A Girl's Life Online (16 page)

The next morning my mom went down early to get a table for breakfast. Shortly after, I walked downstairs. I sat down with a big bowl of strawberries. They were fresh and juicy. One packet of sugar made them perfect. For a moment, for the first time in two days, I felt at ease.

“Why, Katie? Why did you have to do this?”

“I wish I knew the answer.”

“Do you think it would be appropriate if David dated Karen?”

“No, but I never thought he was that old.”

“Why did you even bother with him? That's what I'd like to know.”

“He was someone to talk to, Mom,” I said as I ate more strawberries. “You haven't been around a lot with all your business trips and the fact that you live at work doesn't help.”

My mom doesn't like it when other people are right, and by the look on her face I could see I may have been right about this. She knew she hadn't been around much. In fact, she had been away for my birthday that year. “I think that you think it was neat that you were able to get the attention of an older person,” she said. “Do your friends know about this?”

This conversation was going nowhere. She knew that Ashley was the only one who really knew the details. What good would it do to go over that ground again? Besides, there was no way that I would admit to myself that my relationship with Mark was wrong. And she wasn't going to look at the fact that she had been absent from my life for a long time.

We wouldn't really try to talk again for the rest of the meet. Looking back at it now, I can see that in the cold silence I was in a state of either shock or depression. All I knew then was that the days seemed endless. It became more and more difficult to face my mother, my swim coaches, and my teammates. Each one of them knew I wasn't feeling myself, and lying to them hurt me even more. I would walk by Ashley at times and I just couldn't find the right words to say to her. All I really wanted to do was escape from everyone and spend some time thinking about something else, feeling something other than sorrow and shame.

At times I felt ready to tell the whole truth about what had happened. I would get up the courage and then look at my mother and feel completely intimidated.

When I was alone, I questioned everything I once took for granted about myself. I had always thought I was an intelligent, thoughtful, moral person, especially compared with other kids. But the worst thing friends my age were doing was drinking. I had had serious romantic feelings for a much older man. I wondered if I would ever be forgiven, or if I would ever be able to forgive myself.

When the last day of the meet finally came, I felt relieved knowing I wouldn't ever have to go to this pool again. In the locker room I struggled out of my lucky socks. I had worn them for important events since I was five years old, and they fit like a second skin. I stretched my swimsuit over my body. This was a struggle, too, because the suit was four sizes too small. I often have trouble choosing suits. At a previous meet, I swam in a large one, and my breasts almost fell out. This time I opted for a small one, to be safe. But the back straps dug into my skin, and the fabric rubbed against a rash that had broken out all over my body.

My feet hurt, too, as I walked out onto the bars of the pool bulkhead. I stood beside my lane and jumped up and down a little to warm my muscles. For a minute my mind flashed on my recurring nightmare of being naked and exposed. I forced this thought out of my head and looked at my mom in the stands. I smiled. She looked at me through a video camera.

I felt like I owed my team every ounce of effort I could give. I was conflicted about the charges against me, but I could admit that I had disrupted everyone's state of mind. The focus was no longer on swimming but on me. I had let them all down—the swimmers, the coaches, the parents—and I wanted to redeem myself. I didn't want to make this trip a complete failure.

The whistle blew, which signaled that it was okay to enter the water for warm-ups. My mind seemed to switch back and forth from the pool and the swim ahead to how much I had let everyone down. I just wanted them to think I was a good person again.

When the race began, I strained to make a perfect flying start. My legs slammed the water hard and I threw myself into the butterfly. In the water, the voices that echoed off the concrete walls and the pool deck were muffled to a soft, gurgly murmur. I swam hard, thankful for the solitude. But in all my straining to swim fast, I forgot to take a breath. I didn't swim well at all. I was lucky to even finish.

When it was over and I got out of the pool, I just sat down and cried. One of the coaches came over to me. “You're just hyperventilating,” she said. “Try to calm yourself. Breathe slowly.” I wasn't hyperventilating. I was falling apart.

When I was able to get control of myself, I got up and slipped into the locker room. There I put on some flip-flops and shorts and I went outside. It was quiet. Not another soul was anywhere to be seen. I looked out over the grass field and just started walking.

I went up the slope of a hill to a field where I sat down and played with the grass. Like a little girl, I twisted blades into necklaces and crowns. I thought about what had happened, and how Mark, my mother, and I might each see this situation. Was I really protecting Mark by hiding the truth? How could I continue to lie to my mother? Would anyone even believe me now if I told?

Ashley walked up the hill and asked what I was doing. I wasn't too sure. Without much conviction I said I needed to be alone. She suggested that we roll down the hill together. It was a funny suggestion. I hadn't done something like that in years. But I liked the idea of doing something, anything, other than worrying. So we lay down in the grass, folded our arms over our chests, and rolled down the hill, laughing as we reached the bottom.

