Trusted Lies

“Are you coming tonight?” He asked me on the landline. The phone was the ugliest cream-yellow color. It was the color of a wedding dress that had been in a storage box for 50 years.

“I’ll be there soon, save me a dance.” I wrapped the phone cord around my finger the same way I used to twirl my hair. 

"Bee, I wish so much that I could dance with you." 

"Then dance with me," I said and twirled in my red tulle dress. I had begged my mom to shorten the hem, and she finally did. The tulle flowed higher up as I spun around. I felt his eyes on my long legs. The lights were dim. I watched teenaged shadows dance on the spiked punch sticky floor. 

"You know we can't. Not here," he looked around as if he was a teenager that could get caught for making out at school, "meet me outside in five minutes." He left through the gym doors, and five minutes later, I followed his path. 

He was the same age I am now, eight years ago. He looked at me like I was so much more than a naive teenager. Looking back, he knew I was only an innocent teenager. I see the innocence in my younger sister's eyes as she waits for her Homecoming date by the front door today. I went to Homecoming with him. I couldn't tell anyone, though. He was a chaperone. He was my English teacher. He was supposed to make sure no one did anything stupid, but he was the one who did the most foolish thing of all. 

I looked at him and couldn't help but think how handsome he looked in his suit. His tie was red. I had told him to wear a red tie because of my dress. It made us look like we were together in public, even though we were lying to ourselves to ever think that could be a reality. 

"You look very handsome tonight," I said as I took his tie between my fingers. 

"And you look lovely tonight," he said and moved closer when I pulled his tie towards me. 

"Kiss me." I said as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I had spent two hours curling and pinning my hair up for that night, and none of it mattered anymore. I just wanted his arms around me. He could run his fingers through every curl, and I didn't care how it looked afterward. When his lips met mine, I could smell his cologne. It wasn't like the strong odor every boy in my grade wore. He didn't kiss like the boys in my grade either. He didn't stick his tongue down my throat. He licked my bottom lip and squeezed my shoulder while his other hand moved up and down my back. His hands were constantly moving, touching parts of me that I didn't think could cause such a reaction on my part. 

"Why'd you stop?" I asked as he looked over my shoulder, his eyes narrowed. 

"I thought I heard something." 

"No one knows we're here. Don't worry." I cupped his chin in my palm and brought his focus back to us. I pressed my lips against his throat. He was almost a head taller than me, even when I was in heels. Sometimes I imagined what it would be like if we were the same age. If we didn't have to hide. I knew we could get in trouble if we were caught. He would lose his job. I might not get to go to college. That's what he told me after we kissed for the first time. 

He asked me to stay after class one day to discuss a paper, and I missed my bus. He offered to drive me home, and I lingered in his car when he pulled up to my house. My parents were both at work. I didn't live in a neighborhood, so no eyes were peering at us between window blinds. Nothing happened that first day, but the excitement that something could happen made my stomach ache. I was overcome by the rush of 1,000 butterflies. He found more reasons to see me after class, and I found more reasons to miss the bus. 

"People do know we're here, and I want to make sure they don't know we're here together." He turned to face the school wall as if that would conceal his identity. 

I reached my hand out to rub his back. "Then let's leave. I don't fit in with anyone here anyway. I just want to be with you." I would have said anything to get him to take me away. I craved that feeling of risk. Thinking back, I wish so badly that we had been caught that night. 

"Bee, you know I want to, but they'll know something's up if I'm gone. I'm not here as a student having fun. I'm supposed to be making sure the kids don't have too much fun." I didn't like how he called them kids because that meant he saw me as a kid too, even if he treated me differently than the rest. 

"Well, I'm not having any fun. But you know what would be fun? Getting out of here right now." I lifted my chin towards him, waiting for him to crane his neck down and kiss me. 

"As tempting as your kisses are, I can't. But my shift ends at 10. Where should I meet you?" 

This is when I should have said I didn't want to meet him anywhere, that I didn't want to meet him at all. But that's not what happened. 

He looked at me with his big, brown eyes. One of the reasons I fell for him in the first place. I was a sucker for brown eyes. I didn't fall for him right away. He was nothing more than a friend for months. At least that’s how he made it seem. 

