It Happened on Maple Street

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  I wanted to deny the accusation. But I couldn’t. I’d done it to Tim, too. There was something immoral about me.

  Lights appeared in the distance. Town. I was going to have to get out of the car. Stand. I was afraid there’d be blood on my backside.

  I was afraid that my pure and innocent roommates would notice the difference in me straight off. Notice and be horrified.

  I was going to be kicked out of school a few weeks before graduation. I wouldn’t get the degree I’d earned.

  “You have to marry me now,” James continued to talk. “No other man will have you.”

  I wasn’t surprised to hear that.

  “You have a problem, Sweetie Pie. You’re a tease. You drive men crazy. But I know you can’t help it. And it doesn’t change my love for you. We’ll deal with it together.”

  I couldn’t speak.

  “I still want to marry you. You’re my good girl. I don’t care that it was your fault. I don’t blame you.”

  I blamed me. I’d agreed to sit on his lap. I didn’t fight. Not until it was too late.

  I’d trusted to the point of stupidity. He’d tried to tell me of his desperate state. He’d needed me to be strong. To guide us to safety.

  And I sat on his lap.

  “You aren’t going to tell anyone are you?”

  I stared straight ahead.

  “You’d get kicked out of school.”

  I hadn’t even known physical things could happen that way. I sure as hell hadn’t wanted it to happen. But who would believe me?

  James would tell them it was my fault. I’d gone with him willingly. I’d agreed to sit on his lap. I didn’t tell him no at that last point.

  I hadn’t known what was going to happen. I hadn’t been able to speak.

  I was fear. Not afraid. Just . . . fear. I was fear.

  “You can’t tell anyone, Sweetie Pie.”

  I could tell someone. Though I couldn’t think of who that would be. Mom and I didn’t talk about such things. I’d never told her about the things I’d done with Tim. But she knew our dates had lasted until 4:00 AM more often than not.

  I could tell Rachel. She’d be shocked. I’d be judged as a convert. One from the outside. I was worse than a whore, worse than a fallen woman. My vagina hadn’t been penetrated, but I was no longer pure. Not even a little bit. I’d never even heard of that happening to a girl before, and I was certain she hadn’t either.

  She knew I’d gone with James. She knew him, too, just like I did. Everyone loved him. So many girls were jealous that I had him.

  She’d find me as disgusting as I found myself.

  Everyone would.

  We were in front of the student-housing apartment I shared with Rachel and three other girls.

  “Just remember, Sweetie Pie. Even though tonight was your fault, I still love you. I’ll always love you. You’re my girl. You’re my good girl. And you’re still a virgin.”

  Technically, I wasn’t. Tim had taken care of that medical proof.

  The lights were on in every room. It was curfew time. Everyone would be there, and I was going to have to get out of James’s car and walk up that long sidewalk to the front door.

  I wasn’t sure my violated body would let me walk. I couldn’t get out of the car.

  With a frown, James watched me and then slowly got out. He came around to my side of the car. Opened my door, just like he always did. He reached in with tender hands and helped me out.

  He supported my weight as I stood. “You can’t tell anyone, Sweetie Pie,” he said again, his voice laced with concern. Compassion.

  I nodded.

  Tilting my chin he looked me straight in the eye. “Promise me? It’s our secret. Part of our love.”

  I nodded again.

  He kissed me—a normal, chaste kiss—and I almost cracked open right then and there. Two things occurred to me in that second.

  There would never, ever be anything chaste about me again.

  And . . . the entire time we were on that dark country road, James had never kissed me. Not once.

  With an arm around me, holding me to him, James walked me up that path. I felt what he’d done to me with every step I took. I pictured the bathroom in the back of the apartment. I had to get to it.

  I had to take care of me.

  I might be lost. Changed. Different. Scared to death and confused. But one thing was very clear to me. For the rest of my life I had to take care of me. There would never, ever be anyone else I would trust to do that.

  Fourteen

  BY THE SUMMER OF 1980, EVERYTHING ABOUT TIM’S life was settling into place nicely. He and Emily were a couple, invited to each other’s family events. School was fine; he was on track to graduate in a year. So why was he thinking about Tara so much? It had been a year since Emily had given him the ultimatum—go see Tara for lunch and we’re done. He hadn’t heard from or contacted Tara since. And he couldn’t get her out of his mind.

  I was home for the summer. I hadn’t seen James since classes let out in May. I missed him. He was the only one who knew the real me, now.

  I loved living at home again—being welcome there. A member of my family. Being back with my mom.

  And I felt like such a fraud. No one had guessed what had happened on that dark country road that night in April by looking at me. And I wasn’t talking about it.

  But it was there with me every second of every day. I’d graduated. With honors. My folks were there for that, too.

  James hadn’t touched me again, other than to hold my hand. And give me chaste kisses.

  “I’m okay now,” he’d said once. “You were a good girl and took care of the problem you’d created. I can withstand the temptation of you now until we get married.”

  He could withstand it for two more years?

