Football Practice

My take on the infamous Steubenville rape case

“I was wondering if I could go to Steph’s party tonight,” I said. I always waited until my mom prepared dinner to spring these kinds of questions, in order to deprive her of time to think her answer over. She countered with her usual response.

“Will there be boys there?” She didn’t look up from her peeling. Without fail, she asked me this every time a party came up in conversation. I took a deep breath and let it out in exasperation.

“Yes, but her parents will be there and you know they wouldn’t let anything happen.” While it’s true that they wouldn’t let anything happen, Stephanie’s parents weren’t going to be there the whole night. It was common for them be out until one or two in order to give us our “privacy.” As long as nothing bad happened I could continue to use this lie, and it usually worked. She turned to me.

“Then I want you home by midnight. No exceptions,” she said. She had the look she got whenever she didn’t want to argue about something. I knew she wasn’t going to budge on the issue; I fought anyway.

“That’s totally unfair! None of the other girl’s parents make them leave early.” I stamped my foot on the linoleum for emphasis.

“Well, then I’m proud to be the only good parent of the group,” she said as she turned back around and continued peeling potatoes. I stormed upstairs to my room defeated. It was at times like this that I wished my father came home from work sooner. At least then I would have a way to circumvent my mom’s iron rule.

My room was on the second floor and down a hallway. I liked that it was so removed from everything else, especially when my mom was on one of her power trips. There were books and magazines, and my computer, which offered thousands of songs and internet access. What more could I need? I found it funny that being sent to my room used to be a punishment, but a lot has changed since I was a little girl. I was sixteen now, and I had everything I could ever need in this little room, but of course I wanted something that could not be put in a room. Freedom wasn’t a physical object to be obtained, I had to fight for it, and for the past few years I had. Most of the time I won the little fights with my mom, but today she must have been feeling extra powerful. I’d try again a little later when my dad got home.

My phone lit-up on the table and did a little dance as it vibrated. I slid the unlock button and checked my text messages. It was from Stephanie.

Whatd ur mom say???

She says i have 2b back by 12

I went on Facebook while I waited for her reply. The event page for Stephanie’s party was alive with activity as our friends posted about how they could stay all night, and Who were the cute boys? What should they wear? I was more determined to try again. After all, Facebook said that Jordan Mays was going to be there and I wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. Jordan was the quarterback at school and I felt that we had some sort of thing happening; last week, during Biology, we were making faces at each other the whole time instead of paying attention. But first I needed to get my mom to agree to let me stay. My phone buzzed again. I navigated to my inbox.

Lame! Maybe shell change her mind? C u at 7!

I replied and slid my phone into my pants pocket. I took a deep breath and made my way downstairs to resume the battle.

My dad got home at six and I immediately bombarded him with my plight. He nodded as I laid my case out, and then walked into the kitchen to talk to my mom. I stayed outside in order to listen but not be required to take part. I knew there was something morally gray about how I pitted them against each other, but if this was the only way to get through to her, then I would do it.

It wasn’t long after that she folded. I remember hearing in school that uphill battles can’t ever be won, and maybe my mom knew that too. Once I had convinced my dad, it was all over; she never seemed to disagree with him, no matter the topic. I didn’t question how it worked. It was like how children don’t question Santa or the Tooth Fairy either. I just headed upstairs and packed my things. My backpack felt light in comparison to its normal school-weight. I had originally packed my regular pjs, but then I remembered that it wasn’t going to be just the girls tonight, so I brought leggings instead of shorts. I headed downstairs and left without hesitation.

I walked to Stephanie’s house and whistled along to the Maroon 5 song my iPod was playing. The August weather in Greenville was hot during the day, but in the evening it got more bearable, closer to 70 degrees than 80. The sun was still out, even at six-fifty, and there was a nice cool breeze which periodically gusted, picking up the leaves and dust which had accumulated throughout the day. I lamented the fact that I lived only ten minutes away because I wanted to spend as much time walking as I could. There was something relaxing about being in the fresh air, that freedom and lack of responsibility. Everything was at its own pace in nature and there were no arbitrary rules to follow. I couldn’t enjoy the feeling for very long though. I had to be speedy; Stephanie knew I had already left.

