Friday 6 February 2009

Melissa Brown's Flight (outline for a novel)

There is something unsettling about airports. As soon as travellers have

crossed the border and find themselves on neutral ground, they don't

know how to carry themselves. In order to find their bearings, some

resort to tax-free shopping, whereas others strike up conversation with

a complete stranger and talk more honestly and openly than they would

ever do in their day-to-day lives. The latter happens to Melissa Brown,

a 21-year-old New Jerseyite.

It is the year 1983, and New Jersey is in the grip of a February

blizzard. Melissa is pacing up and down Newark Liberty International

Airport, waiting for a rescheduled flight to Stockholm. The shopping

area is crowded with stranded tourists and businessmen, and when she

walks by, they all peek at her tight pencil skirt, broad shoulders and

voluptuous, honey-coloured coiffure. But they shift their gaze as soon

as they see her face: although she is beautiful, she looks as if she hasn't

had a bath, a good night's sleep or a proper meal for days. As the delay

winds her up, she is oblivious of the attention she gets and then loses.

Nevertheless, a handsome young man in a Paul Smith suit is

before he abandons his leather holdall to go after her.

“Are you okay, girl?” he asks. His accent sounds European, but

Melissa can't pinpoint where he's from. Through her shoulder pad, she

feels his strong hand. His kind gesture overwhelms her, and, before she

knows it, she breaks down sobbing.

“I'm so sorry,” she says, “this has never happened to me

before. I haven't cried since...” With the palms of her hands, she wipes

her tears and golden curls out of her face. He notices how she forces

fashionably striped shirt with a white collar – and adjusts his thin tie

captivated by her features. He tucks his shirt into his trousers – it's a

herself not to clench her fists: the fingers and thumbs are awkwardly

pointing outward.

“I'm so sorry,” she says again. “It's the waiting. I can't do it. I

can't wait to get out of here.”

“Where are you going?” he asks. His hand is still on her

shoulder, and he gently pushes her to the bench where he left his hand

luggage.

“Sweden.”

“That's a beautiful country.”

“I wouldn't know. I've never been to Europe, but I'm pretty

sure anything is better than New Jersey.”

The young man offers her a seat and introduces himself as

Jabir. Still somewhat taken aback by her reaction, he tries to comfort

her by telling her about himself. He grew up in Iran but fled the

country in 1979 after his father, a professor at Tehran University,

criticised the Ayatollah in one of his lectures. Jabir now lives in

Amsterdam with his parents, where he's doing a PhD in econometrics.

He takes his studies seriously and is very ambitious. He is on his way

back to The Netherlands after presenting his research at a conference

in New Jersey.

recently graduated summa cum laude in anthropology at Princeton

University. Immediately after she finished her course in September

1982, she was appointed to design and organise educational trips for

New Horizon, one of the greatest organisations when it comes to

package holidays. This, she explains, is a very well-paid and

challenging job for an anthropologist.

“Are you on your way to Sweden for research, then?” Jabir

asks. How could he have known that reminding Melissa of the journey

To prove that she is just as ambitious as he is, she tells him she

Melissa likes his attitude, and his story calms her down a bit.

would make her cry again? Like a little girl that sees blood welling up

from her knee after falling on it, she is quiet for a second; then the

howling starts. Jabir presses her face against his shoulder and strokes

her head until her tears leave stains on the lapels of his jacket.

Without looking up, she starts to speak. “I don't think I'll ever

go on a research trip again. In all honesty, this will be my last flight

ever. I'm going to Stockholm to see Ingrid Nattfogel. She works at the

Swedish department of New Horizon, but my visit is not work-related.

Actually, that's a lie. Everything in my life is work-related. That's

exactly why I can't go on living like this. I'm sorry to burden you with

this...”

Jabir interrupts her apology and raises his voice. “Speak freely!

My name is Arabic for comforter or consoler, and that's exactly what I

intend to be for you!”

And with that, Melissa tells him how she was raped by her

manager, Wilfred Dolling.

