A painful beginning leads to beautiful new possibilities.
*
Author's Note
I spent a little time in the urgent care clinic recently, due to a poorly-timed bout of strep throat. As I'm sitting there in the waiting room, my mind starts turning, generating ideas. By the time I get home, the story starts forming. And, since the steroid medication meant to take the swelling down has the unintended side-effect of keeping me awake all night, I was able to get it all down in one take.
This is another slow-building romance. It's a depressing start, but it gets better, so hang in there. It also takes place a few years from now in a not yet realized, but plausible future. It's not sci-fi or anything, just extrapolating on current trends to come up with a legal twist. I don't want to spoil it, and you'll know when you get there. It's not a major plot point, just something to think about.
I must also warn you that there's no sex in this one. Touching, kissing, cuddling, and romance yes. But given the subject matter that introduces the story, I thought it somewhat tacky to end in a wild romp. Besides, that's what sequels are for, right? So set your sights on slow-building lesbian romance for this one, and you'll feel good in the end.
Enjoy,
Wax Philosophic
*
The events and characters in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
*
Friday Night in the E.R.
I'm sitting in the university hospital emergency room. It's eleven o'clock on Friday night and this is the last place I want to be. I just want to go back to my dorm, take a long hot shower, and try to forget the past twenty-four hours.
"Did you notice anything else that might help us in our investigation?" the detective asks.
"Sorry, it was dark. That's all I can remember."
"That's alright Olivia, you've been through a lot. Once we have the rape kit checked into evidence, that'll give us some good leads. Meanwhile, try to get some rest." She hands me a business card. "If you think of anything, a particular sound, a smell -- anything. Or if you just need to talk. We take these things very seriously."
"Thank you."
The detective offers her hand. "Take care of yourself, Olivia."
The door closes. A few seconds later there is a knock, and a nurse walks in. She looks overworked, not surprising for the night shift in the ER I suppose, but she tries to put on a pleasant face for me. I think she was going for a smile, but it comes out as a sort of concerned grimace. That's OK, I'm not really in the mood for smiling anyway. "I'm Sofia, and I'm going to get you started by taking your vitals. The doctor will be another few minutes. You OK?"
"Olivia," I say, and shrug. "Best as can be expected, I s'pose."
"I'm sorry, Olivia, I know this is tough. We'll get you checked out as quick as we can so you can get back home. You got someone to give you a ride?"
"My roommate. She's in the lobby."
"Good. Let's get you in this gown, and the doctor will see you. You can put your clothes in this bag, OK?"
The door closes and I am alone again with my thoughts.
"I don't know who designs these things," I muse, trying my best to get the hospital gown tied up. It doesn't really matter what I do, it's virtually impossible to not end up hanging out somewhere. "I suppose this isn't the time to worry about modesty," I think, while envisioning the examination that is to come.
There's another knock on the door and two women enter. One is Sofia, who I already know. The other woman introduces herself as Doctor Dwyer. "We'll try to get this over as quickly and as comfortably as we can," she says. "Sofia will be getting DNA samples from your hands and face, I'll be doing the pelvic exam. Do you have any questions before we get started, Olivia?"
"Yeah. I -- I know it's not legal anymore, but -- but is there anything ... I just ... I really don't want to have his baby, you know?"
"Sofia, could you excuse us for a second?" The door closes and I am alone with Doctor Dwyer. "You're right, it is illegal now, but ... well let me just say that as much as we hate to admit it, medical mistakes happen all the time, particularly in fast-pace environments like the ER. We'll take care of you. Just promise not to sue for malpractice, OK? And we never had this conversation."
"Right," I say. "Thank you doctor."
She smiles at me with genuine empathy. There's a knock on the door and Sofia enters. She's busy scraping under my fingernails while Doctor Dwyer has her eyes down below. The pair is very efficient, and I begin to wonder how many others like me they have seen during their careers. The exam finishes up just as the tears start flowing.
"I've got this, Doctor," Sofia says. Doctor Dwyer snaps off her gloves, squeezes my hand and walks out.
Sofia helps me sit up and wraps an arm around my shoulders. She pulls a tissue from the desk, and a business card from her pocket. "I know this is too little, too late," she says, "but my sister teaches self-defense classes at the Capital Club. Give her a call."
"Thanks, but I don't think I can afford it. I'm pretty much your typical broke college student. I do all my workouts at the rec center."
"Hang onto the card anyway. You never know, they might run a special or something." She smiles. It was a tired smile, but genuine.
"Thank you. For everything."
The door closes and again I am alone. I take a moment to collect myself, sigh, and make my way to the lobby.
"Love the scrubs, Olivia," my roommate says, as she puts her arm around my shoulders in a comforting squeeze.
