widened into an abyss.
‘I don’t know if you can see this,’ I said to Elaine and to myself. ‘But the man who raped me wants me to be destroyed by what he did. He wanted to hurt me; and he did. I couldn’t do one damn thing about it. But he wants me to keep on hurting. I can do something about that. I
won’t give him the satisfaction
.’ My fingers were clenched in fists by the time I finished. I meant what I said down to my bones, I meant it more than I’ve ever meant anything.
‘Well,’ Elaine said briskly, ‘I think you’re making a mistake, Nickie.’ She rose in one graceful movement and brushed her hands against her skirt. Washing herself clean of me. ‘You would forget a lot faster if you moved away. But you’re a grown woman, and Mimi owns this house, so I guess there’s nothing more I can say.’
But of course there was. Elaine was deeply shaken, not only by the anger of her children but by what she must have seen as a NOW diatribe delivered by, of all people, a former model. Elaine’s face was red; she was holding down her voice with an effort. ‘I personally feel you should get out of town and try to put this behind you. And may I add, Don agrees with me.’
Mimi and her brother exchanged glances. Mimi had long ago told me that her father agreed with everything Elaine said, to keep the peace and because he loved her. He just did what he wanted after he’d completed his lip service.
‘When you get over this being brave to impress people’ – and Elaine glanced pointedly from me to Cully – ‘you may take my advice.’ Her face twisted with genuine passion. ‘Honey, how are you going to pass them on the street? Knowing one of them raped you? They’ll all talk about it, you know. How will you be able to stand it? I bet half the niggers in town know who did it, but will they tell? Oh no, not on one of their own.’
In the North I’d become accustomed to racism being more cleverly cloaked, among my chic acquaintances. I’d temporarily forgotten Elaine’s earlier ranting about ‘welfare’ and ‘taking things for free.’ Now I understood what she had meant all along. White men wouldn’t date me because a black man had raped me, she thought.
‘Mrs Houghton, the man who raped me was white. I don’t know anything else about him; but I do know that he was not black. I know from the voice.’
That shocked Elaine more than anything else I could have said. She stared at me in utter disbelief. Then she obviously decided I was making my rapist white out of rampant liberalism. ‘You poor child,’ she said, and marched out the door.
‘What can I say?’ Mimi cried. ‘Nick, I’m so sorry.’
‘I wonder how much of what she said is true.’
‘Nothing!’
‘A little,’ Cully said. Mimi made a violent gesture of protest, but Cully raised his hand to silence her. ‘You’re going to notice changes in attitudes,’ he told me steadily. ‘But mostly it’ll be because people won’t know how to express sympathy to a woman who’s just been through a rape. They’ll be uncomfortable, because they won’t know whether you want to talk about it, or maybe couldn’t stand it being mentioned. It’s almost like . . .’ He thought for a moment. ‘Like you had an enormous green wart on the tip of your nose. No one here would ever dream of mentioning it to you, out of kindness and embarrassment. Even if you had that green wart removed, people
still
wouldn’t say anything – for fear of admitting that it had disfigured you before.’
I nodded. I could remember how it bad been, when this had been the only country I knew. And I remembered, with shame, how uncomfortable I’d been when I talked with Barbara Tucker. I’d put her misery at arm’s distance. I was guilty of more than an open window after all, I decided.
‘Men, especially, may be uncomfortable,’ Cully continued, still speaking in his steady professional voice, but with his eyes averted.
Thanks, Cully. I’d already
‘I don’t know if you can see this,’ I said to Elaine and to myself. ‘But the man who raped me wants me to be destroyed by what he did. He wanted to hurt me; and he did. I couldn’t do one damn thing about it. But he wants me to keep on hurting. I can do something about that. I
won’t give him the satisfaction
.’ My fingers were clenched in fists by the time I finished. I meant what I said down to my bones, I meant it more than I’ve ever meant anything.
‘Well,’ Elaine said briskly, ‘I think you’re making a mistake, Nickie.’ She rose in one graceful movement and brushed her hands against her skirt. Washing herself clean of me. ‘You would forget a lot faster if you moved away. But you’re a grown woman, and Mimi owns this house, so I guess there’s nothing more I can say.’
But of course there was. Elaine was deeply shaken, not only by the anger of her children but by what she must have seen as a NOW diatribe delivered by, of all people, a former model. Elaine’s face was red; she was holding down her voice with an effort. ‘I personally feel you should get out of town and try to put this behind you. And may I add, Don agrees with me.’
Mimi and her brother exchanged glances. Mimi had long ago told me that her father agreed with everything Elaine said, to keep the peace and because he loved her. He just did what he wanted after he’d completed his lip service.
‘When you get over this being brave to impress people’ – and Elaine glanced pointedly from me to Cully – ‘you may take my advice.’ Her face twisted with genuine passion. ‘Honey, how are you going to pass them on the street? Knowing one of them raped you? They’ll all talk about it, you know. How will you be able to stand it? I bet half the niggers in town know who did it, but will they tell? Oh no, not on one of their own.’
In the North I’d become accustomed to racism being more cleverly cloaked, among my chic acquaintances. I’d temporarily forgotten Elaine’s earlier ranting about ‘welfare’ and ‘taking things for free.’ Now I understood what she had meant all along. White men wouldn’t date me because a black man had raped me, she thought.
‘Mrs Houghton, the man who raped me was white. I don’t know anything else about him; but I do know that he was not black. I know from the voice.’
That shocked Elaine more than anything else I could have said. She stared at me in utter disbelief. Then she obviously decided I was making my rapist white out of rampant liberalism. ‘You poor child,’ she said, and marched out the door.
‘What can I say?’ Mimi cried. ‘Nick, I’m so sorry.’
‘I wonder how much of what she said is true.’
‘Nothing!’
‘A little,’ Cully said. Mimi made a violent gesture of protest, but Cully raised his hand to silence her. ‘You’re going to notice changes in attitudes,’ he told me steadily. ‘But mostly it’ll be because people won’t know how to express sympathy to a woman who’s just been through a rape. They’ll be uncomfortable, because they won’t know whether you want to talk about it, or maybe couldn’t stand it being mentioned. It’s almost like . . .’ He thought for a moment. ‘Like you had an enormous green wart on the tip of your nose. No one here would ever dream of mentioning it to you, out of kindness and embarrassment. Even if you had that green wart removed, people
still
wouldn’t say anything – for fear of admitting that it had disfigured you before.’
I nodded. I could remember how it bad been, when this had been the only country I knew. And I remembered, with shame, how uncomfortable I’d been when I talked with Barbara Tucker. I’d put her misery at arm’s distance. I was guilty of more than an open window after all, I decided.
‘Men, especially, may be uncomfortable,’ Cully continued, still speaking in his steady professional voice, but with his eyes averted.
Thanks, Cully. I’d already
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