Chapter 4
Chapter 4
Neisy
THEN
The last few weeks have been bad. I can barely get out of bed. I got fired from my job at the restaurant my mom’s cousin owns because I missed too many shifts. For the first time ever, I’m thankful to have an alcoholic mother who’s so self-absorbed she barely notices me.
However, my dad is due home later today, and he’ll see what my mom has missed. He and I have always shared a tight connection, and even though I’ve answered all his daily texts while he was away, he’ll take one look at me and know something is very wrong.
Part of me hopes he can tell that a terrible thing has happened.
The other part dreads him knowing.
What will I say to him when he demands to know what’s wrong?
He’s well aware that life has been hard for me here and it was probably a mistake to let my mom talk him into moving me to her hometown for my last two years of high school while he’s stationed in DC. My mother hated it there like I hate it here.
I miss the friends I had in Virginia, who I’m still in touch with and hope to join in college at the University of Virginia after one more very long year in Rhode Island.
I yearn for Kane, who’s deeply concerned about me. Even with an ocean between us, he can tell I’m not myself and keeps asking what’s wrong. Last night he asked by text if I’ve met someone else and am afraid to tell him.
No! I replied. Just the same old shit with this place. It’s definitely not you. You’re the one bright spot in my whole life.
I wish you didn’t have to stay there. Why can’t you go back to DC with your dad and go to your old school?
Because he’s too busy to keep tabs on a teenager, or so he says. He works like 12 hours a day.
Still, you’d be better off there than where you are.
Not going to happen. I lost that battle a year ago when they insisted on moving here.
They’d had concerns about the “fast” crowd I was running with in Virginia. I tried to tell them they were wrong about my friends, that we were average teenagers. They didn’t buy it. When my dad sided with my mom over the move to RI, I didn’t speak to him for a month.
I could tell that really upset him, but not enough to change his mind.
If he ever knew what’d happened with Ryder, he’d lose his mind.
He can’t ever know.
In anticipation of his arrival at some point today, I force myself out of bed and into the shower. For the first time in weeks, I work on my appearance by blow-drying my hair and putting on a bit of makeup to hide the dark circles under my eyes. I stare at the reflection in the mirror, as if I’m looking at a stranger. Who is that girl after what happened to her?
The injustice burns in my gut. I’m devastated, and he’s off living his golden life like nothing has changed. I saw on Facebook that he hosted his annual fundraiser for Louisa’s family, which attracted a massive crowd and raised close to one hundred thousand dollars. He posted photos of himself smiling widely, his arm around his beautiful, frail girlfriend as their parents stood on either side of them.
His hypocrisy makes me sick.
Did he decide to attack me because she’s not able to have sex with him? Did he pick me because he knows people hate me, and I wouldn’t dare speak out against him?
Kane and I had been waiting to have sex until he comes to visit next month, which is another thing Ryder took from me—my first time with someone I truly love. Now I can’t imagine doing that with Kane or anyone.
Ever.
What used to be something I looked forward to with anticipation and a tiny bit of fear is now something to be avoided at all costs.
I want Ryder to pay for what he took from me.
I’m angry, hurt and terrified he might’ve gotten me pregnant. My period is due in two days, and if it doesn’t show up on time, I don’t know what I’ll do.
A couple of hours later, I’m pretending to read a book while lying on top of my bed, which is made for the first time in weeks, when my dad appears in the doorway.
“There’s my baby girl.”
“Hey, Dad.” I get up to greet him with a hug. He’s tall, dark and handsome, which is how my mother always describes him.
The minute I catch a hint of his familiar scent as he hugs me I want to break down and tell him the whole sordid story.
But I can’t.
I just can’t.
“How’s my favorite daughter?”
“Still your only daughter, that I know of.”
The back and forth with him is one of the best things in my life.
His smile fades a bit. “How’s your mom been?”
“A little worse than usual.”
“How’s that possible?”
“I’m not sure.”
He runs his fingers through his hair, which he does whenever he’s annoyed or frustrated. I’m sure he’s both when it comes to her. “I have to get her into a program somewhere.”
“There’s no point in that until she’s ready for it.”
We’ve done the research. A year ago, we had a local facility ready to take her for three weeks of intensive in-patient treatment, but she refused to go. We found out we couldn’t make her go. She has rights.
