A Lacy Pink Thong
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”
“Yes Mom.” You say as you hug your mother goodbye one last time before she slowly gets in the car and drives away, leaving you outside your new home— the college dorms.
You slowly walk up the steps, wiping the last few tears out of your eyes; you don’t want all the other girls to see that you’ve been crying. You finally reach the fourth floor, and you walk down the hall, door after door, until you reach your room– 405. Taking the key, you slip it in the lock and open the door. Turning it once to open it, you immediately turn it back to lock it. “You can never be too careful.” You say under your breath as you push the door open to your new home for the next nine months.
“So, are you really excited for school to start, I am. I love school. I think I would die without it.” Your roommate begins as you step in the door.
“You don’t sound very excited. I think it’s exciting. It’s fantastic.”
“Whatever, look, I would like to sit and chat, but I would really like to focus on getting my things unpacked. I don’t mean to sound mean or anything, but it’s been a long day and I just want to get things situated and then take a nap.” You irritatingly reply.
“Oh, okay, well I am going to look around campus, so I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah sure.” As she walks out the door, you look at all the boxes that lay before you. “Well, they aren’t going to unpack themselves.” You say out loud and you begin to sort through all your stuff to find the knickknacks you want to set on your shelves. Although your hands were moving and rummaging through the boxes, your mind was on other things, most of all, your roommate. “Why did I get stuck with the annoying chatty-cathy?” you think as you grab hold of a picture of you and your boyfriend. You glance at it, but then look at it a little harder, paying strict attention to your features. You are quite short, 5'3"-5'4", average weight, you have curly light red hair with sparkling blue eyes. Your boyfriend thinks you’re gorgeous, while you on the other hand, feel you’re average, all the way around. Your boyfriend is skinny, with dark shaggy hair and brown eyes. He’s skinny, but well defined. You’ve been dating for a year and a half, and every day has been wonderful. But, things got a little rough when you two were deciding on colleges. You, being the intelligent student that you are, got a large scholarship to Oregon State, while Marcus didn’t do as well academically, and could only afford to go instate to the University of Idaho. Feeling guilty about leaving him, you almost stayed, but both he and your mother told you to go, that you shouldn’t sacrifice a great opportunity, just so you could stay at a local college with Marcus. So you went. You packed up all of your things and your mother drove you all the way from Challis, Idaho to Corvallis, Oregon. And here you sit, reminiscing about the past, when you should be unpacking all of your boxes.
“So, Rachel, what do you like to do in your spare time?” you reluctantly ask your roommate out of pure bordem.
“Oh, lots of things. I like to read and study about new things, and go to church, and read the bible, and sometimes, I watch R-rated movies.”
“So I take it you don’t drink?”
“Heaven’s no! I would never commit such a sin against the lord Jesus Christ. Why, do you?”
“Not very often, but on occasion.”
“You could go to hell for that.”
“No, I couldn’t, they drank wine all the time, they even had it at the Last Supper. Don’t give me that bullshit.”
“I don’t need to take this abuse Kit. I’m leaving.” Rachel retorts as she storms out of the room.
“She’s not only chatty, but also religious. Wonderful.” You groan as you turn back to the computer screen and play another round of solitaire.
You go to class, every day without fail. You excel at everything and it shows at midterms when you have straight A’s across the board. You love school, you have a work-study job in the theater department, which also happens to be your major, and so you enjoy that immensely. You have made a few friends, but not too many. You are sometimes too shy for your own good. But the friends you do have are good. They are all theater majors and one even lives on your hall. Her name is Lily, and she’s a slightly heavyset girl, just above average, with brown curly hair, and brown eyes. She also has the sweetest disposition. She’s an Idaho native, like yourself, so you two have quite a bit in common.
“I grew up on a potato farm outside of Idaho Falls,” Lily snickers as she begins to tell you her life story. “In Idaho Falls there wasn’t much to do, except be Mormon.” Laughter bursts out of her mouth in one huge gust as she cracks up over her own joke. “Just kidding, although there are a lot of Mormons there. But I stayed away from them as much as possible. Unless they were drinking. They drank like fish, and it was always a good time when you drank with the Mormons. You get ‘em all riled up and they’d talk for hours about bein’ Mormon, even when you got up and left, they just kept talkin’ away. I’d just sit there and laugh, and then go find some guy to seduce to get some action at the end of the night if ya’ know what I mean.” She winks at you and nudges you in the side. “That’s what you did in Idaho Falls, you drank, all the time. There wasn’t much else to do. But I acted. And I was good. So that’s why I’m here. ‘Cuz I worked my ass off on stage and got here. Although, I still have a big ass.” She chuckles again. “ But what’s your story, morning glory?”
“Well, I grew up in Challis, I rode horses a lot, I drank on occasion, I have a boyfriend . . . ”
“Really, is he well endowed? Do you two have lots of wild nights of sex?”
“Lily! For Christ’s sake, what kind of question is that?”
“Ah, come on, you’re a freshman in college and still a…virgin?” she whispers.
“NO! I’m not a virgin dammit. But Marcus is the only one, and it wasn’t too long ago that we first started. I was never a huge fan of sex, and I’m still not too fond of it.”
“Well, why the hell not? I love sex. It’s great! If all I could do is have sex all day long, I’d do it.” Lily proudly replies.
“You’re a fuckin’ nympho!”
“Sure am. Love every minute of it too.” She smiles.
“Shouldn’t we be heading off to class?” You ask.
“Yes, and now we’re gonna be late because you were so chatty.”
“Me? You started it. Besides, if you want chatty, go talk to my roommate.”
“I’d rather shoot myself.” You both laugh and head for class.
“Oh yeah, I almost forgot, you never told me Marcus’ ‘size’.”
“Lily!?! Fine. He’s very well endowed. Are you happy now?”
It was a lovely fall day, and you decide to take your bike out for a nice ride in the sunshine. Unlocking the bike from the bike rack, you lightly hop on the seat and begin your ride. You pass all the academic buildings, with their similar red brick design, through the middle of campus, going up and down the only hill around. As you head to the northwest side of campus, you begin to feel surrounded by frats and sororities. You were never really “into” the whole sorority scene, decided they cared too much about image and being fake, and you’re too plain and real for that in your eyes. As you peddle on down Greek Row, you notice frat guys playing football outside on the lawn, and then you begin to hear the catcalls. You ignore them, but begin to instinctively peddle a little faster down the street. You finally make it out of campus and head downtown to a coffee shop that a girl in one of your classes told you about. Remembering the incident that just happened on Greek Row with the frat boys makes you remember the RA warning given at the first hall meeting about frat parties and the “buddy-system” . . .
“Frat parties can be a dangerous place, especially for freshman,
because they are new and they don’t know anyone, or how to
behave ‘safely’ at these social functions. First of all, never go
alone. If you go alone, you’re an easy target, at the party or
coming from the party, by some drunk frat boy looking for a
piece. Which brings me to another point; if you do go with
someone, do not leave without them. And keep your eyes on
each other at all times! Don’t get separated! Going in groups
is much better than only two. Next, when you have a drink, and
you aren’t drinking it, put your hand over your cup. If you don’t,
there’s a possibility that a guy will slip something into your drink,
and then you are screwed.” The first R.A. finishes and looks
around at everyone in the room, the seriousness of her face burns
in your brain, even now.
“We’re not trying to scare you off from going to frat parties,
because they can be fun, but you just have to use your head.
Rape doesn’t happen too much, but it does happen, and it usually
happens to freshmen. So you all need to do is be extremely careful,
because we don’t want this to happen to any of you.” The second
R.A. finishes with a look of caring concern.
The same nervousness you felt at that meeting you begin to feel again, but you push it aside because you won’t be attending a frat party. You’ve already made that decision in your mind. “I don’t really drink and I have a boyfriend I care too much about to have him get angry over me going to a stupid frat party.” You say to yourself as you spot the coffee shop and head toward it, feeling elated at the beautiful day, the nice ride, and the clear decision in your mind.
“Hello? Is Kit there?”
“This is her.”
“Hey beautiful, I didn’t recognize your voice on the phone.” Marcus sweetly replies.
“Marcus! Hi. How are you doing? I haven’t talk to you in such a long time. I’ve been so busy, I haven’t had time to call, I’m so sorry. Do you forgive me?” You coyly ask.
“Of course. You do realize that the phone line goes both ways? I could’ve called you sooner too, but I also have been extremely busy. And I’m doing fine. I’m struggling a little with math. They have a really stupid math system here. It’s called POLYA, and its computer-based learning, with only one lecture a week. You know I’m not very good at math anyway so it’s really hard now. But I manage. But enough of me. Tell me how you are. I want to hear your sexy voice
“Oh Marcus, don’t make me blush,” you giggle. “I’ve been good. I’ve made some good friends, and there’s this really nice coffee shop downtown I go to all the time to study at. I have to go through Greek Row, but although it made me nervous at first, I’m okay with it now it doesn’t bother me. I haven’t been cast in a play yet, but I’m not discouraged, I’m young, and will have many opportunities to be in plays. I just hope I get a part in this next play, although it will prohibit me from coming home over Thanksgiving, but I really want a part. We’ll see.”
“I don’t like you going through Greek Row. I don’t trust those guys, even in the daylight. Is there any other way you could get to the coffee shop without going down that street?” Marcus questions, a concerned tone in his voice.
“There is, but it’s quite an inconvenient route for me to take. Anyway, there’s nothing for you to worry about. They aren’t gonna hurt me. It takes thirty seconds to ride on my bike down the street. It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” You try to ease his worries, but you can tell by the silence on the other line that it hasn’t worked. You decide to change subjects. “Aren’t you excited to hear about the play I could possibly get a part for?”
“You didn’t really tell me about it.” Marcus dryly replies.
“Don’t sound so enthused.” You curtly spat out.
“I’m sorry. What’s the play about?” Marcus tries to sound interested, but you see right through it.
“Never mind. I don’t feel like talking about it. I really have a lot to do, so I think we should go.”
“Don’t do this Kit. I’m sorry. I miss you is all, and I don’t want you to get hurt. Please don’t go.”
“Marcus, you make me feel completely helpless sometimes. You make me feel incapable of taking care of myself. Do you really think I would put myself into a situation that would put my life in danger?”
“No, I know you wouldn’t put yourself into an obvious situation of danger, but sometimes there are times when you think you’re safe, and you really aren’t. I just want you to be extra careful with those situations. Because I care. I love you too much to see you get hurt.”
“I love you too, and I understand your concern, but you’ve got to be a little more trusting. I’m not going to put myself into harm’s way. Give me a little credit here. I’m more intelligent than that.”
“I know, I know. I trust you, but I can worry can’t I? It shows I care.”
“I know it does Marcus, but don’t care so much that you don’t trust my own judgment.”
“Ok sweets. So, what’s this play about? Will you tell me now?” Marcus pleasantly questions.