“It was my first Friday afternoon at the office, and everyone

went for a drink. Sure, I had my share of parties at Princeton. I know

my limits when it comes to alcohol. This night, however, something

went terribly wrong. I can only remember my first Bellini, but I must

have knocked down quite a few more because the next thing I

worst of all, I had no idea why I was still wearing my shirt but couldn't

find my skirt and knickers. Over breakfast, Wilfred told me that we

had sex like hungry hyenas, but that we'd better not tell anyone at New

Horizon about it.”

Jabir puts his hand on her back again as Melissa presses her

face closer to his shoulder. She swallows the aching lump of memories

and emotions that clog her throat, and takes a deep breath.

She shudders at the memory. “I had no idea where I was, and,

remember is waking up to the most horrifying hangover.”

“In retrospect,” she continues, “I reckon he spiked my drink

with GHB before dragging me to his apartment. At first, I couldn't

remember anything. When I went home I felt so guilty towards

Timothy, my boyfriend, and I didn't dare to tell him about it. After the

weekend, I saw Wilfred again, and hearing his voice triggered

flashbacks to that night. He fucked me like a hungry hyena, all right,

but I lay in his bed like a dead antelope.”

Now that the dam has broken, the entire sea of Melissa's

experiences crashes onto the neutral ground of their conversation.

“I didn't dare tell anyone, let alone the police, about the rape

because I figured no one would believe me. I thought my parents

wouldn't understand why I hadn't told them immediately, and Timothy

would think that I was making it up to cover up for the fact that I had

cheated on him. And most of all, I feared that my friends from

Princeton and my colleagues at New Horizon would say that I got the

job because I flirted with Dolling. I was afraid people would say I

asked for it, or even deliberately slept with him. So I did nothing. I just

worked very hard, eighty hours a week, thinking about it constantly but

not being able to talk about it to anyone.

“Two weeks after the rape, at a New Horizon conference in

Iceland, I met Ingrid Nattfogel. Together, we thought up the most

amazing out of the box package holidays, went clubbing, got drunk

share cigarettes. One night, while we were mixing our own cocktails in

my hotel room, Ingrid told me about her lesbian experiences. I know

they're prosecuting homosexuals in Iran these days, but I found her

stories very enticing.”

“I fled that country, remember?” Jabir blushes at her reference

to his origin. “Don't worry, I won't judge you.”

“I'm sorry. The thing is, her stories were so warm and full of

love, I couldn't help envying the objects of her affection.”

smoker, I started to sneak out of meetings with Ingrid, so that we could

and had long, intimate conversations. Even though I had never been a

“Do you mean you started to develop lesbian feelings toward

her?” Jabir asks.

“In all honesty, yes, I did. And that's why I broke up with

Timothy.”

“As if you weren't lonely enough already,” Jabir says. “So did

you tell Ingrid about Dolling?”

“No.” Melissa shakes her head. Her voice sounds bitter, almost

angry. “But she made me feel like I could. I suppose I didn't because

Ingrid was the first person who managed to genuinely make me laugh

and feel after what had happened, do you know what I mean? I didn't

want to let Wilfred ruin the only thing that gave me joy.

“When I went back to New Jersey, I kept thinking back of the

lovely time we had together. I was hoping to meet Ingrid again on the

next business trip, and this prospect was the only reason why I could

cope with the continuous confrontation with my rapist.

“Meanwhile, Dolling made it very clear that the incident meant

nothing to him. He treated me like he treated everyone else, never

mentioned it and didn't seem to try anything again. He allocated

challenging assignments to me and made me work with interesting

people. Because this was what I always wanted, I was inclined to stay

in the job, even though I couldn't bare to meet him on a daily or even

tried my best to shine at New Horizon. At first, I reckon, my

colleagues didn't notice the difference, but I couldn't be the bright,

intelligent, creative and sociable girl I used to be any more; my heart

wasn't in it. After I broke up with Timothy, I cancelled all my

appointments with friends and didn't get back in touch with them. I

kept smoking, stopped eating and started to suffer from insomnia.

Whenever I did get a wink of sleep, my dreams were so vivid and

horrible that I regretted falling asleep the next morning.”

“I still really didn't want anyone to know about the rape and

weekly basis.