My mom and I were in her hotel room together as we prepared to go out to dinner on our last night in Texas. She stood in the bathroom drying her hair. As I sat in a chair in the room waiting, I thought about that week, and I was amazed that I had gotten through it. I wondered what was going to happen when I got home. How would people treat me once they found out what had happened?

“Katie, you know David talked to the New Canaan police captain today,” my mom said from the bathroom. “We are going to look into charging him for endangering the morals of a minor.”

“Does this mean I'm going to have to talk to more police?” I asked as I sat in the chair looking down at my swimsuit.

“Yes, Katie, this is a very serious thing. Why don't you understand how serious it is?” she asked in a bitter tone.

I didn't think my encounter with Mark was that bad; in fact, I was convinced that my parents were not good people for not understanding or trusting me.

“Mom, will I have to tell them what happened in the room?” I asked softly, trying to say it so she couldn't hear it with her hair dryer on.

“What did you say, Katie?” She turned off the dryer and came out.

“Mom, I have to come clean,” I said. I didn't cry, but I was weeping inside as I told her that Mark had touched me when we were alone. I described how he put his hands inside my shirt and how he went for my crotch. It was a hard thing to do. I knew that telling her meant that the whole thing was going to get worse, not better. But I couldn't lie any longer.

“I am so sorry, Mom. Please forgive me. I know I'm a bad person. Just please forgive me.”

My mom looked me in the eye with the kind of stern look that you never want to get because you know you are in really deep, deep shit.

“How am I supposed to believe you now when all you have done is lie for over six months? This could ruin a man's life, Katie. Do you understand? This is not some joking matter. I don't know why I am supposed to believe you now. How can I? Who is going to believe a word you say after you lied about it the other night?” She was screaming at me.

I understood that I had lied, but I had just done the hardest thing in my entire life. Of course I understood what the truth could do to Mark. That's why it took me so long to tell.

“Mom, you just have to believe me. I swear. You just have to believe. Just this once, can you please believe me?”

“I thought you guys drank a Coke in the room. That's what he told me,” my mom answered.

“I would never drink a sugar soda. You know that,” I said to her.

“So you would lie to me, police officers, and your team, but you wouldn't drink a sugar soda? Some morals you have, Katie,” she snapped back at me.

I couldn't say anything. My mom sat down on the bed and pulled out the number for the police officers. “I'm going to call the police, Katie. Are you sure this is the truth?”

“Yes, it is.” I still kept my head bowed. My mom dialed the phone number very slowly, hitting each number on the keypad very hard. The officers said they would come over that night, before I went home, to make a report.

“Now we're not going to get to go out tonight. I hope this makes you happy, Katie. All because of you, no one is going to be able to go out to dinner,” my mom yelled at me.

I couldn't forgive myself for all of the pain and anguish I was causing her. These things weren't supposed to happen to families like mine. My mom left the room and I overheard her tell my coach, “I'm sorry, but we won't be able to go out tonight. Apparently, there is a little bit more to the story.” She also went to Ashley's mom and told them we would be unable to drive them to dinner. Ashley and her mother decided to stay, and they told us that they would meet us downstairs for a late meal. It was nice to know that I had some support.

When the two policewomen arrived, my mom apologized for calling them again. She felt that it would be better if she left the room during the interview. That way I wouldn't feel pressured by her presence. I was kind of sick of seeing her, to be honest. She obviously didn't understand what I was going through, and she was placing all of the anger that she had for Mark on me.

Since neither of the policewomen were there the night of the incident, they knew very few of the original details. Once again I had to describe how I met Mark, why he was in Texas, and why I was there. As I spoke, I kept looking at their badges. I felt like a criminal.

“Can you please describe as vividly as you can, Miss, what happened in the room that night?”

That was the question I dreaded the most. I closed my eyes to picture what had happened. It all came back to me, in surprising detail, and this time I didn't leave anything out in the telling. I included how I had met him over the Internet, how the relationship had grown over six months, how we planned to meet in Texas, and every detail of how he had touched me and where. I knew I was doing the right thing, but I was confused about why. I knew Mark was going to find out, that he could be in very big trouble. I felt bad for him and embarrassed for myself.

I was glad when I got to the part when my mom knocked on the door, because they knew the story after that. I was done. It was now on the record that Mark had done those things to me. I can't tell you how relieved I felt, and for a moment I thought that maybe I could be a good person. Yes, I had made mistakes—many—but I was trying to correct them.

My mom and I thanked the police officers and they told us they would be in touch. Again they told me I was extremely lucky to be alive. Girls who got hurt were different from me, I thought. They prowled the streets at night, courting trouble. I couldn't accept that I was anything like that, or that Mark could be dangerous in that way.

When they finally left it was 9:30, and we were both very hungry. Ashley and her mom were downstairs waiting for us to order. For the first time since my mother had knocked on the door to Mark's room I thought things might be okay. Ashley's mother tried to comfort me by telling me a story of a girl who had been raped on her block. In many ways she was trying to be helpful. She told me a little about the English judicial process. The story did nothing to make me feel better, but at least it changed the subject for a moment.