulder burned and I was sure that my cheeks flamed just as hot. I’d barely flashed him a quick smile before ducking my head.

  Misinterpreting my response, Harrison laughed uncomfortably. “No, I mean, you’re so hot. It was like a given that you’d be a bitch. And then your Ice Queen act? It sealed the deal.” Harrison shrugged helplessly, his dark eyebrows rising along with his hands, in surrender. “I get it now. You’re totally not a bitch. I mean, I assumed that you were totally basic…but you’re not.” He was floundering. I guess he was regretting his admission. Which was funny, because Harrison was rarely uncomfortable. It was actually the only reason that our little Trio had worked out, thus far. My awkwardness was enough for all of us, and had it just been Charlie and Me…well there were few things that sounded more like a nightmare.

  And I’d lived my fair share of nightmares.

  “Seriously.” Harrison was laughing now. Obviously my face couldn’t conceal the spectrum of emotions playing across it, and sadly, Harrison had no idea how to interpret any of them. Could I even? “You’re like the Anti-Bitch. It’s why I like you. You’re just reserved, and I respect that.” Harrison smiled at me, assuming that the issue was resolved. I really admired his apparent complete self-comfort. Harrison seemed like the type of person who could be content anywhere, who did what he wanted to do, but didn’t get thrown off-kilter by anyone else.

  “Harrison. Cassandra.” A heavy hand accompanied the deep voice, resting gently on my shoulder. Apparently Charlie had arrived…and touched me. I felt fleetingly thankful that he hadn’t walked up on Harrison calling me a bitch. What if Charlie then thought I was one? Crisis averted, Charlie had dropped into the wrought iron chair next to me at the table on the patio of the coffee shop that we liked to meet at. Our schedules were hectic (well, I pretended like mine was also, so that they didn’t discover just how much of a Nerd I was). So, we had found a few slots and began meeting at the coffee shop, at Charlie’s suggestion. The coffee was really good.

  And so was the company…

  Charlie had immediately commandeered our little posse, first explaining that we’d still have to do all of the work, but then going on to admit that it was pretty easy and he’d totally help us. He’d winked at me when he’d said that. It made me feel weird. I think what was weird about it was that it made me feel good weird. Forcing myself out of my head on that first meeting really took a lot.

  ✧✧✧

  He was slowly caressing my arm, moving up past my elbow, cresting my shoulder as his hand then slipped into my hair. Tossing my head back, I felt him kiss the hallow of my throat, a tiny gesture that made me gasp. His other hand, the one that wasn’t entwined in my thick hair, was perusing the rest of me. His fingertips on my abdomen clued me in to the fact that I wasn’t wearing anything.

  Naked, entwined, my lover’s appraisal continued, discovering uncharted areas and paying homage. I’d never felt this; I’d never known the joy of the physical. It felt nice as he traced my collarbone with his lips, his wandering hand never ceasing as he anchored me with his other. When his lips reached mine, I gasped, my mouth opening and allowing him in.

  My eyes opened, wanting to experience it all.

  I was staring into Golden Hazel Eyes, eyes that I’d catalogued long ago.

  Charlie.

  I woke up screaming and eventually my mother had to call Rachel.

  TWENTY-TWO

  “It’s completely understandable,” Rachel said yet again. “I think you’re beating yourself up now.” I couldn’t figure out what had happened to me last night. After my nightmare, I couldn’t sleep, even with the double dose of Lorazepam that Rachel had instructed my mom to force down my throat.

  Sitting opposite Rachel in her office, she in her overstuffed brown leather lazyboy that she’d wedged between the desk and the window, and me on her secondhand cushioned tweed chaise, I desperately wanted to believe her. I’m sure that Rachel made a decent living, but she still worked for the hospital and had to make do with the office space that they provided her. Rachel had “spruced” up the place with copious glass orbs, and statuettes of historically significant spiritual women. Mary posed piously next Joan of Arc, as Queen Elizabeth stared haughtily down her nose at them.

  Rachel had offered to come to me, but I’d needed to get out of my house. Every time I looked at my bed, I wanted to cry. This was something else that I needed to talk out with Rachel.

  “Does it mean…I mean, am I…Rachel, will I ever be normal?” Rachel looked sadly at me before she responded.

  “Cass, you are normal. You are normal for an assault victim. Everything about you is normal.”

  “But I don’t want to be normal for that.”

  “I know Cass, but we can’t turn back time. So we own our experiences and learn from them, and forgive ourselves for sometimes letting those experience effect us when we least expect it. We cannot change the past, but we can change the future…and that striving for positive change is what saves us.” I could only nod as I knew that she was right, but my throat was suddenly very tight. “Your trauma is unfortunately connected to some of the best things in life. You are going to need to reconcile the two, separate and differentiate, because rape and sex are two of the most disparate things in existence.