  And after we were married, then what? Would I like sex any better? We could do it normally then. But every time I thought about any man ever touching me again, I wanted to die.

  I’d get over it. I knew I would. I had to. I wanted children. A family. James loved me. Really loved me. He’d stood by me. He would stand by me through anything.

  He still wanted me.

  No other man ever would.

  He’d been incredibly kind, attentive since those minutes when everything had changed. He worshipped me. Spoiled me.

  And I really did make him happy. That meant a lot. It might take a while before I felt real joy again. But at least being with me made him happy. That was huge—to be able to make someone happy just by being around them.

  That meant I was worth something.

  As Tim and Emily got closer to a time when they might seriously think about getting married, he thought more and more of Tara. Was it ego because she’d asked for her ring back and he had some perverse male need to prove that Tara still wanted him? He’d like to think so. But the truth was probably a lot more simple. He was still in love with her.

  She defined him, made him feel things that he’d never felt before or since. And when she’d written I love ya in those letters from Armstrong, she’d been feeling the same way, too. He had a couple of years of growing up behind him. A year in a relationship with another woman. He’d learned a lot.

  How could he have been so blind? So closed off?

  And how could he be with Emily, have her waiting for marriage, if he had a chance with Tara?

  He had to call Tara. To set the past straight before he could move on to his future. She should have graduated in May. Chances were she was back living with her parents. School was only twenty minutes from her house. Maybe they could meet. Talk. Resolve things between them once and for all.

  The phone only rang a couple of times, but his heart was still pounding as he stood at a pay phone in Dayton.

  “Hello?” Her mom answered.

  “Mrs. Gumser? This is Tim Barney.”

  “Hi!”

  “I’m not sure you remember me, but . . .”

  “Of course I remember you! Ho
w are you? Did you graduate from college?”

  “Not yet. I have one more year. I don’t want to bother you, but is Tara there?”

  “Yes . . .” Her tone got more hesitant.

  “May I speak with her?”

  “Yes, just a moment.”

  He had no idea how many seconds passed, probably not nearly as many as it seemed. The light on the corner turned red, and cars started to line up beside him.

  “Hello?”

  He started to breathe again. “What’s up?”

  “Not much. How are you?”

  “Good. I’m good. I’m going to be in the area and wondered if I could stop by. Just to say hi.”

  “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

  “Why not?” he pressed her. He wasn’t taking no for an answer, not this time. It wouldn’t be right.

  “I just want to catch up on your life, Tara. I promise, no funny stuff.”

  “I’m engaged.”

  Wow. He hadn’t seen that coming.

  He should check his pulse to see if his heart was still beating. He could hardly breathe enough to get the next words out, and he remembered hearing that when someone is faced with an event of catastrophic proportion, something inside him takes over and his heart is no longer in control. Instead, the brain compensates, leaving him on autopilot.

  That’s where he was when he said, “Really, Tara, all I want to do is talk. This might be the last time we ever see each before we both start our new lives.”

  “I don’t know . . .”

  “I won’t stay long. I’d just like to say hi.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” He hung up before she could change her mind.

  I wouldn’t be able to go on if Tim ever found out what I’d become. I’d been his Tara. His sweet girl. Innocent. And hungry. He’d been the only man who’d ever touched me. Ever. Anywhere.

  What would he think of me now? A woman who’d been . . . a woman who teased men to the point of that?

  A woman who couldn’t bear the thought of a man’s body part? Who was afraid of sex?

  A woman who’d been penetrated in the most hideous way.

  I couldn’t bear the thought of the disgust I’d see in his eyes. If Tim knew what James had done, it would turn Tim off completely.

  I couldn’t bear to have Tim be as disgusted with me as I was with myself.

  But he’d called me.

  He wanted to see me.

  Maybe God hadn’t completely forgotten me.

  I turned and saw my mother standing there.

  “He’s coming over to say hi.”

  She nodded. “I gathered.” There was no judgment in her gaze. Concern, but no judgment.

  As I went up to my room to change clothes and fix my hair, I imagined Tim walking up to my front door, lifting me up against that chest that made me feel so safe, so secure, putting me in his car and driving me away to a place where I could wipe out the past three months, the past two years, and go back to being Tim’s girl.

  But I knew, even as I lived in my imaginary world, that my fantasy could never happen. Some things just couldn’t be undone.

  He was a mess. Excited to see Tara again, and betraying Emily because she didn’t know about the meeting with Tara. She’d disapprove for sure.

  Driving in Huber Heights, he was filled with a sense of familiarity. He’d made the drive so many times before—during the happiest time of his life. He saw his road a block away, turned left, and followed it to Drywood.

  He was in Huber Heights to see his Baby. No, that was the past. He was there to say hello and get on with the rest of his life.

  Wasn’t he?

  Could he see Tara again, knowing he loved her, and say nothing?

  He pulled the car in the driveway and sat for a moment, nervous as hell, trying to regain his composure.

