Chapter 15 Junior Year
The most wasted of all days is the one without laughter.
-E. E. Cummings
The summer before my junior year I bussed tables at the Green Mountain Diner. I didn’t like getting my ass slapped and hearing lewd, sexual comments about my body on occasion but overall liked the work, even though it was tough. Bussing tables meant cleaning up after people who were done eating, scraping dishes, spraying them off, and putting them in the huge, hot dishwasher. Then emptying the dishwasher so the dishes could be used again. When I wasn’t working, days were spent laying out on lounge chairs with baby oil slathered all over us and using cardboard covered in aluminum foil to direct the sun and get as tan as possible. My friends and I had priorities, and tanning together was a big one. I sprayed lemon juice and Sun In in my hair to get it just the right shade of trailer trash blonde. I did a lot of damage to my hair. Almost as much damage as Grammy’s perms. Life was good.
My mother started dating a man she worked with who was old enough to be her father. He had a beard and a deep, gruff voice, but was soft spoken. He wore glasses and had a pot belly. He was what you would call rough around the edges. He was a nice man, and I liked his daughter, who was only about ten years older than I was. She had two little kids, rented part of the house from him, and worked hard. I didn’t like going to his house to hang out, especially when he and my mother went to “nap,” but he was a pretty good guy. I also didn’t want to get close to anyone my mother dated. The Monster had taught me to keep my distance. They didn’t date for a really long time, certainly not long enough for me to get to know him well, but at least he wasn’t The Monster.
Junior year began, and although I don’t think I ever felt like I fit in at a smaller school in a more country setting, I liked it. Vermont had grown on me and it was now familiar. Go Crimson Tide!
I was in Sound of Music this year. Again, Sue had a lead role and I had a small role. A couple actually. I was one of the nuns and doubled in the party scene, which was really fun. We went on a field trip to the Catholic church and spent time talking to the nuns about what it was really like. We asked about the process of becoming a nun, if they missed dating, or ever wanted to get married and have children. I wouldn’t say any of them had regrets about their path, but they wondered how it would be different. Most had extended family and were aunts or godmothers, and they loved dedicating their lives to God.
Planting a Seed
My mother brought me to a OB/GYN because my periods hadn’t started. I was 15 and it was a couple months before my sixteenth birthday and nothing was happening. The male doctor gave me an internal exam. It was a little awkward and uncomfortable for a virgin. He did blood work and was a bit stumped. There was nothing necessarily wrong with me, but something wasn’t right either. He told me I may have difficulty having children. I may, in fact, not be able to become pregnant, and he wouldn’t be surprised if I needed an infertility specialist.
This visit–in all the awkwardness I felt–planted a seed in me that continued to grow with time. I knew I wanted a family someday. As Ms. St. Jean taught me in third grade, I knew one person could have a huge impact on another person. It didn’t matter to me if I could or could not become pregnant– although I wanted to be able to. What I knew I wanted was to become a foster parent, to work with kids like me who needed someone to make a difference. I started my period a couple months later, which was a relief.
Falling Down and Fires
Kimmie and I BOTH fell down the steep, narrow, wooden stairs at home while taking out trash. I’m pretty certain my tailbone will never be the same, but that damned trash was protected! By this time, I figured I had an issue with stairs in general. Even without wearing clogs, I crashed down the stairs a couple of times.
The stove in the apartment was gas and had to be lit with a match. It didn’t take long to get used to it, but it was temperamental like my mom’s Subaru. One day, Kimmie and I were home alone, and she was trying to get the oven lit. Unfortunately, the gas was on. When it finally lit, it made a big BOOM sound and the entire wall behind the stove caught on fire. She screamed, “Jennifer, the wall is on fire! Help me!” I came running in, saw the fire, and grabbed the fire extinguisher. Before pulling the pin, I wanted to read the instructions to make sure I was doing it correctly. I said, “OK, hang on, I’m reading the instructions.” She yelled, “Pull the pin! Pull the pin! Stop reading the fucking instructions and pull the pin!”
I’ve never been one to panic in situations. Instead I get very calm. While Kimmie screamed at me, I read the instructions, pulled the pin, and put out the fire. Holy shit, it made a mess! Granted it was better than burning the house down, but I had never actually seen a fire extinguisher let loose before. Kimmie was a wreck. She was such a sweet kid. She never meant to do anything wrong. We called downstairs to Cindy and Dave. Dave came up to see what happened. He told us we did a really good job and that these things happen sometimes. He helped us clean up the foam from the fire extinguisher and assessed the damage, which fortunately wasn’t too bad. Once everything was under control, I fell apart. I can hold my shit together through an entire crisis, but once we’re in the clear, I fall apart. I cried and shook. I was just so relieved everyone and everything was OK. It could have been much worse.