“Didn't your colleagues suspect anything?” Jabir looks

shocked.

“Well, after a couple of weeks, they started to notice that I

never had lunch with them and always tried to dodge business dinners.

I had to go through a lot of trouble to hide my eating disorder, and I

got really aggravated with anyone who told me to eat. The only person

that never bothered me with unwanted advice was Hester, a colleague

who has specialised in summer camps for kids. That's why I started to

trust Hester and told her about my crush on Ingrid.

“My unhealthy life style began to take its toll on my looks: I

developed big dark bags under my eyes, my skin went dry and pale,

my hair was lacklustre and I lost weight quickly. Of course, my parents

and Timothy noticed, and they were very worried about me. They were

right, and I knew they were: due to lack of sleep and food I started to

feel very weak, and I hated the way I looked. But whenever they said

something about my health, I got all defensive and snapped at them.

Two months after I started working at New Horizon, I was avoiding

them. They had to call the office if they wanted to speak to me. I feel

so guilty,” she sighs, “I haven't seen my folks since New Year's Eve.”

“Don't be so hard on yourself,” Jabir says. “Your secret formed

a glass bell around you; you were isolated from the rest of the world

and your parents didn't even realise they couldn't reach you. I can

“You're right, that's exactly how I felt. Anyway, in December,

there was another New Horizon conference in Los Angeles, and Hester

made sure that I could meet Ingrid again. Ingrid was shocked to see me

in such a state and told me to take better care of myself. She made me

promise that I would, and I actually ate a bowl of soup during

lunchtime. That night, Ingrid took me to a gay club, where we used

Crystal Meth.

to help you. Their kindness only emphasised how lonely you were.”

imagine how frustrating it must have been for you that they kept trying

“It was the most wonderful thing I have ever experienced. For

the first time in months, I was happy with myself again. I liked what I

saw in the grimy mirror in the loo, and I was proud of what I had

achieved. I danced and drank, and, by the end of the night, I felt

confident enough to kiss Ingrid. She was a really good kisser, and she

was really sweet afterwards, too. It was the best thing that has

happened to me since I graduated.

“When I returned to New Jersey, I was resigned to get my life

back on track because Ingrid had told me to. I got in touch with the

designated office confidant, and, for the first time, I told someone

about what Dolling did to me. The confidant advised me to go to the

police. I said I would consider it, but I felt like I was too late. Actually,

I thought it would only make things worse. The confidant also gave me

the address of a proper psychologist. I never went to see that

psychologist, either. I wanted to get through this on my own. I forced

myself to eat again, although I hated the fact that the weight went back

on very quickly. Hester and I made the same New Year's Resolution:

to give up cigarettes. We helped each other, and I haven't smoked

since. Yes, she started out as a good friend, but I now wish I never

trusted her.”

“Why?” Jabir asks. “Did she tell anyone you were in love with

Ingrid?”

behaviour. I didn't want to lose my only friend, you see, so I told

Hester I was ultra sensitive when it came to Wilfred, because of the

rape. The story shocked her greatly and she immediately wanted me to

go to the police.

“It was so awkward.” She shakes her head as if she still can't

believe it. “We were in a lunch room when I told her, and she just

started blubbering. Everyone was looking at me as though I had just

told my own mother I didn't love her any more. I know it affected her

got into a fight over a simple task, I decided to explain my odd

“No, that's not it.” Melissa pauses to blow her nose. “When we

so much because she cared about me, but it just didn't seem right.

Even though I was the victim, I had to calm her down. Eventually, I

managed to convince her that it really was my decision whether I

would go to the police or not, and she agreed not to tell anyone.

“But Hester couldn't deal with the secret. After a week of

silence, she felt the need to tell another colleague what a terrible

person Dolling was. Unfortunately, word spread like an STD. I found

out about the gossiping when I got a call from Ingrid. At first, I was so

happy to hear her voice! But the gossip had even reached Sweden, and

she accused me of slander. She was furious and shouted that her full

name was Ingrid Nattfogel-Dolling. I was devastated: my reputation

and career were ruined, my only friend turned out not to be

trustworthy, and the only hope I could hold on to, Ingrid, had

collapsed. Not only is she Wilfred's sister, she's married too!