I got to her front door and knocked three times. There was a delay and then I heard some shuffling approaching. The door swung inward to reveal Stephanie, red plastic cup in hand.

“You’re finally here!” she yelled as she dived in for a hug. I completed the circuit. I could smell alcohol on her already.

“Have we started drinking already?” I said, hoping the answer would be yes.

“Of course,” she said. “It’s always time to drink when there are boys over.” She whispered the last part, but I felt like the neighbors could have heard it. She led me inside, closed the door, and pushed her drink into my hand.

“Drink up. There’s more where that came from,” she said. She wasn’t slurring any words, so I wasn’t too worried about her yet, but I knew, from countless parties, that she could hold her alcohol.

It was at this point that I noticed the music coming from downstairs, so we headed in that direction. The steps to the basement were steep and bothersome, even when sober, so I held on to Steph to keep her from taking a trip to the hospital. As I made it into the basement I was greeted by the familiar room which I had spent countless years hanging out in. The mini kitchen, the carpet, the recliners, and the TV were all the same, but now there were so many more people, most of whom I recognized. I saw Jordan almost immediately, he was sitting next to his friends Tyler and Michael, but I played it cool and hung out with Stephanie for a while.

The party was pretty relaxed, as these parties normally were, since we were in a basement and there were no windows. The thrill of being caught was less, but I think most people just wanted to have a good time without any sort of consequence, and I was one of them. After my third beer, I was starting to loosen up. There was nothing quite like letting go a little; it also gave me the courage to talk to Jordan. I had been making eyes at him the whole night, and I finally made my move.

“Hey, Jordan, how’s it going?” I did my best to seem fairly uninterested. I’d read in some magazine that guys liked it when women were flirtatious but distant. He seemed interested because he stopped talking to his friends to address me. They were all laughing.

“I didn’t know you were coming to the party,” he said, his mouth formed into a smile. “But I’m sure glad you did.”

I laughed at his charm. He had always had it, or at least for as long as I could remember. I finished what was left of my drink and Jordan made a face.

“Let me get you a refill.” He left for a few moments. I was alone with Michael and Tyler. I had never really hung out with them, but they seemed like pretty cool guys. We talked for a little bit, I don’t really remember about what, until Jordan returned with a newly filled red cup. I accepted it from him and took a sip.

Our conversation went on, and I had three or four more beers. I feel like we didn’t really talk about anything, but we also talked about everything. I laughed at Jordan’s jokes and he kept them coming. After my fifth beer…or was it my sixth? I don’t remember. I started to feel dizzy, and time seemed to expand and contract without rhyme or reason, but I kept drinking; it seemed like the thing to do. We must have spent hours standing in that corner because I remember people coming and going, us laughing about something, and then sitting because my feet hurt. I fell asleep in one of the recliners while Tyler told a story about how he single-handedly won a game for the football team. Or at least I think he did; I never got to hear the end of that story.

The sunlight shone through the window and right into my eyes. I covered them with my hands and recoiled as I moved, due to an unexplained soreness seemingly everywhere in my body. My head was throbbing and my throat was dry and sore.

I must have blinked a hundred times before the sleepy gunk cleared and I was able to see again. But what I saw was not the same as when I went to sleep. I was no longer in Steph’s basement, or her house for that matter. I didn’t recognize the room I was in. The only window in the room had the blinds mostly closed, but was open, which let the breeze in.

I shivered, and as I rubbed my arms to warm myself, I realized that I was naked. I looked down at myself and saw scratches, bruises and dried white fluid crusted all over my chest, arms and legs. I stood in shock for a few moments as my mind raced to remember what had happened the night before. I kept getting to Tyler’s story, but everything after that was broken. There was an image of leaving Steph’s house with Jordan. And then I remembered throwing up in the street. Everything else was blank.