“Ok, ok. Since you sound like you are interested now, I will tell you.” You smile. “The play is Hamlet, which you know, we read it in high school, and I really want the part of Ophelia. I know I haven’t been cast yet, but the parts haven’t been me, I haven’t had the hunger for the part like I do for this one. And the assistant director says I have a lot of potential for this type of role, so I’m really excited, I could really be in Hamlet!! I’ve always loved this play, and now I could be acting my favorite part.”
“Kit, that’s great! I hope you get the part. I’ll cross my fingers for ya.”
“Thank you. The only problem is that if I get cast I can’t come home for Thanksgiving. I have to stay here and rehearse.”
“Ah, that sucks. That means I won’t get to see you until Christmas?”
“How am I gonna survive without your beautiful face, luscious skin, wonderful, wonderful you?” Marcus poutingly replies.
“With pictures of me and lots of masturbation.” You blurt out before going into a fit of laughter.
“What!?! Where the hell did that come from?” Says Marcus, bewildered.
“Sorry........haha haha.........I’ve.........haha.........been hangin’...........haha.........out with.......Lily.......hee hee.......way too much. Hahahahaha. Sorry, whew, that was a good laugh. I’m just kidding. I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you. I’m gonna be so lonely. But it will be worth it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing. Never mind.”
“No, tell me what? Do you want me to sacrifice my chance just because you want me to come home? For one, I don’t even have the part yet, and two, if I ditch out on this, I will lose all credibility of a reliable actress, not to mention missing the biggest and most important opportunity for me. Don’t you understand?” You immediately get defensive.
“I understand, I understand, calm down. Sorry, sorry for being selfish and wanting to see you, I guess that was rash of me to miss you and want to see you. Sorry, it will never happen again.” Marcus pouts.
“Stop it! I want to see you too, trust me, but if I want this as a career, I need to show that I’m committed. I miss you, I love you, but I need to think of my future too. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I’m sorry. I just really, really miss you. It’s been tough.”
“I know, but we don’t even know if I got the part. I haven’t even auditioned yet. If I don’t, well then I will see you in two weeks. If I do, well, Christmas will come sooner than you think, and then we can spend two whole weeks with each other, -k-?”
“Ok.” Marcus reluctantly replies.
“Okay. Well, I need to get stuff done, so I better go. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Sitting in the cushy seats of the theater, you feel like vomiting. “I’ve never been so nervous for a part in my life.” You think to yourself as you wait for your turn to walk on stage with your stage partner Elliot audition for the part. Since this is your favorite play, you’ve already memorized almost every line. Chills run up and down your spine as you think of the lines you are about to recite, and how well you are going to nail it. You just hope Elliot is as well prepared as you, but as you look over at him, your nervousness decreases, because he looks as calm and collected as ever. There was never anything to worry about, Elliot has already been cast into four smaller plays this semester, and so it was surprising that he asked you to audition alongside of him, when you’d never been cast at all. Maybe he had a hunch that you would shine in this play. You hoped so. Trying to ease the nerves in your stomach, you begin to watch the actors on stage, one of which is Lily, who is trying out for the part of Gertrude, Hamlet’s mother. They finish and walk off stage.
“Elliot Schneider and Kit Cole.” The director bellows out. You instantly start to sweat. You slowly stand up and walk quickly to catch up to Elliot as he walks up onto the stage.
“Where is your script Miss Cole?” The director sternly asks.
“I don’t need it. I have it memorized.” You shyly reply.
“Hmmm.” The director distractedly replies as he writes something down in his notes. “And which scene are you two acting for me today?”
“Act four, Scene five, starting on line 154 where Laertes . . . ” Elliot gets cut off by the director.
“Yes, I know that one, it seems to be quite popular among the female actors.”
Your heart sinks a little. But you push the feeling aside. “I’ll just have to show then that I’m the best Ophelia, the right actress for the part.” You think as you compose yourself and get ready to knock the directors socks off.
“Well anyway, let’s see how you two interpret the scene.” The director grumbles as you walk offstage and Elliot takes his place on stage. He begins: “How now, what noise is that?” You enter, a look of delirium on your face as you look over at Elliot.
“O heat, dry up my brains! tears seven times salt
Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye!
By heaven, thy madness shall be paid with weight
Till our scale turn the beam
O rose of May!
Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia!
O heaven’s, is’t possible a young maid’s wits
Should be as mortal as an old man’s life?
Nature is fine in love, and where ‘tis fine,
It sends some precious instance of itself
After the thing it loves.”
You begin to sing crazily, like a person who has lost all rational mental thought.
“They bore him barefaced to the bier,
Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny,
And in his grave rained many a tear’--
Fare you well, my dove!”
“Hadst thou thy wits and didst persuade revenge,
It could not move thus.”
“You must sing, ‘A-down, a-down’ and you call him a down.
O how the wheel becomes it! It is
the false steward, that stole his master’s daughter.”
“This is nothing’s more than matter.”
“There is rosemary, that’s for remembrance;
pray you, love, remember. And there is pansies, that’s for thoughts.”
You hand Elliot imaginary flowers from the imaginary basket in your hand.
“A document in madness, thoughts
and remembrance fitted.”
“There’s fennel for you, and columbines
There’s rue for you and here’s some for me; we
may call it herb of grace a’ Sundays. You may
wear your rue with a difference. There’s a daisy. I
would give you some violets, but they withered all
when father died. They say ‘a made a good end–“ You begin to sing again,
“for bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.”
“Thought and afflictions, passion, hell itself,
She turns to favor and to prettiness.”
You begin to sing again,
“And will ‘a come again?
And will a not come again?
No, no, he is dead,
Go to thy death-bed,
He will never come again.
His beard was as white as snow,
All flaxen was his pole.
He is gone, he is gone,
And we cast away moan,
God ‘a’ mercy on his soul!” You begin to talk again.
“And of all Christian souls, I pray God. God buy you.” You turn and slowly exit.
“Do you see this O God?” Elliot turns around, his signal that you’re done.
“Joel Sallis, and Leonard Gilter.” The director shouts and summons with one hand for you to exit the stage, while jotting down notes with the other hand. Feeling defeated by the lack of response from the director you quickly move off the stage and head for your bag.
“Miss Cole.” You hear a voice from behind you that sounds distinctively like the director. You slowly turn around and face him and begin to ask him “What?” when he interrupts you by saying, “Nice work.” and turns back around. Bewildered by this statement you pick up your bag of books and start to walk out the door.
“Holy shit!” You hear Elliot say when you both are out of the room.
“What?” You ask with a hint of irritation in your voice.
“You got the part!” he excitingly replies.
“What!?! B.S.” You refute.
“No, really. I have dealt with this director for three of the four plays I acted in, and he’s never said anything to anyone during tryouts. For him to say ‘Nice work’ means that he thinks you’re perfect for the part.”
“No way, I don’t believe you.” You say unconvincingly, as a smile spills onto your face. “That would be so great! It’s been my dream for forever to play Ophelia, and now I might!” You happily exclaim.
“Look, if you don’t get the part, you can personally punch me in the nose.” Elliot offers.
“You must really seriously think he’s gonna give me the part. But I wouldn’t do that anyway, it’s mean.”
“Whatever. Hey, I gotta run. I have lab soon, so I’ll talk to you later. Congrats!” Elliot says as he runs off.
“Thanks.” You yell in his direction. He turns, waves, and runs off.
The next day you get called back for the play, and then three days later you find out you got the part! You are Ophelia in Hamlet! And Lily is Gertrude. Elliot is Laertes. You all decide to celebrate that night by going down to your favorite coffee shop and listening to a jazz band that is scheduled for the evening. Since Elliot is the only one with a car, he decided to drive to the coffee shop. The three of you pile into his ‘98 Ford Focus and head through campus toward the coffee shop. On the way, you pass through Greek Row, which is packed full of cars and people, partying one last time before Thanksgiving break. It was madness. Girls running around with almost no clothes on, while guys chased after them, beer sloshing out of their keg cups, loud music rattling the windows of the car. Beer being poured down beer bongs and shoved into the mouths of frat guys, the beer pouring down their throats and out of their mouths. Other guys passed out on the ground, lying in a pile of their own puke. It was only nine o’ clock on a Wednesday night.
“This is ridiculous. And you want to go to one of those Lily?” You ask, disgusted.
“Hell yes. It would be so much fun. Dancing to ear piercing music, drinking beer, and jumping on some guy at the end of the night, sure would.” Lily excitingly replies.
“I don’t understand it.” You answer back.
“You need to be careful at those parties though, ugly things can happen if you’re not careful.” Elliot commented, a concerned look on his face.
“Yeah, yeah, we already got the lecture from our RA’s. We don’t need it from you too.” Lily snottily replies.
“You sound like my boyfriend, cut it out.” You put in.
“Okay, I’ll drop it, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. Now let’s get the hell out here. I’m sick of looking at these assholes makin’ fools of themselves.” Elliot says as a guy jumps off the roof of one of the frat houses onto a pile of mattresses below. Elliot speeds up down the street as they head to the coffee shop. “I think we’ll take the long way home and avoid Greek Row.” Elliot replies as they turn onto Fifth St., leaving Greek Row behind them.
“Good I’m glad.” You say, relieved.
“Hi mom, it’s me Kit.”
“Hi honey. How are you doing?”
“Good, good. Guess what?”
“You got the part?”
“Oh honey that’s great. I guess we’ll have to eat turkey without you.”
“Looks like it. That’s okay though. We always have Christmas.”
“Yes we will. So how’s Marcus taking it?” Your mom questions.
“I haven’t told him yet. I wanted to tell you and Jack first.”
“Oh, I wish your dad was still alive to see you.”
“I know. I do too. But he does, just not in the flesh.”
“I know. But your little bro will be happy to hear you’re doing well.”
“Yeah, how is the little jackass doin’ anyway?”
“Wild as ever. Made the varsity basketball team, so he thinks he’s hot stuff for a sophomore.”
“So are you gonna be okay by yourself there?” Your mother asks, the regular concerned tone in her voice.
“Yes mom. Lily is staying, and so is Elliot, they are both in the play, so I’m not alone. Plus this will give me an opportunity to get ahead in some of my classes. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”
“I’m supposed to, it’s my job.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure mom.”
“It is.” You mom gets an irritated tone to her voice. It’s slight, but you still catch it, and decide to back off.
“I know it is, and you do a good job of it. But I need to get going. I still need to call Marcus.”
“Okay. I will call you on Thanksgiving day, so you better be there.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too mom.”
“Bye.” You say as you hang up the phone. You’re not especially looking forward to talking to Marcus, because you don’t want to fight with him, but it’s something that needs to be done. As you pick up the phone, there’s a knock on the door. “Hmmm . . . I wonder who that is?” You think as you walk to the door.
“Hey Bitch, whatcha doin’?”
“I was just about to call Marcus. What are ya doin’?”
“I thought about goin’ to the movies and I didn’t feel like going alone. But if you need to call Marcus, I won’t stand in your way.”
“Shut up Lily and let me get my coat and purse. He can wait ‘til tomorrow.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” She smirks.
“Yeah, yeah. So what movie are we going to see?”
“A Beautiful Mind.”
“That doesn’t seem like your kind of movie.”
