Mom paled. The officers stared between the three of us. The male officer had his hand on his gun holster. I didn’t know if that was an automatic reaction to tense situations or if he thought we were really out of control. Probably the latter and he was very much correct. Our family was out of control.
“Trina?” Mom whispered into my sister’s bowed head. “That’s not true. Is it, Trina?”
Trina stayed quiet while I glared at her blonde head. What an interesting call this was going to turn out to be for the officers.
Finally, she looked up. Her expression was sad, so devastatingly sad, that I just knew she was going to tell the truth. She looked at me as tears streamed down her face, pleading at me with her clear blue eyes. My little sister, whose golden locks I used to braid into pigtails. My sister who used to think of me as her very own teddy bear and would pull me tight within her arms when she was sleeping.
I would forgive her. After all of this, I would forgive her.
But then she said, “Mike Anderson held me down behind the concession stand at the field and raped me. He forced me to have sex with him and now I’ve not only been raped, I’m pregnant. With his child.”
“No!” I lunged for her. The female officer caught me in her iron arms. I thrashed. I kicked. I clawed at her arms. “No! You’re a liar! Mike would never touch you!” I was screaming. Trina was crying. Mom was white, like she was about to slip into a coma.
Then Dad walked in the house.
“What’s going on here?” he demanded. “Why are the police in my house?” He looked at Mom. “What did you do? Or was it them?” And he flicked his head with the word them, like we were the neighbor’s dogs barking outside.
“Sir,” said the male officer. “Please have a seat and we can figure out exactly what is going on.”
“You’re damned right I’ll have a seat. It’s my own house, for Christ’s sake.” He fell into the chair then glared at us all.
“Sir, what is your name?”
“Jack Slone. What’s yours?”
“Sir, my name is Officer Calhoun and this is my partner, Officer James.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Mr. Slone, your daughter has made a complaint against a fellow student, a Mr. Mike Anderson.”
“What’s her complaint?”
“Rape.”
His lips pulled into a thin line and he stared at Trina. She didn’t return his gaze, though. She had re-buried her head in Mom’s chest. I hated her at that moment with a ferocity that turned my limbs rigid.
Dad pulled his eyes from my sister to my mom. She wouldn’t look at him either. Instead, she laid her head on top of Trina’s, like she was smelling her shampoo. Then he looked at me. I was held in a bear-hug by the female officer but when I released my grip on her arms, she lessened her grip on my body. Then she pulled away altogether, like she could sense there was no fight left in me. But she was wrong about that. I wouldn’t let Trina pin this on Mike.
“Rape? Mike Anderson?” His voice was hard, steady. His fingers wrapped over the armrests, the tips white from the force of his clench. “Is that how you got pregnant?”
Trina nodded but did not lift her head.
“That Anderson boy raped you and got you pregnant?” he repeated. Each word was like a ten-ton boulder falling onto the ground, shaking the floor beneath us all. “Dr. Anderson’s boy?”
Somehow Trina’s size shrank, like someone released all the air in her body. She melted into Mom, clutching the sides of her arms. I could hear her shaking breaths each time she inhaled and exhaled.
“Trina, look at me. Now.” His words were lethal, full of sharp edges, even though he didn’t raise his voice. “Is this true?”
Trina’s head lifted. Her eyes were a watery, crystal blue; shiny and swimming. Her lips shook and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, biting down hard enough to break the skin.
“Yes. It’s true.”
AN HOUR later, the officers left. I don’t know how the rest of their time here went down because after Trina’s last declaration, I went after her again. I almost had a handful of her blonde hair within my fist, but the strands fell through my fingers as the officer yanked me away with so much force, I got whiplash.
This time I was forced into my room and told not to come back out. Before I shut my door, I saw Officer James place her tall body at the end of the hallway, blocking me from my lying sister.
That was smart because at that moment I could’ve killed her. I didn’t recognize her as my little sister. She was no one I knew. And no one I ever wanted to know.
