A Short Story: Untitled

A Short Story: Untitled

She went to see a therapist. She was upset because something happened. She thought maybe; just maybe she had been raped. When she told her story to the therapist he said he didn’t think it was rape. He said that he believed she made the man think she wanted to have sex. The therapist said that he thought she really wanted to have sex and only called it rape after the fact.

She felt confused and a little angry. She knows that she didn’t want to do it. She wasn’t lying. No matter what the therapist or the man said, she knew she was saying what she believed in her heart, even if they didn’t label it rape. At the same time, she was worried.

She had gone out with the man a couple of times. They went to dinner. They walked around the mall. They kissed in the car. After a couple of dates, the man said that he wanted to have sex. She said no. He said that was OK. The man said he understood. The next weekend he went to her apartment to watch movies. Her family was there with them. She lived with her mom and her daughter. They all watched TV for a while. They watched the news from the BBC. After awhile, the mom said she was tired and went to her room.

The man started to talk about marriage. He said he was a widower. He said his son lived with his grandparents because he worked such long hours. His son was coming for a visit. The man was already planning how to introduce the children. He said the children had to get along if the marriage was going to work.

Even though her mom had said she was going to her room, it was obvious from the loud gasps, sighs, and giggles that her mom was not in her room. She knew that her mom wanted her to get married again. Even still, she was trying to explain to him that she wasn’t ready to talk about marriage. She felt like she hardly knew the man. Her mom’s reactions were becoming so intrusive that she invited the man into her bedroom to finish the conversation. The man sat in a rocking chair next to the bed. She took the chair from her desk and turned it so she could face the man. They continued to talk about the son’s visit. She wanted to be clear. She wanted to meet the man’s son, but there was to be no more talk of marriage until they knew each other better.

As they talked, he stood up and took off his clothes. When she was a child, some bad things had happened to her. When he took off his clothes, she started to remember those bad things and feel like a scared little girl. She didn’t feel like a grown-up woman. Still, she told him again that she didn’t want to have sex.

She was sitting on the chair. Her limbs felt very heavy and her body was ridged. She felt like she was watching a play – she could see herself on the stage. She was an actor in the play. The man told her she was beautiful. He said that he wanted to have sex with her. Later, when she told the story to the therapist, she couldn’t remember if she said, “No sex” a second time; or if she just thought about saying it. She told the therapist that she had a very vivid memory of the hairs on the man’s chest and that she felt nailed to the chair.

She remembered the chest hairs and then she felt like she was suffocating. She opened her eyes. She was face down on her bed. He was sodomizing her. She was in the corner, near the ceiling. She was watching the play again.

All of a sudden, something in her head snapped. Her body and her mind were suddenly and harshly joined together. This was real. This was not a play on some far away stage. She had to get away. What if her daughter came into the room. What if the man hurt the daughter next. What if he planned something worse. What if she got a disease from him and couldn’t care for her daughter.

She told him to stop. He wouldn’t. She tried to squirm away. But he held her down. She started to cry. She begged him to stop. He wouldn’t. She had a vision of her future. She saw herself dying from a disease and unable to care for her daughter. She cried more. She tried to get away again. Desperate and running out of options, she begged him not to ejaculate inside her. If felt like forever, but finally she felt a warmth running down the back of my leg.

He got up. He went into the bathroom and washed his hands. She just lay on the bed. She was staring at a piece of lint on her bed. She felt distant. He brought in a cool, wet wash cloth and wiped her leg. Then he told her to get dressed and to be quick about it. Still staring at the piece of lint, she slowly did what he said. He asked her if she liked it. Was he good? She looked at him blankly.

He went into the kitchen. He washed his hands again and got himself a drink of water. Then he left.

Her mom walked down stairs slowly, peering around to make sure the man was gone. One look at her mom and she was pretty sure that her mom listened the whole thing. She started to feel tears burning her eyes. She wanted her mother to hug her and kiss her and tell her everything would be alright. She took a step towards her mother, hopping for that hug.

Instead, her mom started to yell at her. Her mom’s face was red. Her forehead was crumpled and her eyes squinty. Her mom said that she knew she went into the bedroom with the intention of having sex. Her mom said she was a horrible slut. Her mom asked how she could put her physical needs before the needs of her daughter. Her mom called her a slut again and again. Her mom said that she was going to try to get custody of her granddaughter. Her mom said she was a bad mother.

While her mom was yelling at her, she watched a little red pimple on her mom’s upper lip. The pimple bounced up and down as her mom talked. It was like the bouncing ball from the TV show with Mitch Miller; you know the one where everyone sang along with Mitch. Her mom was very angry and she stormed around the apartment. After a while, her mom got tired and went to bed.

She went into her daughter’s room. Her daughter was watching a movie. She looked at her daughter. The small child was so beautiful. She gave her daughter a kiss on the top of her head, patted her on the back, and left the room. She went into her bathroom and started to run the shower. When the bathroom was filled with steam she climbed in and let the water scald her skin. She washed everywhere with soap five or six or ten times. When the water started to cool off, she got out of the shower. Looking in the mirror, all she could see was a dirty slut.

She put on her pajamas and crawled under the covers on her bed. She could smell the man. She threw the top blanket on the floor, on the far side of the room. She lay down, pulled the sheet over her head, and waited in vain for sleep to take her.

After the therapist finished telling her that she wanted to have sex, she paid him and left quietly. When she opened the door to the parking lot a blast of cold air hit her. It felt good to be cold. The therapist’s office had been too warm and stuffy. As she walked to her car, she noticed the full moon rising over the horizon. She smiled. When her dad was alive he would always greet moon rise with a poem… I see the moon and God sees me. I love the moon and God loves me!