Love at First Conversation
I was in as many singing events as possible. At one singing event with combined schools I met Kevin. This event was similar to All States but had the kids from only a few schools that were close in proximity to each other, not the entire state of Vermont. You had to be in chorale to attend. Kevin was a junior also, attending a neighboring high school in Northfield, VT. It was love at first conversation. Blonde hair and blue eyes, fit and thin, very good looking and a big bonus: he was taller than me. He was outgoing but mellow, smart, and easy to talk to. He was incredibly musically talented and friendly. We couldn’t get enough of looking at each other. We talked and spent time together on every break during practices. We exchanged information like where we lived and our home phone numbers. Meeting someone you have so much in common with and so much chemistry with is intoxicating.
The night of the performance I wore a red dress I borrowed from a girl I went to school with. It was a wrap dress, not too low-cut but just enough. It ended right above the knee and was silky to the touch. I felt beautiful, and I wanted Kevin to think I was beautiful too. When he looked at me he was surprised and obviously impressed. He told me how beautiful he thought I was, and I know I was glowing. Later he dedicated the song Lady In Red by Chris De Burgh to me. No one had ever dedicated a song to me before.
Kevin got his driver’s license and was allowed to pick me up at my house. We spent a lot of time at his house. He was the oldest of three boys who I came to adore. His parents were wonderful. They loved each other openly and welcomed all their kid’s friends into their home. It was my first experience with a happy, outdoorsy, fun, open, loving family, and I couldn’t get enough. We spent quite a bit of time at Kevin’s friend Tim’s house, too. There I got to know Kevin’s entire circle of friends. We both kept our grades up–in part to be able to see each other more. One of my friends, Kathi, was dating one of Kevin’s friends, so she and I would drive over to see them since she had her driver’s license. We had a blast together just hanging out.
I had big time chemistry with Kevin. Kissing him could last hours and didn’t feel like enough. We were both virgins and sex was something we both decided to save for marriage, so there was no pressure to take things further than we were both comfortable with, but sometimes it was difficult to hold back. There was a huge part of me that wanted this gentle, wonderful, thoughtful, passionate man to be my first experience with sex. Kevin was romantic and sweet and we laughed often. We were rarely alone so when he drove me home we would go “parking.”
We did all the same things Rene and I had done, but with more chemistry it felt different. Better. Euphoric. I loved Kevin to touch me and I equally loved exploring his body. Once when we were parking, I decided to try giving my first blow job. I had no idea what I was doing, but fortunately with young lust and excitement you can’t go wrong, and it didn’t take long. After we were done we decided to go to my apartment. I wanted a post blow job drink and grabbed lemonade. Big mistake! I discovered blow jobs and lemonade aren’t a good taste combination. It’s sometimes difficult in a young relationship to discuss new territory after it happens, but the lemonade debacle made us laugh so hard. It was easy for Kevin and me to talk about it. He told me it was awesome. Amazing. And thanked me. And I felt special and secure like I could conquer the world.
Kevin and I dated our entire junior year. It was a year of fun and not getting enough of each other, sticking to our boundaries and values, but getting my breasts felt up every chance I could. We made out and got hot and heavy everywhere we thought we wouldn’t get caught, like in a hidden corner of a friend’s basement or a hot tub on a trip with friends. We went to each other’s proms. I wore a light blue, strapless dress for both events. For Kevin’s prom he made dinner for me, and we ate at his house with some friends. The euphoria was a feeling you think will last forever. Until it doesn’t.
Kevin went away for a church activity for a week. That week changed him. When he came back he looked at me different. He ignored me when he came home. I was hurt and confused. Then he broke up with me. My entire world screeched to a halt. I was devastated. He didn’t tell me why at the time–that came later. But it didn’t matter. He was immovable. I wanted to talk to him, to understand what happened, but he had shut down from me completely.
Everything I felt as a child came rushing back. Being not good enough. Not worth it. Unlovable. Damaged. Broken. My heart was shattered into a million pieces. I didn’t think I would ever be able to open my heart to anyone again. Life moves ahead whether we want it to or not with no regard for the pain we experience. This was no exception.