“It really isn’t, but Russell Crowe is pretty hot, so I’ll just watch him the whole time, and it will be all right.”
“Okay, well, let’s go then.” You tell her as you walk out the door, deciding that you’ll talk to Marcus tomorrow, when you feel more up to it.
After the movie was over, you and Lily decide to go to the Pita Pit, and get something to eat before heading back to the dorms. After ordering, you two sit down and wait for your pitas.
“So have you told him yet?” Lily begins.
“Told who what?” You ask, confused.
“Told Marcus about getting the part, dipshit?”
“Hey! I didn’t know who you were talking about.” You begin to get defensive.
“Well who else would I be talking about.” Lily refutes.
“Oh, I don’t know. And no I haven’t. That’s what I was about to do when you came by.”
“Oh I see. How do you think he’s gonna take it?”
“Badly. He misses me, so he’s gonna be disappointed when he finds out I’m not coming home.”
“What an asshole.”
“What are you talking about?” You sternly ask.
“He should be happy for you, not pissed and selfish because he won’t see you. He should have known it would be tough living apart, and especially with your talent, he should expect these things to happen.”
“You don’t understand.”
“What don’t I understand?”
“It’s not that he’s not happy for me, he is really happy, he just misses me, that’s all.”
“Sure sounds like it.” Lily sarcastically replies.
“Look, let’s drop it. You don’t understand Marcus, and it’s really hard to get you to understand him. So let’s change subjects.” You offer.
“Fine. What else do you plan on doing over Thanksgiving break besides the play?”
“Ummm . . . getting ahead in some of my classes.”
“What? Fine. What are you gonna do?”
“Probably the same thing. I was just given’ ya shit.”
“You’re so good at it too.” You say, a hint of sarcasm in your voice.
“I know, I know, you don’t have to tell me.” Lily boldly replies.
“You’re so full of shit it’s comin’ out your ears. Oh look our food’s coming.” You quickly say before Lily has a chance to remark on your statement.
“Sweet, I’m starving!” Lily exclaims. The guy sets down the tray and heads back to the counter. As he’s out of ear shot, Lily says to you, “You’re just as full of shit as I am, you just don’t think you are.” The statement was totally unexpected, and you immediately start to giggle out of surprise. Lily starts to giggle too, which then turns to laughter, and before you know it, the two of you are rolling in your chairs hysterical with laughter. When you two finally stop, tears are streaming down your faces. You wipe them away, and proceed to eat your pitas.
The two of you finally get home around eleven o’ clock, and you’re exhausted and ready to sleep. But when you get in the door, you see a message on the board that says, “Call Marcus as soon as you get in, time doesn’t matter, he’ll be expecting your call.”
“Dammit.” You say under your breath, because you know he won’t be in good spirits, and will ruin the good mood you’re in. “Well I better give him a call, and get this over with.” You say as you pick up the phone and calling card dialing all the numbers to call him. The phone rings once before it gets picked up, and you hear an angry “Hello?” on the other line.
“Marcus?” You ask, immediately on the defense.
“Why haven’t you called yet? You said you were going to call. I’ve been worried sick!”
“Ahhh!” You irritatingly spat out. “Marcus. I have a life, which doesn’t involve calling you every five minutes to let you know I’m safe. I went to the movies and then got something to eat with Lily. We just got back. I had a good time. Please don’t ruin that with your antics.” Your face is flushed and hot to the touch, and if he goes on with his same argument any longer, you will explode.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I jumped to conclusions. I’ll try and stop doing that. I’m really sorry.”
“Good, I hope you do.” You say, still a little angry. He must have sensed the anger building within you and decided to back off. You’re glad he did. “Look, I know I was going to call, but to tell you the truth, I really didn’t want to because I wasn’t ready to deal with your disappointment when I told you that I’m not coming home for Thanksgiving, and that I got the part I wanted.”
“Why would I be disappointed, I’m happy you got the part, that’s great Kit.”
“Really, do you mean it, what about the last conversation we had though?”
“Well, I won’t lie and say I’m not a touch disappointed, but I would never get upset when something good has happened for you. I want to share in your excitement. I just wish I could be there to celebrate with you.”
“Well, I wish you could too, and that’s really sweet that you are happy for me, even though it doesn’t benefit you any because you won’t get to see me for another month.”
“Well, you can’t get everything you want in life. And why wouldn’t I be happy for you, I love you, and I only want the best things to happen to you. And I can handle another month, it won’t kill me.”
“Ya sure?” A giggle expounds from your lips.
“Yes of course, you silly billy.” Marcus begins to laugh too, and the two of you sit there for a minute or so, laughing at each other. You suddenly sense that it is late, and you have early rehearsal, so you decide to cut it short with Marcus.
“I hate to do this to ya, but I really need to get to bed because I have an early rehearsal before my classes. I’m really sorry. I will call you after you get home though, and we can talk for a long time then, okay?” You sweetly ask.
“That’s fine. Get your beauty rest so you can knock their socks off tomorrow at rehearsal. I will talk to you when you call me then.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“It’s no big deal.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Bye sweets.” And you hang up the phone. You begin to yawn and stretch, suddenly realizing how tired you really are. It’s only eleven-thirty, but it’s been a long day, so you put your PJ’s on, brush your teeth, comb your hair, and climb up onto the top bunk of the bed, resting your head on your pillow, and wait for your mind to ease itself into the surly depths of a hard slumber.
Time passes faster than the wink of an eye. With rehearsal, homework, and the outings of you, Lily, and Elliot, you suddenly find yourself with only two days of vacation left. “Where has the time gone?” You think as you sit on your bed, reading through your English paper one more time to make sure you have all the corrections made. Suddenly you hear a knock on the door. “Lily.” You think to yourself as you hop down from your top bunk and stroll to the door. Opening it, there she stands, still in her penguin PJ pants and white T-shirt.
“What the hell are ya doin’?” She asks, as she always does when you open the door, and find her standing there.
“Working on my English paper.”
“Why would you want to do a thing like that?” She sarcastically asks.
“Because it’s due on the first day back from break.” You surly reply.
“Your professor’s a jackass. My English prof. gave us until Wednesday.”
“Oh well, I don’t have anything else to do.” You shrug.
“What are YOU doing?” You ask, curious.
“I came to talk to you.”
“Well, there was something I had been planning to talk to you since the beginning of break, but have forgotten until now.”
“And that is?” You question.
“Hold on, hold on, I’m getting to it.” She says, slightly irritated.
“Okay, okay, go on then.”
“Well, ok . . . just listen until I have finished my whole schpeal, -k-?” She looks at you and you shrug and summon her to go on with what she has to say. “Okay, well . . . um . . . I know that you don’t like drinking too much, but I haven’t drank all semester, and I’m just dying to. And . . . right before break I heard that right after break there’s this big frat party at the Sigma Nu’s. And all girls get in free and we’ll be able to have free drinks too! There will be mixed drinks, Jell-O shots, and beer. Even DJ Nookie will be there. It sounds like a really good time. And I was wondering if you wanted to go with me. You don’t have to drink, but I don’t want to go alone, you remember the RA speech. I would love ya forever. You just have to be there with me and make sure I get home all right. Be my babysitter, per say. I hate to do this to you, but I don’t know of anyone else to ask. Please.” She looks at you, pleading with you with her eyes.
“You know how I feel about frat parties.” You begin.
“I know, I know. But we don’t have to go for very long. Just long enough for me to get a little tipsy, mack on a guy or two, and then we can leave.” She smiles and winks.
“And you know how Marcus feels.”
“Weren’t you just telling me how much it irritated you that Marcus is so overprotective and won’t even let you wipe your ass without him knowing about it?” She refutes your point.
“Yes, but I was just venting, I really don’t mind.”
“Bullshit.” She argues.
“I don’t want to argue with you about him because we won’t agree. Next point: What happens if we get separated and I can’t find you?”
“That won’t happen, I promise.”
“How can you, you never know what will happen until you actually get there.”
“Just trust me on this one.”
“Sure, sure.” You don’t sound convinced.
“Look, it will be a good time, I know it. You just gotta learn to live a little. If you don’t then you’re going to regret it later. This is what college is for, to have fun. You can’t just sit and watch it all fly by without you on its wing. College is supposed to be the best time of your life, so let it be. Let yourself have fun and be reckless just for one night. Is it really gonna kill ya?” Lily looks at you. The words she said start to sink in and you really begin to think of how much you’ll miss, and how much you’ve already missed because you were “careful” and listened to your mother and Marcus. And it’s all bullshit. Lily was right. You can’t do anything without Marcus lecturing you on how unsafe and dangerous you’re being, and how much he worries about you. And the sad part is that you haven’t done anything unsafe or dangerous. Well, maybe it is time to do something reckless. Have some real fun for once. Get a touch out of control, and not worry about the consequences.
“Okay, I’ll go. I’m gonna have fun for once and not worry about the consequences.”
“Sweet! We are gonna have a great time, you’ll see.” Lily convincingly replies.
“Good I hope so.” You say back, a smile spreading across your face.
“One question: Are you gonna tell Marcus?” She asks, a worried look on her face.
“Hell yes. And I don’t care if he gets mad. It’s my time to have a little fun. Screw ‘m.” You say, flustered.
“Right on. Well, I gotta go watch some football, Packers vs. Steelers. Men in tight pants, yow. So I’ll talk to you later. Good luck with Marcus.”
“Thanks. See you at rehearsal.”
“Sure thing.” Lily replies as she saunters back down the hall. Closing the door, you feel a twinge of nervousness at the thought of telling Marcus, but you toss it aside, you need to have fun in college, and not always worry about what Marcus thinks. Anyway, it’s just one night, what could happen?
Thursday. After much fretting and contemplating over what you were going to say to Marcus, you resolve to finally call him up and get the call over with. You had to, Friday was the party, and you promised yourself you would let Marcus know of your plans, that it was your life and you could live it anyway you wanted. Picking up the phone, you immediately set it back down. Laughing to yourself at the silliness of your behavior, you re-pick up the phone and begin to dial all the numbers that would connect you to Marcus. It starts ringing . . . once . . . twice . . . three times . . . and you hope that he’s not home and the answering machine will pick up your call, but all of a sudden you hear an out of breath, “Hello?” It was Scott, Marcus’s roommate. You breathe a small sigh of relief as you say, “Hey Scott, this is Kit, Marcus’s girlfriend? He isn’t there is he?”
“No, he isn’t,” pause, “oh wait, he just walked in right behind me. Lucky, I caught you, I just got back from class, and heard the phone ringing.”
“So, that’s why you were out of breath?” You ask, making conversation to ease the nervousness that is overwhelming you.
“It sure was. Anyway, I know you didn’t call to talk to me, so I will hand the phone over to Marcus, and I’ll talk to you later Kit.”
“Thanks Scott.” You say quickly, and wait for Scott to hand the phone to Marcus and hear him say, “Hey baby.”
“Hello Marcus.” You say and wish you could take the statement back. You wanted to act casually, but you already screwed that up by calling him Marcus, he’ll know something’s up now.