  “And it makes perfect sense that the man in your dream was Charlie. Cass, you and I both know that you’re wrestling with foreign emotions and trying to figure out how to make sense of what you’re feeling. I’ve told you before and I will tell you again: It is ok to be attracted to someone. It is ok to want to have sexual contact, to desire to give yourself. That is important, Cass, the desire to gift that part of you. But I want to also say that I am not entirely sure that you are ready for a relationship. Relationships are stressful and all consuming in the be
st of times, I’m just not sure we’ve built up your arsenal enough.” Rachel looked very serious. And I knew that she was right. If my dream…er nightmare was any indication, I was Not ready.

  “I just feel so lost, Rachel.” My voice was so tiny when I said that, I barely recognized it myself.

  “I know, Cass. That’s why I’m here. We’ll find your way together.”

  And for the first time in a while, I left therapy feeling hopeful.

  TWENTY-THREE

  “Mom wants to know what your dream was about. I mean she assumes it was a flashback…of your attack, but I think that she wants to make sure you haven’t developed a new neuroses.” Um, thanks? My sister could be so tactless sometimes.

  “You know perfectly well that I’m not telling you a damn thing if you’re gonna report back to Mom.” I looked pointedly at my sister, schooling my features into serious-on-the-verge-of-threat. All Kara did was roll her big blue eyes.

  “Duh. You know I didn’t actually come in here to spy on you. Regardless of what you said, I was going to tell her that you wouldn’t say what it was about. I’d just figured that I’d make you sound way more bitchy if you just shut me down.” Kara smiled sweetly at me and all I could do was shake my head and try to hide my smile. Kara had been my best friend since the day I was born, from being her baby, to her attention stealing bratty little sister. From preteen advise to young adult adventures, Kara and I had shared it all. Kara was one of the few people who knew that I had been a virgin before that fateful day. Even my mom didn’t know this.

  But we weren’t Cass and Kara anymore. Too much had changed. I’d changed too much. One day I hoped that we'd find that relationship again, but despite our acting like we didn’t notice (something that was so telling in itself of the state of our relationship), we had a long road to travel back.

  Kara just couldn’t deal with being the sister of a sexual assault victim. I knew that it made her sound selfish, but my attack had been a huge blow to her own self-awareness and place in the world, rocking her beliefs to the core. She couldn’t believe that her sister had been raped. And beaten…badly. It wasn’t that I could have believed it either, but I was fortunate enough as to have been witness to said assault. There was no denying that this awful thing had, in fact, happened to us.

  Happened to Me.

  “So?” Despite our distance, some things never changed. Kara was relentless.

  Turning my back to her, I walked to the window. Parting the wispy white drapes, I looked out at the same large Oak tree that had witnessed my entire life. That tree gave me comfort, while simultaneously making me melancholy. This beautiful guardian had watched me grow up, always the sentinel, the silent observer. This continuity gave me peace. But that tree also represented so much of what I had lost; looking at it was painful sometimes, as I remembered all of the joy it had seen, as I remembered the girl that I used to be. Unsymmetrical face and all.

  Clearing my throat, I decided to take the plunge. With my back still to my sister, I said, “There’s a guy in my class…Charlie.” I definitely heard some kind of squeak come out of my sister right then. I guess my mom had been grilling her about Charlie. Nice try, Mom, but my sister had been clueless to his existence. “Anyway,” I finally found the strength to turn around and face Kara, “I guess I kind of have a crush on him…sort of. Or something.” I had no idea what I had for Charlie.

  “Is he cute?” I rolled my eyes at her question before I could stop myself. “Yeah, duh. That was dumb. Obviously he’s cute if you have the Hots for him.” Kara immediately clapped her hand to her mouth. Apparently my sister felt like she had crossed some invisible line regarding what terms and topics were acceptable to talk to me about.

  Ignoring her gesture and her wide eyes, I continued. “Yeah, anyway, I had a dream where we were like…you know…doing stuff. Sexy stuff.” I suddenly found my peeling nail polish to be the most fascinating thing in the room. Kara was silent for a few seconds too long. I hazarded a glance at her and saw that she was slowly lowering her hand, but seeming to choose her next words with care. Apparently Miracles do happen.

  “Ok. So you had a sex dream and freaked. It makes sense.” She nodded her head to punctuate her sentence. “I guess it scared you? Brought back memories?”

