In Harmony(77)

“The fries are to share,” Bonnie said absently, then sighed. “Here.” She handed me her phone. “You want to give this a try? I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with four A’s and three E’s.”

“You can make the sound of someone yawning,” Angie said plucking a fry and dipping the tip in ketchup.

My brain refused to cooperate as it really hit me. Three people had my secret now. I felt like Bonnie, Isaac, and Angie were playing a game of Hot Potato, tossing it back and forth among them. If it dropped, it would explode, sending shrapnel flying in a thousand directions, ruining everything.

“I got nothing,” I said, and handed the phone back.

“Stupid game,” Bonnie said with a muttered laugh, and tossed the phone back in her purse. “So, did you guys find anything good? Are you hungry?”

Angie exchanged a glance with me, then said in a low voice, “She knows you know, Mom.”

Bonnie’s expression immediately smoothed into what I assumed was her Therapist Face. Inviting, friendly and extremely calm. A look that made you feel like she had everything under control, even if you didn’t.

“I was hoping to get a chance to talk to you about that, Willow,” she said. “Although perhaps not at the mall food court.” She shot her daughter a look, then Therapist Face came back. “We don’t have to talk about it here.”

“I don’t want to talk about it at all,” I said.

“That’s fair,” Bonnie replied. “Can I just ask one question? Are you close with your mother at all, Willow? Even a little?”

“You know the answer to that one,” I said. “She’s not really someone you get close to. She keeps herself walled off with wine.”

“I see.”

“And all she really cares about is appearances. How we dress, the house we have, the cars we drive.”

The boys we like…

“Whether or not I go to the right college…”

“Do you have plans for college?”

“That’s two questions,” I said, with a small smile. “Not anymore.”

Bonnie nodded. “I just have one more and I promise I’m done.”

“Mom,” Angie drawled.

“Is that little black X on your wrist related to your assault?”

I glanced down at the table at the ink below the meat of my left thumb.

“Yes.”

A short silence fell.

“Okay, no more questions, Mom,” Angie said. “Willow will hate me for telling you.”

Bonnie smiled, and Therapist Face was replaced by Super Mom. “Angie said that you were playing Ophelia in the HCT’s production of Hamlet. That sounds exciting. Are you enjoying the experience?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I like it a lot.”

“She loves it,” Angie said. “The play, I mean. I’m just talking about the play, nothing else. I mean, what else would I be talking about?”

I whacked her in the arm.

“Have you ever acted before?”

“No, never,” I said. “I just had this idea that it could help, you know?”

“Express feelings in a safe way?”

I nodded. “Yeah, exactly that.”

Angie’s eyes went between her mom and me. “Oookay, I’m just going to grab a slice of pizza. Willow, you want one?”

“Pepperoni please, and a Diet Coke?”

“Mom?”

“I’m fine, love.”

When Angie was gone to wait in the Sbarro line, Bonnie reached across the table and took my hand in hers.

“This really isn’t the right place, but I feel I need to tell you that I’m sorry. For what happened to you. It was a terrible crime, and it wasn’t your fault.”

I nodded. My hand squeezed hers to keep my tears back. “Are you going to tell me to report it?”

“No, I am not,” she said. “I think the perpetrator belongs in jail, and in a perfect world, you could drive down to the police station right now, tell your story, and they’d question him as relentlessly as they would you. But in my experience with sexual assault survivors, sometimes coming forward can be as traumatic as the event itself. I don’t say this to deter you. I say this because I believe you’ll tell your story when you’re ready. In your own time, and in the way that’s best for you. Right now, that’s all you should be concentrating on. Okay? What’s best for you.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Somehow, Bonnie had given me permission to stop holding my breath every minute. To just breathe.

“And if you ever want to really talk, I’m here for you.” She turned my hand over and rubbed her thumb over the X. “I’d really like to see these go away.”

“Me too.”

Bonnie patted my hand and let go. She handed me a napkin, took a French fry and sipped her drink. And all at once, I was back to being a girl sitting at a table with her best friend’s mom.

“What’d I miss?” Angie said, plopping a slice of pizza and a drink down in front of me. “Nope, never mind. Attorney-client privilege.”

“Indeed,” Bonnie said. “So back to this play you’re doing. I saw Oedipus Rex back in January. Isaac Pearce is an incredible talent.”