"I'm the happiest I've ever been when I'm with you, Bee." He moved his fingers down my cheek as we sat in his living room. I told my mom I was going over to a friend's house to watch a movie, which was true. I just didn't tell her which friend it was. This was the first time he had touched me. That small act of brushing my cheek made me realize he wanted to be more than friends, and I was okay with that. I trusted him. 

"I'm happy with you too," I said, and I meant it. 

"Please let me know if this is ever too much for you. I would hate to jeopardize our friendship." I remember thinking all he had done was touch my cheek.

"I will." 

In the months that followed, our friendship had transpired into a full-blown relationship. I told him it had gone too far one day, but what he said to me next made me promise never to say to a soul. 

"Bee, it’s too late for that. This is more than just fooling around. If you tell anyone, I'll lose my job, you'll never get into college, and we'll both be in a dark place. I've been to that dark place before, and I never want to go back. You have been a light in my life, and I can't lose you now that I have you. I’m in love with you." All at once, I felt wanted and trapped. But as we continued down this path, I didn’t know how I would ever get out, so I pretended and lied until it all came crashing down on me. 

I walked home from the dance since I lived so close. I knew it would take me at least half an hour to get home in heels. I took them off after only five minutes and felt the dirt cling to the bottoms of my feet with each step. I was almost home when a car of high school boys who had probably just left the dance drove past me. Then they stopped and got out of the car. Every girl’s nightmare is walking down a road and a car stopping. Even if nothing happens, it’s the anticipation that can cause a fight or flight response. I never thought I would be the girl that something would happen to until it did. I was minutes away from my house. My long driveway was in sight, but I was still too far away. I recognized the boys as the ones who wore the strong body spray, listened to the music that objectified women, and one of them once said his own girlfriend had an ugly face but a knockout body. I continued to walk straight ahead, veering off the sidewalk in hopes they would ignore me. 

"Where's your boyfriend, Beatrice? Still chaperoning the kids at the dance?" 

How did he know our secret? I had never told a soul. I ignored them and kept walking. 

"Come on. I'm just joking. But I think someone's hot for teacher." They all laughed at his comment and made kissing sounds. I walked right past them and should have run instead. Thinking back though, running wouldn’t have done me any good either. They were stronger and faster. One of them was close enough to grab hold of my dress, which he did and pulled it towards him. I pulled it back towards me, and he stumbled. I could smell alcohol on his breath as he cursed at me. Then two others came towards me along with the dress puller, and I was helpless. I hated the expression damsel in distress, but that's exactly what I was. I was in what felt like the middle of nowhere, the school only two miles away, but no houses for another four-mile radius. I had lost the fight or flight response. Instead, I had gone limp. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t scream. I tried, but nothing came out. When they left me, I stayed on the ground. I don't know how long I was on the floor. I was a bird who had fallen out of the nest and broken its wings. I couldn't get up. I couldn't move. I took a deep breath when I realized I wasn't breathing. When I finally stood up and started to walk, the blisters on my feet felt like nothing compared to the rest of my body. I looked down when I thought my dress had torn and was hanging by my shins, but I saw that it was blood dripping down my leg. 

When I walked in the door, I saw my mom on the couch. I had no idea she was going to be home. I had told him to meet me at my house after his shift ended at the dance. I wanted nothing more than to be held by someone I trusted. 

"How was the dance, sweetie?" She was watching a late-night show and hadn't seen me yet. I went straight upstairs and threw my dress in the trash. When I came back down in my favorite t-shirt and sweatpants, I picked up the landline, talking as quietly as I could. When I got off the phone, I sat on the couch and curled up to my mom, and I told her everything. She immediately got up to call the police, but I informed her I already had. I told them about what he did to me. Mr. Blakewell met me at my house after ten like we had agreed. I invited him into my home for the last time, where he was arrested. He was sentenced to 15 years in prison. I told the police about the three boys, too; none of them went to college. 

I graduated with honors last year with a degree in child psychology. I watched my sister today as she walked out the front door of my childhood home, waving goodbye as she got in the car with her boyfriend, who treats her well, who treats her how every girl wants to be treated. I shared my story, and I encourage others to share theirs.