Just My Luck(81)
Instantly, frenzied hands are all over me and I understand it’s not logs falling, not the sky. It’s more ordinary than that. I’m being assaulted. It’s a man, or men. I’m a young girl in a leotard. This sort of thing happens all the time. I start to scream but a hand is clamped over my mouth. I wriggle, I struggle, I try to bite the hand but tape, thick blue tape, is wrapped around my mouth and eyes. In just seconds, I’m made blind and dumb. I still kick out and try to push them off me but there’s two, three, maybe more of them. Men. Not boys. I can smell them and feel their rough hands gag and bind me. My heart is thumping against my chest cavity, I think I’m going to split wide open in fear. They tie my feet together; they tie my hands behind my back. It’s fast and unspeakably terrifying. I’m powerless. They straddle me and I think they are going to rape me but realise that they are just subduing me. At least at the moment. They are probably going to take me somewhere else to rape me. I’m sobbing but neither the tears nor the sound can escape. I think I might suffocate. I am so utterly petrified, more petrified than I have ever been in my life. This is a million times worse than the beating in the loos, this is a million times worse than the blue tick on the window of the pregnancy test. This is the worst thing I can ever imagine. I beg them to let me go but they can’t hear me because of the tape. And they don’t care. I’m hauled up and two people carry me between them. I think I’m going to die.
‘Shut the fuck up and stay fucking still or you’ll regret it,’ says a man’s voice. I believe him. I want to be quiet now because he could hurt me more, but I sob and kick instinctually, my body flaying and bucking uselessly. Then someone punches me in the stomach. I’m too winded to shout out. Then I smell something odd, like at a dentist.
34
Lexi
In the uber, the effects of the wine and the punch start to wane and I immediately feel the responsibilities of my family, of my life, settle back on my shoulders. I shouldn’t have just taken off without telling anyone where I was going. What was I thinking? Just because I felt a bit lonely and neglected at my party isn’t a good excuse to bail. I check my phone, feeling guilty that I hadn’t looked at it whilst I was with Toma. However, there are no messages for me. Irrationally, the guilt is immediately shoved aside, and I feel a flare of irritation. It’s eleven thirty and apparently no one has missed me. My reaction makes no sense. It’s better that I wasn’t missed. I’m behaving like a teenager. I call Logan and he picks up after the third ring.
‘Hi, having fun?’
‘It’s awesome, Mum! Where are you? I’ve been looking for you?’
I smile, grateful that after all I haven’t been completely forgotten. ‘I had to go out, do something, but I’m on my way back now. Five minutes away. Meet me at the dancefloor?’
‘We are not dancing together, Mum.’ I can almost hear him roll his eyes in despair.
‘No, I know. I just want to see you.’ I want to hold him, my baby who is now only a couple of inches shorter than me. I suddenly feel a very keen need to be reassured by his solidness, his simplicity. Things are so complicated right now. ‘Have you seen much of your dad tonight?’ I feel wrong asking. I can’t really expect Jake to have been too hands-on considering I dashed off to be at another party. With another man.
‘He’s with me now. We were looking for you and Emily. Neither of you turned up to do the cake-cutting photo thing.’
‘Oh sorry, I forgot all about it.’
‘You forgot about a metre-high cake!’ Logan is still young enough to have an unashamedly sweet tooth and the four-tier cake has been a source of endless discussion for him over this past week. He was the one who had the final say over the layers (red velvet, chocolate, coconut and lime and carrot).
‘Does Dad want to cut it now?’
‘No, it’s OK, we did it. Jennifer and Fred and loads of other friends just piled in. It’s like a big gang photo now. Not a family one.’
I seethe but bite my tongue. ‘OK, well, nearly there with you.’
As I re-enter the party grounds I swiftly help myself to a glass of champagne from a tray. Hearing that Jennifer crashed the family photo op somehow means I require liquid fortification. I know it is partially my fault for not being there, but really? Did it have to be Jennifer who stood in for me? The server holding the tray looks bored, I see her casting longing looks in the direction of the loud party. She’s only about nineteen. I flash her a sympathetic smile. I did a lot of waitressing work for extra cash when I was young – it was basically an exercise in managing older men’s roaming hands, and older women’s unreasonable dietary requirements. I hope she hasn’t been met with too much rudeness tonight. I hope everyone has smiled, made eye contact, said thank you.
I head towards the main marquee where the dancefloor is. The costumes make it harder to pick out faces I know. Most people are happy in their own cliques now, dancing, drinking, chatting and no one turns to say hello as I thread through the crowds.
The dry-ice smoke swirls, catching the amalgam of lights – dazzling blues, perky greens, loud reds – that are clashing and dashing through the hot, fused bodies. The DJ knows what he’s doing, the songs he’s picking are clear favourites with Emily’s friends who are all on the dancefloor and thrashing their bodies around with wild abandon. Logan’s friends look less sure, many are lined up around the edge of the tent, trying not to look self-conscious and therefore looking exactly that. I spot Jake and Logan by the cake and make my way towards them. The music blasts at a volume I’ve long since identified as too loud. It reverberates through my chest and spine.