Dear Emily (Forever Family)

by Trudy Stiles

  So I vomit. Not on myself, but in the nearest garbage can.

  Fucking pink wine.

  Fucking Todd.

  I arrive at the clinic just as Becca is walking up. She runs up to me and hugs me. “This is going to be great, Car. Just great. You are going to get tested, get a clean bill of health, and we are all going to be fine. Just fine.” She is nervous.

  I’m not sure if she is nervous for me, all of us, or herself. I can’t quite read her, so I say, “Yeah. I’m not so worried about you guys because you, Callie, and Manny are always so careful. But Todd. ICK. He probably sneezes Venereal disease.” I chuckle anxiously. I’m actually scared to death.

  We walk in to find that Callie and Manny are already there.

  Manny comes over to us and gives us each a kiss. “Ladies, I’m already done. Left my deposit. I’m late for Astronomy. Bye.” He flashes a tight smile and waves behind his back.

  “OK,” I say. “Let’s do this.”

  We walk into the waiting room, and Callie immediately goes behind the counter. Since she is interning here, she has already signed us in, and even completed most of our paperwork. Besides my social security number and my insurance ID, my paperwork is complete. I glance up at her with a questioning look.

  “I got here really early. I’m trying to make it easy and painless for you honey.” She smiles, and I try to relax. Yes, she is making this easy. What’s not easy about getting your insides scraped with cold a speculum between your legs?

  Right.

  Easy.

  I barely have time to fill my social security number in when another nurse comes out and calls my name. Callie and Becca look at each other nervously. “Good luck,” they say in unison. They both smile softly at me, and I quickly look away.

  I follow the nurse into the exam room and listen to her instructions. “Take all of your clothes off and put on this gown. Lie on the table and wait for the Physician’s Assistant, Jean. She’ll be in shortly.”

  I do as she says.

  Jean, the PA, is punctual and comes in almost right away.

  Yay me.

  She has a clipboard with her and a pen with Mickey Mouse ears. Really.

  This is certainly not a Disney moment.

  The interrogation begins.

  “When was your last period?”

  “Last week, the twenty-second.”

  “Are you sexually active?”

  I pause. “Yes? I mean does one time count?”

  “Of course. Have you had intercourse?”

  “Yes,” I say quietly.

  “Are you experiencing any discomfort?”

  “No. I mean, not now.”

  I am starting to get shaky at this point because I know where this is going.

  “What do you mean, not now? Have you had painful intercourse?”

  “Yes,” I whisper and a tear slides down my cheek.

  PA Jean looks up, and her face softens. She frowns and asks, “Did something happen to you, Carly? Can you tell me about it?”

  I’m silent for what seems like forever. She doesn’t budge. She only holds my stare longer.

  “Yes. I had sex, um, that I didn’t want… ugh!”

  At this point, PA Jean gingerly places her clipboard on the table next to her and sits down in the chair next to me. She keeps her hand on my ankle and says, “Carly, whatever you say is confidential. We protect your privacy no matter what. You can tell me what happened, when it happened, and let me try to help you.”

  I tell her. Not everything. I didn’t tell her about the dozen Swedish Fish shots that I did and that I passed out immediately following the rape.

  I did tell her that he forced himself on me, in me, and it hurt. A Lot. Burned.

  I tell her that I had blood on me the next day and lots of dried fluid on my thighs. I tell her that the bruising on my thighs and wrists finally disappeared last week, and I am finally starting to feel normal. ACK! What is normal?

  After a brief silent pause, she takes a deep breath, and her eyes soften even more.

  “Carly, first, what he did was wrong. Very wrong and you can prosecute.”

  “NO!” I can’t believe that word came out of my mouth. “No, I can’t,” I continue. “I want this to be over with and behind me. Everyone saw me leave with him. I’m a freshman! I don’t want this to follow me around for four years!”

  I’m sobbing now; snot and tears are dribbling down my chin and face. I can taste my salty tears, and I’m starting to feel nauseous.