"My clothes are on their way to the crime lab. I'll get 'em back eventually."
"You need something to eat?" she asks. "I can swing through a drive through."
"I just need a long, hot shower."
"OK." She takes my hand as we make our way to the parking garage. "I'm sorry this happened, Olivia."
"Me too."
*
Over the next several days I try my best to forget. Everyone is exceedingly good to me. My professors offer to give me incompletes for my classes if I want to head home and finish things up next semester. I decide to stay, thinking that changing my routine too much would mean that he had won. My parents support my decision, even offer to rent a hotel and stay with me as long as I need. I took them up on it for the weekend.
The rest of the time, my dorm-mates make sure I never go anywhere alone. I always have an escort of at least one or two for each of my classes and trips to the rec center. News apparently travels fast, because there are even a couple of weightlifters that offer to help me get some payback once the guy is identified. They look like they could do the job too -- ROTC probably, Marines judging from their butch haircuts. I had never spoken to either of them before, but now I get a little nod every time we pass.
I think it was Thursday that I got my final piece of reassurance. This time it was in my mailbox. The envelope said Capital Club, and inside were five guest passes paper-clipped to a business card. 'Adriana Luna,' it read, 'Kickboxing and Self-defense instructor.' On the back, scrawled in blue ink, was written, 'Payment taken care of. Call for appointment.' I certainly hoped Sofia hadn't paid for the passes out of her own pocket. I call the next day.
*
I arrive at my first class prepared to kick some ass. Surprisingly, there was none of that. We talk a lot about situational awareness, evasion techniques, yelling, running, calling 911. I find the yelling to be quite therapeutic, but do ask Adriana when we would be learning how to put the hurt on people. She assures me we would before we graduate, but to remember that most attackers would have a size advantage and that it's best to avoid confrontation if at all possible.
The last week of class arrives and we're all pretty pumped. We had learned some good places to kick, twist, and gouge, and now we were going to be putting it all together.
"That big human ball of foam over there is Dave," Adriana announces.
Dave waves to us. Even standing at what I guessed was a little over six foot, he looks more comical than scary under all those pads.
"He works for the sheriff's department as a K-9 trainer. I'm lucky enough to get him one night a month to help with my class. Dave's gonna pretend to be the bad guy while you ladies practice what you've learned. Don't feel like you need to go easy on him. Dave's a big boy, and he's got enough pads to stop an angry German Shepard. Something he does regularly anyway."
A brief chuckle erupts, and then we line up. I watch as the ladies ahead of me take their turns shouting, gouging, kicking and twisting at Dave, before running away yelling, "Help! Somebody call 911."
Now it's my turn. I channel all of my rage from my recent experience and focus it right at Dave. I know it's not his fault, but this is what we're suppose to be learning, right? I'm screaming, "Stop! Get away from me!" at the top of my lungs. Dave reaches out with his hand and grabs me by the shoulder. I trap his hand under mine, and spin around. Yanking down hard, I put his wrist in a painful position, and surprisingly his knees buckle.
I don't think he was quite expecting this level of commitment from me. I keep it up, sweep my leg under his feet and put him flat on his back with a look of shock on his face. Bolstered by my success, I begin kicking him in the crotch. Over and over I hear the thud of my shoe against the foam pad. "Die motherfucker!" I scream.
Everyone in the class stands in stunned silence. I look down at Dave, horrified at what I had just done. He grins and gives me a thumbs-up. I feel myself relax a little. The silence in the room is broken by a solitary slow clapping. Soon the other women join in to what quickly amounts to a thunderous applause. I offer my hand to Dave. He hops up and claps me on the back. I don't think he ever stops grinning.
"Impressive, Olivia," Adriana says. "But remember, you never know when the person you come up against is going to be drunk, stoned, or otherwise feeling no pain. Run away as soon as you can and leave the rest to the officers who are trained to deal with it. Right, Dave?"
Dave just gives another thumbs-up. I am beginning to think I just made his night.
"Alright, unless anyone has any questions, you're free to go. Remember, stay aware of your situation, and don't be afraid to call 911. That's what they're here for." Adriana waves as the class begins filing out. I get a couple of high-fives myself.
"Can I talk to you for a minute, Olivia?"
"Sure." I watch as the remaining students drift out.
"Listen, I think you've got some things pent up that you might need to work through. You got anybody you can talk to? If not, you can always call me or my sister, we deal with this stuff a lot and neither of us will mind a bit."
I think about her offer. "Everyone's been really supportive, my parents, teachers, dorm-mates. Your sister's great by the way. I've been meaning to make an appointment with a counselor at the hospital, but school's been keeping me busy."
"Sounds like you're trying to get back in there and put this behind you. But make sure you make that appointment. It's an important part of healing process."