“Why should anything be up, can’t I call you just ‘cuz?” You defensively answer. “Shit, I’m fucking this whole thing up.” You think, panicked.
“Well . . . usually when you call me Marcus, you have something serious to talk about.” He caught you. There’s nothing left to do but tell the truth. Lightly you start. “Oh, you caught me, I do have something to talk about.”
“What is it Kit?” He asks, concerned.
“Well . . . um . . . okay. I’m going to a frat party with Lily tomorrow night.” You blurt out.
“What!?” He asks, instantly pissed.
“You heard me.” You feed off his anger with defiance.
“What the fuck is going on in your head!” He exclaims, seething with anger.
“What the fuck’s going on in your head! You’re not my boss, and you’re sure the fuck’s not my father.” You were raging with anger.
“Kit come on. Don’t do this. For one, you don’t normally drink and they’ll attack you with drinks because of it. Plus, you’re with me, so why would you want to go put yourself out for those asshole frat guys to feast on.” He seemed to be trying to calm himself down a little and be rational, but his accusations just piss you off even more.
“How dare you! How fuckin’ dare you. Put myself out?! Have them feast on me?! You treat me like I’m three!! I can’t even wipe my ass without you thinking I’m gonna put myself in harm’s way, or that I’m incompetent to make rational decisions. Well fuck you. This is my life and I’ll live it any way I want, with or without your fuckin’ permission!” You were yelling now, the tears were on the brink of sprouting out of your eyes, you were so angry with Marcus.
“Hold on a minute, hold on a fucking minute . . . ” He started but you cut him off.
“No, you hold on a minute. You’re lucky you even heard this. Because I love you SO MUCH, I decided to tell you this. But I didn’t have to, Lily gave me a bit of advice, she said that college is the best time of your life, and you have to live it up or you will regret it later. Maybe you should take the same advice.” You weren’t yelling anymore, but you were still angry.
“So what, are you saying I should go to a sorority and flaunt myself out to the girls, is THAT how to live it up? And Lily put you up to going to this party tomorrow, didn’t she that bitch.”
“Don’t talk about my friends that way, god dammit!”
“But she did didn’t she?” He asks, the anger building in his voice.
“And what if she did? At least she made me realize how much you control me, and that I should be the one who determines my own destiny from now on.” You retort.
“Fine then. Fuck up your life. Don’t listen to the one who cares for you more than anyone else on earth.”
“What the fuck? First, you would be talking about my mother, not you when you were talking about the person who cares for me the most. And second, one party is going to fuck up my life? Jesus Christ!” You spat out. “What the fuck is he talking about?” You think to yourself.
“You’re such a spoiled brat sometimes and so naive. Maybe if your dad would’ve been around a little longer, then maybe you would have more discipline and understanding of when someone’s trying to help.”
You gasp. “Fuck you. How dare you talk about my father, you son of a bitch. Maybe if your father would’ve stayed around long enough, he could’ve taught you how to treat a women better.”
“Fuck off. You hypocrite. Fuck you.”
“Fuck you.” And you slam down the phone on the receiver. “What a son of a bitch. Fuck ‘m. I rule my own destiny, and nothing’s stopping me from going to that party tomorrow, nothing.” You angrily say out loud to yourself. Then you throw on your coat and head outside for a nice long walk to clear your head before this evening’s rehearsal.
You wake up extra early the next morning to get ready for rehearsal, and to start prepping for the party tonight. You take a shower, and then sit on the sink and shave your legs and armpits. You wash your face extra well, and put on casual clothes, which consists of black sweats and a white T-shirt, as you get ready to head to the theater. Rummaging through your cupboards and fridge, you decide on a granola bar, and blueberry yogurt for breakfast. As you sit and munch on the granola bar and yogurt, you reflect on your fight with Marcus. A tinge of regret begins to fill your mind but you push it aside with indignance. You have the right to choose what you should or shouldn’t do with your life. Glancing at the clock on the microwave you realize it’s time to head to rehearsal, so you slip on your tennis shoes, put on a sweatshirt and hat, hiding you curly locks, and head for rehearsal, deciding to run instead of walk because the brisk winter air is stinging your eyes and nose. When you get to the theater, Lily is already there, and comes over to you as you walk down the stage.
“Jesus, you’re a little late. I figured you’d have already left, so I didn’t even bother stopping by. Plus, I didn’t want to wake up Rachachrist.” You both bust up laughing.
“It’s okay. I was just getting prepped for tonight.”
“So he agreed to you going?” Lily inquires.
“Oh no. We had a huge fight, and told each other to fuck off. But I’m still going.”
“Holy shit! I can’t believe it! So what’s gonna happen now? Is it over? I mean between you two?” Lily shockingly asks.
“Oh no. I don’t think so. I’ll just give him a couple weeks to cool down and everything will go back to normal.” You simply state.
“Are you kidding me? That’s crazy. I can’t . . . ” Lily gets cut off by the director’s, “Let’s begin everyone.” You and Lily head backstage and get ready to go on stage. “Let’s go over Act 3, Scene 2 again.” The director bellows from the seat where he’s sitting. “Okay, let’s begin.” You all go through that scene, and through other various scenes that you personally are not in, until eight-thirty, when the director decides that that’s enough for Friday, but that they will all be on stage Sunday morning at nine o’ clock for an entire run through, since the play is in a week and a half. Everyone files off the stage, and heads out of the theater. You catch up with Lily and walk back to the dorms together since your next class isn’t until ten-thirty and hers isn’t until eleven-thirty. “So, are you excited about tonight?” Lily asks.
“Kind of. I’m also kinda nervous and part of me feels real bad about even going because of Marcus.” You reply, a hint of guilt in your voice.
“Don’t start Kit. Just forget everything that happened yesterday and just focus on having a good time. This is your night to be wild and crazy and just have fun, with no worries.” Lily preaches.
“You’re right. That’s exactly what I’ll do.” You boldly state as you two enter Buxton Hall and head up the four flights of stairs to your rooms.
The day goes relatively fast and before you know it, it’s six-thirty and Lily just called to let you know that the two of you are going to head to the party at around eight-thirty, so you should start getting ready now. And to also wear something sexy. “Yeah, yeah.” You think to yourself as you stare at the clothes in your closet. You begin to rummage through you clothes, and realize that you actually have quite a few sexy outfits to choose from. Rachel has already left for home, a weekly ritual, as did your sweet mates, so you have the whole area to yourself. Picking out different shirts, pants, and skirts, you toss them on the chair to then begin to decide which outfit will look best for the occasion. After careful analysis of each item, and an hour’s worth of trying on the different combinations, you finally decide on the fiery sparkly red spaghetti strap shirt, which sticks to your body enough to show off your perfect hourglass figure, although you still find yourself quite average. To go with the shirt you decided on a dark denim skirt that cuts to a point at the knees, the denim frayed at the bottom. As you look in the mirror at yourself, you wonder if the outfit is too seductive, or if it will produce the wrong message about who you really are. You almost start to take it off, but then you realize that is something that Marcus would say. “Your dress is too provocative, go put something else on.” His words ring in your head, and you realize suddenly, that you always dress for him, not for yourself. So you stop pulling your shirt off and put it back on. You look in the mirror again and look at your hair and think, “What the hell am I gonna do with you?” You’ve always had problems fixing your hair because of its curliness, so you just decide to wet it down, gel it, and blow-dry it so it will have a natural look with soft silky curls. After you finish blow-drying your hair, you proceed to put on your make-up. You take out the foundation, unscrew the cap, put your finger on top of the mouth of the bottle, and with a flick of your wrist, you have a glob of foundation which you dot on your forehead, cheeks, chin, and nose, and by making circular motions, you blend the foundation into your face, giving it a clean and seamless look. Next is powder. You grab and open it, taking out the powder puff, and swipe it across the powder three times, to gather enough powder on the puff, and begin to apply it on your face. You start with your chin, sucking your lips inward, so no powder hits them, then you move to your cheeks, the left then the right, the nose is next, and lastly the forehead and eyelids. You swipe the puff after each area, making sure the powder is well applied. After the powder is applied, next is the eyeliner. Rummaging through your make-up drawer, you find the shade you were looking for, shimmery ice blue. Taking it out of the drawer, you take off the cap and hold down your eyelid with your right hand. You apply the eyeliner with the left to the left, and vice versa with the right. Then it’s eyeshadow. You pick a darker, navy blue to go along with the eyeliner. You cover the navy blue with a sparkling white to make your eyes shimmer. Then it’s mascara and lipstick. For lipstick, you choose a plum to offset the lightness of your complexion making your lips stand out and become more noticeable. Now your make-up is finished. You put on deodorant and for perfume you put on “Heaven” from Victoria’s Secret that your brother got you for Christmas last year. You slip on your black dress shoes, a few bucks and your student ID in your pocket, and put on your black navy pea coat to keep you warm, since it is winter. You slip your keys in your pocket and turn off all the lights, except your vanity, so you can see when you get back tonight. You open the door, and lightly shut it behind you as you walk down the hall toward Lily’s room. As you knock on Lily’s door, you hear Def Leopard’s “Pour Some Sugar On Me” seeping through the door. “Lily’s gotta get herself into the dance groove before she even gets to the party.” You think as the door suddenly pops open and there stands Lily, black leather pants, and a fiery, shiny tight shirt.
“Wow, we match!” She yells over the music. “Come in, I’m just about ready.”
“K.” You reply as you step in her room. Looking around Lily’s room, you notice an amazing amount of guys’ pictures that have been ripped out of magazines and plastered on the walls. Most of them are shirtless, showing their rippling muscles. Although you really haven’t been in Lily’s room before, the sight that lies before your eyes really doesn’t surprise you. “You’re such a sexual animal.” You snicker as you look over at Lily who’s lavishly applying a flaming red lipstick to match her shirt.
“Yeah, I know, isn’t it great?” She smirks. “Okay, I’m ready.” She says as she puts the cap back on her lipstick and throws it back in the drawer. “Are you?” She asks, looking at you fidget with the big black buttons on your pea coat. Looking up instantly, you immediately reply, “Of course I am.”
“Good, lets get a move on.” She distractedly says as she puts on her black leather coat. “Dressed to kill and boys to molest, lets go.” She smiles at you as you snicker at her remark. She shuts off all her lights, giving you the impression that she doesn’t plan on coming home tonight, or that she doesn’t want the light to get in the way of the stripping of clothes, and hot sex in her bed. She’s the only freshman with a single room, and she wants to take full advantage of it. Well, who could blame her? If it’s her prerogative, more power to her. She shuts and locks the door, slipping the keys into her coat pocket as you two walk down the hall, toward your first frat party.
As you step outside, the wind and icy chill hits you like a brick wall, and you feel that your leg hair has instantaneously grown an inch. You react by snuggling deeper into your coat, instantly feeling glad that you brought it. “It’s fucking cold out here. If I was to touch my nipples right now, I’m afraid they’d break off.” Lily remarks as she tries to pull her leather jacket closer to her body to create warmth.
