By Silent Majority

by Robert Buschel

  “Let me give you a tour,” Cynthia said. She took him by his arm and quickly showed Alan her father’s office. “He won’t be using that until he gets back from vacation on Sunday.”

  “It’s very Ivy league looking,” Alan said. Cynthia showed him her parent’s bedroom. All Alan could recall was that it looked brown, not what he thought a bedroom would look like. It didn’t seem like much love could be made there. The carpet was shaggy, and very proper looking pictures hung on the wall that seemed to match the brown decor. Alan had the feeling Cynthia agreed, and she took him from the room.

  On a table outside the bedroom was a shot of Tequila poured, but untouched. Cynthia reached down and then threw it to the back of her throat. With a sour swallow, she grimaced and squinted. Once it was down, she smiled and continued with Alan by her side. “It’s not as bad as the first one,” she slurred.

  “It never is,” Alan replied.

  “And this is my room,” she said and pushed him into the room. Cynthia shut the door behind her and flicked on one dim light. She took Alan’s beer from his hand, went to the open window, and tossed it on the lawn two stories below. She shut the window, turned around, and smiled. “Lock the door,” she said. He did. Cynthia ran into his arms and hugged him. Alan leaned down and kissed her with his open mouth. She grabbed Alan and pushed him to her bed. They kissed for a while until the point where Cynthia realized, she had to take the initiative. Alan was a bit nervous. He wanted to have sex with Cynthia but he didn’t want to set her up for what Kingsford assured was next.

  Cynthia took her pants off first and Alan noticed her lace powder blue panties. His mellow disposition from the beer did not override his desire. She made some comment about wearing them all day and how the sexy panties are uncomfortable. He ran his hands over her thighs. She lost all control. Cynthia took charge. She placed Alan on her bed like the next day’s clothes and removed her blouse and bra almost simultaneously. Alan smiled, and could not believe his good fortune. She consented and she was the captain. Their destiny was at Cynthia’s command.

  Alan felt his clothes coming off. His eyes were closed, and he could hear the people downstairs, the music, and the football team. He repressed that thought. He would not be a part of that conspiracy. Why should he? It was the wrong thing to support. He would be true to his resolve. He had to be, that’s what made Alan different from the others. The reason he is destined for greatness in his own right is his ability to be the shepherd and not follow the herd. His own code guided his course of action. Now he could enjoy the sex.

  As Cynthia lowered herself on top of Alan, she moaned with accomplishment. She spoke the word yes and lowered herself more. Alan was patient. The light from the outside illuminated Cynthia’s figure enough for him to enjoy her visually. She recoiled upward and came down hard. She established a rhythm that built the intensity, level upon level. Cynthia moved with self-possession and a knowing that she was making Alan enjoy himself. She didn’t even have to ask. She could hear him.

  The tension was building for both of them. Cynthia was moaning louder and relaxing. She became increasingly more comfortable with Alan. “Not bad for my first time,” she said. Distracted, Alan’s climax was delayed. After a moment passed, he reveled in the thought that he took her virginity. He participated more vigorously because of his discovery. Within moments, he climaxed, and Cynthia sprawled out on top of him.

  Alan breathed deeply and was satisfied. Good guys occasionally get good fortune. Strange to Alan, he heard his father’s voice tell him to stick to a path of conscience and you’ll be rewarded in good fortune many times. When he’s right, he’s right. What better reinforcement could there be?

  A few minutes later, after thinking of nothing for several beats, Alan wondered if he would have to spend the night here. He knew it would not be a good idea. For one, he wouldn’t know how to act with Cynthia, and he wouldn’t be able to explain to their parents why he was out all night. Alan knew he could explain it to his dad, but not to his mother. She automatically presumed that he was involved with drinking and general debauchery. Of course, he was involved in it; however, he didn’t want to defend it to his mother. There are other teens who have problems controlling their drinking and their associations, but not him. He stuck to the code. His code kept him out of trouble, and allowed him to have a good time simultaneously. So there was no reason to defend it.