  “Do me a favor,” I said, and my sister’s rapidly nodding head told me that she’d do whatever I asked her to do for me. “Don’t become a therapist.” Kara smacked my arm, and I realized belatedly that without thought, she’d hit my left arm. I’d been so incapacitated on my right side, people had become accustomed to making contact with my left. I don’t think they even realized that they still did it.

  “But seriously, yeah. It freaked me out, and my mind is a pretty jacked up place these days…so stuff affects me strongly.” My lame ending aside, I was proud of myself. This was the first Real-ish conversation that Kara and I had navigated since she’d met my eye that first day in the hospital.

  Kara walked over to where I still stood by the window, stopping only about a foot away. “Can I give you a hug?” Her voice was quivering and her eyes were pooling with moisture. I could only nod as my own tears formed. As she took the last step to close the distance to me, she inhaled loudly and then engulfed me. Kara crushed my sides as she embraced me, my own twig-like arms tentatively lifting, gently wrapping around her. The moment my arms encircled her, that my face dropped into the crook of her neck, my sister released a sob.

  As we clung to each other, two sisters, two women in a world that had forced them to know the unthinkable, our tears flowed and our sniffles and hiccups harmonized. I’m not sure how long we stood there, crying and holding on for all that we were worth, but that was how my mom found us when she barged into my room, no doubt hoping to ‘accidentally’ interrupt our conversation and be able to gather a snippet of info. Gasping when she saw us, she quickly joined our medusa-like amalgamation, arms and breathing indistinguishable.

  Through our tears and murmurs, my sister said, “Sorry Mom. Cass is a real stuck up bitch and she wouldn’t spill a thing.” I could only sob my bubble of laughter when I saw the affronted look that comically crossed my mother’s face.

  I just held tight to the two women who had known the old me better than anyone. That was a lot easier than trying to explain the guilt that I was feeling, the horror that accompanied my fear that I’d somehow wanted my attack. Because the beginning of the dream had been just that: a fantasy I had only dreamed of. I’d enjoyed it, I’d liked being touched and connecting on that carnal level. I could never, would never, express the tiny disappointment that I kept locked in a crawlspace after shattering the only bulb, the grain of sadness that came along with feeling like I’d woken up too soon into the dream.

  How could I have enjoyed it, felt alit with desire, being touched by an unknown person?

  TWENTY-FOUR

  As I slipped out of class, intentionally behind the rush, having painstakingly taken my time so as to avoid leaving with Charlie, I released a tiny and embarrassing squeak. Charlie was there, lounging next to the door, his denim clad legs slightly extended as he leaned back casually against the wall, his blue tee taught on his crossed arms. Really nice crossed arms... Ahem….

  “Cassandra. You’re like a snail! How did you ever run?” Charlie exclaimed in his confident deep voice. Everything he did seemed effortless…and yet, his question sent a feeling of disquiet through me. I was definitely not a runner. I must have made some offhanded comment…

  “Your shoes…” Charlie supplied. He must have seen the inquisitive look on my face. I looked down at my old beat up trainers, a different pair from the ones from the attack which were currently tagged and bagged and growing dust in ‘Evidence,’ awaiting the day when the police department did their decadely spring cleaning and disposed of them. I knew that they were never going to capture whoever had so dramatically altered my life. And oddly, I was ok with that. Rachel didn’t like it, said it allowed me to compartmentalize and avoid introspection, but I�
��m not Rachel. So there. Besides, as time had passed, it became clear that if He were to be caught, He’d have to have committed another crime and that was something that I could never hope for.

  “Of course.” I muttered, suddenly embarrassed that I’d thrown a fit when my mom suggested she gift me with a new pair of running shoes…you know, just for school. To get around in. I, insulted, and irrationally emotional about something connected to my past, blew up on her and her materialism. I was such an asshole sometimes.

  “Anyway, Cassandra, I wanted to talk to you.” Did we or did we not talk all through class everyday? Well, I had to embarrassingly amend that…didn’t he talk all through class everyday, to me? I wasn’t quite the conversationalist that Charlie was, but he didn’t seem to mind. My eyes must have betrayed me again, because he continued on. “I mean, out of class…” He smiled then, and I was acutely aware that my cheeks warmed as I was impacted again by how it lit up his face. His hazel eyes sparkled, as if I had already given him what he wanted. I didn’t know why, but this made me secretly pleased.

  “Let me take you to dinner. I want to get to know you.” Charlie looked at me pleadingly, and it had been a while since I could make someone else happy by doing something…that also made Me happy. Mind-Fuck pushed aside, Thanks Rachel!, I nodded and smiled. Charlie’s grin broadened and I felt a trickle of courage enter my bloodstream. Foreign for sure, but what wasn’t about this situation?