“After Ingrid hung up, I left the office in a daze. I didn't say

goodbye to anyone and wanted to commit suicide. On the way to the

train station, I pictured my life as a comic book and flicked through the

pages. The most colourful page showed the evening that I used Crystal

Meth with Ingrid.

“Still determined to kill myself, I couldn't help but wonder:

what does it matter if I use it once more? And so I scored another

portion from a junky. It was great stuff, even better than the first time.

wanted to tell Ingrid to her face exactly what her brother did to me, and

I thought I might just as well see Sweden before I killed myself.

“I was still under the influence of Crystal Meth when I headed

to Newark Airport. I insisted on buying a last minute one-way ticket to

Stockholm, even though the assistant at the ticket counter told me that

all flights had been rescheduled and some might even be cancelled, due

to the blizzard. I waved my New Horizon badge at him and said his

superior would want him to sell me the ticket. I know it was a stupid

became aware of another sensation: ultimate hatred for the Dollings. I

Man, I felt so high! I felt like flying! But as the trip proceeded, I

idea, but I just felt like I had to get away from New Jersey. The badge

did it, really. Even though it was against their policy, I got a ticket to

Stockholm. The high started to wear off when I crossed the border. I

was just getting back down to earth when you asked me how I was

doing.”

“So what are you going to do now?” Jabir asks.

“Much as I'd love to see Europe, I think I've got certain things

to take care of in New Jersey,” she says.

“You're not going to kill yourself, are you?”

“Oh no! Wilfred has hurt me enough already.” She shakes her

curls out of her face and straightens her back. She's still exhausted, but

there is something fierce about her posture that makes her look

indestructible.

“I'm going to call my parents,” she says, “and I'll ask them to

come to the police station with me. I want them to be there when I

make my statement. They need to know what I've been through.”

“They will wonder why you have never told them before,”

Jabir says, “and I can't promise they will understand, but they won't

doubt the truth of your story. Break that glass bell around you, dear!

But are you certain you want to make a statement? It won't be easy,

“I don't care whether I win; all I want is acknowledgement.

Wilfred tried to wipe my memory with GHB; I tried to wipe it by

working eighty hours a week. But I cannot possibly go on pretending it

hasn't happened, and neither can he. My story has to be taken

seriously, even if I can't prove anything. That's why I'm reporting the

rape to the police.”

There is something unsettling about airports. As soon as travellers have

crossed the border and find themselves on neutral ground, they don't

know how to carry themselves. In order to find their bearings, some

resort to tax-free shopping, whereas others strike up conversation with

a complete stranger and talk more honestly and openly than they would

ever do in their day-to-day lives. The latter happens to Melissa Brown,

a 21-year-old New Jerseyite.

It is the year 1983, and New Jersey is in the grip of a February

blizzard. Melissa is pacing up and down Newark Liberty International

Airport, waiting for a rescheduled flight to Stockholm. The shopping

area is crowded with stranded tourists and businessmen, and when she

walks by, they all peek at her tight pencil skirt, broad shoulders and

voluptuous, honey-coloured coiffure. But they shift their gaze as soon

as they see her face: although she is beautiful, she looks as if she hasn't

had a bath, a good night's sleep or a proper meal for days. As the delay

winds her up, she is oblivious of the attention she gets and then loses.

Nevertheless, a handsome young man in a Paul Smith suit is

before he abandons his leather holdall to go after her.

“Are you okay, girl?” he asks. His accent sounds European, but

Melissa can't pinpoint where he's from. Through her shoulder pad, she

feels his strong hand. His kind gesture overwhelms her, and, before she

knows it, she breaks down sobbing.

“I'm so sorry,” she says, “this has never happened to me

before. I haven't cried since...” With the palms of her hands, she wipes

her tears and golden curls out of her face. He notices how she forces

fashionably striped shirt with a white collar – and adjusts his thin tie

captivated by her features. He tucks his shirt into his trousers – it's a

herself not to clench her fists: the fingers and thumbs are awkwardly

pointing outward.