  I was watching for him. The Le Mans pulled into my driveway exactly twenty minutes after we’d hung up. Tim’s car. His face behind the wheel. They were so familiar. So right. Like coming home. He got out of the car, and I choked up with tears.

  I couldn’t be this way. I was going to be another man’s wife. Had to be another man’s wife. Tim wouldn’t have me if he knew what James had done. No man would.

  What man would call a woman his own after another man had known her in such a . . . personal . . . way?

  Stopping short of the front door, I waited for Tim to ring the bell. Even if a miracle had happened and he wanted us to get back together, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be with him. He’d find out what had happened. And he wouldn’t want me anymore.

  And I didn’t want sex. Ever again.

  I might look the same on the surface, but I’d changed. In the deepest way possible.

  And Tim wasn’t going to know that. Ever.

  I couldn’t have him, but we could have our memories. I could have our memories to hold in my heart for as long as I lived, as long as he still saw me as the girl he’d known.

  I opened the front door with a big smile on my face—and tears in my heart.

  There she stood, his Tara, wearing three-quarter-length green khaki pants with a yellow polo top, her blonde hair, blue eyes, and her girlish smile greeting him. She looked exactly the same. And yet, something was different about this girl. The smile wasn’t the same. She wasn’t the same.

  She invited him in, and he stepped by her into the house he’d spent so many hours in—and that felt different, too. Like he was an intruder.

  He’d been selfish thinking of only what he wanted and needed. Something was wrong.

  This wasn’t his Tara. There was a disconnect between them. Something that hadn’t been there even when they’d had that disastrous meeting at Christmas the year before.

  She’d tried to tell him he shouldn’t stop by.

  An awkward tension fell between them as they stood there, saying nothing.

  Was it because she was nervous about him being there when she was engaged to another man?

  “When’s the wedding?”

  She shrugged. “Two years. Or so. He has to finish school.”

  Had their love been snuffed out by her new man? Had the guy given her the conversation that she so desperately needed?

  But that didn’t feel right, either. Something else was wrong. Something out of place. Her expression was old. Mature.

  She didn’t look happy.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  “No!” Her voice was cheerful. “I’m fine. How about you? You’re looking good!”

  “You seem far away.”

  “I’m just settling back in after graduation, figuring out what to do with my life for the next two years. Let’s go sit down so we can talk.”

  He went into the kitchen with her. Sat at the same table they’d been at so many times before.

  In the past they’d been holding hands—except that last Christmas. Then he’d only wanted to hold her hand.

  He wanted to now, too.

  She asked about his classes. About his job. About Eaton and his mom and Steve, his old carpool buddy.

  She didn’t ask about Emily, and he didn’t bring her up.

  “Sure seems like a long time since the old Wright State days,” he finally said, looking for a way in to his Tara.

  She shrugged. “Do you have any idea what you want to do when you graduate?”

  “Something in auto parts. How about you and your writing? Remember that night I went with you to the Vandalia city council meeting?”

  “Yeah. Why auto parts?”

  “Good job opportunity.”

  She didn’t ask why he’d switched his major from geology. Didn’t talk about Wright State, or ask why he’d stood her up. She didn’t bring up the past at all.

  The old Tara would have asked. He was crushed. He didn’t know this woman.

  “I guess I should probably get going,” he finally said, when nothing he said got through to her. It was as though the relationsh
ip he remembered, the intense love he’d shared, had been in another lifetime. With another woman. Tara didn’t seem able to connect to it at all. To remember him. Or them.

  “Thanks for seeing me.” He stood. “You look great.”

  She led him through the foyer out to the front porch and stopped there, toe to toe with him. It was the closest they’d been all day.

  And then, out of the blue, with no notice at all, she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him as though she’d never let him go.

  Her body was pressed tightly against his, and without thinking his arms were around her, too.

  He wasn’t sure who moved first, but before he knew what was happening their lips were locked together. The feel of her tongue against his shocked him. He returned the kiss for all he was worth. And then it was over.

  Tara turned back toward the door, not saying a word. She stepped inside. Completely shocked, Tim told her goodbye and left.

  The drive home was pure hell. Why had a woman who was engaged to another man kissed him like he was her lover? Her man?

  And then turned her back on him?

  He’d lost her forever. To another man who she must love more than she’d loved him.

  So why had she kissed him like that?

  What was he lacking that she needed? He could feel tears forming in his eyes and thought how crazy it all was. He had Emily. She tended to him. Cared for him.

  And he was sad because Tara had moved on.

  In July of 1981 I agreed to spend the night with James. We’d been engaged for almost two years, and other than the one night he’d lost control because of my teasing, he’d never once treated me with anything but decorum and respect. He still hadn’t graduated from college. He’d changed his major instead. And transferred to a university close enough to my folks’ house that we could see each other on a regular basis.

  He’d said being apart from me was killing him. I was glad that I still made him happy.

  I’d left the church. So much for my great faith. It couldn’t withstand me feeling dirty every time I went to service. I was a seductress who drove men crazy. Not a good little church girl.