Chapter 9: The Truth, the Whole Truth, and Nothing but the Truth

New Year's Eve, 1984, Chicago, Illinois

"Are you sure you want to hear it?" she asked, almost inaudibly.

"Yes, Jennifer. This time, I want the whole truth. And I mean all of it, with nothing left out. No lies. No deception. No obfuscation."

"I guess it starts when I was in fifth grade."

"Fifth grade? Not with Chris Jones in seventh grade?"

"No. Fifth. I was at a sleepover with some friends. I got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. The door was closed, but it wasn't locked and there was no light under the door. I opened the door and flipped on the light and saw a different friend of mine having sex with my other friend's older brother. I turned off the light and shut the door and ran back to the room where we were all sleeping. I was grossed out and shocked and didn't really know what to do or say."

I interrupted her, "Fifth grade? You were what, eleven?"

"Yeah. And the brother was seventeen. Anyway, in the morning, my friend grabbed me and pulled me into a room and both she and her brother threatened me if I told. The guy said he would kill my family if I ever said a word to anyone and my friend said that she'd make sure everyone thought that it was me who had done it with him."

"Jesus," I breathed.

"It didn't end there. A month or so later, I was riding my bike, and the brother confronted me. He tried to get me to go into his house with him, but I pedaled away as fast as I could. He chased me a bit, but I saw a friend's mom and rode up to her. He stopped chasing me and left. I quit riding my bike in that part of the neighborhood and stayed away from both friends.

"I didn't see him for more than six months, then one day at the start of sixth grade he was sitting in his car outside Milford Main. I guess he was waiting for his sister. He whistled at me and when I walked past the car, he said I was a sweet young thing and he couldn't wait to bust my cherry. I ran to the bus and sat next to Chris Jones. She could tell I was scared of something and put her arm around me. I didn't tell her what happened, not that day.

"Chris and I became friends, and I did my best to avoid walking past where the cars were for students who were being picked up. I was scared, and sitting by Chris made me feel safer. Eventually, she invited me over to her house and we played games and stuff. I stopped seeing any of my friends who were friends with the girl whose brother was harassing me."

"Chris and I talked about stuff and both of us were really scared by sex and guys in general, I guess. My friend's brother had looked huge, though now I know he was average, but to an eleven-year-old girl seeing a dick go into a small girl, it looked monstrous. I was scared that he wanted to do that to me and that someone would ever put something like that in me. I thought it would rip me to pieces. Chris had a similar fear. She'd seen her older brother and his girlfriend when she was eight and was totally freaked out by it.

"Not much happened during sixth grade, though we spent a lot of time together. We didn't see each other much over the Summer, but during the first week of school we sat together on the bus like always. One Friday, I went to her house, and we were hanging out in the barn. We were talking about how scared we were of boys and she said maybe we should kiss each other to see what it was like. We did, and we both liked it.

"It slowly progressed from there to touching, and, eventually, being naked together and touching. One day, she found the exact right spot to touch me and I exploded. After that, we experimented with our fingers, though we were careful never to put them too far inside — just enough to rub that right spot. Then with our tongues. Eventually, we became experts at bringing each other off with our tongues. It was glorious, and we both felt so safe. There weren't any dangerous objects around to invade us.

"But then, over time, I discovered what being a 'lezzy' meant, and I realized that's exactly what I was. And it scared me because of all the things the other girls said about it. In seventh grade, nobody said anything about me and Chris hanging out together so much because lots of girls did that. But they sure didn't do what Chris and I were doing. I started feeling guilty and afraid and I broke up with Chris.

"She was devastated. I told her what we were doing was wrong and disgusting and I never wanted to do it again. She cried and cried, and begged me to come back as I walked from the barn to get my bike. I just walked away. I never talked to her again, not even a 'hello' in passing. If we saw each other at school, I just walked by without saying a word, or even looking her in the face. I know now just how mean it was, but I couldn't face her.

"Then we started eighth grade. You and I were in Mr. Dixon's history class together. I remembered you from 7th grade. You had come over from St. Andrew's Catholic School and were something of an outcast and a loner. I think you and I talked maybe two or three times during seventh grade, but I always thought you were a nice guy. The guys you hung out with and thought were your friends were real jerks. I don't recall you being around them at all once we got to the Junior High."

"That's right," I said. "Eddie, Jim, and Paul were total jerks. They pretended to be my friends to get stuff from me and get me to do things for them. I was lucky to meet Larry and Birgit on the first day of classes in eighth grade."