“Let’s walk faster, so we get there quicker, and get out of the wind.” You suggest.
“Good plan.” Lily responds as you two pick up the pace and head toward the Sigma Nu house. After about ten minutes, and walking clear across campus, you and Lily finally reach your destination. Glancing from the outside, it didn’t look like there was much of a party at all, at least not the type of party you witnessed before Thanksgiving break. As you walk up the steps to the door, you see two guys standing there, looking quite cold, one holding a clipboard, which was obviously the list of who could or couldn’t enter the party. Proceeding to walk to the door, you and Lily are blockaded by the two guys. “You two on the list?” The so-called “bouncer” asks.
“What! We’re girls! That automatically puts us on the list.” Lily complains.
“Not here it doesn’t. On the list or not.” The other guy says, tapping his pen on the clipboard.
“Come on boys. You don’t want to deny us two sweet, attractive girls from having a good time? Now do you?” You purr.
“We have strict orders to not let anyone in who’s not on the list.” The first guy informs.
“But do you always follow the rules. That’s boring and unattractive. Do you want to be boring and unattractive, or do you want to live dangerously?” You persuade.
“Dude, I don’t want to be boring and unattractive, let’s let them in.” The second guy says to the first.
“Okay, okay, you can go in, but if anyone asks, you were put on the list by Gary and John, that’s us.” The First guy explains. “But we need your names, so there’s proof.”
“Kit Cole.” You reply.
“Lily Mahler.” Lily answers.
“Sweet, k, you can go in now.” Gary, the first guy points to the door. “And remember, Gary and John.”
“Ahh, thanks guys. Now you can never say you’re boring and unattractive.” You smirk as you walk past John and Gary and head in the door. As you get inside, you realize the atmosphere drastically changes from inside to outside.
“Sweet, it’s gonna be pretty good. Now lets get some drinks.” Lily remarks as she rubs her hands together in delight.
“Okay.” You agree. Heading toward the kitchen, your eye catches a guy, tall, with sandy blonde shaggy hair, and dazzling blue eyes. He has a nice body, and you’re strangely attracted to him. He notices you glancing at him, and tips his head back slightly and quickly as a sign of “Hello,” and that he notices your stare. Slightly embarrassed, you blush and smile in his direction as Lily suddenly tugs on your arm to get you moving again.
“You can’t be looking at boys, you’re taken.” Lily reminds you.
“I just noticed that he was attractive, that’s all.” You refute her claim.
“Sure, sure. Keep your clothes on tonight -k-? I don’t want to ‘ruin’ your perfect relationship with Marcus.” Lily sarcastically remarks. “Actually, I think you should get down and dirty tonight, because I think Marcus is a controlling asshole.”
“Lily, he is not. You haven’t even met him. Please don’t make judgments about him.” You argue, a tinge of irritation in your voice. It’s enough for Lily to notice.
“Okay, okay, don’t get so testy. I was just making an observation based on the information you’ve given me.” Lily explains, immediately changing the subject. “So do you want beer or hard ‘A’?”
“Don’t change the subject on me dammit.” You complain.
“Let’s not fight about this right now, we’re at a party for Christ’s sake! We’ll talk about it later. Now let’s forget the conversation ever happened and answer my question: beer of hard ‘A’?” Lily asks again.
“Hard ‘A’ I guess. I’ve never been a big fan of beer.”
“Okay, but be careful with it. You have to respect hard alcohol or it will get ‘cha. And since you don’t drink much, you really have to watch your intake of it.”
“Yes mother.” You smirk.
“I’m just warnin’ ya.”
“I know, I’ll be fine. I’ll only drink one or two rum and cokes.”
“K, just be careful. I don’t want to have to take you to the hospital to have your stomach pumped because of alcohol poisoning. Then Marcus would really hate my guts.”
“Oh please. I’m more responsible than that.” You argue. You two finally reach the kitchen, and observe the array of alcoholic choices available to the both of you.
“Sweet, Jell-O shots. You have to be especially careful with those though. They get you fucked up fast without you even realizing it.”
“I know, I’ve had them before.” You irritatingly reply.
“Sorry. I don’t know what you have or haven’t had before. Give me a break. I’m just looking out for your well being.” Lily defends herself.
“I’m just saying that you don’t have to treat me like an ignorant fool. I said I’ve drank occasionally, I did not say I haven’t drank at all.”
“K, k, I get the point.” Lily hurriedly replies.
“What can I get for you fine ladies this evening?” The “bartender” for the night asks.
“Well, I’ll have a slice of you for starters.” Lily chuckles. “No, I’m kidding.” She immediately replies when she sees him roll his eyes. “Okay, my friend wants a rum and coke, and I want a whiskey sour if I can get one?”
“Yeah, you can, but it will cost more.” The guy informs Lily.
“Fine with me, I can pay for it.”
“I’m sure you can.” The guy quickly remarks as he turns to get the cups to make the drinks. He finishes and hands the drinks to you and Lily. “That will be two dollars for the roman coke and four dollars for the whiskey sour.”
“This one’s on me Kit.” Lily informs you as she pulls a ten-dollar bill out of her pocket of her leather pants. “Here.” She hands the bill to him.
“And here’s four dollars back.” He hands Lily her change.
“How much are Jell-O shots?” Lily inquires.
“Fifty cents a shot.” He answers.
“Sweet! K, thanks.” She replies and turns to head back to the living room. As you follow Lily back, you see that same guy, again, talking to a couple of girls. You glance his way, but quickly glance back at Lily’s head so he won’t notice that you were looking at him again.
“So what are we gonna do now?” You ask as you and Lily reach the parlor.
“Dance.” Lily replies as she starts dancing to the song blasting on the stereo. “Oh, Peaches ‘n Cream.” Lily starts singing to the music.
“I don’t want to dance. It’s too crowded.” You complain but it was extremely crowded. You are packed into that house like sardines, and there’s more people coming through the door every minute.
“That’s the best time, ‘cuz then you can bump and grind with every HOT guy who walks by and that‘s how you mingle in this sort of situation.” Lily explains.
“Right.” You reply, sounding unconvinced.
“Well, there’s a free spot on that couch over there. You could go sit down if you want and we can still keep an eye on each other.” Lily points out.
“K, I think I’ll do that.” You say and turn in the direction of the couch. Even though it’s only five feet away, you still have to swarm through a small horde of people who stand in the way between you and the couch. After about five minutes of just standing still or worming your way through the crowd, you reach the couch, only to discover that the empty seat has been taken by no more than your cute mystery man. “Shit, of all the people, it had to be him.” You think in your head. As you turn to make your way back to Lily, you feel a gentle tug on your hand. Whipping around immediately, you see it’s the mystery man who has a hold of your hand.
“Wait, did you want to sit here? Here, just a sec. Hey peon. Yeah you sitting next to me. You’re a pledge right?” The guy asks the kid sitting next to him.
“Yeah.” The kid sheepishly replies.
“All right, then get off the couch and let this beautiful lady have your seat.” He commanded. Without a peep, the kid got up from the couch, and his date, or at least the girl he had with him got up too, and summoned for you to sit down.
“Thank you.” You say to the kid.
“No problem.” He curtly replies as he turns and heads through the swarm of people, his girl trailing behind.
“You really didn’t need to do that.” You reply as you slowly ease yourself down onto the couch.
“Yes I did, you needed a place to sit, and so I got you one.”
“But why couldn’t you have just given me your spot? Why did you have to kick that kid and his girl off?” You ask.
“Well . . . there’s a couple of reasons: A) Because he’s a pledge and I’m a member, so that gives me power over him and B) Because then I probably wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you.” He explains. Hearing his second reason makes you blush. So to cover up your blushing, you take a sip off your drink. “Watcha drinkin’?” He asks.
“Rum and coke.”
“Good choice, good choice.” Noticing that he also has a cup in his hand you ask him the same thing. “Bloody Mary.”
“Oh, I’ve never had one of those before.”
“Want to try mine?” He holds out his cup for you to take. Looking in the cup and seeing the red of the tomato juice, you decide against it. “Nah, that’s ok. But thanks for the offer.”
“So what’s your name?” He suddenly asks.
“Kit, what’s yours?”
“Jason. Kit, that’s a nice name.”
“It’s short for Kitrina.”
“Really? That’s interesting.”
“No it’s not. Quit trying to play me.”
“Oh, so that’s what you think I’m doing huh? A guy just can’t make conversation with a girl anymore without the girl assuming that they’re trying to get into the girl’s pants.”
“Well then. What are you doing?”
“Having a conversation with you.”
“Right.” You say as you take a drink or your rum and coke to find that the cup is empty.
“Empty cup huh? Well, I’ll go get you another drink. What do you want? The same thing? Something different? Want a Jell-O shot?”
“You really don’t have to get me anything. I didn’t plan on drinking too much anyway. And I should go find my friend.”
“Come on. You’re at a party. A Sigma Nu party nonetheless. You have to drink at least one more drink. Please? For me?” He pleads and flashes you a sexy grin.
“One more drink . . . and that’s it!” Your resistance crumbles under his smile.
“Ok. Great. Now what do you want?”
“Just the same.”
“Ahh, that’s boring. How about some cowboy Kool-Aid.”
“What’s that?” You inquire, having no clue what it is.
“Just Kool-Aid and vodka. It’s really good, tastes just like Kool-Aid, but just with alcohol.”
“Okay, I’ll try that I guess.”
“Here’s some money for it.” You try to hand him a few dollars, but he pushes your hand away.
“Put that away. Come on. Since I asked you what you wanted it means I’m gonna pay for it. Besides, I’m a member, so I get drinks for free.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. I didn’t know all the rules.”
“It’s fine, just don’t let it happen again.” He winks and smiles at you. You can’t help but blush, and so you quickly look down and hand him your cup. He gets up and begins to swarm through the crowd of people, which seems to have grown quite large in size since you last noticed. Scanning the crowd for Lily, she’s most likely talking to some guy, probably the one she’s going to seduce for the evening. But you don’t locate her. As you start scanning the room some more, you begin to notice a rise in temperature, “Maybe because there’s more people in here now,” you think to yourself, but then you realize it’s just you whose temperature has risen, from the alcohol. You put your hands to your cheeks, and are surprised at how warm they really are. Then you also begin to realize that you are on the verge of buzzing. The invisible heaviness is starting to descend on your body, especially your eyes, and everything is starting to get soft and fuzzy around the edges. “Jesus, I’m pathetic, I’ve had one drink, and I’m already on the verge of a buzz.” You snicker to yourself.
You then stand up to see where Lily has gravitated to. Scanning the room with your eyes again, you begin to absorb the number of people who are in the room. It astonishes you. There’s no room what so ever it seems like. You stand up on the couch to get an aerial view of the parlor, since you were unable to see Lily from ground level. After a minute or two of scanning, you finally spot her clear across the room, talking to some guy, going in for the kill, just as you had expected. You also see Jason coming back with the drinks, so you step down from the couch and sit back down. You feel much safer, having actually seen Lily, and knowing that she’s still around and hasn’t disappeared into some guy’s room. Jason suddenly pops out from the horde and takes you by such surprise that you instantly jump. “Whoa! Did I startle you? I’m sorry. You tend to suddenly pop into clear areas after being stuck in a mob of people for a while. Here.” He hands you your drink. Taking it from him you let him know that he didn’t really startle you, you were just lost in thought and he broke it. The pink liquid tingles your taste buds and warms your insides as it makes it’s way to your stomach. “Wow. This stuff really warms you up.” You say with a giggle.
