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Harp's Song

Page 10

by Shine, Cassie


  “Once he put himself back together he left me in my room. I remember curling into a ball, shaking and crying. A few hours later, I heard people leaving and realized my parents would be up to check on me. I couldn’t have them come in and see me like this.”

  “When I got up, I looked at my bed and there was … there was blood all over my comforter and I freaked out. I pulled everything off my bed and threw it in a ball inside my closet until I could throw them away. I wiped my face and got new sheets from the hall, put them on my bed and then got in the shower. I hurt so bad that I sat in the tub for a long time, letting the hot water pour over me while I cried and cried. I knew I could do that safely in there since no one would hear me over the water. Once the water started turning cold, I got out and dried off. I looked at myself in the mirror and made a decision right there—to never think about what had happened again. I knew it would be hard for anyone to believe me since everyone loved him, but also because he was going to be a lawyer and his dad was a big shot attorney that would defend him no matter what. He knew that too and had used that to his advantage. I …”

  “Oh my God, I think I’m going to be sick …” I interrupt her to run to the bathroom. After depositing the contents of my stomach into the toilet, I hold my knees to my chest and process everything she just said. When I get it together, I return to the couch, I curl myself into a ball and face her.

  “I can’t believe he did that to you,” I tell her. “He’s an asshole who deserves to be locked up.”

  “You want to know the worst part?”

  “I think I’ve already heard the worst part,” I replied.

  “No, the worst part is he ruined Scheherazade for me. I can’t listen to it anymore since it was playing through my room the entire time he was there,” she says harshly.

  “I could hear it in the background and I tried to focus on the notes floating in the air to separate myself from what was really happening, but it didn’t work and now … well, now it haunts me and makes me remember. I’ve spent so much time trying not to remember.”

  A lone tear escapes as we share that loss … something we can relate to. The power of music is a mystery. It can make you feel so many emotions … it can make you happy, somber, angry. It can make you want to stop what you’re doing and dance, it can make you remember people and moments in your life that were special. It’s a wonderful, crazy and powerfully beautiful thing and sadly, I understand exactly what she is saying.

  “I’ve been living with this by myself for so long. When I decided to get help, I knew I would have to tell my story before I could move forward. Are you ok? Are you ready for the rest of it?”

  I nod.

  “Since it was already the end of June, I told myself I could get through the next month or so before leaving for college. Once I was gone, though, I wasn’t turning back. I was going to stay as far away from him as possible. That night I tossed and turned. Every time I fell asleep, I would wake up sweating and crying from a dream where I remembered everything he did. It felt so real. I spent the next days in my room drifting between sleep and crying. I told my parents I wasn’t feeling good so they would give me some space.”

  “But, by July fourth I couldn’t pretend I was sick anymore because there was no way I could miss going to Navy Pier with my family. We’d gone every year for as long as I could remember. The unfortunate part was that we were meeting Ginny and Alex there, and I was a basket case preparing myself to see him again. When we met them, he acted as if nothing had happened. Once the fireworks started, everyone’s attention shifted to Ginny and Alex as he got on one knee and professed his undying love for her, and asked her to marry him. She said yes, of course and everyone was hugging except me. I couldn’t stand to be touched much less held in a hug where I felt trapped, so I let everyone else gush over the happy couple.”

  “The only thing I didn’t think about was my Dad. Even though my mom and I had always been close—because of our shared love of music—my Dad was my hero. I loved him and I was a total Daddy’s girl—more so than Ginny. We just had a special bond. When I withdrew from everyone after Alex’s proposal, he noticed and asked me to take a walk with him. I didn’t want to, but I knew I couldn’t avoid him without raising more suspicion.”

  “As we started to walk away, I looked back at my sister and mom. I saw them hugging and knew they were already talking wedding plans. But, what caught me was Alex. He was watching me with a smug, satisfied look on his face. I immediately turned around and focused on my Dad. We got some ice cream and sat on a bench, and then he asked me what was going on. I played it off—spouting things like change and college and missing everyone. He nodded and told me all the right things, but when we got up to join everyone else, he turned to face me and told me that he loved me and reminded me that I could always come to him. He hugged me and the floodgates opened. I couldn’t look at him but promised that I would let him know if I needed him.”

  She looks into her mug of now-cold tea with a distant look in her eyes, “I skated through the next month or so. I endlessly listened to wedding crap from my mom and Ginny, but I spent most of my time playing the piano or violin or listening to music in my room. I had started a countdown to Vanderbilt on my calendar to keep me focused. One night, I was crossing off the day feeling hopeful because I was leaving soon. But when I crossed that day off, I realized that I had missed my period …” she stops and looks at me and it hits me like a quick, hard punch to the gut.

  I’m suddenly breathless and need air. Fast. I sprint from the couch to the front door and find myself outside on my knees grasping for air. I don’t want to hear the rest. I don’t need to hear the rest to know what she’s saying. I’m trying to comprehend everything she’s told me so far, but from what I can gather, my mom was a decent human being once. A talented musician and she was raped by her almost brother-in-law. She was raped at seventeen and became pregnant with me.

  Oh.My.God.