ANGER SIMMERED in my blood like a pot about to boil over. I wasn’t sad. Depressed. I was full of rage and couldn’t calm my shaking fingers. After the police left, the house settled into a black chasm of quiet. No one yelled. No one cried that I could hear. It was as silent as death.
Dad was probably still sitting in his chair, wondering what had happened to us all. Mom would have hurried right to bed, quickly comatose and unresponsive. Who cared where Trina was?
Unable to stand being there any longer, I got up before dawn. After a few minutes in the bathroom, I changed my clothes. Then I slipped out of the house, going out my window. I wanted to see Mike. Before I started my car, I sent a text:
Meet me at the gas station. The one open all night. We need to talk.
He had a right to know what awful accusations were coming his way. I prayed he was up, though I had no reason to think he would be. But still, I took off down the road not caring who I woke up with the roar of my engine.
The gas station was just a mile away. There were several stations along the interstate, one even in town; but I wanted to go to the one that I knew would be open at five in the morning, and that also had a mart where I could get coffee. Just as I put the car in park in front of the store, my phone dinged.
Be there in ten the message read.
Air seeped out of my chest and I hadn’t realized I’d been holding it. Did he know what Trina was doing? After he found out, would he still talk to me? Would he still want to go to Prom? Somehow I doubted it. And I couldn’t blame him.
With sleeves pulled over my hands, I went into the store, passing by the clerk without a glance. The coffee station had four steaming pots ready for all the early morning customers. I picked up one and poured two coffees. After four packets of sugar in each cup, and five creamers, I figured they would taste good enough. Then I grabbed a couple of doughnuts and went to the counter to pay, never once looking at the man behind the counter, even though I could feel him watching me. Guess there weren’t many girls my age in here at this hour.
As I pushed through the door, a truck from the power company pulled in and two middle-aged men got out. I recognized one as a friend of Dad’s, but I slipped into my car before he saw me. Then I waited, not touching the coffee or the doughnuts.
Several minutes later, a car pulled in beside mine. Mike slid into the passenger seat and slammed the door. He kept his face forward, his jaw clenched. The store’s light showed deep shadows under his eyes.
“Would you like a drink?” I held out one of the coffees. “I put in a ton of milk and sugar. I can’t believe people drink this stuff without it.” I forced a chuckle. “It tastes awful otherwise.” My voice trailed off as I watched him. He was quiet. Too quiet. “So you know?”
“Yep. I know. Police were at my house last night. It seems I’m under suspicion for raping your sister.”
His words fell flat and toneless. The two men from the power company walked out of the store. Another car pulled in. Then another. Soon the lot was full. The world lay in a gray haze all around us, full of shadows and clouds. I shivered.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, finally.
He grunted. “Yeah. Me too.”
He wouldn’t look at me and his tone was distant, curt. I rubbed my left arm until his silence wasn’t so painful.
“Can I do anything to help? I told the officers that she was lying.” I watched hi
m from the corner of my eye and drew my knees up under my chin.
A young woman dressed in a pink nurse’s uniform entered the store. She went straight to the coffee station and pulled out the largest Styrofoam cup they sold.
“I think they know she’s lying,” he said. “Or at least suspect it.”
“What can I do?” I leaned toward him. I put my hand on his arm and he stared down at it, as if he wasn’t sure what it was.
“Get her to tell the truth. I’m going to lose everything if this keeps on. Even if it’s not proven. The accusation is enough. I’ll lose any chance at a scholarship.” He snorted. “My dignity. I’ll lose everything.”
“I’ll try, Mike. I promise. I don’t think Dad believes her either.” My words were shaped by the need to have him know that I was on his side. It bothered me only a little that I was choosing a boy’s word over my own sister’s. And there was only a very fleeting moment that wondered, what if she was telling the truth?
