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Mother of All Secrets(83)

Author:Kathleen M. Willett

“It’s messed up, admittedly, but I think the women I find out there tend to remind me of her, in some ways. I mean, you sure as hell do, dear wife. I’ve told you before. Dependent. Needy. You’re lucky, though, because I’m not a deadbeat like my dad. I can actually provide for you, give you this life.” He gestured to their house.

“But maybe, in some ways, I’m teaching you, all of you, an important lesson. Don’t ask for something if you don’t want it. Know your own desires. That’s why I’ve been so successful in business: I know what I want and what I don’t, and I make sure everyone around me knows it, too. And look, all of you came on to me as much as I came on to you. So if you regret it now, or feel like it was wrong in some way, then that’s on you.” I was reminded of what he’d said about Allison’s demise, that it had “nothing to do with him.” His ability to claim no responsibility for his actions was astounding.

“So this is a service you’re providing?” Isabel asked. “A lesson you’re imparting to all the unsuspecting women who are unfortunate enough to fall into your line of sight?”

“Ha. Not exactly. But the bottom line is, if you don’t want something, don’t go sniffing around for it. How hard is it to be sure of what you want? Besides, it’s just sex. Let’s not make it a bigger deal than it is.”

“It’s not sex,” Selena said, staring at him from behind the couch, her voice quiet but clear.

“Excuse me?” Connor said, whirling a bit to find the new speaker.

“It’s not sex. It’s rape,” she said, and with that word, I felt the strangest, biggest rush of relief wash over me. Finally. The word.

Why had it been so difficult for me to see it that way? Perhaps it was that women in my generation hadn’t been taught all the nuances of consent that the younger generations were learning: that consent must be enthusiastic, stated out loud, continuous, given soberly. That it can be taken back at any time. The only reason I knew any of that was because I worked at a high school, where these understandings were part of the new health curriculum. Yes, when I was young, we’d all been given the generic “no means no” talk. But at the same time, the boys were being whispered to that a girl’s no might be because she’s just shy or coy and should actually be taken as an invitation to keep pursuing with renewed zeal. And we girls were being told that we shouldn’t dress “provocatively,” because if we did, well, then we couldn’t very well expect the boys to control themselves. So I’d viewed my encounter with Connor as entirely my fault. Something I’d brought upon myself.

Rape. It’s what it was. Connor sought out women who were drunk and alone, always, always alone, got them drunker, or gave them something, as he had with Selena, had rough and hurried and painful intercourse with them, and sent them—no, not them, us—on our way, wondering what the hell had just happened.

Well now I had an answer: it was rape.

“I have never raped anyone,” Connor said, studying Selena’s face curiously. “Why would I need to? Women are very receptive to me, trust me. You included—I remember you. All dressed up at the High Line bar, right? To be honest, I thought you were a prostitute at first.”

If looks could kill, he would have already been dead because of the one Selena gave him. He raised his glass to her, then took another drink.

“I think we’re done here,” he said. His speech was starting to slur, whether from the booze or GHB, or both. “I hope this was everything you dreamed it would be, Isabel.” He turned to the rest of us. “Can all of you go home now, please? I’d like to get some sleep.” Then he looked back at Isabel with something that could almost have been mistaken for fondness. “I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do with you at this point.” He shook his head.

“It’s not about what you’re going to do with me, Connor. It’s about what we’re going to do with you.” Isabel’s voice was quiet but steady. “You asked me what the plan is. The plan is that tonight will be your last. We’ve all had enough of you. So enjoy the rest of that drink.”

“Ha!” His laugh came from deep within his belly. He looked genuinely amused and not the least bit scared. “Oh my God. That’s amazing. It’s actually . . . seriously, it’s almost cute. You’re ridiculous. Are you being serious? You can’t possibly be.”

“Connor,” Isabel said, as if she were speaking to a toddler, “I don’t think you understand. At this point, it would be irresponsible of us to allow you to stay alive. We are protecting other women from meeting you. We can’t follow you around all the time, and this is just more efficient. Not to mention, I obviously can’t permit you to stay in Naomi’s life, in any capacity. You’ve had many chances to be a decent human being, and you’ve taken none of them. So, enough is enough.”

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