“Yeah, it’s a real popular drink among the females around here.” Jason informs you.
“I can see why, it hardly tastes like alcohol at all. I like those types of drinks. I don’t like beer. I don’t like the taste. I’ve just never been fond of it.” You start to giggle, at the realization that you’re rambling.
“What are you laughing about?” Jason inquires.
“Because I’m pathetic and I’m rambling.”
“Why are you pathetic?”
“Because I’m already buzzed. I hardly drink at all. So the alcohol has a larger effect on me, a lot sooner than others. It’s almost embarrassing. Maybe my boyfriend is right, that I shouldn’t have come, because I’ll just get myself into a bad situation.” Feeling stupid for bringing up Marcus, you take a huge gulp of your drink, draining it halfway.
“So you have a boyfriend huh?” Jason slyly asks.
“Yeah, his name is Marcus. He likes to control what I do.”
“Oh really? Does he go to school here?”
“Oh no. He goes to school in Idaho, where we’re both from. That’s why I could come tonight, because he’s not here. Otherwise we’d probably just stay in my dorm room and he’d coax me into having sex with him. I don’t really like having sex though.” You couldn’t believe what was coming out of your mouth.
“Interesting.” Getting the impression that Jason was thinking you’re a big idiot, you hastily take another drink of your cowboy Kool-Aid, and inform him, “I am normally not this open. I’m not this open at all. It’s just the alcohol I’m assuming has taken its affect on me, and I’m starting to feel quite drunk, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, it’s perfectly all right. I see this all the time.” Jason explains.
“Yeah. But what you need to do is to slow down your intake of alcohol, but don’t stop.”
“Because then you’ll get what is known as the drowsy drunks.”
“What’s that?” You keep interrupting him after every sentence like a four-year-old.
“Well, let me tell you. The drowsy drunks are when you stop drinking, and your body suddenly goes through a detox . . . ” He begins to think of a better explanation, looking at the puzzled expression on your face. “Okay. It’s like pot smokers who smoke pot, they are on a ‘high’ for a while, but then that high begins to decrease as your body loses the marijuana in your system . . . ” Seeing that you’re even more confused than before, he simply puts, “When you stop drinking, it makes you tired and you want to sleep.”
“Oh. Okay, I understand now.” You say with amazement. You then tip your head back, while putting the cup to your lips and drain the rest of the contents from the cup.
“So what do you want to do now?” Jason asks.
“I don’t know. Maybe I should go find Lily and see if she wants to go home. I’m drunk. I should go home and go to bed.”
“No! Come on! You shouldn’t go! You’re not that drunk. And besides, do you know where your friend is? You’re much safer here with me. Don’t worry. Now come on.” Jason grabs your hand and pulls you off the couch. You end up in front of him, with his hand on your lower back, pushing you gently through the crowd to where the “bar” is. You decide not to resist because A) You don’t really feel like searching through the crowd for Lily and B) You are attracted to Jason, and so you feel safe being with him. You finally reach the bar, and Jason yells, “Two Jell-O shots,” at the bartender, who immediately sets them out. “I don’t know Jason, isn’t this a fast intake of alcohol, when you said I should be slowing down?” You still had your wits and common sense about you, even though you felt quite drunk.
“Yes, but its okay right, because this is your night to have fun, and not let your boyfriend tell you what to do.” He struck the right chord. The memory of yours and Marcus’ fight came flooding back into your mind, and how this was your night to have fun with no worries.
“Give me that fucking shot.” You demand as you thrust your hand to the shot, pick it up, and tip it back, swallowing the Jell-O, all in one quick movement.
“Hey! You forgot to toast first. You never take shots with someone without toasting first. Faux pas.” Jason informs you.
“Shit. I guess I’ll just have to try that all over again.” You say as you hand the shot glass back to the bartender to be refilled. Getting it back, you look at Jason, who already has his shot in hand, and you ask, “What to?”
“To having fun with no regrets.” He lifts his shot up.
“To having fun with no regrets.” You mimic and meet your glass to his, clanking them together before you two tip them back and devour the blue colored Jell-O that once rested in the shot glass.
After taking a couple more shots, you two settle for some mixed drinks, you have a mudslide, while he refills his bloody mary. Staying in the “bar” area, which is just another parlor in the house, you two decide to make small talk and get to know each other better.
“Let me ask you a few questions.” You begin.
“Okay, shoot.” Jason replies.
“Okay, what happened to DJ Nookie, why did girls have to be on the list, and why did we have to by our drinks?” You question, your words come out in slow droning tones, another effect of the alcohol.
“Well . . . we didn’t get the DJ ‘cuz he was going to charge us way too much money, we wanted a list for girls so we didn’t get a bunch of stupid girls coming to ruin the party, and we wanted to keep it pretty low-key, and we’re charging everyone because we’re all trying not to spend a lavish amount out of our own pockets, since Christmas is coming up.”
“Oh . . . I see.” You’re almost to the point of beginning to slur your words. You decide to slow the drinking quite a bit. You chit chat some more, and you find out that he’s a junior, majoring in Sports Therapy, which was inspired from the fact that he is the running back for the football team. You tell him you’re in theater arts, your cast in Hamlet as Ophelia, and other things about yourself. It was around eleven o’ clock when you began to feel sick. Clutching your stomach, you look at Jason, a contorted look of pain on your face. “What’s the matter?” Jason asks, concerned.
“I don’t feel very good. I need to find Lily and get out of here.” You painfully squeak out.
“No. It sounds like you should lie down for a while.” Jason coaxes.
“No, I really should find Lily.” You refute.
“Tell me what she looks like, and I’ll go look for her.” Jason offers. You give him her description, as he finds a chair for you to sit in while he goes to look for Lily. Putting a hand on your head, the other on your abdomen, you sit and wait for Jason to come back with Lily. After what seemed like an eternity, which in reality was only about five minutes, Jason came back, but without Lily. “I couldn’t find her anywhere, she must of left with someone or is in a room with a guy.” Jason tells you.
“No, she has to be around, let me go look for her.” You argue as you stand up from the chair, but with all the alcohol in your system, it throws off your sense of balance, and as soon as you take a step, you stumble and almost fall down, being caught by Jason in the nick of time.
“I don’t think you’re physically or mentally fit to do that right now. You really should lie down. Come on, I’ll take you to my room, and you can lie down and rest in there. Don’t worry, it’s safe, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m looking out for your well-being.” Jason was quite the smooth talker.
“Ok, just for a sec., then I really need to get out of here.” You groan out, feeling even worse than before. He puts his arm around your shoulder, and helps you through the parlor, and up the stairs to the third floor, where his room was. Music was blasting from some guy’s room on the floor, which make the headache you were experiencing ten times worse. Jason led you down the hall to the second to last door on the left side. Glancing at the door, you see pictures of naked women and football, an interesting combo. Jason opened the door, and led you inside. What you fail to notice, because of you current condition, is that he quietly locked the door behind you.
“K, here’s my bed. Now just lie down and you’ll feel lots better, trust me.” Jason slyly replies. The statement and his tone struck you as peculiar and odd, but you wave it off as a hallucination of your drunkenness. As you lay on his bed he switches the light off and sits down at his computer, checking his e-mail or something of the sort. The darkness adds to the drowsiness you were already experiencing, and you close your eyes to drift off, feeling perfectly all right in your current surroundings. Before you know it, you drift off into pass-out land, only instead of black nothingness commonly experienced during a normal session of being passed out, you dream.
You dream of rolling hills, all green and lush, the warmth of the sun rays kissing your naked flesh as you lay on the hillside. You dream of playing in the backyard with your father when you were little, he pushing you on the swing, your hair whipping around in the breeze as you went up and down, up and down. You then dream of you and Marcus, in your dorm room, him coaxing you to have sex, “Come on, you know you want to. Please, do it for me.” His voice resounds in your ears, and like a flash he rips down your pants, savagely thrusting you on the bed, his weight on top of you, suffocating your every movement or breath. “No Marcus, I don’t want to.” You plead, but to no avail. Suddenly . . .you jolt awake, but you are suddenly surprised, and immediately terrified at feeling the same sensation of weight bearing down on your small little body. Squirming to shake loose, you feel wet lips caressing your neck, and gravitating toward your face. Alarmed by this action, you thrust your head to the opposite side of the traveling lips, only to have a hand grab your chin and force it back so those lips, those betraying lips connect with yours, and his probing tongue could invade the depths of your mouth, despite your rigorous attempts to stop it. Panic, gut wrenching panic. It travels up and down your spine, and heads to your eyes where you begin to tear up at your impossible situation. As he holds your face with one hand, kissing you deep and hard, with the other he begins to move down . . . down . . . down, until he finally reaches the bottom of your skirt, and proceeds to raise it up to your waist, while he straddles each side of you your legs, so you can’t spread them to pull your skirt tight, which would have made it impossible for him to hike it up. So stricken with fear, you’re unable to formulate clear thoughts, so the rational thought of kneeing him in the balls while he straddles you, never comes to mind. You squirm; frantically trying to tear yourself loose from this guy, this animal whom you trusted to take care of you, who now is going to violate you. He grabs a hold of you panties, your pink lacy thong that Marcus gave to you on you last birthday, and with one swift tug, he ripped them down your legs. Predicting this action would cause more alarm, and a greater sense of urgency for you to try and stop it, he applies more of his weight on you, making it almost impossible to move. “My arms, what about my arms!” You frantically think, but as you go to move them, you realize that they are handcuffed to the head of the bed. “NO! NO! PLEASE GOD STOP THIS!” The words slice through your mind. He has already switched legs so you’re the one who’s straddling him, when he suddenly plunges his fingers into the depth of your insides. Pain, burning pain, and you scream. But his mouth is on top of yours, muffling the sounds. Tears are dropping like rain at the violation of your body that’s currently taking place. He runs his fingers in and out, in and out, until the involuntary juices of your insides begin to flow. He raises his lips off your mouth, “Ya like that huh?” You spit in his face. He slaps you. “You’re gonna pay for that bitch!” He reaches for the belt on his pants to loosen them. The total conversion of his temperament surprises, then alarms you. “No. Please don’t. Please stop. Don’t do this to me. Why, why me?” You sob. But it doesn’t stop him. He just looks at you and says, “Why? Because you’re a stupid slut who can’t hold your alcohol, and should be at home talking to your boyfriend, but instead you’re out flaunting your ass around for everyone to feast their eyes on. That’s why.” You then on impulse scream. When you finish, he just laughs and says, “Scream all you want. No one will hear you, the music’s too loud downstairs or even up here. Plus, no one gives a fuck.” He grins an evil grin and takes out his fully erect penis. Your sobbing increases as you know there’s nothing you can do to stop him, so you cry. He lies on top of you, breathing his musky breath on your face. It makes you gag. A searing pain suddenly ravages your entire body as he enters inside you. Grabbing painfully a hold of your breasts, he sits up and deeply thrusts, in . . . out . . . in . . . out. Slow. Painful. Thrusts. Terror and anguish hit you like a ton of bricks. You wish that your mind would cause you to black out, preventing you from seeing or feeling this pain, but it doesn’t. You feel every second of it. The thrusting in and out, the movements from slow to fast, and back again. The wrenching and tugging of your breasts under his fingers. You just want to die. “Take me away God.” You croak. After one half hour, which seemed like an eternity, he finally blows his load. His seed going into the deep depths of your uterus. He slowly pulls his penis out, reveling in the full enjoyment at the expense of your torture. He finally lets go of your breasts, slips his penis back into his pants, and zips them up. He finally gets off of you and walks to the door, unlocks it, and walks out. Violation, pure and simple violation. Your insides burned, a painful burn like sticking your hand on a hot stove. Your stomach churned over and over and your head started spinning so much, that you turned your body to the side, as much as the handcuffs would allow, and puked. Horrible acidity liquid came spuing out of your lips. You convulsed, again . . . and again . . . and again. Until there was nothing left but bile. After the convulsing ceased, you slowly lie on your back, and finally black out.
