Getting Somewhere

by Beth Neff

  “That she’s a lesbian, right?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “So, do you think that, just because someone is a lesbian, she’s a molester or harasser or whatever Lauren is saying?”

  “Well, it doesn’t really matter what I think—”

  “But do you? Are they in trouble if people find out that they’re lesbians?”

  “Sarah, I don’t think I’m in a position to answer that. We need to focus specifically on Lauren’s complaint and determine its validity. Right now, in this particular instance, I need to know from you what you observed, if you have any reason to believe that sexual harassment may have occurred at this facility.”

  If she tells them Lauren is lying, they will want to know how she knows, and she will be in just as much trouble as Lauren. If she doesn’t, the program might be shut down, and she’d just end up in detention anyway. Nancy Bobbitt won’t say if just being lesbians is enough to get the women in trouble even if they know that Lauren’s complaint is a lie. Her mind is a buzz of static as if she is searching for a clear station, a specific formula of call letters and decimals that will weed out the screeching feedback in her ears and tell her what to do.

  She’s a coward. It’s a simple as that. She’s been a coward all along and there’s nothing she can do about it now. Sarah has never despised herself any more than she does right this minute. She decides there is no point in doing anything other than just answering their questions, like she was told to do, and leave it at that.

  “No, I do not have any reason to believe that sexual harassment occurred at this facility.”

  “Were you, yourself, ever subject to any sexual harassment, any suggestion or implication that your status or safety would be affected by sexual behavior with anyone here?”

  “No.”

  “Is there anything else you’d like to tell us?”

  “No.”

  “YOU REALIZE, LAUREN, that this is a very serious complaint?”

  “I know.”

  “Has anything changed since you first sent your letter and materials to your parents?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, has anything happened that might make you want to change your mind?”

  Lauren hesitates, looks toward the open window, and, her chin lifted, back at Nancy Bobbitt. “I can’t think of anything.”

  “Okay. Then I think it’s important for you to know that the other girls do not support your claims.”

  Lauren shrugs. “Why would they? Maybe it wasn’t happening to them. Or maybe they liked it.”

  “Lauren, sexual harassment is, by definition, something you don’t like. Maybe we need to become clear on what it is exactly that you are accusing Grace of.”

  “What do you mean? What did the others say about it?”

  “Maybe you’d like to describe a little bit about what it has felt like for you to be here?”

  “Listen, I don’t think you understand. Do you know that these women are lesbians?”

  “What about that bothers you?”

  “What about . . . ? You’ve got to be kidding. Are you saying you knew these women were lesbians and you still let them go ahead and have a program for young girls?”

  “I’m not saying anything. I am asking you what you’re saying. Now would be the time for you to describe specifically what events and behaviors you have found objectionable.”

  “Everything. I find everything objectionable.”

  “I need you to be more specific. Can you please describe an incident in which you felt yourself to be harassed?”

  “They hate me. They’ve hated me from the beginning.”

  Nancy sighs, presses two fingers to her forehead. “I can see that would be a terrible feeling, but you have made a specific charge of sexual harassment, Lauren. I’m going to need for you to describe a situation in which you felt yourself to be sexually harrassed.”

  Lauren’s mind is reeling. What more does this woman need to know? This is harassment. She is trying desperately to hold onto the anger, the frustration, but it is slipping away, burning her palm as it escapes from her grasp. She doesn’t have to do this anymore. She won’t do it.

  “I don’t know what else you want me to say. How can I prove to you that I’ve been sexually harassed if you won’t believe me when I tell you I have? Isn’t that always what happens? That they never believe the victim?” Lauren is starting to feel better, can feel the energy returning.

  “Do you want me to describe every time that woman touched me, every time she tried to get me alone, her comments about my hair and my body whenever no one else was listening? Of course the others didn’t see it or hear it. She’s a pro. Probably been doing this for a long time. Everybody is just going to say that they don’t believe it because they don’t want to believe it, just wish it would go away. But it won’t go away until you do something about it.”

  Nancy Bobbitt is striving with all her might to keep her face expressionless. When Lauren sits back in her chair, the woman takes a deep breath, glances over Lauren’s head at the other women in the room, and then leans over the papers on the desk.

  There are a few moments of silence punctuated by the bump of the fan as it reaches the extension of its arc, and then she finally turns back to Lauren, says, “Okay, thank you. Is there anything else?”

  Lauren just shakes her head, but Nancy Bobbitt doesn’t tell her to speak out loud.

  “Could you please send Jenna in when you go back out?”

  Lauren feels like all the air has been sucked out of her lungs. For just a little while, she had been able to forget about Jenna. She is at a complete loss for what to say.

  “Lauren?”

  “Um, Jenna’s not here.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I said Jenna’s not here.” Even Lauren can hear the heat and volume of her voice filling the sultry room. She says through gritted teeth, “I don’t know anything about it. You’ll have to ask Ellie.”

  “FIRST, I WOULD like it stated for the record that I strongly encouraged Ellie to continue this discussion in private, but she insisted that we meet together as a group, and I have conceded to her, uh, request.” Nancy Bobbitt clears her throat and continues. “So, here we are.” Everyone nods though there hasn’t really been a question.

