Invisible(32)
In an instant, she knew that she was in trouble, and he wasn’t going to free her. There was a heavy chipped glass ashtray on the narrow coffee table, which she didn’t use since she didn’t smoke. She grabbed it, and hit him on the side of the head with it. He let out a scream and loosened his grip enough for her to escape, run to the door, open it, and head for the stairs. “I’m calling the police!” she shouted as she ran down the stairs, and he followed her a minute later. She turned and could see blood trickling from his forehead. She realized that she could have killed him, but it had never occurred to her. She was just trying to avoid getting raped.
“I’m calling them first, and charging you with assault,” he shouted at her. They were both on the street by then. He had left her door open, the keys on the table, to chase her down the stairs. He lunged at her and she ran away. She was faster than he was and lighter on her feet and he was hurt. She could see that he wasn’t bleeding much, but he was definitely injured. “I paid for dinner, you bitch!” he shouted after her, and he stumbled into the street as a passing cab slowed to see if he wanted a ride. The taxi stopped, and he grabbed the door handle. “Fuck you, Antonia Adams,” he shouted back at her, as the cab pulled away and she ran back into her building and up the stairs on shaking legs. She ran into her apartment, locked the door behind her, and sat down on the couch. There was blood on the ashtray and the coffee table, but it had been the only thing that saved her. She was shaking all over, and too shocked to even cry. She was sure he would have raped her. She didn’t know what would happen next, or if he would report her to the police, but she’d had no other choice to protect herself. She realized how fortunate she had been that he hadn’t, and she realized now how stupid she had been to fall for his bathroom ploy, and take him to her apartment. She didn’t know him as well as she thought. And he thought that the price of a Mexican dinner justified having sex with her, whether she wanted to or not.
She lay awake for most of the night afterward, and wondered what would happen if the police showed up at work, if Jeff pressed charges. But she went to work on time the next day anyway. She was quiet and subdued, accepted her assignments to take things to the set. There was no sign of the police. At lunchtime, her supervisor advised her that Jeff, her student intern counterpart, had had a family emergency, and had to leave and go back to Ohio. He had said he wasn’t coming back. She wondered if he was as afraid of her calling the police as she was of his accusing her of assault. It had been self-defense in her case, but who would believe her? Women’s claims of rape were dismissed all the time. It would be her word against his, and he was visibly injured, she wasn’t. He hadn’t even torn her dress or left a mark on her. But it had been a powerful lesson to her to be more careful in the future, and not so trusting.
She didn’t comment to the supervisor, discretion seemed like the better part of valor, as her father often said, and she went back to doing her job, grateful that Jeff was gone and he hadn’t raped her.
Chapter 8
By the time her internship ended, the summer hadn’t been a total success. The job was menial, though it got a little better after Jeff left, and as they trusted her more, they gave her a few more meaningful tasks. But the job had been billed as a gofer, which was all she was. She didn’t learn anything, except not to trust men she didn’t know well and never to take them to her apartment. As a career move, the internship had been a waste of time, and she didn’t earn a penny.
Jake had earned very decent money as a busboy, but it had done nothing to enhance his acting career. He’d had a good time with his family at Lake Tahoe, and he had never made it down to L.A. to see her.
She had found no trace of her mother, which had been one of her main goals. So it was a disappointing summer, and a relief to go back to New York. Jake was flying in the night before school started, and she arrived a few days before. Their rooms weren’t available yet, and they were both ecstatic to discover that they would be in the same dorm again, a different building from their old one, but the sophomore dorm was nicer. Some colleges still separated men and women in different dorms. NYU no longer did, and they had some truly wonderful buildings in the area.
Since she arrived before their rooms were ready, Antonia had to stay at her father’s apartment again. Her room was an even bigger mess than before. Her father had brought more files from his office, which were piled up in boxes on the floor. Their empty suitcases from their trip to Greece were scattered all over the place, and a full set of kitchen crockery they’d bought in Italy had just arrived and was still in crates, crowding the room even more.
She and Lara had spoken a few times, but Antonia hadn’t talked to her father since she left New York. She looked tired, pale, and had visibly lost weight. Lara suspected it hadn’t gone well, and asked her about it when they were alone.
“It was kind of a bust. I was just a delivery/messenger girl. It was hotter than hell, and I didn’t learn a thing about movies or writing screenplays.” She told her about Jeff then, and Lara was horrified, but proud of how she had defended herself. It would have been a disaster if he’d prevailed.
“Good for you!” she praised her. “What a smart move!”
“He said he was going to call the police and charge me with assault, and he could have. I really hurt him. But he never did.”