  Alan’s thoughts were disrupted by laughing and tapping on the door. It was Kingsford. “Go away,” Alan said loudly enough to be heard, but not to wake Cynthia who seemed to have passed out on top of him. She was not asleep, she was out. Alan heard, “Quit hogging the bitch.” The code, the code, he heard above the voice. Alan slipped out from under Cynthia undetected. He sat at the edge of the bed thinking in strobe. Thoughts fragmented in his brain. He knew how he would get home. Alan decided to give Travis the honor. He would be sober by now. The code said that he should call Cynthia tomorrow. He decided he would. It would make the entire affair honorable: love of two infatuated youths, rather than a lustful interlude with a regretful aftertaste.

  Knocking, knocking, at the chamber door, brought a gust of evil into the room. Alan did not know how to escape. He thought of Dieterson. He looked out the window and realized that it offered no escape. The ground was too far below, for a safe fall.

  Alan decided that he must confront the rogues at the door. He dressed and opened the door slowly, in an effort to communicate that quiet was important. Kingsford pushed open the door.

  “Are you done with the whore?” Kingsford said.

  “Shh, she’s sleeping,” Alan replied.

  “Great, that’ll be fine.”

  “Get serious.”

  “I am serious. I meant everything that I said downstairs, Carlson. Move it or you’re going to get busted up.” Kingsford pushed Alan into a wall outside of Cynthia’s room. Alan became worried. He did not want to fight Kingsford. He did not want to be there and knew what would happen if he left. How could he?

  “Listen, she’s asleep; you’ll wake her up.” Alan took a risk and grabbed Kingsford from behind. He turned Kingsford toward him and said, “I spoke to her about it and she said maybe next week.”

  “Forget next week. I want it now!”

  “Well you can’t get it if she’s asleep!”

  “That’s what you think. It really doesn’t matter to me.” Kingsford then stepped into Cynthia’s room, and he became aroused. Alan grasped the back of his football jacket and yanked it hard. Alan yelled, “Cynthia,” in hopes of waking her. She didn’t budge. Kingsford broke free and laced his arm between Alan’s leg. Lifting upward, Kingsford threw Alan over his shoulders. Possessed by the will of hormones, and a desire to accomplish his deed, he walked over to the stairwell. He leaned forward slowly, lowering Alan off his shoulders. Kingsford’s friends neither aided nor obstructed their raging cohort. Alan rolled off of Kingsford’s neck and head and fell about ten feet on his back. Stunned, he felt paralyzed. His head rushed, his body ached, and at the same time, he was grateful to be alive. It was more disbelief than anything else that controlled Alan’s emotions.

  Travis and two others ran to Alan’s aide. Alan stood on his feet and told Travis to drive him home. He rationalized that his duty was done. He didn’t care anymore. Alan walked out the door, as Travis happily led the way.

  “How did you feel once you were home?” Rock asked out of curiosity.

  “I swore off drinking, like most teens do. And I prayed that Cynthia wouldn’t think I had anything to do with what Kingsford and the others did.”

  “Do you know for sure they all raped her?”

  Alan winced and rubbed his hand hard over his lips. They didn’t take advantage of her, they raped her. And he allowed it to happen.

  “Look, Alan, I know this is a painful memory. But I’m not your psychiatrist. Just tell me the facts and I’ll worry about the fall out.”
r />   Alan took a moment to think. He reflected on Rock’s statement. “Yes, that’s what I heard.”

  “And Cynthia, did she ever tell you about it or say anything?”

  “No. It took me a few weeks to warm up to her again. I was really disturbed by the whole thing. She wanted to make-love with me again. I never gave her the chance. What’s going to happen?”

  Rock thought for a few moments, but wanted to give the impression he was pondering.

  “Well, I think you’re safe. If this didn’t come out when your dad ran for the Senate, chances are the only people who know don’t want to say anything. Kingsford and company aren’t going to admit that they raped a girl in high school. And fortunately, Cynthia wouldn’t want to deal with her rape so many years later. I think she liked you and wouldn’t want to hurt your family’s chances to get to the White House. Of course, I’ll speak with her very discretely and straighten everything out. You may have to talk to her.”

