AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“No hurry,” I said.
I opened the fridge, rummaged through each of the Tupperware containers, and eventually found some fried chicken. I grabbed a few pieces and sat down at the dining room table.
“Get a plate.”
“I don’t need a plate. It’d just be one more to wash.”
“Get something to drink so you don’t choke. That chicken was dry. I don’t know what happened to it.”
“I’m fine. And the chicken’s good. Really.”
At the same time that I finished the second piece of chicken, she got done with the dishes. After drying her hands and tossing the towel on the countertop, she sat down at my side.
“You never come over just to see us, so what’s going on, Nicholas?”
I tossed the chicken bones in the trash, washed my hands, and sat down. “I’ve got some questions about a girl.”
Her eyes lit up. “Did you meet a girl?”
“Settle down. I met a girl, but it’s not what you think. There’s nothing going on.”
She smiled. “Why are you asking about her?”
I shrugged. “I just want to make sure she’s going to be okay. Something happened to her.”
She placed her hand on my forearm. “Is she okay?”
“I don’t know. She seems to be.”
My mother worked as a counselor for a sexual assault center, and had for as long as I could remember. Her lifetime of exposure to domestic violence, sexual abuse, and other traumatic events women experienced made her a wealth of information on the subjects.
She gripped my forearm. “What’s bothering you?”
“Don’t go gettin’ all mad, just listen, okay?”
“Okay.”
I stared at the center of the table, and tried to speak without emotion, but it wasn’t easy. “If a girl is gang raped by four men, is it possible that she will recover from it without counseling?”
“Oh, Nicholas,” her hand shot up and covered her mouth. “I’m so sorry.”
I shifted my eyes to meet hers. She looked overwhelmed.
“Recover? No. Not without professional help. Survive? Sure. She can survive, but her choice to not seek counseling is foolish. The center should be able to get her all the help she needs. Have her call me.”
“She doesn’t want counseling.”
“Why isn’t she following the recommendations of her case worker?”
“It’s complicated. She didn’t report it as a rape. She doesn’t want to.”
She shook her head. “She still can. And she needs to. It’s part of the process that she needs to go through. Tell her to report it.”
“She won’t. She’s stubborn.”
She sighed. “The men who did this need to be brought to justice.”
My eyes fell to the table. While I contemplated what to say next, she squeezed my arm.