“I'm so sorry,” she says again. “It's the waiting. I can't do it. I

can't wait to get out of here.”

“Where are you going?” he asks. His hand is still on her

shoulder, and he gently pushes her to the bench where he left his hand

luggage.

“Sweden.”

“That's a beautiful country.”

“I wouldn't know. I've never been to Europe, but I'm pretty

sure anything is better than New Jersey.”

The young man offers her a seat and introduces himself as

Jabir. Still somewhat taken aback by her reaction, he tries to comfort

her by telling her about himself. He grew up in Iran but fled the

country in 1979 after his father, a professor at Tehran University,

criticised the Ayatollah in one of his lectures. Jabir now lives in

Amsterdam with his parents, where he's doing a PhD in econometrics.

He takes his studies seriously and is very ambitious. He is on his way

back to The Netherlands after presenting his research at a conference

in New Jersey.

recently graduated summa cum laude in anthropology at Princeton

University. Immediately after she finished her course in September

1982, she was appointed to design and organise educational trips for

New Horizon, one of the greatest organisations when it comes to

package holidays. This, she explains, is a very well-paid and

challenging job for an anthropologist.

“Are you on your way to Sweden for research, then?” Jabir

asks. How could he have known that reminding Melissa of the journey

To prove that she is just as ambitious as he is, she tells him she

Melissa likes his attitude, and his story calms her down a bit.

would make her cry again? Like a little girl that sees blood welling up

from her knee after falling on it, she is quiet for a second; then the

howling starts. Jabir presses her face against his shoulder and strokes

her head until her tears leave stains on the lapels of his jacket.

Without looking up, she starts to speak. “I don't think I'll ever

go on a research trip again. In all honesty, this will be my last flight

ever. I'm going to Stockholm to see Ingrid Nattfogel. She works at the

Swedish department of New Horizon, but my visit is not work-related.

Actually, that's a lie. Everything in my life is work-related. That's

exactly why I can't go on living like this. I'm sorry to burden you with

this...”

Jabir interrupts her apology and raises his voice. “Speak freely!

My name is Arabic for comforter or consoler, and that's exactly what I

intend to be for you!”

And with that, Melissa tells him how she was raped by her

manager, Wilfred Dolling.

“It was my first Friday afternoon at the office, and everyone

went for a drink. Sure, I had my share of parties at Princeton. I know

my limits when it comes to alcohol. This night, however, something

went terribly wrong. I can only remember my first Bellini, but I must

have knocked down quite a few more because the next thing I

worst of all, I had no idea why I was still wearing my shirt but couldn't

find my skirt and knickers. Over breakfast, Wilfred told me that we

had sex like hungry hyenas, but that we'd better not tell anyone at New

Horizon about it.”

Jabir puts his hand on her back again as Melissa presses her

face closer to his shoulder. She swallows the aching lump of memories

and emotions that clog her throat, and takes a deep breath.

She shudders at the memory. “I had no idea where I was, and,

remember is waking up to the most horrifying hangover.”

“In retrospect,” she continues, “I reckon he spiked my drink

with GHB before dragging me to his apartment. At first, I couldn't

remember anything. When I went home I felt so guilty towards

Timothy, my boyfriend, and I didn't dare to tell him about it. After the

weekend, I saw Wilfred again, and hearing his voice triggered

flashbacks to that night. He fucked me like a hungry hyena, all right,

but I lay in his bed like a dead antelope.”

Now that the dam has broken, the entire sea of Melissa's

experiences crashes onto the neutral ground of their conversation.

“I didn't dare tell anyone, let alone the police, about the rape

because I figured no one would believe me. I thought my parents

wouldn't understand why I hadn't told them immediately, and Timothy

would think that I was making it up to cover up for the fact that I had

cheated on him. And most of all, I feared that my friends from

Princeton and my colleagues at New Horizon would say that I got the

job because I flirted with Dolling. I was afraid people would say I

asked for it, or even deliberately slept with him. So I did nothing. I just

worked very hard, eighty hours a week, thinking about it constantly but

not being able to talk about it to anyone.