  “Okay.” Alan was relieved.

  Connie thought for days about what she could tell Roger Rock. She wanted to tell him something so that he would believe that she was participating in good faith. She wanted to spice up the story about when she hit the neighbor’s car and didn’t tell. She would rather say nothing, justifying her desire by thinking it was nobody’s business. Connie doubted that Rock would keep her information secret. If he was going to investigate the situation, couldn’t the investigation leak the information? This worried her. She was not as trusting as Alan. Alan was always a big mouth. He would talk to anyone and say anything, if he was in the mood. She was sure that Rock knew how to get Alan in the mood to talk.

  Connie wondered what Alan had said in his meeting. She liked hearing about how Alan got into trouble. It was a secret pleasure of hers since infancy. When Alan was in trouble, the heat was off her. She felt reassured and confident when Alan was what her mother was focusing on. She didn’t want her mother’s constant scrutiny on her. June examined whether Connie was lady like. Walking straight, speaking clearly, and always smiling. Connie didn’t want to be a politician. Sometimes she didn’t want to walk straight or smile. Connie learned. It was either smile before she spoke or frown from her mother’s rebuke later. The promised result was a man.

  The man that Connie married was not a politician, but a power broker in the defense community, at DMI. Conroy Hilton was a boy of privilege, prep schools in Europe, and West Point. He serves his pocket and his country. His upshot at DMI was due to his intelligence, his perceived relationship with the President, and his ingenuity and business prowess; however, not necessarily in that order.

  Connie appreciated Conroy more than she loved him. That confession didn’t bother her much. She valued stability and consistency in her life more than risk, adventure, and love. With Conroy’s two-million-dollar a year income, she was in love. She offered that information as a segue to talking about what Connie should really discuss.

  “I’m not a psychiatrist,” Rock said. “I’m not going to counsel you on your feelings. I just need to shutdown any possible embarrassment to your father.”

  “Well maybe you should be a psychiatrist. I’m going to get anxious just thinking about some of the things I’m going to be telling you.”

  “Just relax and tell me. Everything is confidential like a psychiatrist. I’m extremely loyal to your father, which translates to being loyal to you.

  “This happened such a long time ago. I don’t see the point in me even telling you this.” Rock paused and said nothing. He sensed she would begin. Connie could hear the footsteps rumbling through her memories—making its way to her consciousness.

  Connie remembered she and her friend Jessica went into the girl’s bathroom at school and put on makeup they both couldn’t put on at home. Every fifteen-year-old girl in the sophomore year wore makeup, but not every girl had mothers like Connie and Jessica. That’s what drew them together. The most powerful thing in common they shared was inflexible mothers on matters of etiquette.

  Jessica’s father was a Congressman from Georgia. He also was Republican, which made their friendship acceptable, if not encouraged.

  “Gosh, Connie what did your dad say when you told your mom that you were too old not to wear makeup?”

  “He didn’t say anything. Sometimes he can be such a wimp when it comes to June. It’s like she has this hold over him.”

  “My dad doesn’t care. As long as it doesn’t affect him, my mother rules. She knows what’s best for his career, and all this Baptist way of life has put him on top and has kept me square.”

  “Not so square. You’re dating Billy Kingsford.”

  “Yeah,” Jessica answered.

  “Does your mother know?”

  “No way, I could never tell her. She would never approve of the jock type.”

  “You know that his brother Darren is Alan’s age.”

  “Yeah, I know. You better tell Alan not to mention that Billy and I are seeing each other to my mother or I’ll kill him.”

  “He won’t. Besides I have more on him.”

  Class was the same old record played a little slower with each day that passed. Nothing really exciting except an occasional boy who may have looked longer than he should. She wasn’t allowed to date any of them, and she didn’t want to lead any of them on. After hearing over and over that boys want only one thing, she believed it. Connie wondered what was so good about the forbidden fruit, and Jessica already knew.

