Casey glances at me and begins to stroke Audrey’s hair, an errant bobby pin the only sign of her earlier updo. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way. Of course I’m not mad that you called Aunt Casey. I’m just glad you’re with both of us now. If you’re ready to tell us what happened, we’re here for you. Just remember it’s okay and we know it wasn’t your fault . . .” Casey’s voice trails off. Did she think her experience on prom night was her fault?
I inhale sharply, part of me not wanting to know what happened to Audrey, but knowing that I won’t sleep until I do. I grab Audrey’s hand again and hold it tightly. “I love you,” I say, then put my other hand over Casey’s. “We love you. You can tell us anything.” Casey forces a smile and squeezes my hand in return.
“He was awful. Cruel. And I feel like such an idiot.” Her words are nearly buried through her sobs. For a moment, Casey and I sit in silence, tears streaming down our faces, afraid to ask Audrey what she means by awful.
“It’s okay, go on,” Casey finally says, her voice almost a whisper.
“It was fine at first, we kissed for a little while, but when I pulled back, he pushed his face harder against mine. He told me I was beautiful and sexy and that it was going to feel good. But I didn’t want to do it . . .”
Casey grimaces, biting her lower lip. I know we both want to ask her, “But did you?”
“It’s okay, honey, take a breath and try drinking some water.” She runs to the refrigerator and grabs a bottle.
Audrey takes a sip. “I told him no. I kept telling him no. But he wasn’t listening. He kept telling me to stop talking, to just enjoy the moment. He wouldn’t listen.”
My anger starts to mount as I picture Chris McNies taking advantage of my daughter. Had I properly prepared her for this? Had we talked about sex enough? I couldn’t remember the last time we’d had a conversation about it. Please, God, let her be okay. “Audrey, did he . . .” I can’t finish my sentence and Casey jumps in.
“Did he hurt you—did he harm you in any way?”
Audrey’s eyes grow wide and suddenly she reminds me of when she was six, going off to kindergarten for the first time. I could see in her eyes that she was so scared and could feel her shaking as she laced her fingers tightly through mine but she was trying to stay strong, probably for me. I’d been crying all morning, make that all weekend, knowing she’d be leaving me for the first time that day.
“I told him I had to go to the bathroom, then when he tried to follow me, I kicked him hard in the nuts. Then I grabbed my shoes and purse and ran. He was still doubled over on the floor when I shut the door and ran down the hall to the elevator.” Her mouth turns up a fraction at the visual of Chris writhing in pain. “Then I called Aunt Casey.”
Casey and I exchange a look and say thank God with our eyes. I wrap my arms tightly around Audrey and thank God again.
“I could kill that kid,” Casey mutters under her breath.
“You did the right thing, Audrey.” I squeeze her tightly, not wanting to let go. Not ever wanting to let go. “I’m proud of you for standing your ground.”
“I hope he has permanent damage to his balls,” Casey says sharply.
“If I’d been wearing my shoes when I kicked him, he might.” Audrey smiles and I’m so relieved; I know she’s going to be okay. She’s stronger, more grown up and mature than I’ve given her credit for, something that’s been so easy for Casey to see since she stepped into my role; something I guess I couldn’t see until I had stepped out of it.
“I’m tired, Mom. Can we stay here tonight?” Audrey looks at Casey.
“Of course,” Casey says. “Let me just call your dad. Don’t worry,” Casey says quickly when she sees the panicked look on her face. “I’ll just tell him we’re having a girls’ sleepover.”
She catches my eye and I nod in agreement. We’ll have to decide how to handle John later. “Yes, of course you can stay here, Aud. Go lay down in my bed,” I say. She walks to Casey’s bedroom and climbs into bed, curling up into a ball. Casey grabs her phone to call John and I crawl into the bed and play with Audrey’s hair until I can hear her snoring slightly, her breath deep and heavy.
“Wine?” I look up and see Casey standing in the doorway holding two wineglasses.
“Yes, please,” I whisper as I climb out of the bed and close the door behind me. “So, how did that go?” I motion toward the cell phone on the kitchen counter.
“He was a little confused about why we were having an impromptu sleepover so late at night, but he was glad to hear everyone is okay.”
“Are you okay?” I ask after Casey pours me a large glass of the J. Lohr Merlot she found in the kitchen.
“Yeah, you?” Her eyes flicker and I know she must be thinking of her teen self.
“I will be eventually, when I can breathe normally again. Jesus! What a night,” I say as I sink onto the couch beside Casey.