All Novel Sweet
163
She threw every bit of wood on the fire and the conflagration lit up a wide berth around the sandbar. Then she undressed me and cursed me at the same time as she cried seeing the scratches and bruises all over my body. I went into the fetal position around the fire and mercifully I passed out still hearing her cuss me for being a fool.
When I came back to the world I was still in the fetal position, the fire was still roaring, a new stockpile of wood was on hand and once again my clothes were being dried from the heat of the fire and Gayle was behind me forming her body against my back to provide body heat. I groggily asked her how long I was out and she replied it wasn’t important. I just needed to rest and remain warm.
So we remained on the ground in that position and of all the positions I had fantasized myself with Gayle since I first met her, this was one I hadn’t figured on. She began apologizing profusely to me. Had she only thought about what I had to do she would’ve never asked me to do it. I told her to shut up, no one forced a gun to my head to do it.
We remained in that position until I saw my clothes steaming and smoldering from the heat. Gayle quickly got up and readjusted the clothes to complete drying and then went back to her former position. I began to think I could learn to enjoy this position.
In time she got up and said my clothes were dry and then it was her turn to walk into the woods and allow me to dress alone.
I started up the boat and at that signal she reappeared into view. Even though there was a large barrier of sand from any flammable material I order Gayle to help me douse the fire with sand. I felt a little sad as the last dying ember disappeared from sight from the life sustaining fire that had been there.
As I threw the boat into reverse and turned on the navigation lights again, Gayle walked in front of me and half sat; half stood at the captain’s chair at the cockpit. I recognized that we would continue to share body heat as we made our way to the marina we had launched at early that morning. When she got cold from shielding me Gayle would retreat behind me until she was ready to return to the front.
The marina appeared across the river and I crossed the channel and entered its harbor. I was in no shape to load the boat unto the trailer and transport it out. I found an unoccupied slip and I tied the boat off and killed the engine. The marina was deserted at the late hour. If anyone took offense they could call the Coast Guard to run the registration number and contact Robert, who in turn would contact me. We limped to my truck and I turned it on and immediately turned on the heat to full.
As it permeated through the cab I saw a large smile of gratitude on Gayle’s face as we began the final miles to her house. We still hadn’t spoken much since the marina and I started getting drowsy from the heat. I asked her to start talking to keep me awake. Then I just listened to that soft melodious voice for the first time absent the acrid acerbic venom I was used to. The miles for once passed by too quickly as we arrived at her house.
I had mixed emotions as I stopped in her drive. Happiness that I had got her home after such a harrowing experience. Sadness that she was leaving me and probably tomorrow our temporary truce would be null and we would be back in our private little cold war. Anxiety for thinking I had another twenty minutes on the road before I collapsed in my trailer. Chances were good I would fall asleep behind the wheel.
She got out and I thought she was going to bid me goodnight. Instead she looked at me and said, “Don’t even think you are going anywhere.” She turned around to the house and I meekly obeyed her and got out of the truck to follow her to the house. Once inside, she commanded me to build a fire in their fireplace. “I know you can do that. I’ve seen you in action.” She walked into the kitchen and I heard clattering going on as I prepared to light the fire.
I tried to use my Zippo lighter, but, it failed to ignite. I reflected on what a whim our lives were balanced as I struck on one of the long stemmed matches Robert used to set the fire. In a matter of minutes, the flames merrily licked up to start feeding on the seasoned oak that Robert had in his tinderbox that I used in the fireplace.Content © provided by NôvelDrama.Org.
Gayle came out with two oversized ceramic mugs steaming away. “I’m afraid I can only offer you chicken noodle soup out of the can nuked. Next time I promise you it will be homemade” she explained as put the mugs down on the coffee table and went to the closet in the hallway and got out some thick woolen blankets
She told me to sit down on the sofa. I looked at my dirty, bloody, sand gritted clothes and hesitated. “Oh for God sakes, John, it’s just a couch, I’ll get it cleaned!” Again, I obeyed as I realized for the first time she used my name and she wrapped a blanket around me and handed me one of the mugs. Then she wrapped herself in the other blanket and slowly sipped on her mug of soup.
She used the remote to kill the lights and so we sat together side by side, staring into the fire in the darkened den sipping away at our soup. I placed my empty mug back on the coffee table and she did, likewise.