What about our rights, my dad asked at the time.
“Ronnie called the other day.”
My stomach sinks. “He called you ?”
Ronnie is my mother’s first cousin. He owns the restaurant where I used to work.
“He was worried about you when you stopped coming to work.” He leans against the doorframe. “Your mom wasn’t answering his calls, and you were vague about what’s going on. You didn’t tell me you quit your job. I thought you liked it there.”
“I do. I mean I did.”
“What happened?”
“I wasn’t feeling well for a couple of days, and Ronnie got mad when I called out.”
“He said you never called out. You just didn’t show, which isn’t like you either.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I didn’t think Ronnie would reach out to him.
“I’ve been a little down the last few weeks.”
Hearing that, he straightens out of the slouch he was in. “Like before?”
“Maybe. A little.”
I had a depressive episode, as it was called at the time, in seventh grade. After more than a year of intensive counseling and medication that I still take, I started to feel like myself again.
“We have to get that checked. You might need a different dosage now that you’re older. I’ll make an appointment for you at the navy clinic.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“You should’ve told me about this, Neise.”
“I didn’t want you to worry when you’re so busy.”
“I’m never too busy for you, and you know that.” He gives me a more intent look. “Are things any better with the kids in town?”
“Eh,” I tell him. “It is what it is.”
“I’m sorry this move has turned into such a mess for you, sweetheart. I hate that.”
Oh, Daddy, you have no idea… “It’s okay.” I want to plead with him to take me back to DC with him, but he won’t. Most of the time, he splits the month between the two places and would never leave me there alone when he has to be here. “It’s only one more year. I can get through that.”
Can I, though? How will I ever go back to Hope High School and have to see him in the hallways, acting as though nothing happened? For him, nothing did. For me, everything has changed, and he did that to me.
“Neise? Where’d you go?”
“Nowhere.”
“I’m worried about you, sweetheart.”
“No reason to be.”
“Let me go make that appointment so we can get you feeling better.”
“Okay.”
Two days later, my dad drives me to the navy clinic. I tried to talk him out of coming, but he insisted on driving me and said we can go to lunch afterward.
I realize he took time off for this and appreciate the attention, even if I’m scared I’ll crumble in front of him and confess the whole story.
I want to.
I want to tell him.
I want to watch him go ballistic and make Ryder’s charmed life into the living hell that mine has become.
Because that’s what he’d do.
But then he’d have to hear how all the girls at school think I’m a slut simply because their boyfriends find me attractive. He’d learn how they say I screwed the varsity football team and have my gaze set on the basketball team next or whatever crazy bullshit they come up with.
The irony isn’t lost on me. I was a virgin until Ryder stole that from me, but thanks to those viperous bitches, no one would believe that.
“Do you want me to come in with you, sweetie?” Dad asks when we’re in the waiting room.
“No, that’s okay. I’m sure it won’t take long.”
“Make sure you tell her how instrumental the meds were in making you feel better the first time this happened.”
“I will.”
“Okay. Text me if you need me.”
“Denise?”
No one calls me that, so it’s weird when someone does. I get up to follow the young, male medic into the clinic.
Thankfully, he leaves the door open when he weighs me and takes my blood pressure, otherwise, I would’ve told him to open it. I notice his gaze is trained on my breasts as he takes my pulse.
I’m tempted to tell him that my dad, the navy captain, would end him and his career if he saw him looking at me that way.
That’s a thought I never would’ve had before Ryder raped me. I used to low-key enjoy the attention I got from boys and men. That was before I found out what they’re capable of. Now I don’t want any of them looking at me or imagining me naked or any of the other vile things they might be thinking.
“Dr. Cummings will be in shortly,” he says on his way out the door.
I exhale a sigh of relief that he’s gone and pray that Dr. Cummings is a woman. Military doctors cycle in and out of the clinic, so you never know who you might see.
I don’t want men anywhere near me, even in a place like this, which is supposed to be safe.
Is anywhere safe?
Dr. Cummings is short, blonde and very pregnant. She wears her khaki uniform shirt untucked over her round belly. I glance at the gold insignia on her collar. Lieutenant commander. My dad would be proud. I knew all the ranks by the time I was six.
“Hi there, Denise. I’m Dr. Cummings.” She goes to the sink to wash her hands. “How are you doing?”
“Fine.”