Bad Boy Billie
The summer after my junior year I took a driver’s education class. Three of us were placed in a car with an instructor, and we had to log a certain amount of driving time. By this time I was 16 ½, so I was late getting my license due to the classes being so full. There were a lot of classes offered, mostly for kids who had failed and needed to retake a class. We all hung out on breaks, before, and after class. Our school offered classes for students coming from other smaller surrounding towns. That’s when I met Billie. He was from a small town nearby. He drove his motorcycle back and forth to school, he smoked, and it was obvious from his attitude that he had to retake classes. It appeared he had failed some from his “don’t give a shit” attitude. Billie lived with his grandmother. I didn’t know where his parents were. He was clearly interested in me by the way he looked at me. He had that bad-boy sensuality that made him seem older than he was.
I had spent enough time living in dysfunction and being on the streets that there was something familiar about Billie. I was drawn to him because of that, because he was a bad boy, because he was interested in me, and because of my recently broken heart. I only saw him at school, though. I turned him down when he asked me out. He played with the big boys, and I wasn’t stupid enough to be alone with him.
There was a pond we all went to in the summer called Big Rock. We’d swim and have fun. Some kids brought pot or alcohol and partied. I went with some friends and wore my black, one-piece swimsuit with the low back and the spots open on the sides paired with jean shorts. Billie was there. He was hanging with the “partiers,” drinking two liters of wine coolers and smoking pot. He stopped when he saw me. He came over and we chatted for a minute. I told him I wasn’t into drinking or smoking pot, so I didn’t want to hang out with him. Plus I came with friends. I wouldn’t blow them off. Billie stopped smoking and drinking after I commented about it. In the meantime, my friends started drinking and smoking pot, and I was worried about driving home with them. Being around people who partied reminded me of my father getting angry, or my mother’s parties, and I didn’t want any part of it.
Billie came over and talked to me again. I told him I wanted to go home, and he offered me a ride. I was honestly grateful because I didn’t want to go with friends who were getting loaded. I was nervous about being alone with Billie, but I really thought leaving the party was in my best interest. I got on his motorcycle, and he handed me a partially empty two liter of wine cooler to hold. I was dumping it out slowly while we were driving because I was afraid he was going to drink it and drive. We came to a four way stop and Billie didn’t turn the way home. He headed the opposite way. I told him he was going the wrong way, and he said he was going the right way because today was the day I would lose my virginity. I was terrified.
I was trapped. We were in the middle of nowhere on dirt roads. Getting off the bike wouldn’t do me any good. There was no place to run to and no one around. My blood ran cold and fear raced through me. Billie pulled over and I got off the motorcycle. I was holding the near empty bottle of wine cooler. He was mad because he knew I didn’t drink it, which meant I dumped it. I told him I didn’t want him to drink and drive. He grabbed my hand and led me into the woods. He let go of my hand and there was a stream back there so I went in it and sat down. The water was freezing, but I didn’t want to leave the safety of it. Billie took my hand and led me out. He told me to sit down. I sat down in the leaves and the twigs. I kept telling him I didn’t want to be there. I just wanted to go home. Today wasn’t the day I was supposed to lose my virginity.
He pushed me down on to my back and jerked my shorts off. Struggling just seemed to make him more determined and more rough, but I struggled anyway. I was crying and telling him I didn’t want to lose my virginity. He lay on top of me, trying to kiss me, being rough and shoving his tongue in my mouth. As I continued to talk and cry, he covered my mouth with one hand, roughly sucking on my neck. I was terrified of having hickeys–of any outward sign of what was happening to me. Already I didn’t want anyone to know. He moved down my body, letting go of my mouth and instead wrapping his hand around my throat. I wanted to be anywhere but there. Leaves, tree roots, and sticks were digging into my back, only adding to my discomfort. The smell of the woods, usually a comfort to me, now felt suffocating. I watched the sun play through the leaves in the trees, dancing above me, but it seemed more ominous than comforting. There was no beauty in the woods for me today.
I thought of Kevin and how sweet and kind he was. How much I loved being kissed and touched by him. How much we laughed. But this wasn’t Kevin. This was a boy much stronger than I was, and he was taking what I didn’t want to give. With one hand on my throat, the other was squeezing me and grabbing me, moving my bathing suit off my breasts. He was impatient and rough. I couldn’t stop crying, even though it made it more difficult to breathe with his hand on my throat. He pushed my bathing suit aside and shoved his fingers inside of me. It hurt. He told me he was getting me ready, getting me wet, but I only felt pain and humiliation. When he felt like I was ready, he held my bathing suit aside and slammed his hard cock inside of me. Over and over he slammed into me with one hand still on my throat and the other pinching my nipples painfully. Everything hurt. My breasts from being pinched, my neck from hickeys and being strangled, my mouth where his hand had been, my teeth that were digging into my lips, my vagina from him pounding into my virgin flesh, and my body from the forest floor. I wanted to die. I wanted to kill him.
