When I entered the bedroom again, Nate was sitting up. He smiled. “Hey. You feeling okay?”
“What did you do to me?” I asked, my voice raw and scratchy in my throat.
He held up his hands. “Hey now,” he said. “We had a couple drinks. You told me your boss was going to be livid you missed some important meeting, but that you didn’t care.” His voice grew softer. “I was just trying to be a good friend. It seems like you’ve got some issues with your mother you need to resolve. I just let you talk.”
“Did we…？” I trailed off, looking around at the evidence that we had. My clothes in a pile on the floor. An open condom wrapper on the nightstand.
“I asked, and you said yes,” Nate said. “I always ask.”
“I don’t even remember leaving the bar,” I said. “How can I remember saying yes to you?” I shook my head and instantly regretted it, feeling like a sack of hammers was tumbling around in there.
“I guess you’ll have to take my word for it,” Nate said.
“I need to get home.”
“I can give you a ride to your car if you want.”
“No thanks,” I said, grabbing my clothes and heading back to the bathroom. “I’ll call a cab.”
“Suit yourself,” Nate said.
***
I managed to hold myself together on the ride back to the bar, my car the only one left in the lot. I swiped my credit card to pay for the cab, my hands still shaking. When I was safe behind the wheel, I let the tears come. In the span of a few hours, I’d become a different person. A rape victim. I was now one of those stories people read about, the ones where they’d shake their heads and say, How could she not have known that might happen?
I checked my voicemail. Four messages from Frank. Three from my mother. I knew I should drive straight to the nearest police station and report Nate. But as I pulled onto the empty road, I thought about the questions I’d have to answer. The paperwork I’d have to fill out, followed by a trip to the hospital for a rape kit. It would eat up my entire day, and what I needed to do was get to Northside and catch that teacher on his way into school. That way I could still get Frank what he needed. Make up some kind of a story about why it was late, so that I wouldn’t have to explain that I hadn’t been where I was supposed to be. That I’d withheld Meg’s tip from Frank, hoping to keep it for myself.
Think like a man. Grab opportunities like a man. I made a U-turn and headed toward Northside High.
Meg
The first few weeks with Cory’s card in my wallet, I worked hard to stay transparent.
About to use the card at CVS, I’d text. Then afterward $37.43 for shampoo plus new razors for you. That night I’d leave the paper receipt on his computer keyboard, where he’d be sure to see it.
But Cory quickly grew impatient with this routine. “Jesus, Meg,” he said one night, crumpling the receipts I’d left for him and tossing them in the trash. “This plus the constant texting is driving me crazy.” His voice rose a couple octaves, as if imitating mine. “‘I used the card for a parking meter on Seventh Street—$2 for two hours.’ I don’t need a play-by-play.”
“I just want to be open about what I’m spending,” I said. “It’s your money, after all.”
“Just do what you said you’d do. Buy the groceries and shut up about it.”
Okay, then.
***
As I got closer to my goal, I began to realize I was going to have to sell my car. The minivan that had once been my mother’s, my last remaining connection to her. That car had saved my life. It was my home, my escape hatch. It allowed me to live on my terms. But it also had a limited range, and I needed something that could take me across the country if necessary.