Cold. Instant cold as you snap suddenly awake. Disoriented, you suddenly start to panic and turn side to side, trying to recognize your surroundings. This panic immediately is replaced by the throbbing pain that ravages your body, as the realization of what happened last night comes crashing down upon you. You turn your head to the side to vomit, but you only dry heave once. . . twice. . . three times because you have already expelled all the liquid in your stomach last night. The cold hits you again as a slight gust rustles the bush you’re hid in, biting at your bare legs and you shiver, a shiver that shakes your whole body. Your teeth begin to chatter, and tears begin to stream down your face. As you try and stand up, your knees weaken and you fall down again. Slapping the ground like a three year old having a tantrum, you build up enough determination to finally stand up and walk out from the depths of the bush. The sun is about to rise, so it’s light enough for you to discover your current location: in the bushes lining the parking lot which is right across the street from your dorm. Your mind is racing with a billion thoughts– pain, being glad you told him where you lived, shocked that he had the decency to at least drop you close to your dorm, pain, cold, angry for trusting him, angry at yourself, angry at Lily, angry at Marcus, and of course, pain.
You slowly walk across the street; each step shoots needles of pain through your feet and legs, which have turned purple from the cold. You finally reach the door, and hope to God everyone is still asleep. After your slow, painful jaunt up the stairs, you make it to the fourth floor. Slowly opening the door, you peek in to see if anyone is walking up or down the hall, you don’t want anyone to see you in your current condition. Seeing that the coast is clear, you walk as fast as your body will allow down the hall to your room. Shoving your hand in your pocket, you retrieve your keys and hastily thrust the key in the lock, turning the key to unlock the door, and immediately turn it back again to re-lock it. Shutting the door behind you, you instantly are staring face to face with yourself in the mirror. The sight horrifies you: puffy, red eyes; tear/mascara-streaked face, a bruise starting to darken on your cheek where he hit you. You hardly recognize your own face, so you turn away to relieve yourself of that disgusting sight. You unbuckle your shoes, which take a lot of effort, since your fingers are still numb from the cold and then proceed to take off your coat. As you slip if off, you notice the indentations and cuts on your wrists from the handcuffs. You rub the marks with your hands, but they don’t go away. You then completely undress yourself, but stop for a minute or two when you get to your panties. Afraid of what you will find when you pull them off, you hesitate. Finally building up the courage, you slowly reach for each side and discover first that the left side is only hanging on by a thread or two, a product of the savageness in which he yanked and pulled them down your thighs. You are even surprised he put them back on. But you proceed to ease them down your thighs and encounter what you were afraid of all along: blood. His thrusts were hard and deep enough to tear a part of your insides, causing you to bleed. Letting go of the tattered, blood soaked item, it falls gently down your calves and onto the floor. You step out of them and pick them up, deciding to bury them in the depths of the trashcan. Your next thought is a shower. Grabbing your towels and soap, you head into your suit mates room and into the shower, glancing by chance at the green glow of the microwave clock which displays a time of seven-thirty a.m. You turn the knobs of the shower until the water becomes pretty hot. You step into the small confined box of a shower and close the curtain. The water stings as it hits your cold violated body, and hurts your feet. This does not faze you however, because you don’t mind the temporary escape from the pain on the inside to an external pain. You tilt your heard back, saturating your locks with water, and then take the washrag and coat it with a thick layer of soap. You begin scrubbing your skin like a madwoman, trying to erase all the traces of his filthy body on yours, but even though the essence of him on your skin is rubbed away, the thought of him and his actions still remain, and the magnitude of this realization hits you, and you begin to sob, and slowly sink to the shower floor, huddling there like a frightened runaway, the water from the shower covering your lengthy sobs.
No! No Jason, Please don’t. Stop! Please stop! Why are you doing this to me!?!
Because you’re a slutty little bitch. . . slutty little bitch. . . slutty little bitch. . . You jolt awake in a cold sweat, the words still echoing in your head. You look at your microwave clock to read eleven-thirty. You have been asleep for three hours now, only to be jolted awake by that horrible image of him on top of you again. Feeling defeated and weary you lie back down on your pillow, praying to God that you can sleep without dreams, especially dreams with him. As you close your eyes and begin to slip back onto the depths of your subconscious, there’s a knock on the door. At first it’s slight, but with the passing moments with no answer, it becomes more urgent. “Kit, Kit! Are you in there? Dammit! Please answer the door if you’re in there!”
Lily. Not wanting to move an inch, you weigh the consequences of not answering the door. But your good-hearted nature gets the better of you, or rather your conscience, and you slowly climb off the top bunk of your bed, and painfully walk across the room to the door. Opening it, you see Lily still dressed in last night’s clothes, a look of anger and concern spilling over her face. “Where the hell did you go last night? What the hell happened? I spent practically the whole night looking for your sorry ass. Thanks for ditching me.”
You hide most of your face with the door, but you’re tempted to show her your bruised face and scream at her for leaving you alone with him, that he raped you. . .but no, you can’t. No one can know what happened. Frantically wracking your brain for an excuse, you can’t think of one, your brain is too exhausted with the events of the previous night, you feel utterly defeated, to where the only thing you can say in response is, “I’m sick, and don’t feel much like talking.”
“Hung over huh? When did you leave then?”
“It was late, I couldn’t find you. Walked back by myself.” You mumble.
“What, that hot guy you were hangin’ on didn’t walk you home?”
“I wasn’t hangin’ on him, and I stopped talking to him after he fed me a bunch of drinks, he scared me.” You lie.
“Whatever. Well, go back to bed, and sleep off that hangover. Remember we have nine o’ clock rehearsal tomorrow morning, and you need to be well rested and ready.” Lily chimes.
“K, bye.” You practically whisper as you shut the door. Tears immediately begin to roll down your cheeks as you think of Lily being mad because you ditched her, and that she was worried sick looking for you. You wanted to scream at her, “I was raped! It’s all your fault! Why did you leave me?! Why did you persuade me to go to that fucking party!” But you couldn’t. You didn’t want to. You don’t want her to know, you don’t want anyone to know. But you can’t blame Lily. YOU were the one who left her at the party to go sit on that couch. YOU were the one who let him get you drinks and take care of you. YOU were the one who ultimately made the decision to go and drink at the party and YOU were the one who was ultimately paying the price for those poorly made decisions. Feeling every inch of strength drain from your body and mind, you crumple down off your weak legs, and onto the floor, where your exhaustion takes a hold of you and you fall into the depths of a deep dark dreamless sleep.
“Riinngg.” You jolt awake. “Riinngg.” The phone’s ringing. But you have neither the strength nor the desire to answer the phone. “Riinngg.” Third ring and then, “click, Hi you’ve reached the room of Rachel and Kit. We’re not in right now, so if you could leave your name and number, we will gladly get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you.” The answering machine drones the message you recorded and then “Beep,” and the familiar voice of your mother, “Hello sweetie, this is your mother. You must be out with friends. I wanted to let you know I won’t be able to make it for your play because your brother broke his leg, and so I will just have to wait until Christmas break before I get to see you. I’m really sorry that I have to miss it; I really wanted to see it, but another time and another play. I will try and call you a little later and talk to you. I love you very much. Bye.” The answering machine kicks off. You want to pick up that phone and call her back, but you can’t. You need to calm down more and get control of all your emotions. You want to cry, because it frustrates you that you can’t talk to your mother, and just frustrated in general over the whole situation, but there are no tears left for you to cry. You suddenly realize how dehydrated and ravenous with hunger you really are. But you are also very weak, and so it takes you a couple minutes before you can stand up on your two feet and not have your knees buckle. Your head is throbbing from the hunger and the hangover, and your insides still burn from the pain of last night’s events. Hunching over to try and subside the painful burning, you go search through your cupboards for something to eat. You decide on some minestrone soup, part of a loaf of French bread in your fridge, and a big glass of water. After much labor of popping the lid off the soup and pouring it into the bowl, you put it in the microwave to heat it up. You sit in your chair at your desk, slurping your soup after it warms, and slowly munching on the French bread, and sipping your water. As you finish eating your spirits begin to rise, although the incident still nags at your subconscious. You dump your dishes in the sink, deciding to do them later, and take out some Tylenol P.M., so that your headache will go away and you will be able to sleep through the night. Taking out the two tablets, you pop them in your mouth, and finish your third glass of water. You then climb back up into your bed, deciding that sleep is the best medicine to ease the horrible incident from the depths of your mind.
“Kit! Kit get up, you’re going to be late for rehearsal!” Lily shouts through the door, and then begins to pound on the door again.
“Huh?” You slowly wake up, still drowsy from the Tylenol P.M. You slide off the bed, and as you go to answer the door, you notice that the microwave clock reads “eight-fifty-five,” five minutes before rehearsal. You open the door to find an impatient and growing irritable Lily standing before you.
“What the hell? Why didn’t you set your alarm? We are going to be late!” Lily huffily replies.
“I’m sorry, just go without me, I’ll just show up late.” You tell her, remembering that you still have that bruise on your face you need to cover up.
“Fine. I can’t believe you. Oh well. I’ll see you in rehearsal.” She snidely remarks and turns and walks down the hall. Realizing the urgency of getting down to rehearsal, you frantically dress, as fast as your body will allow, and cover up the bruise on your face as best as you can. Then you quickly hurry down to the theater, to make it on stage before your time to go on. You feel better, well, best as you possibly can for the circumstances, but you feel that rehearsing and moving on with your life will be the best way to get over the rape.
Rehearsal goes exceptionally well. You were flawless, like nothing had happened to you, like you were never raped, like you never had a fight with Marcus, like everything was normal, but you are an actress, and can cover up everything so that it looks like nothing. Although, you can’t hide from your own feelings you feel inside like you can to others on the outside, but you can pretend, for awhile.
