“Did you hear what I just said?” My head snapped up to meet her gaze.
“Yes, Brooke. And it’s okay. It doesn’t mean anything if you had an orgasm,” the nurse said.
“It doesn’t?” I wasn’t convinced. I thought there was something wrong with me, that my body was telling me I actually enjoyed it.
“Orgasms are physical responses. They don’t speak to whether your heart wanted them,” the nurse said. “They certainly do not demonstrate consent on your part.”
I was quiet for a moment, staring at my lap, thinking through what she said.
“But shouldn’t I have been so scared and angry that my body wouldn’t respond that way?” I asked after a time. “Shouldn’t my body have shut down or something?”
“You were angry. And I’m sure you were terrified. That doesn’t mean you aren’t still going to have a physical response to stimulation.”
I cringed at the word “stimulation.” The nurse saw and sat down beside me.
“The adrenaline you felt from your anger and fear could have actually aided your orgasm,” the nurse continued.
I looked up sharply.
“I’m just trying to help you understand how your body and mind work together to achieve orgasm,” the nurse explained. “And it has nothing to do with desire or being in the mood. You did not desire your orgasm. Do you understand?”
“I’m so ashamed,” I whispered, and she hugged me.
“Sweetheart, you have nothing to be ashamed about. You did nothing wrong. What you felt was something taken from you against your will. It doesn’t diminish or bring into question the validity of your attack. You were raped, whether you had an orgasm or not.”
I nodded, trying desperately to believe her.
“There’s research out there about this. Not enough, but it’s there, and some suggests that as many as one in five rape victims experience orgasm. Women are ashamed to admit it because they think it means they weren’t really raped or that they enjoyed it.”
I buried my face in my hands.
“Brooke? Please understand that you did nothing wrong,” the nurse said. “Your orgasm was not voluntary.”
“I hate that they took that from me!” I screamed.
“I hate it, too,” the nurse replied. “But if you’re brave and strong, you can make them answer for it.”
I didn’t want to make them answer for it. I wanted to go hide in a cocoon somewhere. I wanted to run from my attack or, at the least, pretend it didn’t happen. I must have been shaking my head because the nurse kept encouraging me.
“Brooke, you’re brave enough to do it. I know you are. I can feel it. You don’t have to settle for what they did to you. You don’t have to live with it or try to make do with the situation. You can heal from this. You can get justice.”
Just then the officer entered, and I looked at her through tear-stained eyes.
“Officer Patterson is very friendly, Brooke. She’s here to take your statement and ask you a few questions.”
I nodded, settling into a light shiver. I stared at the chipped polish on my toes, wondering how the paint got messed up so quickly when my pedicure was brand new.
Twenty-One
My mom arrived on the first flight out of San Francisco. It was a little weird, her staying in the house with us. Dad was officially dating Ms. Manning, and Mom was married. She was going to surprise me with the news the following week. I learned that Mom was shopping for a dinner party at the time of my rape. Dad was finishing up his end-of-week reports at work. Ryan was sitting at home with his sister, waiting for my arrival. Everyday, mundane living, and I wish I could have been any one of them during those hours instead of the person I was.
Ryan came over the night of my attack, concerned because I hadn’t called him. Dad was reluctant to let him in, but I told him I wanted to see my boyfriend. I wasn’t sure if I should tell Ryan what happened, but it was hard to keep it a secret. He knew instantly that something was wrong. He noticed my wrists when he sat down beside me, so I told him the truth. He stayed up with my dad and me the entire night. I was too scared to sleep. Dad wouldn’t let me out of his sight, and Ryan wanted to make sure I didn’t hurt myself. He didn’t say it, but I got the impression.