“Two weeks after the rape, at a New Horizon conference in

Iceland, I met Ingrid Nattfogel. Together, we thought up the most

amazing out of the box package holidays, went clubbing, got drunk

share cigarettes. One night, while we were mixing our own cocktails in

my hotel room, Ingrid told me about her lesbian experiences. I know

they're prosecuting homosexuals in Iran these days, but I found her

stories very enticing.”

“I fled that country, remember?” Jabir blushes at her reference

to his origin. “Don't worry, I won't judge you.”

“I'm sorry. The thing is, her stories were so warm and full of

love, I couldn't help envying the objects of her affection.”

smoker, I started to sneak out of meetings with Ingrid, so that we could

and had long, intimate conversations. Even though I had never been a

“Do you mean you started to develop lesbian feelings toward

her?” Jabir asks.

“In all honesty, yes, I did. And that's why I broke up with

Timothy.”

“As if you weren't lonely enough already,” Jabir says. “So did

you tell Ingrid about Dolling?”

“No.” Melissa shakes her head. Her voice sounds bitter, almost

angry. “But she made me feel like I could. I suppose I didn't because

Ingrid was the first person who managed to genuinely make me laugh

and feel after what had happened, do you know what I mean? I didn't

want to let Wilfred ruin the only thing that gave me joy.

“When I went back to New Jersey, I kept thinking back of the

lovely time we had together. I was hoping to meet Ingrid again on the

next business trip, and this prospect was the only reason why I could

cope with the continuous confrontation with my rapist.

“Meanwhile, Dolling made it very clear that the incident meant

nothing to him. He treated me like he treated everyone else, never

mentioned it and didn't seem to try anything again. He allocated

challenging assignments to me and made me work with interesting

people. Because this was what I always wanted, I was inclined to stay

in the job, even though I couldn't bare to meet him on a daily or even

tried my best to shine at New Horizon. At first, I reckon, my

colleagues didn't notice the difference, but I couldn't be the bright,

intelligent, creative and sociable girl I used to be any more; my heart

wasn't in it. After I broke up with Timothy, I cancelled all my

appointments with friends and didn't get back in touch with them. I

kept smoking, stopped eating and started to suffer from insomnia.

Whenever I did get a wink of sleep, my dreams were so vivid and

horrible that I regretted falling asleep the next morning.”

“I still really didn't want anyone to know about the rape and

weekly basis.

“Didn't your colleagues suspect anything?” Jabir looks

shocked.

“Well, after a couple of weeks, they started to notice that I

never had lunch with them and always tried to dodge business dinners.

I had to go through a lot of trouble to hide my eating disorder, and I

got really aggravated with anyone who told me to eat. The only person

that never bothered me with unwanted advice was Hester, a colleague

who has specialised in summer camps for kids. That's why I started to

trust Hester and told her about my crush on Ingrid.

“My unhealthy life style began to take its toll on my looks: I

developed big dark bags under my eyes, my skin went dry and pale,

my hair was lacklustre and I lost weight quickly. Of course, my parents

and Timothy noticed, and they were very worried about me. They were

right, and I knew they were: due to lack of sleep and food I started to

feel very weak, and I hated the way I looked. But whenever they said

something about my health, I got all defensive and snapped at them.

Two months after I started working at New Horizon, I was avoiding

them. They had to call the office if they wanted to speak to me. I feel

so guilty,” she sighs, “I haven't seen my folks since New Year's Eve.”

“Don't be so hard on yourself,” Jabir says. “Your secret formed

a glass bell around you; you were isolated from the rest of the world

and your parents didn't even realise they couldn't reach you. I can

“You're right, that's exactly how I felt. Anyway, in December,

there was another New Horizon conference in Los Angeles, and Hester

made sure that I could meet Ingrid again. Ingrid was shocked to see me

in such a state and told me to take better care of myself. She made me

promise that I would, and I actually ate a bowl of soup during

lunchtime. That night, Ingrid took me to a gay club, where we used

Crystal Meth.

to help you. Their kindness only emphasised how lonely you were.”

imagine how frustrating it must have been for you that they kept trying

“It was the most wonderful thing I have ever experienced. For

the first time in months, I was happy with myself again. I liked what I

saw in the grimy mirror in the loo, and I was proud of what I had

achieved. I danced and drank, and, by the end of the night, I felt

confident enough to kiss Ingrid. She was a really good kisser, and she

was really sweet afterwards, too. It was the best thing that has

happened to me since I graduated.