I could feel a scream inching its way up my throat when the door opened behind me. I reached for bed sheets to cover myself, and spun around to see Jordan and Tyler trying to enter quietly. They froze for a moment as we made eye-contact. I couldn’t tell what they were thinking, but Tyler shut the door quickly and turned to me.

“We can explain,” he said.

His voice did not sound as calm as he probably wanted it to be, but I was so stunned that I had no words to throw at him. I stood there, pawing at the bedsheet, and let him continue.

“Last night, you had a few drinks at Stephanie’s and then we moved the party to my place, and then we drove here.” He kind of mumbled his words and didn’t look me in the eye. Jordan resumed for him.

“You were really drunk, and we thought you wouldn’t mind,” he said. He sounded earnest, but I could only think of one thing to say.

“You thought I wouldn’t mind what?” It hurt to speak. The two of them shifted on their feet a little before Jordan spoke again.

“Wouldn’t mind,” he took a breath and continued. “Sex.”

 I sat down in response. They both just looked at me like I was their dog that had just been hit by a car.

“You didn’t stop us, so we thought it would be alright.” Jordan had a little more strength in his voice this time.

“Why didn’t you just take me home?” My voice was shaking now, but not from anger. I was having trouble forming words; the gravity of the situation was starting to seep in.

“We brought you here in order to let you sleep and make sure you were safe, and so we could talk when you woke up,” Tyler said. I had never felt less safe in my life. This supposed “safe-haven” was the last place I wanted to be, but my exit was blocked, so I remained seated. The two talked at me for a few minutes, but I didn’t really listen. I was too busy thinking about what I would tell my friends who were at the party. What would everyone say at school tomorrow? What would I tell my parents? They were going to be so mad that I wasn’t home yet.

“Hey, are you okay?” It was Tyler. He must have noticed that I was zoning out. I snapped to attention as he took a step closer to me. I must have seemed crazed because he took a step back again.

“Yes. I’m just really tired and want to go home,” I said. It wasn’t entirely untrue; I didn’t want to sleep, I just wanted to be anywhere but here. Home seemed like the safest place at the moment. I stood up, still covered by the sheet. The guys stood there awkwardly for a second as I searched around for my clothes, but then seemed to get the hint and left. I fumbled around looking for my underwear but couldn’t find it. I just went straight for my pants and threw on the shirt afterwards. My earrings and phone were also missing, but I didn’t care. It might have been the only time in my life that I hadn’t cared to know where my phone was. I threw on my shoes and rushed out the door.

Tyler and Jordan were nowhere to be seen as I emerged into a hallway. It was disorienting to find myself hung over in an unfamiliar house, so it took me a second to even find the exit. I was thankful not to run into anyone while I was leaving; I had had my fair share of awkward encounters for the day and I was going home.

Jordan’s house in a neighborhood I recognized, but wasn’t familiar with. I walked towards the busiest street I could see, hoping that I would find out what street I was on: Locust Street. I was only thirty minutes away from my house at walking speed. I made it home in fifteen. Outside was too open. There was no relaxing breeze, only the harsh sun beating down at a temperature probably in the 80s. It felt oppressive and made it hard to breathe as I ran straight home. I was out of breath when I arrived, but I hadn't noticed until then. My heart was beating fast even before I started running.

I opened the front door quietly. I didn’t know exactly what time it was, so I did my best to avoid my mom. I also didn’t want to explain where my backpack was or any of my other missing possessions. I didn’t see anyone in the immediate area of the entryway, but I tiptoed upstairs in case my mom was around the corner. I grabbed some fresh clothes from my room and went into the bathroom, locking the door behind me.