  I’m really trying hard to understand this when I feel arms wrap around me and a calming voice hushing me, telling me everything is going to be ok. I blink back tears I didn’t realize were rushing down my face and notice my mother is cradling me in her arms, soothing me while I digest this information. She rocks me and tells me that it’s ok, and that it will be ok. I finally calm myself down enough to pull away and look at her.

  “I’m so sorry,” she says, “why don’t you come inside and I’ll make us some tea.”

  I shake my head in agreement and we both pull ourselves up from the front yard and go to the kitchen. I immediately sit at the table while my mom puts water on to boil. While we wait, I stare out the window. I’m still shocked by everything she’s told me, and I am pulled out of my thoughts when she sits at the table and hands me a cup of tea.

  “Thanks,” I say taking a small sip. It is very soothing but I don’t think it’s going to be enough to help me handle this news.

  “Harp, do you have questions for me or do you want me to tell you more?”

  “Did you ever go to college?” I ask her.

  “Unfortunately, no, I never made it to Vanderbilt nor did I get a degree anywhere else.”

  “Do you regret that?”

  “Yes and no. I did for a long time, which is why I lost my mind when I found your acceptance to Oberlin.”

  “So you’re jealous of me?”

  “As lame as it sounds, yes. I was so jealous I couldn’t see straight. I couldn’t believe my daughter was going to go live out her dreams and I never got that chance. And then I was mad, mad at myself, at you, at him and the universe. But, I’m not jealous or mad anymore. I know that sounds silly since it hasn’t been very long, but it’s the truth,” she says convincingly.

  “Why are you telling me all this now?” I ask her.

  She sighs, “Because your words hit me after our last fight. You were right about everything you said. I made a decision a long time ago—to bury what happened and never think about it again—but it didn’t work, and I’
ve been living a shell of a life … bitter, angry, depressed and jealous.”

  “When you told me that you made the decision to live a better life, I saw how wonderful and strong you were. And, how right you were. Since I’ve been getting help, I realized that I couldn’t blame you for the choices I made. What happened to me was not my choice, obviously. However, everything I have done after that was … those were my decisions. I’m done being the victim and blaming everyone else for my lot in life. It’s not fair to you or to me.”

  “Why didn’t you get an abortion and go to college? You were only a teenager, it would have been understandable.”

  “You go straight for the hard ones, huh?”

  “Once I’d taken a home pregnancy test, I went to the clinic and got another one, which came back positive. At that point, I was just about eight-weeks pregnant and I only had one week left before I was supposed to leave for Vanderbilt. I was getting ready to ask the nurse to schedule me for an abortion when I saw you on the screen. She pushed a button and suddenly I could hear your heartbeat. It sounded like the thunder of a galloping horse,” she says.

  I can see unshed tears in her eyes as she remembers that day. She looks right at me and says, “I know it’s hard to imagine now after how badly I’ve treated you, but that day I fell in love with you. That was the most beautiful music I had ever heard … more beautiful than Bizet, Mozart, Telemann, Handel, Vivaldi, even Beethoven … all of it. And that’s when I knew I loved you and wanted you.”

  “But you didn’t want me, you’ve been horrible to me. I’ve spent so much time being afraid, and hating you. I would have been better off not being here or at least adopted into another family. Anything would have been better than living with you.” I spew at her. I don’t give a shit about her happy moment all those years ago. It doesn’t mean anything to me knowing what a crappy mother she’s been when I needed her.

  “I know, Harp. I know. It’s hard to understand now, I get that, but it’s the truth.”

  “So, what happened after that appointment? Did you tell your parents and they kicked you out? What? I still don’t understand how you went from Chicago to Iowa.”

  “I left that appointment with vitamins and pamphlets and went to a park by my house. I sat there and read all the pamphlets. I was there for hours trying to figure out what to do. After all that time, I narrowed it down to two choices. I could tell my parents the truth about what happened, and take a year off from school to be with you. Or, I could hide the pregnancy and continue with my plans to attend Vanderbilt and eventually give you up for adoption.”

  “Those were your two choices?”

  “I didn’t say they were good ones, did I? Besides I was young and hormonal.”

  “I guess so, how did you end up here then? Those two options don’t sound like they would put you in a random town in Iowa.”

  “When I left the park, I went home and decided to tell my parents what happened that day with Alex, and that I was pregnant. Ginny was there talking about wedding stuff with my Mom. I was hoping to avoid telling her for as long as possible but …,” she trails off before continuing, “Everyone was sitting at the kitchen table and I thought about chickening out. However, I knew the best thing for us was to have their support. So, I summoned all the courage I could and announced that I had something important to talk to them about. They gave me their undivided attention, and I prepared them—that what I was about to tell them was really hard for me. I remember sitting at that table freaking out, telling my family that my sister’s fiancée—someone everyone loved—raped me.