  “OK, Carly, it’s OK.” Her hand is still on my ankle. “So let’s move on, shall we?”

  She begins to explain the exam that I’m about to get in detail. I am not ready for this. I don’t want to be touched or prodded there. I keep thinking about the burning sensation caused by Todd forcing himself on me. Into me. I’m so apprehensive. I know that Jean isn’t going to hurt me, but I feel so damaged and violated already.

  She pauses and waits for me to calm down. I do my best and then she proceeds to perform my pelvic exam. I relax as much as I can, and it’s over relatively quickly. Thank God.

  When it’s over, she pushes away from the table, takes off her gloves, and makes some notes on her clipboard. Her warm smile finds my face again.

  “I didn’t see any internal bruising or tearing, so that is good. However, it has been a few weeks, so you obviously healed over that time. We will take a urine sample to test for pregnancy, but since you had your period just last week, I’m confident you won’t be pregnant. I’ve also taken internal samples and will call you in a week when the results are in. Now, if you’re ready, I’d like to talk to you about a birth control method that suits you.”

  “Birth control?”

  I hesitate.

  “I haven’t had sex since–” I stop.

  Breathe.

  Continue.

  “Since it happened, and I’m not in a relationship…” My voice trails off.

  “Carly, I don’t want to force anything on you that you don’t want. Just think about it and let me know. OK?” She smiles.

  She hands me pamphlets on all of the various pills, shots, and implants.

  Then she hands me a business card with a phone number on it. The school counselor. Great. A Shrink. Just what I need.

  “Make this phone call, Carly. Dr. James is a wonderful lady, and she is a great listener. Please consider it. She can help you deal with all of the questions and feelings you are experiencing.”

  She backs away slowly, turns, and leaves the room.

  God. What just happened?

  I clean myself up, get dressed, and walk slowly out of the room.

  Callie and Becca are both waiting by the nurses’ station for me. Becca is first to reach out and gives me a hug. I can tell she’s been crying, and I make a note to add it to the next Wine Wednesday agenda.

  Callie looks toward me and says, “OK?” She smiles at me with her eyes. Becca squeezes my hand.

  “OK.” I lie.

  Callie goes back to work, so Becca and I walk back to our dorm with our arms looped through each other. In silence.

  I’m not OK.

  Portland, Oregon

  Past

  Age 19

  Dear Sara,

  I’m sorry.

  I’m so sorry.

  My baby.

  I couldn’t keep you and Tony didn’t want you.

  I’m so sorry. You are better off. You didn’t deserve to be born into this life.

  Forgive me. I can’t forgive myself. So please, I need you to forgive me.

  I love you.

  I’m about to sign the letter as I hear a noise below the apartment. A loud clunking noise barreling up the stairs.

 
Tony.

  I turn off the light, crumble the letter, and shove it under my pillow. It’s after midnight. I quickly close my eyes and pretend to be asleep.

  I hear the apartment door open, and I can already smell the smoke and filth on Tony.

  He owns the club downstairs where I work. I’m a cocktail waitress in a sleazy strip club, and Tony is my boss, my baby-daddy and my captor. He terrifies me.

  When he found out that I was pregnant, he demanded that I give up the baby. You see, he is Catholic and doesn’t believe in abortion. He also hates children. True story.

  But he believes in kicking the ever-living shit out of me any chance he can get.

  I don’t have dinner on the table on time. I get the shit kicked out of me.

  I don’t roll his dress socks the right way. I get the shit kicked out of me.

  I handed Sara over to an adoption attorney two weeks ago. I don’t know where she is or who adopted her. I didn’t have a choice. I signed away full parental rights. I was desperate. Tony arranged it. It’s done, and I now feel so empty. Gutted. My baby girl is gone, and I will never know her. She will never know me. She will be better off, but right now, I can’t get over the loss of my little girl. Tony controls me. I’m stuck here in hell.

