NORMAL (43 page)

Sam is right about one thing though; I sure am paying for last night now. In truth, it feels like I'm paying for a lot of things, and I have been for some time now.

"Can we talk about last night?" he asks hesitantly.

"Do we have to?"

"Rory." My name comes out like an admonishment. Like he's talking to a child who's done something wrong. And maybe, right now, that's precisely what I am. I am the one who is in the wrong here. I'm the one who violated our friendship. I meet his eyes.

"Look, Sam, we really don't need to do this. I get it. And I'm real sorry. You've made yourself real clear about only wantin' to be friends. I don't know what I was thinkin'. I shouldn't have kissed you. And I shouldn't have asked you to... I just thought..."
I thought that when you shoved your tongue in my mouth and pressed your body against mine it meant that you wanted me too.

"I know you don't want me like that. And I knew it long before last night, so I really don't know why I thought last night you might..." I take a deep breath to stop my rambling. "Can't we just chalk it up to my bein' drunk?"

"Is that what it was? You being drunk?" he asks, his gaze intent, his voice sober.

I should say
yes
. I should blame it all on the alcohol.

I shake my head instead.
What the hell is wrong with me?

Sam lets out a deep breath. I hadn't realized he was even holding it. He looks down for a second, closes his eyes, and shakes his head once, like he's trying to shake something off. He lets out a short, ironic laugh. "
God,
Ror, there's so much wrong with what you just said, but I need to talk about something else you said first. When you-"

"Can't we just pretend like it never happened?" I try one last time to avoid this conversation. I can't seem to lie to this boy and I don't know how it's going to end, but I fear I may give something of my feelings away, and if I do, I could lose my friend.

"No, Rory, there's no way I can pretend that never happened."

My head drops and I stare at my lap. I must look like I've just been sentenced to be executed. I palm my forehead and rub my temples with my thumb and middle finger.

"Rory, last night when we were talking about hooking up, do you remember what you said?" he asks cautiously.

I shrug. I remember saying that I wanted him, but not specifically how I propositioned him, other than our kiss. "I kissed you," I whisper.

Sam nods. "Yes. After that. Do you remember what you said? About wanting to do it because
you
wanted to do it?"

God
, this is mortifying. Why is he making me relive this? I shrug again.

"I don't really remember what I said, Sam," I murmur, meeting his gaze. "But I know it was me who kissed you. Me who propositioned you. I don't blame you for any of it. I don't understand why we have to talk about last night - it's over. Are
you
the one who's mad? Are you punishing me or somethin'?" I ask. It was the wrong thing to say, I know that immediately. Sam looks horrified.

"Of course not, Rory, how could you even
think
that?"

I look down again. The truth is, right now, I really don't know
what
to think. Sam sighs.

"This isn't about last night. It's about something you
said
last night, yes, but..." He shoves his fingers through his hair, exasperated, then takes another deep breath. "Please look at me." His tone is gentle and pleading and I comply. "You said you wanted to know what it felt like to do it because
you
wanted to do it. And when I asked what you meant, you said that you had to. That you didn't always have a choice."

My eyes widen in horror.
I said that?

Sam glares at me. He's waiting for a response, but I'm not sure I have one. The words he claims I've said, they're too telling, and they can't be explained away. He knows what they meant, he
must,
so why is he even questioning me about them?

I do the only thing I can, I shrug.

Sam takes this as confirmation of his obvious conclusions. His eyes close, only for a moment, as if in grief.

"I didn't know," he murmurs.

"Why would you?" I counter. Sam's hand flies to his hair, his fingers raking it roughly.

"I knew he hurt you. I thought he hit you. I never thought... it never occurred to me..."

"It's fine," I murmur out of habit, and Sam's brow furrows and his glare intensifies.

"It's not
fine
, Rory. How can you say that?"

"I didn't mean it's
fine
. I just... what do you want me to say, Sam?" I ask. "You need all the details of why I'm fucked up? You need to feel bad for poor little victim Rory?"

"Damn it, Rory! Stop saying you're fucked up! You're no more fucked up than the rest of us, remember? You're not the only one who's ever been hurt, you know! I'm just trying to understand you! I-" Sam stops. He rakes his fingers through his hair again and I'm idly aware that I didn't even flinch when he shouted at me. "I care about you," he says more gently, and I'm instantly awash with guilt.

"Look, I know I'm not the only person who's ever been hurt. You told me about your mom. I get it. I didn't mean to imply-"

"Not just my mom, Ror." Sam's eyes are utterly solemn, and I understand his meaning immediately.

His father didn't just beat his mother. He beat Sam, too.

"I'm so sorry," I utter the words I never found comforting when said to me. "I didn't know."

"No one knew. No one knows. Except my mom and Bits - well, and Tuck... and now you."

I look down. The sorrow for Sam that I initially felt upon hearing his admission is evolving into something else. Anger. Outrage for the little boy whose father betrayed him in the worst way.

"I hate that he hurt you," I grate. Sam offers me a faint smile.

"Now you know how I feel. Somewhat. It just kills me that you went through that, Ror. After you said that last night... I can't stop thinking about it. I've been thinking about it all fucking night. I just can't understand how someone could do that to a girl... to
you.
Violence is bad enough, but,
God, Ror.
He was your boyfriend, he was supposed to take care of you, not-" He takes a deep breath. "Is that why you broke up with him?"

"Yes. I mean there were a lot of reasons, but yes, that was the main one."