  “I was getting ready to tell them I was pregnant with you when my sister started screaming at me. She was crying and yelling at me, calling me a liar. I couldn’t believe she was siding with him over me. Never in my life had I lied to my family. I was straightforward and quiet, so it never occurred to me that she wouldn’t believe me. I looked between my parents for help. My Dad was crying and my Mom looked like she was in shock. After Ginny settled down, my Mom held her hand and looked at me. She told me to my face that she didn’t believe me. She said she thought I was acting out against Ginny, and that it was a disgrace that I couldn’t be happy for my sister. She brought up Alex’s family and the fact that he was going to be a lawyer, so there was no way he would have done something like this. I looked to my Dad and begged him to believe me. He nodded his head and squeezed my hand. I felt relieved that someone was standing up for me. I started to tell them I was pregnant, but things quickly got out of hand and my dad sent me to my room so he could calm Ginny down. I heard them all talking and fighting for hours about what to do, and whether or not they believed me. After Ginny left, the house was so quiet. I lay in my bed praying they would believe me.”

  “A little while later when my Dad came in my room, he sat on my bed with me and hugged me close. I could feel his shoulders rocking and knew he was crying. When we pulled apart, he wiped the tears from my face and looked down. That moment I knew he was siding with them. When he looked back up at me, all he said was ‘I’m sorry’. I was so hurt I started sobbing hysterically. He held me until I fell asleep,” she says bringing herself back from the fog of her memory.

  “That morning I knew they wouldn’t love me anymore and they wouldn’t love you, so I did the only thing I could. I left. I packed clothes, food and necessities into my car and left them a letter explaining that I was leaving since they were going to believe him over me—and I was obviously not wanted anymore.”

  “I stopped at the bank on my way out of town. When my grandparents passed away, a large chunk of the money they had left was put into a savings fund for each of us girls. I took my money out, enough for a down payment on this house, and got in the car. I didn’t want to go anywhere where someone would recognize me. I also didn’t want to go somewhere expensive, so I looked at the map and settled on Iowa. Once I got into the state, I looked at the map again and found Liberty. I was drawn to it because of the name. I thought it would be a good place for us to start over and become a family … just you and me.”

  We sit in silence for a little while. I’m not sure what I want to ask her next. I’m confused by the love she says she had for me when she was pregnant. But, I’m also angry. Maybe if she had stuck it out with her family, and tried to talk to them again, they would have helped us. Then I wouldn’t feel so broken and alone.

  “Do they know about me?”

  “Yes. In the letter I explained that I was pregnant, and their decision to choose Alex over me meant that I had no choice but to protect my baby.”

  “Have you had any contact with them since then?”

  She shakes her head, “I went back for Ginny’s wedding a few months before you were born. I found the announcement in the paper and I wanted to see with my own eyes that they had chosen him over me. I went to the church and sat in my car, watching everyone go in. I saw my Dad and Ginny right outside the doors with big smiles on their faces. I sat in my car until they came out and I could see Alex. I watched them, surrounded by family and friends. I saw how happy everyone was and then I became angry. I should have never gone back,” she says determinedly.

  “When I left it was my decision. I knew they didn’t believe what he had done to me but in reality, my Dad never said I had to leave. I think they expected me to just forget about it and go to school like nothing had happened, but there was no way I could do that.”

  “Then seeing my family at the church was a totally different feeling. I felt like they were glad I had left and had never been happier—without me there. It looked like their lives had moved on just fine and I became even angrier until it overwhelmed me. I drove back here that night and was a wreck. I cried for days … I missed work. I just couldn’t let go of the anger and hurt.”

  “So that’s why you hate me so much?”

  “I know you’re not going to believe me,” she sighs. “But I don’t hate you. When you were born, I felt like I was on a teeter-totter with my emotions swinging me one way one minut
e and another way the next minute. But then you came into this world. You were this beautiful, pink, delicate little angel. Do you know why I named you Harp?”

  I shake my head no. We’ve never talked to each other like this before so how can I know this?

  “After you were born, I couldn’t believe you were really here. When I got to hold you for the first time, you made this high pitched squeal that was so angelic I thought it sounded like a harp. I said that word over and over, and every time you responded with a light noise, so I decided that would be your name,” she says with a serene smile on her face.

  I don’t get her. My whole life I’ve heard horrible things from this woman and made my own way. Raised myself, but now she’s sitting here telling me this simple, lovely story about the day I was born and I don’t know how to navigate all the things I’m feeling.

  “What happened?” I ask her, “It sounds like you loved me at some point. I don’t understand what changed.”

  She shakes her head in agreement, “I’ve always loved you despite not showing it. When I left the hospital, I was full of hope. After a while, sleepless night after sleepless night, I realized how hard it was to raise a baby. Let’s be honest, it’s hard no matter what, but, at eighteen, with no support system, it felt impossible. My emotions were frayed and you were the cause.”

  “My anger toward Alex and my family was bubbling just under the surface. Even though I kept trying to suppress it, and remind myself that you were innocent in this whole thing—it was just too overwhelming. As you got older, you looked more and more like him. Unfortunately, you became a constant reminder of him and what he’d done. I couldn’t let it go … I kept it close to the surface. I used it like an armor protecting my heart from ever showing you just how much I loved you. I thought if I caved and let that love take over, it would be like forgiving him for what he had done to me. And in some weird way choosing him over me … just like my family had done.”

 

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