She uses paper towels to dry her hands and then sits on a stool. “What brings you in today?”
“I’ve been feeling a little low lately.”
“Has this happened before?”
“When I was twelve. I’ve been on meds for it ever since. My dad thought I might need to have the dose adjusted.”
“Let me take a look at what you’re on now.” She clicks around on my chart and recites the name and current dosage for my prescription. “We could try another ten milligrams a day to see if that helps.”
“Okay.”
“Has there been any change in your diet or exercise in the last few weeks or anything else going on?”
I’ve barely eaten or left my room in three weeks, but I can’t tell her that. “No.”
Is she trained to know what happened just by looking at me? I want to run away, but if I do, where will I go? How will I explain my behavior to the doctor or my dad? I’m on the verge of hyperventilating, and all she’s done is type some stuff into a computer.
“Are you all right?” she asks, her brows furrowed with concern.
“I’m just… nervous.”
I want so badly to tell her the truth, but when I think of how evil those girls have been to me, I can’t. No one would believe me, and things would only get worse than they already are.
“Take a few deep breaths and try to relax. We’re just going to talk, okay?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I have a routine questionnaire that goes over some basic things.”
I answer a bunch of questions about my health—age of first period, most recent period and a full depression screening, which I’ve been through before. The questions bring back memories from when I was feeling so low I wondered how I could still be alive. I hadn’t known then that it was possible to go even lower.
“Is there any chance you could be pregnant?”
I want to die on the spot. Can she tell if I am, and will she know if I’m lying?
“It’s okay, Denise. You can talk to me.”
As if a dam has burst, I start to cry so hard I can’t breathe or think or do anything other than cry.
She stands by my side, holding my hand as the emotional tsunami overtakes me. I suppose it was only a matter of time before it broke.
“I’ll get you some water.” She hands me another tissue. “I’ll be right back.”
When she returns with a plastic cup of water, she rubs my back and holds the cup while I take some sips. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. How can I help?”
“You can’t. No one can.”
“That’s not true.”
I release a bitter laugh as I mop up my tears with a third tissue. “In this case, it is.”
“I’ve found that it helps to talk about whatever is weighing on you. When you share it with someone who can help, it takes some of the burden off your shoulders.”
Her words settle over me like a warm blanket. I want so badly to tell someone, but I’m terrified of the consequences.
“Would you have to tell my dad whatever I say in here?”
“Absolutely not. It’s between us, but I may encourage you to talk to him or someone else who can help you.”
“Am I pregnant?”
“I can’t say for certain without further testing.”
A sob erupts from my chest as my worst fears come true. “Can you get pregnant the first time?”
“Yes.”
That’s not what I wanted to hear. I’ve been tempted to ask Google that question for weeks but was afraid of the answer. The health classes that covered such things were years ago now, and I can’t remember the details. Besides, I’ve had no need to know those details before now.
“Are you in a relationship with someone?”
“Yes, but he lives in Spain.”
She doesn’t respond to that, probably hoping I’ll say more.
“This… What happened… It wasn’t…” I can’t speak or breathe over the wave of emotion that jams my throat.
“Denise, were you raped?”
Here it is. The moment of truth. If I tell her, it’ll never again be just my secret—and his. Someone else will know.
She continues to run her hand in soothing circles over my back. “You’re in a safe place. Whatever you tell me will remain confidential unless you don’t want it to.”
“W…will you have to report it to the police?”
“Only if that’s what you want me to do.”
Another long moment of silence passes before I can’t hold it back any longer. “I was raped. Three weeks ago.”
“Do you know the person who assaulted you?”
I nod. “We go to school together.” I can’t believe the profound relief I feel at knowing someone else is aware of what happened to me.
“And it was your first time?”
“Y-yes.”
“I’m so sorry that happened to you, Denise.”
“My friends call me Neisy.”
“Neisy.” She provides more tissues as I need them. “Were you injured?”
“I think. Maybe. It hurt for a long time after.”
“Would you consent to an exam so I can check to make sure you’ve healed properly?”
“I don’t… I don’t think I can do that.”
“That’s fine. It can wait.”
“Wh-what should I do?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“What would you do?”
“I’d want him to pay for what he did to me.”
“No one would believe me. He’s everyone’s best friend, a star athlete and student. He’s supported his longtime girlfriend through cancer treatment. I’m new to the school as of last year, and they all hate me. It would be my word against his.”
