Like most women, when I was raped I did nothing. I didn’t say anything because I was sure no one would believe. Especially my mother, who has never believed anything that I’ve ever said. The biggest reason was, I couldn’t say for sure that it wasn’t my fault.
It was 30 years ago and I was hanging out at a bar with my gay best friend having a wonderful time. Then I looked across the bar and saw someone I knew. It was an old friend of the family. Actually, his father used to work on my grandad’s cars. My dad always took his cars to their shop too but by then, the man’s son had started taking over more of the repairs. Tonight he was sitting across from me, smiling.
My BFF and I danced, ate, and drank our way through the night. When we got back to our barstools the mechanic was sitting there. He handed me a drink that he said he bought just for me. My BFF told me not to take it. I took it. After that, I only remember snippets of time. I remember being held tightly by the waist as my legs dragged across the blacktop of the parking lot. I remember sitting in the dark, in an industrial area, with him kissing me. And the last thing I remember is his waking me up to tell me that I was home. I opened my eyes and saw that yes, I was at home. He asked if he could keep the panties, and I mumbled yes.
Once inside I went to the bathroom to pee and wash my face. I took my pants off and noticed I didn’t have any underwear on. I thought that was strange and said so out loud. Then I looked at my inner thighs and saw that they were bruised. I racked my brain but couldn’t remember anything. So I took a shower and hoped tomorrow would be better.
The next day my mom asked where my car was and I told the mechanic brought me home. She beamed with happiness. But I wasn’t feeling that way. Even though I couldn’t remember anything I knew that something wasn’t right. She took me to pick up my car and I drove to my BFFs house. He said that he had saw the guy put something in my drink. I screamed at him, why didn’t you tell me. He said he tried.
I called the mechanic and asked him what happened last night. He played coy, asking me, “Don’t you remember?” If I did I wouldn’t be asking. All he would say is that we had a great time and that he had to go. After that I didn’t like following my dad to the garage to drop his car off for repair, so I could give him a ride back home.
Honestly after that, I didn’t like going anywhere that much. It wasn’t until a couple weeks later when I went to Skateland with my BFF, for his birthday, and a particular song came on and I froze. I was walking and all of a sudden I stopped dead in my tracks. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. All I could do was hear that song. I wanted to scream but my body wouldn’t let me. I tried to move so I could run, but I couldn’t. I dropped everything I was holding and my body started trembling. Snippets were playing in my head like movie trailers that wouldn’t stop. Once the song was over I ran out of there and went home. This was the beginning of my agoraphobia, my anxiety attacks, and my post-traumatic stress.
Even though I have been married for the past 25 years to a very nice man, of which we have two teenage sons, there are still times when it comes rushing back. Though I will never be the same I did survive. And that is all that matters.