Unfortunately, I knew Trina. She’d said that Mike was the only guy she’d had sex with. But when she was fourteen, I found her and a guy in her bedroom after school one day. And it was obvious they weren’t playing cards. My little sister was a liar. Was she just being the girl who cried wolf, or was there truth to her words?
WITH MY head a jumbled mess, unable to trap and consider any one thought, I stayed quiet. We sat there until the gray sky was replaced with long strokes of reds and pinks.
Finally, when the clock turned to seven, I said, “I think we need to go. I can’t miss school. Or be late.” I also wanted to break the silence. It had grown heavier than an avalanche falling over our heads.
“I’ll meet you there.” He slid out of my car. He never once looked at me and I sat on my hand to keep from reaching out to him. The coffees remained untouched; the doughnuts uneaten, their sugary smell filling the car with sickening sweetness. I hopped out and threw them away before getting back in my car and following Mike to school.
We were early and the lot was only half full. I parked beside his car, but when I got out, he didn’t. I walked to his window.
He ran a hand through his hair and looked years older than eighteen. “I can’t go in there. Not today.”
I nodded.
“Not with this accusation hanging over me. I’m sure she’s told everyone at school. Word travels fast in a small town.”
There was a circle of pain around my heart at seeing him that way, knowing that my own sister had caused this. And she’d done it to spite me. I hated her. I hated my sister. Not only was she a liar, but she was going to cost me Mike, one of the few bright spots in my life.
“I’ll talk to her today.” My voice sounded pleading to me. How did it sound to him?
“Okay.” His tone so expressionless, it sounded like a robot’s. He put the car in drive. “I’m going to go.”
I studied his face, willing him to say something else, feeling him slip away from me. “Mike,” I pleaded.
Finally, he glanced up. “It’s okay, Rowan. I don’t blame you.”
But something about the way he pulled his eyes from my face, quickly, like it hurt to look at me, told me that his statement wasn’t entirely true. I may not have caused this mess directly but the accuser was my sister. Guilty by association.
Without another glance, he pulled out of the parking lot and drove away.
I MADE it to my first class just as the bell was ringing. Then I went to my next class, and my next, keeping my head down and trying to ignore the stares of everyone I passed. Halfway through the day, I went to my locker and fell against it. The metal was cool against my back, solid, and supportive. With my eyes closed, I focused on the sounds of the hallway–the screech of sneakers, the giggles of girls, the low-pitched drone of junior and senior boys talking to one another.
“Ro, what the hell is going on?”
My eyes flew open to see Jess standing in front of me, hand on her hip. Today her cherry-red hair was pulled away from her face with a black headband. She had colored the tips purple. Black eye liner made her large blue eyes pop behind the glasses. She towered over me and when I lifted my head to look at her, I was moved by the concern I saw and I tried to smile. Tried to show her how glad I was she was talking to me.
But I couldn’t. My head fell back against the locker with a bang.
All I could do was shrug my shoulders because words wouldn’t come to me. Tears filled my eyes and I bit my lip. I hated to cry.
But when Jess reached out and rubbed my arm, and I looked back at her, I lost it. Tears flooded from my eyes like a burst dam and my shoulders shivered under the weight of my life.
Jess wrapped her arms around me, pulling me close to her body. “Shhh,” she whispered into my hair.
But I couldn’t stop. I welcomed the shield of her body, happy that my own stature could be so easily hidden. And I wept.
Jess forced a laugh. “People are staring, Ro. This is how rumors get started. Two girls making out in the hall…”
I tried to laugh, managed a hiccup, and then lifted my head.
“So, the rumors are true?” Jess pushed up her glasses.
I glanced up. “Which ones?”
“Trina’s pregnant?”
I nodded, eyes welling with fresh tears.
“Who’s the father?”
So that rumor hadn’t started. But I couldn’t bring myself to say it, to admit that my sister had cried foul and blamed my Prom date for not only knocking her up but for raping her.