  Jessica came over to Connie’s house a few hours after school. Jessica’s eyeliner was running down her face in streams of tears. Quickly, Connie ushered Jessica to the yard outside.

  The yard was a five-acre stretch of grass and high trees. Carlson’s property ended, but there was no fence separating the neighbor’s property. To the eye, then, it was a vast grove.

  Connie was excited by the idea that Jessica was upset about something. Something that Connie could get involved in, go to bed, and know it wasn’t her problem. Funny how years later it has become Connie’s problem.

  The mood was somber, and a cool breeze was blowing. Jessica’s focus was on the trunks of her trees and not on Connie’s eyes. The sight of the trees was a more soothing vision. It was as if she were speaking to the trees and not to a person—as if it were not her problem, but a story. She began.

  “I’m in very big trouble. I think I’d be better off killing myself.”

  Connie replied, “Don’t talk like that. Start from the beginning.” Her tone masked her hidden pleasure at the thought of having a really gritty problem to contemplate.

  “You can’t tell a soul. You have to swear.”

  “I swear. What is it? You’re scaring me Jess.”

  “It’s Billy.”

  “He didn’t dump you did he?”

  “No. I’m pregnant. He got me pregnant,” Jessica sobbed.

  Connie was shocked with sensory overload. She didn’t know how to react. This problem was way over her head. Pregnancy was something that happens to girls in public schools, not Congressmen’s daughters. “How?” Connie asked.

  “What do you mean how, stupid?” Jessica regretted sharing this with Connie. If she was that ignorant, Jessica could not go to Connie. Jessica sought a woman with a level head, not some naïve school girl. Connie seriously didn’t understand how she got pregnant? “I slept with Billy.”

  “You mean you had sex with him?” Connie said in disbelief.

  “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything to you.”

  “No, where?”

  “Where did we do it? In my room at home. When my parents were away. His home, when his parents were away.”

  “What was it like?” Connie was fascinated. She couldn’t believe Jessica was a girl that did.

  “Who cares what it was like? I’m pregnant. This is no time to talk about sex. I don’t know what I’m going to do.” Jessica
cried more.

  “Are you going to tell your parents?”

  “No, how can I? My mother would banish me to some boarding school.”

  “Does Billy know?”

  “No. I’m not going to tell him. I’d probably lose him if I did.”

  “Well if he would dump you over this then he’s not worth having,” Connie said in her own mother’s voice.

  “Oh, he wouldn’t know what to do either. All I need is a crazy person in my life to deal with.”

  “Are you going to keep the baby?” Connie asked. Jessica was relieved that Connie was not as innocent as she first thought.

  “No, I need an abortion.”

  “A what?”

  “An abortion Connie. You don’t think I’m going to school nine months pregnant do you?”

  “I don’t know, it never occurred to me.”

  “I know, I never really thought about it either. Who plans these things? I’m fifteen years old. I’m the daughter of a Congressman. We wouldn’t know what to do with a baby.”

  “So you’re going to see a doctor by yourself? Can you do that?”

  “No, I can’t. I’m too young. Besides the doctor who would do it would tell my parents.”

  “You have to tell someone...”

  Jessica shot back, “I’m telling you.”

  “How can I help you,” Connie asked not as a friend but in disbelief. She wanted to know gossip but not be dragged into a tragedy.

  “Connie, you need to be mature about this. You’ve always acted like a little girl, but in times like these you’re going to need to grow up. Connie, you’re going to have to do it.” Connie was startled. Incredulously she answered, “You mean . . .”

  “That’s right, you’re going to give me an abortion.”

  “How can I . . . I don’t know . . . this is ridiculous. I can’t give you an abortion.” Connie whispered the word abortion. “I don’t know how. I could kill you.”

  “I have a book. It’s simple enough for a child to do it. I’m desperate. What would you do?” Connie thought. She didn’t know what she would do. She never even thought about letting a boy see her naked, let alone question what she would do in the event she got pregnant. The adventure ensnared her, however, and Connie reluctantly said she would do it.