  He won’t let me work in the club again until I get my figure back. Whatever, I only gained seventeen pounds during my pregnancy, and I’m smaller now than I was before the baby. He doesn’t like it though. My body. So, he kicked the shit out of me.

  I’m pretending to be asleep when he stumbles into the room. Ugh, I smell the cigarette smoke, booze, and stale cologne. The usual.

  He loudly flicks on the florescent light and kicks the foot of the bed.

  “Waaake uuup!” he slur-yells.

  I start to stir and peek out of my eyes. He’s inebriated.

  Blotto.

  God help me.

  “Tony,” I say quietly.

  “Geeet uuup Bitch!” Funny, he pronounces ‘bitch’ perfectly.

  “I’m up, I’m up!” Squinting, I slowly sit up and lean against the headboard.

  Shit.

  This is not going to be good.

  “I neeeed you to do something for me,” he continues to slur, “now!”

  He grabs me by my ankles and twists me around so that I’m on my stomach. He forces his weight onto my back, and he is breathing heavily into my ear. The stench from the alcohol is overwhelming, and I can practically taste it. I’m nauseous and can taste the bile rising in my throat.

  “You’re gonna get pretty, right now.” He burps; I taste more bile.

  “You’re gonna go downstairs into the private party room, aaand you’re gonna give one of my best customers a blow job.” He says ‘blow job’ directly into my ear with his hot breath and some of his spit drips onto me.

  “Tony, no, please!” I beg. Plead. Holy shit.

  What is going on? Is this happening? He has never asked me to do anything like this before. I’ve only ever been allowed to be with him. Oh God.

  He gets up, grabs the back of my hair, and pulls me off the bed. The pain shoots through my skull and down my spine. He spins me around, pushes me up against the wall, and a pocketknife suddenly appears. His drunk, shaky hand presses it into my cheek. He slices me.

  Deep.

  My blood is dripping into my mouth, and it tastes like tin and rust. I gag, and suddenly, his hand is wrapped around my throat.

  “You do what I say, Bitch!”

  Slap! My other cheek now burns from his strike.

  His hand moves back to my throat. Squeezing. Choking me.

  He’s cutting off my air supply now, and I’m starting to gasp for air. He’s going to kill me this time. I need to do something! I can’t die like this.

  My arms are flailing wildly, and my fingers brush against something on the dresser. It’s a paperweight. Desperate, I grab hold and swing it at the back of his head as hard as I can. Thud!

  He drops like a stone.

  Oh. My. God.

  I don’t care if he is dead or alive. I just need to get out of here. I’m trembling as I scramble for my clothes and grab my duffle bag. I stuff everything and anything I can into the bag.

  Then I go back to Tony. He’s out. He’s breathing.

  Not dead.

  Bummer.

  A lot of blood gushes and pools in his greasy hair.

  I reach into his pocket and pull out his wallet.

  Empty.

  Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

  I reach into his other pocket.

  Jackpot.

  It’s a wad of bills. I don’t know how much. I don’t care.

  I run out of the apartment, out into the empty ally behind our building.

  And.

  I.

  Just.

  Run.

  I’m free.

  I’m nineteen years old. I gave my baby girl away two weeks ago. I’m now completely alone.

  But I’m free.

  I taste more blood as it trickles down my cheek.

  I smile.

  New Brunswick, New Jersey

  Past

  Age 18

  BEEP BEEP BEEP

  I pull the covers off of my head and shoot my arm out toward my night table.

  BEEP BEEP BEEP

  God, that noise! I slam my hand on top of my alarm clock to silence it.

  I turn my head, nine-thirty AM. Fuck. I missed Bio. Again.

  I sit up, stretch, and look out the window. It’s snowing, and it looks so peaceful. I take a deep breath, stretch some more and make my way out of my room to the bathroom. It’s quiet in the hallway. Of course, everyone else is in class while I blow off Bio. Oh well, Professor Martin likes me. She believed my lie when I told her that I had the chicken pox and was sent home for a week when I missed the last Bio Lab. She’s so sweet. She is going to give me time to make up the lab so that I can get full credit for it. What will be my excuse this week?