“If you’re pregnant, the baby’s DNA would back up your story.”
I hadn’t thought of that, and for the first time, I feel a spark of hope that I might get justice for what was done to me. But then I consider what’ll happen if I accuse Ryder Elliott of raping me, and I shrivel into a ball of dread.
“I can’t report it. I just can’t. It would be a nightmare.”
“You’re the victim of a crime, Neisy, a crime that wasn’t your fault in any way.”
“The girls in my school would say I was asking for it. They decided on day one that I was a slut, and they’ve been awful saying things about me ever since.”
“I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with that.”
I shrug. “Most of the time, I don’t care what they say because I know the truth. But this…this would be different. They grew up with him. They’d defend him and say it was impossible. They’d make me out to be a whore, and say I had it coming.” I shudder just thinking about it.
“All those things might happen, but you’d force him to defend himself against the charges in court. Even if he’s acquitted, the accusation would stay with him forever. You may also find you’re not the only one he’s attacked.”
That possibility has never occurred to me.
“Or, you may be the first but not the last.”
A surge of bile from my stomach burns my throat and makes me gag.
She hands me the cup of water, and I take several careful sips.
Someone knocks on the door.
She goes to answer it.
“Your patient’s father is asking if everything is okay.”
“Tell him we need a few more minutes.”
“Will do.”
She closes the door and leans back against it. “If you’d like, I can run a pregnancy test, so we’d know for sure one way or the other.”
“What does that involve?”
“A urine sample.”
“Um, okay. I guess so.”
“Take a minute and then meet me in my office across the hall. I’ll have everything ready for you.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“If I’m pregnant, do I have to discontinue my medication?”
“No, we don’t recommend that.”
“Oh, good. Okay.”
“I’ll be right across the hall.”
After she leaves the room, I go to the sink and splash some cold water on my face. Then I take two full minutes to breathe before I open the door and cross the hall to her office.
“Do you know how to do a urine sample?”
I nod. “I had bladder infections when I was younger.”
She hands me the antiseptic wipe and the container. “The rest room is two doors down on the left. I’ll wait for you here.”
The possibility that I could be pregnant is too big to consider.
What if Kane doesn’t believe I was raped and thinks I cheated on him? How will I ever tell him about any of this? Will he still love me when he finds out? The possibility that he won’t is more than I can handle. He’s been my rock and very best friend through everything for the last four years. Even with an ocean between us, we’re still best friends.
I love him.
I cannot lose him.
Tears slide down my cheeks as I go through the motions of providing the sample.
I wash my hands and gasp at my ravaged reflection in the mirror.
My dad will know something terrible has happened.
One thing at a time, Neisy.
I deliver the sample to the doctor.
“Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”
When she returns ten minutes later, I can tell by her expression the test was positive.
My heart sinks as I’m filled with despair. “What do I do now?”
“That’s entirely up to you.”
“How can it be up to me? I don’t know what the hell to do about any of this.”
“Would your dad be willing to help?”
“He’ll die if he hears I’m pregnant, and then he’ll want to kill the person who did this.”
“He won’t, though.”
“I don’t know. He might.”
“I have two other children, and in this situation, my first thought would be for the well-being of my child and making sure she has whatever support she needs to get through this.”
“What if he doesn’t believe me about how it happened?”
“Why wouldn’t he? Have you lied to him before?”
“Once. In fifth grade. I said I wasn’t there when kids were making crank calls, but they had my voice on a recording. It took a long time for him to get past that.”
“You were much younger then. Have you lied to him since?”
“Not once ever. I was so sad that he was disappointed in me the first time. I never want him to feel that way again.”
“I’m sure he’s seen the effort you’ve made to be truthful.”
Shrugging, I say, “I guess. He’s often gone on deployment and stuff.”
“What about your mom?”
“She has some problems. She, um… She drinks. A lot.”
“I see.”
“You’d never tell her I said that, would you?”
“Never. Our conversations are confidential.”
“Oh, okay. Thanks. That would make her mad. She doesn’t like to talk about it.”
“Do you want me to ask your dad to come in so we can talk to him together?”
“You’d do that?”
“Of course. Whatever you need, Neisy. I’m here for you.”
“You must have other patients.” I’m looking for any reason I can find to avoid having to tell my dad. “They’re waiting for you.”