We continued to stare into the fire and I became mesmerized by the ocean of shifting hues of orange as the embers of the logs heated and cooled at various points. It reminded me of Gayle’s hair. Atop the yellow flames continued to burn into the logs. Gayle shifted and placed her head against my shoulder. We remained like that for a long time when she finally spoke.
In a soft timid voice she began, still looking straight into the fire, “I’m going to tell you a story. I don’t want you to interrupt. I don’t want you to stop me. I don’t want you to say anything until I’ve finished.”
She continued, “About two months before I graduated I met this guy from school and started dating him. He looked a lot like you; tall, brown hair, cute smile, green eyes… I was getting real attached to him, but, I still wanted to make sure he was the one. So, I kept stalling him whenever he started talking about taking it to the next level. He made the noise of saying he understood, but, still he kept pushing and pushing at me.”
Gayle paused and moved her hand to my blanket covered bicep for support before she continued. “Graduation day, we celebrated by going out that evening to an expensive restaurant. I excused myself to go to the restroom. When I got back to the table an expensive bottle of wine was uncorked. Only the best was good enough for me, he said! He raised his wine flute and gave me a toast, ‘To us’ he declared, ‘may we always be happy!’ I finished off my wine flute and returned his dazzling smile and relished what my future would hold.
Six hours later I was being transported to the hospital by ambulance. My roommates had made it home and found me sprawled on the livingroom floor. My dress had been ripped to expose my breasts which were covered with bruises and bite marks. When my bra was broken, it caused a large friction burn on my ribcage. My dress had been rolled up and my panties had been unceremoniously dumped on top of my head. My roommates could tell I had sex from the fluids leaking from me.
When they couldn’t wake me, they called 911. The police arrived about the same time the ambulance did. When I got to the hospital they ordered a toxicology screen and determined I was under the influence of Rohypnol, the date rape drug.”
I was shocked by Gayle’s revelation as she continued to dredge up the trauma.
“They also performed a rape kit exam which concluded that I had indeed had sex and DNA was extracted from the sperm collected from my vagina.
Because there was no way to tell whether I had been infected with anything I was prescribed an entire plethora of prescription medications to make sure I was okay. In fact, I’m still required to take some pills and go in for checkups.
The detective that investigated my case kept asking for the perpetrator’s name. He knew I was shielding him. Apparently, it isn’t that unusual for a woman to run and hide and pretend it didn’t happen or that it was their fault it happened. The detective told me if I changed my mind and decided to cooperate to give him a call.
I went home and for the first day I wore my brand of shame. My maroon Texas A & M shirt would serve as my scarlet letter. A remembrance of my connection with my rapist. Each day, I would die a little more and wear my shame for the world to see. But you understand… they couldn’t see… all they saw was a woman with a shirt with a college logo. So it also served as my shield. My shield from the revelation that I had been treated as a piece of meat and thrown away.”
I wanted her to stop. I wanted her to not experience the horror again as she continued to lance deeper into her wounded psyche drawing out the emotional pus.
Her hand was now painfully clenching my bicep as I allowed her to continue. “I withdrew from my friends, one by one… as they all argued for me to go to counseling… or tell the police… or this… or that! I still managed to draw deeper into my hell… each day wearing that damn brand… each day hating myself.
I decided I would continue to retreat. I called my grandfather and asked if I could stay with him. Of course he said yes and so I came down and I could forget a little bit of my shame as I enjoyed the beauty of the land. He showed me again the Red River and the kernel of my idea drew back from a long ago lecture in history and I began doing some research and I thought that by committing to this project I could abate the shame a little more.
Then my grandfather suggested to have you included. I knew we would need help to pull this off so I was okay with meeting you… until I saw who you reminded me of… and then I was not. Each day I had to endure the daily torture of wearing that logo and seeing you. Each day I kept trying to find a way to make you irrelevant and unneeded, so you would go away and not bother me anymore…”
Her voice rose in pitch as she concluded her statement, “I suppose I would still be looking for a way to get rid of you if I hadn’t tripped over my own damn foot and fell overboard!”
She started to cry again recalling the experience, “Oh God, I was so afraid and alone and cold… that numbing cold as I tried to swim back to the boat and saw you diving in. Then something drug me under the water and then I was back on the surface gulping air and trying to get to you… but it felt like I was getting away from you.