Sleep alone tonight

TW: INCEST, EMOTIONAL MANIPULATION, ANXIETY ATTACK, DISSOCIATION

I was never the type to romanticize prom. Queerness evident as soon as puberty hit, half the time I feared the prospect of even interacting with peers platonically, nevermind falling into a romance of the sort young adult novels were written about, ending in “Promposals”, the very concept of which gave high school students the illusion of permanence to extremely temporary romances. My first and only romantic relationship was with an extremely closeted guy that lasted three months before he wrote me a three page letter about how actually, I was unattractive and the entire endeavor was a mistake.

That's not to say I didn't dance. I attended summer camps, wherein dancing was a weekly occurrence as a way of celebrating Shabbat. I simply didn't hold much hope regarding the romantic expectations of dances. Everyone I ever asked to dance only agreed to the fast songs, to an overtly platonic understanding that this meant nothing. I meant nothing.

As a transgender teenager, existing between boys and girls, I was nobody’s type, well, with one exception. One horribly unwanted exception. His understanding of sex and love created by movies, he had vague hopes that after I went to prom, when I came home, we would lose our virginity together. He couldn't attend the dance itself because he was too intellectually disabled to attend public high school. The practice already made me feel gross and guilty, aware from my peers just how disgusting incest was seen from the outside. But… but my family wasn't normal. I tried to plead my case.

“I don't want to. Mom, do I really have to do this?”

“He's your brother. He's never going to have a real relationship. If you really loved him, you'd do this for him. He didn't even go to high school! You have your entire life to have as many relationships as you want! He's only ever going to have you.”

“I know, okay, I'll- I'll let him - I love him, I'm not trying to be ungrateful, I’m sorry.”

“Just quiet your complaining, we don't want him to feel unwanted.” but I don't want this, I didn't say. I agreed. I kept my mouth shut, let him kiss me goodnight on my mouth and felt his hands roam like he was a monster, like this was a crime. My body was a crime scene but I was duty bound not to report, lest I lose my family and home.

I attended prom in the nerdiest way possible, taking a bus from the high school to the hotel where the prom was occurring. I was friends with a few couples who were there together, and watched on the sidelines when they slow-danced. When fast songs came, I danced. I had dinner. I tried to not think about how when I returned to the high school, my mom was ready to drive me home to my brother's waiting arms. I tried not to think about what I knew was coming, but when I was touched, caressed by the crush of bodies, I lost my ability to control myself and ran from the dance floor out of the room.

Everyone wants that from me I'm never going to be safe. Safety doesn't exist, not when I can feel him inside me, his hands, his lips, his erection against my clothed body and it would feel so much worse naked, wouldn't it?

A teacher, my history teacher who seemed always a bit too interested in my life, was a foot from me as I sat on the hotel floor, knees to my chest because that gave people the least easy access to me, not that he would, not that… “Caleb? What're you doing out in the hallway? Music too loud? Are you crying?”

He reached to pat my shoulder or maybe help me up, but I cringed into a ball, barely breathing, don't touch me don't touch me don't touch me

“Don't touch me!”

“Okay! Did something happen? Is it okay if I sit down next to you?”

“No, please, please don't, across is fine, I'm sorry -”

“Hey, there's nothing to be sorry for, son,”

“No, I'm not -” I struggled to avoid crying, breathing heavily, aware of the stares we were getting as certain teenagers left to use the bathroom. We were in the way, a nuisance.

“Hey, there's a room over here where the teachers have been chilling, we could talk over there. I’ll grab some napkins so you can clean up.”

“Don't touch me, please-” I repeated, unable to understand why he seemed to be listening. Jake never listened, only made his will more evident.

“Okay, then you have to stand up on your own, can you do that?” I tried, the feeling of the fabric of my pants against my legs nausea inducing, everything was overwhelming and I was going home soon. Nodding, a foal on shaky legs, I followed Mr. Davison to the room where, as he mentioned, teachers were chilling. It was like a miniature prom except instead they were playing Poker. There was a table with two chairs Mr. Davison headed towards, so I followed him. He couldn't do anything to me I hadn't had done to me before, or wouldn't have had done to me after tonight I thought. I sat down, staring at the napkin and the hand holding it, attached to the teacher that hadn't done anything wrong yet. Nothing felt real.

“Caleb? Earth to Caleb? What's going on in there? Why do you keep repeating you don't want me to touch you?”

“Because- because - because I don't want to be - I don't want - I don't want to go home tonight and I'm going to have to.”

“Why?”

“My brother-”

“I didn't know you had a brother.”

“I wish I didn't. He's special needs, so didn't go to high school here. He's a simple person, wants what everyone else wants but doesn't have the ability to actually have it,” I took a deep breath, aware of the huge betrayal continuing as I spoke. “And- and my parents give him everything he wants. Even me.”

“What does that mean?”

Another deep breath. “My brother learns most of his understanding of the world from movies. Many movies show teenagers losing their - their - they have sex on prom night. My brother's at home, never had a prom night, but - but - I really don't want to go home tonight. I can't - I love him, I love my family, I don't know why I can't just do this for them but -” I wiped at my leaking eyes with the napkin, exhausted, aware of how I likely blew up my entire world but unable to feel any of it.

“That's not okay. That's- you're saying your parents are facilitating your brother having sex with you?” I nodded, relieved Mr. Davison didn't use any of the words I knew it really would be called, but rather the same euphemism I had. Could “having sex” be a euphemism? It was explicit, but when what was being referred to was really not sex, maybe it could be seen as one. “That's abuse, Caleb. I - for tonight, I can pay for you to stay here, would that successfully help you avoid it or would he just try when you return home tomorrow morning?”

“I don't know. He's already been - it hasn't gotten that far but he's already done some stuff, and I - I'm just so tired. I don't care if I get raped when I go home honestly as long as it's not tonight.”

“Okay, I'll go downstairs and buy you a room and tomorrow morning we'll head to the police station to report what's been happening. That sound okay?” I nodded. It didn't feel real, the thought of police involvement, the thought of leaving, of someone protecting me.

Sometimes none of what happened felt real, nothing my brother had done, that I'd wake up a fifteen year old sobbing over my ex boyfriend and not open the door when my brother knocked to ask what was wrong and try to help. I had thought it was normal sibling stuff, him kissing my tears, until… until it became different. His lips instead met mine. Hands wandered, words mimicked from movies, parents informed when I tried to physically fight him off. My parents were thrilled he wouldn't be acting on his desires towards strangers the way he once had, and I... I learned to live in fear, learned that love and fear could coexist in a way that kept me awake even on nights when he didn't show up.

But prom night, I slept in a bed he had never seen let alone been in, under sheets that had never before touched me, paid for by a teacher who used the same words I used to describe what happened. Still, you're saying your parents are facilitating your brother having sex with you? Echoed around my brain as I failed to sleep, aware how in another universe I’d be being raped at that very moment. But this wasn't that universe. I fell into a dreamless sleep eventually. Safe. Somehow, prom night had saved me, not condemned me.