Sam shakes his head with incredulity, as if he's still trying to wrap his mind around this, and I really don't understand what's so difficult to comprehend. He already knew Robin hurt me. So he thought he just hit me or something, is it really all that different?

"So one day he's your boyfriend and the next he
attacks
you? Is he in jail?" Sam has a million questions. Of course he does. But he doesn't understand.

"It's just so much more complicated than that, Sam. I get that you didn't anticipate this, and I know it's my fault for drunkenly blurtin' it out last night, but-"

"
How
is it more complicated? Explain. Make me understand." He's staring at me intently, his words adamant. He wants to know what happened to me to make me the way I am. I can understand that. He's seen so many of my scars. And he knows that I know I can just say
calculus
and this conversation will be over. But I'm tired of being a coward.

"Robin was...
is
a big deal in Linton," I explain. "Football is a bigger deal there than it is up north. And he was the quarterback, the star, and he was real good. Not just small town good. He got a full ride to University of Florida, and everyone said he'd go pro. No question.

"And it wasn't just Robin - it was his whole family. His dad was the mayor. His sister's Miss Popularity. And I was... just me. I wasn't especially
un
popular or anything, just... nothin' special, you know?" Sam narrows his eyes at me and I can sense that he wants to interrupt, but he doesn't, presumably afraid that if I stop talking even for a moment, I might rethink confiding my story at all. "I was a tomboy growin' up," I continue. "I liked sports and video games, and my best friend was a boy."

"You've mentioned him... in the group of men who have only hurt or abandoned you." This time Sam can't help himself, he interrupts, almost accusingly.

I nod. "Cam would never have hurt me," I assure him, but I move on hastily, knowing there's no way I can talk about Cam. My newfound strength does have its limits, after all. "Robin's a year older, but his sister Lacey's our age, and when I started hangin' out with her, I guess he started to notice me. Everyone kind of knows everyone, it's a real small town, and our dads grew up together - they're real close. But my mom didn't like theirs, so our families never spent much time together, and Robin had never said two words to me. Until the night he asked me out."

"
That's
why your dad didn't help you? Because Robin's father was his friend?" Sam is disgusted, and he should be - my father is disgusting.

"That's also more complicated," I explain without really explaining that my father's chance at being related to a pro quarterback was more important to him than protecting his daughter from a monster.

"So you and Robin started dating..." Sam prompts.

I continue. I explain how Robin was my first date, my first kiss, my first
everything.
I describe how he was at first, and for a long while really. How he was such a gentleman, treating me like a princess, always opening doors and bringing me flowers. How he'd drive out of town to get me foods I liked. But how, despite all these things, I never felt ready to be intimate with him.

I tell Sam about the time I overheard Robin say he was stepping out on me. How sorry he was, how he told me he loved me, and how like a stupid, naive, little girl, I said it back - even though I really just nodded when he asked if I loved him too.

"Did you? Love him, I mean," Sam asks.

"No." I don't elaborate. I don't need to. I never loved Robin, I know this without question.

I tell Sam how kissing Robin never felt more than just nice, and that he started to get frustrated with my innocence. I explain how he started to make me touch him, how he touched me even though I'd asked him to stop. I don't give too many details, just the gist of the incidents that a smarter girl would have taken as warnings. As giant, gleaming red flags. I tell him how stupid I am that I stayed with him even then. Even when all the signs were there. But I didn't see them - I didn't want to.

Then I tell him about the night he heard me say 'I love you' to Cam.

"Did you love
him?"
Sam asks.

"Yes." I don't elaborate on that either. The truth is, sometimes I think I could have grown to be
in love
with Cam, sometimes I think I already was, and other times I have no idea what I really felt. But I do know I loved him. I've known that since I was three.

I tell Sam about that night. The first night Robin raped me. I explain how he thought I wanted it because I'd been wearing skirts and dresses. And because he thought I was playing hard to get. That when I cried and said
no
and begged him to stop, he thought it was all a game. He thought I would like it "rough", or so he said. Even though it was my first damn time. I sound bitter, I can't help it. I
am
bitter.

"That's
how you lost your virginity?" Sam is horrified again. But what can I do? He wanted to know.

It's a funny expression -
lost your virginity.
As if you can just have your virtue one day, and then accidentally drop or misplace it. But the truth is, you can't just
lose
your virginity. For most people, it's something you choose to
give
to someone, for one reason or another, but not for me. I was robbed of mine. It was taken against my will.
Stolen.

I tell Sam how confused I was afterwards. How Robin acted like he'd thought I'd wanted it. Like it was normal, like it was
right.
I tell him Robin's explanation about how I was never going to just feel ready, and that I needed to trust him to decide what was right for us. How he cuddled me and told me he loved me and how the following morning he started talking about wanting to marry me someday.

"Did you want that? To
marry
him? At
seventeen
?" Sam is astonished. Of course he is.

"It's different where I'm from. Our parents were all married young. And it wasn't like he was proposing, he was just saying he wanted to marry me
someday
. It wasn't until later that I realized he meant sooner than I'd thought. But no, I never wanted to marry him, but it did confuse me more. I think I was flattered. It was a really confusing time for me in general."

Then I tell him the most humiliating part. I explain how even after Robin raped me, I stayed with him. I went back for more. And more he gave me, again and again. Every time. No matter how loud I tried to scream, how hard I cried or tried to fight, or how desperately I begged. I explain how controlling and possessive Robin became. How rough he got with me even when it had nothing to do with sex. How I had to wear warm clothes in freaking Florida to hide bruises. How I protected the person who was hurting me.