I shook my head, unable to voice any words. In my pocket sat a cool, thin razor. I hadn’t needed its release last night when anger made me see nothing but flames and heat. But now it was calling to me and my fingers itched to touch it. I needed to get to the bathroom. My fingers shook with anticipation.
“I can’t get into it now. Let’s catch up later, okay?” I took a step away from her. “Too much to even get into now. Oh, by the way, Mike asked me to Prom.” My voice sounded dead to me, shaped by none of the excitement that should come with that statement.
“Ro, that’s great!” But I could tell by the somber expression on her face that she barely registered what I said.
“Yeah, that’s great.”
“Something else is wrong, though.” Jess knew me very well.
I pulled in a deep breath. “Yeah. Trina is saying that the baby is Mike’s.” Jess’ mouth fell open. “But, it’s really Christian Dalton’s. The sophomore. Oh, but in order to keep from getting killed by Dad for getting knocked-up by a black kid, she’s now saying that Mike raped her.” Once I started, the words poured out in a flood.
“What? Are you kidding me?” She yanked off her glasses and stared at me.
I shrugged, reaching into my pocket to touch the razor. The tardy bell rang and I pulled my hand out to grab books from my locker.
“I gotta go. I can’t be late.”
“Let’s meet after school. We can talk more. Do you have to work?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t know. I’ll send you a text.” I didn’t want to think about work, Dan, Trina, home.
“Hey.” She put her hand on my arm. “I’m sorry about the other day.”
I swallowed against the lump in my throat. “Me too.”
I pulled her into a quick hug, then darted into the girls’ bathroom where I locked myself in a stall and pulled the razor out of my pocket.
THE REST of the day passed in a fog. Finally, the bell rang and I darted outside, gulping air like I’d been suffocated. And I had to go to work and deal with Dan.
When I got there, he was outside with a customer. He glanced up when I got out of the car. I went into the office and started going through the day’s paperwork.
The sale was still going on and the paperwork was a mess. I organized the receipts in one pile, invoices in another and in a final pile, all parts order forms. After I wiped fingerprints and coffee rings off the counter, I refilled the cups in the holder beside the water dispenser. I put a fresh roll of paper t
owels in the bathroom, and then gave a quick spray of air freshener.
Dan shook hands with the customer, and then started toward the office, leaving the man roaming among the vehicles, kicking tires and peering in windows. The man got into one of those ancient, impossibly long cars and sputtered out of the parking lot.
“Hi.” Dan stopped in the doorway.
“Hey.”
His eyes burned into me. “Is something wrong?”
“I guess not.”
“Rowan, what’s going on? Is it about your friend and what happened the other day?”
I guess he meant Jess. He probably thought his chances of us dating were greatly reduced if my best friend didn’t like him.
I grabbed a broom and started sweeping.
“There’s too much going on to get into and it has nothing to do with Jess.” I wove the broom around the chairs. “Is that guy going to come back? Looks like he needs a new car.” I flipped my head toward the window even though the man was long gone.
“He’ll be back tomorrow with cash.” He didn’t move from the doorway and I had to walk right past him to sweep the other side of the room.
“I don’t know what to say.” I sighed. “My sister is pregnant. She says it’s one guy’s. I hear it’s not that guy’s but actually a different guy’s. I confronted her about that and then she turned around and said she’d been raped by the first guy she named.”
“Raped? Rowan, was your sister raped?” He walked toward the counter and leaned against it, arms folded over his chest.
I put the broom away. “That’s what she said. The police were over last night to talk about it.”
“But you don’t think she was? That she was raped?”
I shook my head, wishing I had something else to clean. “I don’t think she’s telling the truth. It would be like Trina to get knocked-up then blame it on someone else. Someone more acceptable.”
“I see. But would Trina really go that far? Blame someone for rape who hadn’t even touched her?” I turned my back to him and started to line up the four black chairs that sat in the waiting room. “Isn’t that a bit extreme? I mean, I don’t know your sister, but really.”
A Life, Redefined (A Rowan Slone Novel Book 1) Page 9