Untouchable

Chapter 15: Crushing

Warning: Adult themes and violence. Mentions of physical and sexual assault.

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Chapter Fifteen: Crushing

Ali brought me home after our massive confessional girl time.  She spent the night and hung out all day Sunday, messing around in my room, and doing a little homework, while Dad worked.  We decided that the sooner the better was the best route in telling my dad.

My stomach had been fluttering all day, but I dismissed it as nerves.

That evening during dinner, I pushed my food around my plate while Dad kept leaning over his shoulder to see the game that he had left playing on the TV.  I didn't know why he didn't just take his plate over to the couch instead of giving himself a crick in his neck.  Ali stayed for dinner and held most of the conversation. We discussed small inconsequential things about school, friends, and shopping.  Dad tried to ask about the party last night.  I gave him the bare bones, minus the break down.

Ali kept trying to get me to tell him.  Her subtly faded throughout the evening. It started with nods and winks.  It progressed to kicks to my shin and lead-ins with really awkward pauses.

I felt so guilty. I knew that I should tell him.  I should have already told him. I shouldn't have waited.  He had the right to know.  And now Ali was here.  I could do this.

But no matter what I couldn't go back to Lakebay.  I wanted to stay.

I pushed more cold mash potatoes around on my plate.  Ali gave me an encouraging smile. I took a deep breath, and wished there was a shot for courage. No, not the liquid kind, pregnant, remember?

"Dad, what did Mom tell you happened last year, last May?" I had to know what he knew.  I could feel myself cracking; I didn't know if I could hold it together with the short version.

He coughed uncomfortably, and I continued to stare at my plate.  "Susanne said that you broke up with your boyfriend, and had a rough time over it."

I snorted. "I broke up with Jimmy, yeah.  But that was nothing.  Nothing."  My voice hardened, but somehow a tear slid silently down my cheek.  I roughly brushed it away and chanced a look at him.

He glanced aside, tears made him uncomfortable.

"Cate, tell me what happened."

I crossed my arms over my stomach, a facade of strength but that somehow didn't stop the word vomit. "Dad, I don't want you to freak out.  That's probably why Mom didn't tell you anything either.  But I think you deserve to know.  I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but I really want to stay.  I can't live there anymore."

His eyes focused on my face clearly preparing himself for the worst.  He didn't know that the worst was more horrible that he could imagine.

"Catey, you are always welcome here.  This is your home now, for as long as you want."

I nodded, like it happened to someone else I recounted in monotone. "At a party after school at the beginning of May, I got roofied."

He breathed in sharply, face twisting in pain.  He was a cop, a detective; he knew exactly what could happen to teenage girls, the purpose of Rohypnol.

"Someone handed me a drink. I didn't see who." I tried to remain separate; I tried not to think, but I couldn't hold it back any longer. My strength weakened.

The sour taste of stale beer.  The smell of puke and disinfectant.  The swirl of smoke, hovering, never allowing anything to be clearly seen.