"Anyway," Jennifer continued, "I really liked Mr. Dixon's history class, and I know that you did as well. I remember that day he had the computer program on the mainframe that simulated the Civil War. You went nuts about that. That was even before we got the first personal computers at the school. Things started with Mr. Dixon when I was having trouble with a paper, the one that was due in December. I think you did yours on Jimmy Carter."

I chuckled, "It was called High Hopes and basically predicted the disaster that Carter would become. I still have a copy of that paper. I just wonder what the country was thinking if an eighth-grader could figure it out."

Jennifer smiled, "They were thinking that Nixon was an asshole, and they wanted nothing to do with Republicans because of it. And yet, Ford still ran a respectable campaign until that stupid 'WIN' platform. But we're getting off topic. I went to Mr. Dixon for help after class and he had me stay after school to work with him. And at first, that's all it was. I would stay for a couple of hours after school and take the late bus that took the athletes home. I could walk, too, if I wanted.

"Nothing really happened until the Spring. One day, I was working on my paper and Mr. Dixon put his hands on my shoulders. I flinched at first, but then he rubbed my neck a bit and I relaxed. I didn't think anything of it, really, until he did it again a few days later. That time it really scared me, because I felt like he was trying to have sex with me, and you know how afraid I was of that.

"I didn't run away, and to this day, I'm not sure why. But from then on, it was a pattern, and I started to really like the feel of his fingers on my neck and shoulders, just really soft and strong at the same time. Our last paper was due the week before finals, and I went to see him the Friday before that. It was really warm out, and I was wearing one of my sundresses. This time, he let his fingers slip further forward, and when I didn't protest, he traced his fingers along the top of my bra, and then pushed his hands inside and rubbed my nipples. I felt a knot in my stomach and a shiver went down my spine. I let him fondle me for a few minutes, and then he kissed my neck. I turned my head, and we kissed.

"That was all that happened, because I had to catch the bus. I didn't see him over the Summer, but when school started again, he asked me to come see him. I didn't have him for class, so it was kind of difficult to arrange. I had my friend Ted and used him as cover. Ted never knew what was going on, but he liked to hang out with me and I would tell my mom I was with him when I was with Mr. Dixon. Nobody ever suspected a thing."

"I certainly didn't," I said. "You kept things very quiet and didn't talk about it, but I sure as hell had no idea what was really going on."

"That's why I chose Ted. Even if I slipped up with the name, it wouldn't give anything away," she said, frowning. "I feel really bad for him, because I used him and then cast him aside like a dirty tissue. He was really hurt, especially because I couldn't explain anything to him. He thought I dumped him for you, which was true from his perspective, but in reality, he and I were never a couple. He was just someone I could use to hide what was going on.

"But I just got ahead of myself. Things with Mr. Dixon progressed to the point where we were making out and I was letting him touch me. But I was afraid of actually taking it to the logical conclusion. It scared me. But there was one guy who didn't scare me for some reason. One guy who I thought I might be able to be with."

"Me," I said.

"Yes. I tried so hard to give you my virginity, but I chickened out at the last minute. Now, I see what a disaster that caused. If I'd just gone through with it that first time, things would be so different. But I didn't. I was with Mr. Dixon and instead of being in his office, we went for a ride in his van, which we did on occasion. We parked somewhere, I couldn't tell you where, though, and got in the back to make out.

"For the first time he put his hands down my jeans and fingered me. I was super scared and froze up. He pulled his hand out and smelled it and licked it and then started kissing me roughly. It was like he was crazed or something from the smell or taste. I asked him to stop, but he kept kissing me and started taking off my clothes. I said 'stop' again, but he didn't and I just gave up.

"It hurt so badly when he put himself inside me. He wasn't gentle or soft anymore. He was rough and hard and slammed himself into me about a dozen times before he came. I didn't feel anything except pain — the tearing, then the rough pounding. I was in shock and didn't know what to do. When he finished, I got dressed, and he took me home. I took a long shower, and that night I cried myself to sleep."

Fortunately, she wasn't noticing what I was feeling because her face turned away for a moment. She couldn't read mine as the thoughts of causing grievous harm to a teacher that I had once respected came back! I saw her shudder and take a deep breath.