  I relieve myself in the bathroom and turn on the water in the second shower stall. My shower stall. When our schedules sync up, Becca, Callie, and sometimes Manny time our showers together. It’s a great time to catch up. It’s also a great time for us to innocently check out Manny’s abs. We can usually be heard belting out a few tunes (you always sound better singing Bon Jovi in a shower stall!). We have assigned shower stalls for each of us. Becca is #1. I’m #2. Callie is #3, and Manny is #4.

  I leave the bathroom after I start the water to go back to my room to get my toiletries. It takes forever for the water to get hot!

  As I’m walking back to the showers, Denise, our resident advisor, stops me.

  “Carly!” God she is so chipper that sometimes I want to strangle her.

  “Good morning, Denise.” I say as I keep walking, away from her.

  “Carly! Happy Birthday!” she yells.

  Shit.

  It’s my birthday.

  I’m finally eighteen years old. I’m one of the youngest in my freshman class. I skipped second grade because I was a literary genius according to the private school where my parents sent me. I’ve always been the youngest in my class and my group of friends. I was the last to get my driver’s license, and I will be the last to turn twenty-one.

  “How…?” I start to ask.

  “Carly. I’m your RA. I have your housing records. Of course I know that it’s your birthday!”

  “Oh. Thanks.” I keep walking to the showers.

  “We are having a social tonight in the lounge to celebrate! Be there at seven o’clock sharp. Cookies and hot chocolate! Yay!” She skips away. Skips. Ugh.

  I will so not be going to the lounge tonight to celebrate.

  I step into the ba
throom, and it’s now filled with steam. I undress, get into the shower stall, and turn the water up hotter. I need to feel the burn to make me forget where I have to be in one hour.

  Today I go back to the clinic to find out if what Todd did to me left a mark.

  Fuck.

  ~

  I dress in my baggy jeans and favorite U2 concert tee shirt. My skin is still pink from the shower. I’m getting ready to get my jacket on when there is a knock on my door. Huh. Callie, Becca, and Manny are all in class. At least, they should be.

  I open the door and suck in my breath. Whoa. Hotness is standing there. Tall. Male. Hotness.

  I’m certain that my jaw is hanging so far open that flies can set up an aircraft carrier in there. Standing in my doorway is the most gorgeous guy I have ever seen. Tall, dusty blond hair, piercing blue eyes, and tall. Did I say tall?

  “Hey,” he says. “Are you Carly Sloan?”

  “Yeah,” I say in my best New Jersey accent. What?

  “I mean, yes, I’m Carly Sloan, of the Jersey Shore Sloans.” What the fuck am I saying? God.

  I’m such a dork.

  I can feel my cheeks flush even more than they already were.

  “OK. Good. Glad I found you. Your RA, Denise, said you were here.”

  Why is he looking for me? Wait, this is a joke. Someone sent him as a joke. A stripper-gram. Birthday jingle. It’s a joke. It has to be.

  “OK. Get on with it,” I say with an annoyed tone in my voice as I cross my arms over my chest.

  He looks confused by my reaction and continues. “Professor Martin was concerned that you missed Biology Lab today and wanted to be sure you were over the chicken pox.” He’s now smirking because clearly he has figured out that I don’t have them. Shit.

  “I’m her new teaching assistant for her Bio Lab, and she was hoping that I could help you catch up since you’ve been so sick.” He now has a full-on grin and his perfect teeth are blinding me.

  “What are you insinuating?” I pause.

  “I’m Kyle. Kyle Finnegan. And I’m not insinuating anything. Clearly, you have been so sick the past few weeks you haven’t been able to make it to Biology and Professor Martin has a soft spot for you and wants to be sure you get caught up. Wow, chicken pox. Really cleared up fast.” His sarcastic tone is obvious.