This is something I was very unsure about writing, but it keeps haunting me and I think it would be better to get it out...so please do not leave me any critical feedback...none of us are perfect and I made some huge judgement errors in the following scenario...I just needed to "get it out of my head"~THANK YOU.
"...but I haven't seen BARBADOS so I must get out of this and do you know CAROLINA where the biscuits are soft and sweet...These things go through your head when there's a man on your back and you're pushed flat on your stomach...It's not a classic Cadillac"...Tori Amos ~lyrics from "Me and a Gun".
It was supposed to be
a girls night out...
I was reeling in pain,
confused, angry, hurting,
and I wanted to forget,
thought I could lose his face
in a stranger's kiss...
It's not that easy though.
It's never that easy...
I kept finding it instead
in the men I danced with,
at a club that used to
be "our place" where we
slow-danced in the same spot
as the young black man
who now had his hand
on the small of my back,
at Kelleher's where
we went on a date and
I went to hear "our band"
play once again.
I found his face in
the men at Sullys...
a place that he and I
had never gone before.
I drank shots I had
never before tasted,
smoked cigarettes and
remembered I didn't smoke...
I was wild and reeling
and dancing with everyone,
my girlfriend asking all
the men there if they wanted
to buy us drinks...
and then we met "them"...
the two young
twenty-somethings we
were going to leave with.
I was flirtatious and bold
and told him I didn't even
care what his name was,
that we were in the mood
to be bad girls tonight.
I was with my girlfriend.
We used to do this all the time
when we were in college...
We had code words and escape plans.
She left with the skinhead
in the yuppy outfit
and expensive jewelry,
just to get her car.
We were to meet them
at the Peoria library,
and that's where it went bad.
We walked over there,
enjoying the night air
and as the cool breeze
and moonlight sobered me,
I realized how young he was
and how he and I had
nothing in common...
He was practically
young enough to
be my son...
Then we saw the flashing
red and blue lights, and
until we were right there,
and I saw his friend's
bald head...I didn't notice
it was Kristine's sports-car.
And there she was...
with a policewoman
asking her questions,
"Recite the alphabet
backwards from the letter G.
Walk a straight line.
Count from one to
thirty-thousand."
He grabbed my hand
and we ran the other way.
"I can't leave her! We can't
just leave them there alone!"
He said, "Shut up, Lori!
Your friend is going to jail.
Do you want to get
in trouble too?"
He pushed me into a cab
and we wove strange streets
to some college frat house.
I followed him inside,
eyes widening at the
bottles of alcohol,
cigarette butts on the floor,
the built-in bar with the
huge mounted fish over it,
leather sofas, dorm posters,
and lots of electronics.
I was out of my realm
and sobering up fast.
He wasn't really an
engineer for a big company,
just some college boy
out partying for the night.
And I was in big trouble.
I didn't know his name,
where we were at, where
my girlfriend was...
I was very upset and scared
and he was not about to
take no for an answer.
I fought him for a while,
but his anger scared me.
And when he was about
to pass out, I said quietly,
"I need to get home."
He laughed and told me,
"I don't know how
you're going to do that."
His eyes rolled back
into their sockets and
I hated him so much,
felt like it was
all my fault...
All I wanted was
to go back home.
And the one person
I was trying so hard
to drown in a bottle
was the one who
would have saved me,
but I was ashamed
to ask for his help,
to explain how I got
at some strange house
with someone I didn't know.
His call at five-thirty a.m.
when I was shaking and scared
and finally back in my car,
rescued by Kristine's skinhead...
was what got me home,
his concern that I was
just now getting home,
and his recognition
of the fear in my voice
made him gently persist.
He is the only reason
I can face the truth now.
He gently probed for
three days until I
confessed everything...
and he wasn't angry.
He held me until
I could stop shaking.
He held me.
He forgave me.
He stood beside me when
I couldn't stand myself.
He is still my best friend,
and I was wrong to think
that I was ever alone.
I don't even know how
to begin to thank him
for his compassion,
for his grace.