"I was confused and frightened," Jennifer continued. "I didn't know what to do. I remembered how sweet and nice and gentle you were, and how much you cared for me. I wanted to forget Mr. Dixon and what he'd done. So I came to you again. And that time, I went through with it. And it was utterly amazing. It's what my first time should have been. If I'd done it with you that first time, I would never have gone to see Mr. Dixon and I never would have been raped."

"Do NOT blame yourself for that!" I said firmly. "You were fourteen, and he was a married teacher. He should have known better than to get involved in the first place, and even if I apply my own standards on age difference, he didn't have consent. And that puts it solely on him."

She sighed, "I know. But still, if I hadn't been so confused and frightened, and hadn't gotten involved with him, it would never have happened."

"Hindsight is 20/20. You know I've made a ton of mistakes and hurt people. I'm not perfect."

"No, you're not. But you're no rapist, Steve. I'm so sorry for what I said before."

"It's OK. Do you have more to tell?"

"Well, one more important thing. The girl, the one who was having sex at eleven? She killed herself when she was fourteen. I don't know the details, but I guess it might have had something to do with my friend's brother. He disappeared around that time, and I don't know what happened to him."

"Holy shit!" I breathed. "This sounds like something out of one of Bethany's horror stories from her research. And that happened about the time everything else went down."

"Yes. The rest is more or less what you know. What you don't know is how torn-up I was inside. The reason I wouldn't commit to you had nothing to do with Birgit, or Becky, or anything like that. They were just convenient excuses. I didn't feel that I was worthy of you. I didn't feel I was worthy of anyone, really. But you were different. Yes, you had your issues, but we all did. The bottom line was that you cared about me in ways that nobody else did. And that's why I pushed you away. I was afraid if you ever heard the truth, you'd hate me. And I just couldn't take it.

"But then I discovered that you had a tremendous capacity for love and ability to look past the bad things that happened in people's lives, and even the bad things they did. Sadly, I didn't figure that out until I decided to go to Stanford and wrecked any possible future that we might have had together. I know now that you had decided to be with me, and maybe you were doing it for the wrong reasons, but you didn't care about the past, only the future.

"All of that weighed on me, and then I fell in with Jocelyn and her crowd and truly began to hate men. I hated what my friend's brother had done. I hated what Mr. Dixon had done. I hated the guys in Seattle who just wanted to fuck me without caring about me. I hated the guys at Stanford who saw me as a piece of meat. I started to hate you. And Jocelyn just confirmed my feelings.

"Then I came to visit you, and all the old feelings for you came surging back. I was totally confused again, and you helped set me straight. Things were ugly with Jocelyn and we had a huge fight. She told me I was falling back into the clutches of an abusive guy who used women like toilet paper. But I knew that wasn't you. For all your faults, whatever they were, I never, ever thought you used me, or anyone else for that matter."

"And setting me up with all those girls? What was that about?"

"Except for Bethany, who was a special case, I guess I was punishing myself for my past. I hated who I was and couldn't believe that anyone could love or want me. When you made love with Becky, it only confirmed to me that I wasn't worthy of you, or anyone else. That's why I broke up with you. Then, when Birgit died, you were hurting so badly and I wanted to help you. That let me overcome my self-loathing enough to take up with you again. But you remember I refused your offer of a promise ring?"

"I do. And things are starting to make sense. Why didn't you just tell me? Or somebody?"

"I was afraid of what would happen to me. I had no proof other than my words. And I'd gone along with everything up to that last time. I thought it was all my fault. So I just pushed it down inside me and closed off that part of my past. But I couldn't keep it down. Even Josie doesn't know all this stuff. Nor does my counselor. I think you got an idea that there was a problem when Josie and I were here."

"I did. There was something that was just off about the first time I entered you. Just a hint of something. I pieced together a few things, from you and Josie, and from talking to Bethany, but I couldn't figure out the source of the problem. I thought, maybe, that you were finally going fully lesbian, but Bethany wasn't so sure. She was sure that you had some deep dark secret, and it turns out that she was right. Why don't you tell me about Bethany?"

Jennifer drank the last of her tea and I refilled her cup.

"I found out about Bethany's rape about a month after you and I had sex for the first time. She and I and Kathy talked, and I told her I knew the perfect guy to take her to the dance. It was funny, because that's when I first found out about Kathy's crush on you. But she agreed that Bethany should ask you. I suggested it because of how I felt when you made love to me after what had happened with Mr. Dixon. I thought you might be able to do the same thing for her, and I was right. She needed what I needed — someone to show her what sex could be like.