A shower sounded like the best thing in the world right now, they always seemed to have a calming effect, as well as a cleansing one. The room filled with steam and fogged up the mirror. I removed my soiled clothes and climbed into the shower.

The water was hotter than I normally would have liked, but I didn’t feel the need to turn it down. In fact, I felt the opposite need: to make it hotter. Water has always been a cleanser: the cleanser of sins. I felt the water burning my skin, but there was no urgency for me to stop it. I wanted to be cleansed of the past, I needed to be. I scraped off the crusted liquid, which I knew now to be semen. I scrubbed at the scratches and bruises, hoping to wash them away as well. I must have scrubbed for ten straight minutes before dropping to a sitting position and crying. I hugged my legs and sobbed, my lungs struggling for air as my chest spasms were constricted by my grip on my legs. The water continued to pour over me, indifferent to my suffering, yet still comforting. It was the hug a friend gives when they want to help but don’t know how. Right now, the shower was my best friend. It hid my tears and muffled my sobs, yet still listened. It wasn’t invasive.

I sat on the floor for an immeasurable amount of time. I might have fallen asleep against the wall. I only stirred when there was a knock on the bathroom door, followed by a voice.

“Is everything okay, sweetie? You’ve been in there for a while,” my mom said. She used to do this when I was younger; it brought back memories and the tears welled up again. I held fast and took a deep breath in order to sound normal.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just enjoying the warm water.” I stood up and turned off the water, immediately cold.

“Well, okay. How was the party?” It seemed like an inopportune time to talk about this, but I answered anyway.

“It was fun. Nothing huge happened,” I said. A part of me felt guilty for lying, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell her what I had done. I was too embarrassed and very afraid of what would happen if I told.

“I’m glad,” she said. I immediately felt sick to my stomach. I verbally agreed with her and she left to go downstairs. I got dressed and went to lie down in my room. I fell asleep feeling drained of all emotion.

My mom’s voice woke me up. She was sitting on my bed, holding my arm. She looked very concerned, but I wasn’t awake enough to register what this was about.

“What are these bruises on your arms?” She said. It took me a moment to even remember what they were from. I looked away from her.

“Nothing. I’ve had those for a while,” I said. I tried to pull away but she wouldn’t let go. She looked even more concerned.

“You didn’t have those when you left yesterday,” she said, raising her voice. “What happened at that party?” The tears started to come again as I regained my memory, but this time I couldn’t hold them back. She pulled me close and I cried into her shoulder.

“I"didn’t mean"for any"of it to hap"pen.” I couldn’t get a complete sentence out and the tears were hot upon my face. I sniffled and tried to continue. “There was"this boy there"“

“What boy? And what did he do to you?” She pushed me away in order to look into my eyes. She sounded mad, but her eyes showed more compassion than I had ever seen in them.

“I"don’t"remember,” I said. “But"Jordan told me"we had"s"sex.” I lost control and couldn’t get any more words out. She embraced me again.

“Oh, my baby,” she said, sounding close to tears herself. She didn’t say much else for a while. We both just sat there and I cried until I didn’t have the energy to stay awake.

It was dark when I awoke. My mom was gone and my door was shut, but I had been wrapped in a blanket. I swung my legs out of bed and made my way downstairs. I could hear my parents talking in hushed voices. I stood outside the kitchen and listened.

“Who should we even call for this sort of thing?” My mother said. I could practically picture her pacing in the kitchen as my dad sat at the dinner table. “Should we call the boy’s parents?”

“We should go to the police, Carol. This boy needs to be held accountable.” I heard his glasses being set onto the table; he did this when he was stressed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. There was silence for a few moments.

“Do you think they’ll really help? I just want her to feel safe.”

“They damn well better help her out.” He paused for a moment, and it sounded like he was blowing his nose. I could hear my mom sit down.

“I hope they can help,” she whispered. There was no more talking and so I made my way back upstairs.

As I got into bed I whispered, “I hope so too.”