  Nancy turns back to her papers, which are now spread out on the coffee table, moves her glasses back up on her nose to peer at them, and pulls out a stapled packet.

  “You’ve all seen a copy of the original complaint and had a chance to respond. As you already know, the Scott family attorney filed these papers on Lauren’s behalf.” She scans the room, confirming everyone’s attention, and then continues, clearing her throat again.

  “As I’ve mentioned to each of you, Lauren’s complaint is a serious one, and we have no intention of taking lightly. Though it has not been possible to confirm in any way the specifics of Lauren’s complaint, and all of your statements essentially contradict Lauren’s version of events, we simply do not have adequate proof either way at this time. The fact that this situation is further complicated by the absence of both Ms. Van Heusen and Jenna Carter leaves me with little choice but to proceed with a committee review of the complaint with the ultimate goal of making a recommendation to the court.”

  Nancy Bobbitt lifts her eyes and peruses the faces in the room, removes her glasses, and slides back a little farther on the couch where she has been perched. She seems to be debating her next words.

  Finally, she leans forward in Ellie’s direction and says, “Since you went first, Ellie, I was hoping you might have thought of something you could add that would help us understand Ms. Van Heusen’s absence a little better, some background or information you might have thought of that would allow us to make that less of an emphasis and judge this cas
e purely on the nature of the complaint?”

  Ellie pauses for a moment, looks down as if considering the question but is shaking her head.

  When she raises her eyes, she has a bleak expression on her face, but her voice is firm and steady. “I guess I’ve already told you everything I can think of that’s relevant. As I said, Grace elected to terminate her employment here before she was fully aware of the nature of this complaint. She was dealing with issues that were . . . unrelated. I don’t think she imagined that her presence or absence would have influenced the outcome of Lauren’s . . . dissatisfaction . . . in any way.”

  Sarah has been listening carefully since they all gathered in this room but Ellie’s words enter her mind in a jumble that she is unable to efficiently digest. Sarah is trying to determine what “fully aware” or “unrelated” might mean in this context. Why did Grace leave? Up until now, Sarah was certain it had something to do with the fact that Grace didn’t want to be involved with the program in the first place, wasn’t willing to suffer for it, have her name smeared around, defend herself in court, or maybe, Sarah’s not sure, even go to jail. Who could blame her? But there’s something more, something that has to do with those words, and Sarah tries to imagine them again, like a light bulb and the wires that would connect it to a source of energy, all the ways that things are related.

  And then, it’s like an actual light bulb going on in her head. Sarah sees it. She sees the blood again, just like she has so many times in her memory, but this time, it is not Shannon. It’s a woman she doesn’t know, blonde hair, large expressive hands, and the blood is pooled, leaving a stain on the floor of the barn that could maybe never be made completely clean, that might be still there. Sarah’s never seen a gunshot wound, but she can imagine that it would be just as bad as Shannon’s battery, maybe worse. Did Grace see it, see her mother, all the blood? Watch as her grandfather was hauled away for the crime, wonder what she’d done to make everything go so wrong? Was she seeing it again when she heard that the program was in trouble, was being accused of wrongdoing, heard Lauren say that she was going down, that she’d already made sure of it?

  Like searing heat scorching her veins, Sarah can, in this instant, feel exactly what she imagines Grace must have been feeling. She said the worst thing was being falsely accused and here that exact thing is happening to her. How would Grace have known what to think, what to wish for, either then or now? Did she want her mother to have committed suicide, or would she have preferred her grandfather to be responsible for her death? How would a twelve-year-old even be able to think about such a choice? How would a woman?

  Sarah is watching Ellie now, expects to see the tempest howling just below her skin reflected on the woman’s face, but Ellie’s is blank, her attention apparently fully focused on Nancy Bobbitt, even though her body looks ready to collapse, her head prevented from dropping to her chest by sheer will.

  Ellie pinches her lips into an apologetic smile. “As I said, I don’t know how to get in contact with her. I’m sorry.”

  Nancy turns back to her papers, flutters her hands over them. She seems dubiously satisfied.

  “All right. Under the circumstances, I will have to accept that explanation as adequate for now, though I wouldn’t be surprised if this becomes a rather thorny point as we proceed with the review. I believe we have everything we need or everything we’re going to get here. You will receive a copy of our findings and conclusion. A review hearing will be scheduled, and you will be notified of that, though you will have no further input until we go to court. I should mention that the committee hearing will also entail a review of Lauren’s placement as requested by her attorney. In the meantime, Lauren will need to remain here. Is that going to be a problem?”

  Ellie starts to shake her head, say no, but before she can get the words out, Lauren has exclaimed, “Well, it’s a problem for me!”

  Nancy Bobbitt turns to Lauren in obvious surprise, though she manages to keep her voice even. “Can you tell us why that’s a problem?”