My mind went to happier times and places. Times with Kevin when we were at the beach or walking together. Of when he kissed me with tenderness. I used happy thoughts of him to escape from where I was. The only constants were my tears and pleadings, now completely in vain. Fortunately, it was over fairly quickly. Billie got off me, stood up to fix his shorts and told me I was a terrible lay. He walked away as I laid in the leaves and sticks, sobbing uncontrollably. From a distance I heard the motorcycle rev up and leave. I didn’t care. I wanted to stay where I was and silently slip away. Today wasn’t the day I wanted to lose my virginity. Billie wasn’t the person.
After some time had passed, I felt my body throbbing, and I realized I had stopped crying. I got up and decided that of course I wanted to live, although I wasn’t certain how to move forward. I went to the river and rinsed myself off with the cold water I now seemed impervious to. My shorts and flip flops were nowhere to be found. I walked out of the woods away from the river in the direction of the road, barefoot with only my bathing suit on. I found the road eventually and decided to hitchhike home. The first car that approached slowed to a stop. It was Billie’s grandmother. I had seen her once before. She told me to get in. She told me Billie got home and yelled at her to go pick me up and give me a ride home. She apologized for her grandson and told me he would probably end up in jail with all the charges he had pending. Breaking and entering, theft, and robbery. I was silent on the way home, conflicted with the fact that Billie would tell her to get me. She was nearly blind, and I might have worried about her driving in the now dark, except part of me hoped we’d get in an accident. Part of me still wanted to die.
A New Day
The next day I found a turtleneck and cut the sleeves off. I thought it would be a good way to cover my neck without raising too many questions and, for the most part, it did. I never called the police. I never turned him in. I never got myself checked. I was terrified of being pregnant or of anyone knowing. I wanted to call Kevin, to see him, to feel good again like I did when I was with him. If he didn’t want me before, he certainly wouldn’t now. I was completely damaged goods. Of all the times I got out of being molested without penetration by The Monster and Monster Jr. to have this happen now astounded me. My faith in God never wavered, although I wondered how and why bad things happen to good people. At least I thought I was a good person.
My faith in humanity was hanging by a thread. But life moves forward despite our trials. Eventually my body healed. Quickly even. I had started my period a few months before, finally, but it wasn’t regular. Waiting and hoping I wasn’t pregnant from Billie was awful. I bought a pregnancy test. It was negative. Thank God. And then my period came and it felt cleansing and made me happy. A relief. I felt weak that I never turned Billie in.
I continued to work and hang out with friends throughout the summer. My mother was dating a man named Denis. He was shy and quiet and his hands trembled. He wasn’t much older than my mother and seemed like a nice guy. I still wasn’t interested in getting to know anyone she dated, but he didn’t yell or hit her so he was OK.
I got my driver’s license on my first try. The guy that drove with me for my test wasn’t much older than I was, and it was actually fun. I had asked my mother the week before if I could borrow the car on Friday, the day of my test. She cautioned me that I hadn’t even passed the test yet, but I was confident I would. I did, however, need to come up with $5 for gas. The day I got my license, I had gas money and a little extra. I took Kimmie to Montpelier, one town over, to a restaurant that served nachos smothered with meat, beans, cheese, sour cream, and guacamole. We ordered a plate and shared it, hung out together for a while, and then drove home. She’s the only one that I wanted to celebrate with. We still shared a room and were always there for each other. It was a great night.
Becoming A Warrior Princess
I have always been disappointed that I didn’t turn Billie in. I am the biggest advocate for girls to speak up and stand up for themselves. I succumbed to my fear and insecurities and stayed silent. It was the worst thing I could do. I was more worried about what people would think if they found out than in doing what was right. I’ve never looked him up online.
I gained independence by getting my driver’s license. I was confident about driving because Cindy was an excellent teacher and I had two years of experience.
Triumph with Love
This was a year of learning. I learned that I’m good in a crisis–until the crisis is over and I fall apart. But at least I’m solid while things are happening. I learned what it’s like to fall in love. How amazing it feels and that good relationships are wonderful. I learned that not everyone can be trusted and control can be an illusion. I learned I can heal from a broken heart and become stronger after being raped, but both take time. The seed was planted to do foster care and adopt, which helped me later in life when I went through infertility.
LEARN AND GROW
• Stay calm in crisis
• Fall in love with everything you are–if it falls apart, you will heal and be left with beautiful memories
• Visualization can get you through the rough patches
• You are a survivor and stronger for it