Tuesday. The day before opening night. The director decided to cancel rehearsal, so everyone could have a day to rest and relax before the big night. You decide to take the whole day off from everything and sleep in quite late. Your dreams of the rape have been off and on the last couple days. You still feel a little drowsy from the little lack of sleep you experience from waking up in a cold sweat, biting back the tears and having to calm yourself down so you can sleep again. But this is an improvement from when you would lie there for hours, fighting away sleep because you were afraid of dreaming that horrible dream over and over again. But this morning you aren’t worried about that because you are purely exhausted from dress rehearsal the previous night, and because you have the play to slip into your dreams, and push out the rape.
You hear Rachel get up at nine o’ clock, to get ready for class. She rummages through her drawers to find the right clothes to wear, and then looks through her cupboard to find something to eat, deciding on chips. You hear the crinkle of the plastic chip bag between her fingers, noisily opening the plastic bad to discover the chips inside. She thrusts her hand in the bag, grabs a handful of chips, and stuffs them all into her mouth, making a loud annoying “Munch, munch, munch” sound. You would like to take your alarm clock and throw it at her head. Turning over to face the wall, you think of her current prying, “Are you okay lately? Why do you always wake up crying? Is something wrong, should I pray for you?” You would like to tell her to shut up and to mind her own damn business, but instead you just say, “It’s nothing,” and go about your day. But you forget about her as you fall back asleep.
You wake up for the day around twelve-thirty. You take a long shower and get dressed. You call Elliot to see if you can borrow his car to go to the coffee shop for lunch. He asks if he can join you and you say sure and he asks if Lily would be interested in going, but you tell him that she has class. He says “ok” and that he’ll be over in five to ten minutes to pick you up. Whether or not Lily went to class is another story, but you don’t really care because she’s still a little pissy over you sleeping in, and almost making her late a week and a half ago, and you don’t feel like dealing with her bullshit today. Elliot picks you up and you two head to the coffee shop for lunch. After a couple hours of chit chat after lunch, you decide to head back to the dorms so that you can do a little studying for your Psych 101 test that’s on Thursday.
Looking at your watch as you walk down the hall to your room, you see that Rachel has just left for class, so the room will be all yours to study in for a couple hours before she gets back. Getting to your door, you pull out your keys from your purse, and slip your room key into the lock. You turn it to unlock it, turn it back to re-lock it, and step inside. As soon as you step inside you notice something’s different, but before you have the chance to realize the dozen roses sitting on the counter, arms and hands suddenly put a tight grip around your abdomen. You hear the husky voice of a man breathe, “Hey baby,” and you instantly panic. Tearing yourself away from this intruder, you trip over your chair and fall to the floor letting out a blood curdling scream as this unknown man comes near you.
“Kit, KIT!” He yells, but you don’t look up, and you don’t understand why he knows your name. You just keep inching away, clenching yourself into a ball, and you keep repeating, “No, No, Please don’t hurt me,” over and over again, more to yourself than to anyone else.
“Kit! It’s Marcus! Hey look at me! It’s Marcus! What is wrong? What’s going on? Kit, look at me. Dammit Kit, look at me.” Marcus yells, a look of bewilderment on his face, looking at you, his girlfriend, in the fetal position on the floor, mumbling to yourself inaudible words. As he tries to get closer to you, you scream again and then there’s a loud knock on the door and a, “Kit, are you alright? Let me go get the R.A.” Marcus, not wanting too many people (esp. the R.A.) to get involved, bounds across the room and quickly opens the door. Before him he sees a short, slightly heavy set girl with brown curly hair and brown eyes. She was turning to go towards the R.A.’s room, but stopped when she heard the door open. “Wait.” Marcus calls.
“Who are you, and what are you doing to Kit?” She sternly asks.
“I’m Marcus, her boyfriend, and I just surprised her with flowers and a hug and she just started screaming and is now laying on the floor mumbling and won’t let me near her. By the way, who are you?”
“I’m Lily, the one you hate.” Lily flatly replies as she pushes her way past Marcus and into your room.
You’re immobile. You involuntarily mumble words, words that didn’t work the first time, so you wait, wait until he pounces, and forgets your screams, turning them off by shoving a sock in your mouth. Everything is blurry, and muffled, and time has slowed to where it’s almost standing still. You flashback to the rape and begin to cry, large tears streaming down your face and form a puddle on the floor.
“What should we do?” Marcus asks. “And I don’t hate you.”
“Whatever. Well. . .let me try. Step back to the door so she can’t see you, and let me try and snap her out of this.” Lily orders. She goes over slowly to your almost lifeless body and lies down on the floor facing you, just a couple feet apart. “Kit, Kit, it’s me Lily. Do you remember me? Lily? Look at me Kit, look at me, yeah, now. . .do you remember Lily?” Lily whispers to you. You look at her, tears still streaming down your face, and you mumble out, “Lily.”
“Yes, it’s me Lily. What’s wrong Kit? Why are you crying? No. Don’t look away Kit, look at me. It’s okay. No one is going to hurt you. Marcus scared you didn’t he? Put his arms around you and scared you. He’s sorry. He didn’t mean to scare you. He loves you, very, very much. What’s going on Kit, what caused him to scare you so badly? Did something happen to you at that party that you didn’t tell me about, and that’s what caused you to get so scared at Marcus grabbing you?” Lily soothingly interrogates you. You feel utterly conquered, and just want to hide away in your subconscious where no one can hurt or scare you anymore. There’s no way out this time. You have to divulge the truth. You went for so long, covering it up, but you can’t anymore, you have to tell them everything, every little detail. Regaining a little more control of yourself after losing it during the initial fright you just experienced, you are able to get up off the floor from the fetal position, to the sitting position, leaning up against Rachel’s bed, but burying you face in your hands, so that neither Lily nor Marcus can see you cry anymore. “Kit, what’s wrong, please tell me what’s wrong.” Lily softly asks as she reaches with her hand to touch your arm. You shy away from her hand, letting out a muffled, “Please don’t touch me.” Lily slowly lets her hand fall back down to her side. After a few minutes pass, you finally feel able to tell them the truth. “Okay, okay, I cannot hide the truth from either of you anymore. . .I wanted to, I didn’t want to tell anyone. No one needed to know, it was something that I felt I needed to keep to myself, but I obviously cannot do that anymore. So. . .I guess I have to tell you. . .um. . .something did happen to me at the party,” a tear streams down your face as you quietly squeak out through the flood of tears about to fall, “I was raped.” Silence. A minute passes, then another, and still. . .silence. Shock. Pure and simple shock, for both of them. The only thing to be heard is the small sniffles expelling from your nose. After about three minutes, which seemed more like twenty, Lily is the first to speak. “I am so sorry. Fuck. God dammit. I don’t know what else to say, this is all my fault, ahh.” She starts to cry, burying her face in her hands.
“No, no, Lily it’s not your fault. It is my fault, I was the one who decided to drink, and I was the one who left you to sit on that couch. I should’ve kept a better eye out for you. Don’t blame yourself dammit. If anything it’s both our faults. Share the blame. But don’t just blame yourself.” You try and reason with her. Then all of a sudden Marcus speaks.
“Kit. Why?” And he breaks down, and slowly slides down the door, ending up sitting on the floor.
“Look, I don’t have an answer. I know I should have listened to you, but you made me so mad, that I wanted to defy you and then show you that I can take care of myself and it all just blew up in my face. Listen, I’m sorry. I love you so much, and I’m sorry I’m causing you this pain, but please, please, if anything, don’t be mad at me, and please don’t say any ‘I told you so’s.’ Love me for who I am, and realize that I make mistakes, and this was a big one, but please don’t criticize me for it.” You try and reason with him. This just makes him cry harder, and when the wave of tears slowly subsides, he gets up, walks over and squats right by you, taking your hand, and kisses it. Then after a minute, begins. “Kit, I love you. I always have. You should know that by now. There is nothing that I wouldn’t do for you. I know I was angry with you, and I wish that this had never happened, that I had been there to stop it. But the fact is, it did happen, and there is nothing that neither you nor I can do about that. But I would never criticize you, or belittle you or do anything to hurt you, and I’m sorry that I did hurt you as it is. I want to change that. I never want to hurt you again. I’m so sorry. I love you.” He choked the last words out before breaking down again and you sit up and put your arms around him, holding him while you both cry, and then finally you two sit and face Lily. You all are silent for a couple moments, all thinking the same thing, until Lily finally says it, “So what are we going to do about this?”
“Nothing. Let it be. I don’t want to do anything about it, but forget it.” You state your opinion.
“Kit, you can’t do that. You need to catch this guy before he does this to another girl just like you.” Marcus argues. “Do you really want that to happen?”
“You don’t understand. I don’t want to. I can’t. I cannot let anyone find out about this, especially my mother, how do you think this would affect my mother? She would be devastated. I know it would be noble to fight and try to get him to pay for what he did, but there are too many hoops to jump through, and nothing will come of it. The frat boys will stick together, and say I provoked it all, and the guy will get a good lawyer, and I don’t have the money to get a lawyer to defend me. Nothing will come of it but anguish and tears from everyone I know, especially me. It’s better left alone.” You justify yourself.
“But Kit, what if everyone has the same attitude as you, every girl who gets raped says that it’s no use, nothing good will come of it, then the same thing will just keep happening to girls just like you. There always needs to be someone who’s brave enough to fight for what they believe is right, even if it causes a little pain and anguish along the way, because it will help out those others along the line, who are naive like you were.” Lily fights back.
“But I’m tired, I’m tired of all of this. You don’t know what it’s like. Waking up crying in the night, three to four times a night, experiencing the same dream over and over again. I want to forget all of this. I want it to be over and done with. I want to move on with my life, I want to get a whole night’s sleep, without horrible dreams, to not always have that image lurking in the back of my mind, I want it to all be gone. . .gone, gone, gone.” You try and make them understand how you feel.
“I understand that this must be hard, but I don’t think that you should just sweep it under the cracks. I think that you need to fight...”
“You don’t get it do you. I don’t WANT to fight it. Can’t you see that. Please, both of you, listen to what I am saying. I don’t want to do anything about it but FORGET it. That’s all I want. I will even go to counseling if that will make you feel better, but I am not going to publicize myself and put myself against the fraternity or the university just to be shot down. I don’t have the drive or the desire. Now, please respect my decision and let’s drop the whole subject. I’m tired of discussing it, and I need to focus all my energy on tomorrow’s performance.” You finish, hoping they finally get what exactly what you are saying.
“Okay Kit, if that’s how you really feel, then I will respect that. But I do think that counseling is a good idea. But now, let’s all dry our eyes, and go watch a movie in my room or something to take our minds off this whole event. What do you say to that? I’ve got Cruel Intentions and Ryan Philippe is really hot.” Lily offers, a big smile on her face, easing the tension and seriousness of the previous conversation.
Laughing, you say to her, “Yes, yes I think that’s a great idea."