  Sarah has been staring at the floor, but when she lifts her eyes, they immediately land on Donna who has been quiet throughout the proceedings. Donna is watching her with a concerned look on her face, opens her eyes wide as if with a question when she sees Sarah looking back. Sarah is immediately flooded with a powerful resolve, sees in her mind’s eye the image of a girl in a tower, her hands raised to her head, releasing long tresses of golden hair that fall down, down through the window, determined, this time, to save herself.

  “It’s a problem because she lied about the whole thing,” Sarah blurts out. She can see out of the corner of her eye that Nancy Bobbitt has turned to her, is about ready to speak, but Sarah speaks louder, more urgently, to prevent the interruption.

  “I know I should have spoken up before. I . . . I really don’t know exactly why I didn’t. I mean, a long time ago, when this first started. Lauren made it all up. She called her boyfriend and told him she was being sexually harassed so he would report it to her parents. I heard the call, and she admitted to me that it wasn’t true, what she was telling him, that she totally made it up to get the women in trouble. I could’ve prevented all this, but I just didn’t think anyone would believe her and then it got all official and, by then, I don’t know, I just thought it was too late, or I was afraid I’d get in trouble or that you would never forgive me or . . .”

  Sarah is speaking directly to Ellie, wringing her hands but refusing to wipe the tears off her face. She knows she must be spluttering now, trying to say whatever will convince them that this is all a mistake, that they have to believe her even though she has waited so long to confess. She knows what she has to say might very well make a difference in the outcome, but what’s even more important is that she will be a person she can live with after today.

  She turns back to Nancy Bobbitt. “You asked me and I answered honestly, but I didn’t say enough. Sexual harassment did not occur at this facility. We have much more chance of being harassed at detention or out on the street than we would here in a million trillion years. Lauren is a liar. That’s all you need to know.”

  Nancy Bobbitt’s voice is gentle. “But why would Lauren lie?”

  “Because she hates the women and she hates the work and she has some kind of vendetta against gay people. Lying is what Lauren does, how she got here. She even lies about her own brother, saying first that she doesn’t have one and then saying she does. See, the thing is, the rest of us have learned here that we’re a lot better off if we tell the truth, to everybody else but mostly to ourselves, even if it’s taken some of us longer than others”—and she gives Ellie a nervous glance, feels a flood of humiliation—“but Lauren hasn’t learned anything here. She’s been trying to figure out how to get these guys in trouble from the first day she got here. She’s told me lots of times that she’s going to bring them down so she can get out.”

  “She’s told you that?”

  “Lots of times. She wanted me to go in on it with her, said it would work better if we all ganged up on them together. I should have resisted better, stood up to her, and I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

  “I wonder, Sarah, how I can know that you are telling the truth?” Nancy Bobbitt asks.

  “That’s exactly what I’m trying to explain. What motivation would I have to protect these people if they were sexually harassing any of us? What could they threaten us with other than going back to detention, which is what we’d want to do if we couldn’t stand it here? I mean, just think about it.”

  “So, you are saying that Lauren made this up, hoping Ellie and Grace would get in trouble, so she could have her placement reviewed?”

  “Exactly. And, not only that—I think she thought she could get the place shut down, sort of like revenge. And I don’t think she believes she’ll have her ‘placement reviewed’ either. She believes they are just going to let her go home, especially if e
verybody thinks this was really awful for her.”

  Sarah is out of breath, but she feels light as a balloon. The room and everyone in it seems numb and immobile, like a video on pause and Sarah feels like she is waiting, waiting, and then, it happens. A shift. Slow motion. Nancy Bobbitt is turning to Lauren, as is everyone else in the room. But Lauren is only looking at Sarah, slowly shaking her head, her lips pursed like she’s been sorely disappointed.

  “My, my,” Lauren coos, her head shaking slowly back and forth. “Must have taken you quite a while to come up with all of that, Sarah.”

  Lauren sighs deeply and turns to Nancy Bobbitt. “I guess you must be used to this sort of thing. I don’t really know that much about drug addiction, but I’m sure Sarah could tell you all about it since she’s never quit the whole time she’s been here. Maybe you should be asking about that. Or maybe you should ask Ellie. Ask her about her charges here, how well she manages their drug use. Oh, and their cutting. See, Sarah is going to defend them because they pretty much let her keep doing what she’s always done. This whole thing is just a formality anyway, right? The judge will have all the evidence he needs without having to listen to a drug addict at the trial.”

  “Is that the evidence you stole from Ellie’s room?”

  For a second, Sarah doesn’t know where the voice has come from, but everyone else seems to. They are looking past her to where Cassie is sitting on the edge of the piano bench where Sarah remembers Cassie sat for their very first group session in this room.

  “Excuse me?” Nancy Bobbitt asks Cassie, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees as if talking to a small child. “Was there something you needed to say?”

  Cassie is looking down at her lap, finally raises her head with a huge inhalation of breath. “Sarah is telling the truth. I saw Lauren stealing cards and letters and things, I’m not sure what else, from Ellie’s room. She said she was borrowing it. I’m . . . sorry. I should have said something. I didn’t know it had anything to do with . . . this.”