“I asked my colleagues to cover for me, so I could help you.”
Her kindness has me in tears again. “That’s very nice of you.”
“It’s no problem.”
I’m sure that’s not true, but I appreciate the kindness that gives me the courage to take the next step. “I guess I have to tell my dad at some point.” It may as well be with the doctor there to help me.
“I’ll ask him to come in.”
“Will you…will you ask him not to freak out? That won’t help.”
“I’ll do that.”
She leaves the room and a few minutes later I hear the murmur of voices in the hallway, one of which I recognize as my dad’s.
“What’s the matter with her?” he asks, his voice louder now.
“She’d like to speak to you about something upsetting, and she’s asked that you refrain from reacting until she’s told you everything.”
“What the hell? Where is she?”
“Right this way.”
The doctor comes in, followed by my dad, who stops short at the sight of my red, puffy face.
“Neise. Honey. What’s going on?”
“Would you please have a seat, Captain Sutton?”
He doesn’t want to, but he takes the seat next to mine and reaches for my hand. “Whatever it is, honey, we’ll work it out.”
That sends more tears spilling down my cheeks.
“Sweetheart, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”
I look to the doctor, who nods in encouragement.
“A few weeks ago,” I say softly, “I went to a party in Land’s End with some kids from school. It was at Houston’s house. Remember him from the restaurant?”
“Sure, I do. He’s a nice kid.”
“Yes, he is. Normally I don’t go to stuff like that because, well, you know… But he’s my friend, and I wanted to go.” I take a tissue from the box the doctor pushes across her desk to me and wipe my eyes. “While I was there, another kid I know from school said he wanted to talk to me about his girlfriend, who I know from a class last year. She’s been really sick, and I wanted to hear about how she’s doing. I went with him down this path away from the others. I, um… He said some things about how I look at him, which weren’t true. Then he pushed me down and—”
“Oh no,” Dad says on a long gasp. “Neisy.”
“I’m so sorry, Daddy.” Sobs shake my body. “I swear I never did anything to encourage him.”
His arms are around me so fast I hardly seem them coming. “Shhh, it’s not your fault. You did nothing wrong.”
As I breathe in his familiar scent and wallow in the warmth of his embrace, I’m relieved all over again because he knows, and he believes me.
“Who is it?”
“I don’t want to tell you that.”
“Denise is afraid you might harm him.”
“I swear on your life I won’t harm him physically.”
I’m well aware there’s nothing he could say that would mean more. I’ve always known I’m the most important thing in his life. “Ryder Elliott.”
“The football player?” He sounds as shocked as I felt when it happened.
“Yeah.”
To the doctor, he says, “Are you required to report this?”
“Not without Denise’s consent, and her concern is that it would be her word against his. It happened weeks ago.”
“So there’s no evidence.”
“There may be one piece of evidence.” She looks to me to confirm that.
He pulls back so he can see my face. “What evidence?”
“I’m pregnant.”
For the rest of my life, I’ll never forget the expression on his face when that sentence registers. It’s a look of complete shock I’ve never seen before or since.
“Pregnant.”
“Yes,” the doctor says, “and the baby’s DNA could be used to confirm Denise’s claim from about nine to twelve weeks of pregnancy onward.”
Dad drops his head into his hands.
“I’m so sorry, Daddy.”
He pulls himself together and looks at me with a fierce expression. “I don’t want you to be sorry. This was done to you, and I’ll take care of it.”
“How?”
“That’s not for you to worry about.”
“Yes, it is! This is my life. You can’t just go rogue and cut me out of it.”
“I’ll have a talk with Ryder’s father to start with.”
“If I may…”
He looks up at the doctor.
“I’d suggest you talk to the police first, but only if Denise agrees with that plan.”
They both look to me.
Here it is. Another moment of truth. If I go public with these accusations, I’ll be vilified like I’ve never been before.
But how will that be different than how they treat me now? It won’t be. Houston is the only true friend I’ve made here, and he just graduated from college and got a job as a police officer outside of Boston. He won’t be around to help me navigate my last year of high school or anything else after this blows up.
It’s up to me.
Do I want Ryder to pay for what he did to me?
Hell yes.
Do I care about the consequences?
Not as much as I probably should.
“I think I’d like to report it to the police.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Dad says.