“When I returned to New Jersey, I was resigned to get my life

back on track because Ingrid had told me to. I got in touch with the

designated office confidant, and, for the first time, I told someone

about what Dolling did to me. The confidant advised me to go to the

police. I said I would consider it, but I felt like I was too late. Actually,

I thought it would only make things worse. The confidant also gave me

the address of a proper psychologist. I never went to see that

psychologist, either. I wanted to get through this on my own. I forced

myself to eat again, although I hated the fact that the weight went back

on very quickly. Hester and I made the same New Year's Resolution:

to give up cigarettes. We helped each other, and I haven't smoked

since. Yes, she started out as a good friend, but I now wish I never

trusted her.”

“Why?” Jabir asks. “Did she tell anyone you were in love with

Ingrid?”

behaviour. I didn't want to lose my only friend, you see, so I told

Hester I was ultra sensitive when it came to Wilfred, because of the

rape. The story shocked her greatly and she immediately wanted me to

go to the police.

“It was so awkward.” She shakes her head as if she still can't

believe it. “We were in a lunch room when I told her, and she just

started blubbering. Everyone was looking at me as though I had just

told my own mother I didn't love her any more. I know it affected her

got into a fight over a simple task, I decided to explain my odd

“No, that's not it.” Melissa pauses to blow her nose. “When we

so much because she cared about me, but it just didn't seem right.

Even though I was the victim, I had to calm her down. Eventually, I

managed to convince her that it really was my decision whether I

would go to the police or not, and she agreed not to tell anyone.

“But Hester couldn't deal with the secret. After a week of

silence, she felt the need to tell another colleague what a terrible

person Dolling was. Unfortunately, word spread like an STD. I found

out about the gossiping when I got a call from Ingrid. At first, I was so

happy to hear her voice! But the gossip had even reached Sweden, and

she accused me of slander. She was furious and shouted that her full

name was Ingrid Nattfogel-Dolling. I was devastated: my reputation

and career were ruined, my only friend turned out not to be

trustworthy, and the only hope I could hold on to, Ingrid, had

collapsed. Not only is she Wilfred's sister, she's married too!

“After Ingrid hung up, I left the office in a daze. I didn't say

goodbye to anyone and wanted to commit suicide. On the way to the

train station, I pictured my life as a comic book and flicked through the

pages. The most colourful page showed the evening that I used Crystal

Meth with Ingrid.

“Still determined to kill myself, I couldn't help but wonder:

what does it matter if I use it once more? And so I scored another

portion from a junky. It was great stuff, even better than the first time.

wanted to tell Ingrid to her face exactly what her brother did to me, and

I thought I might just as well see Sweden before I killed myself.

“I was still under the influence of Crystal Meth when I headed

to Newark Airport. I insisted on buying a last minute one-way ticket to

Stockholm, even though the assistant at the ticket counter told me that

all flights had been rescheduled and some might even be cancelled, due

to the blizzard. I waved my New Horizon badge at him and said his

superior would want him to sell me the ticket. I know it was a stupid

became aware of another sensation: ultimate hatred for the Dollings. I

Man, I felt so high! I felt like flying! But as the trip proceeded, I

idea, but I just felt like I had to get away from New Jersey. The badge

did it, really. Even though it was against their policy, I got a ticket to

Stockholm. The high started to wear off when I crossed the border. I

was just getting back down to earth when you asked me how I was

doing.”

“So what are you going to do now?” Jabir asks.

“Much as I'd love to see Europe, I think I've got certain things

to take care of in New Jersey,” she says.

“You're not going to kill yourself, are you?”

“Oh no! Wilfred has hurt me enough already.” She shakes her

curls out of her face and straightens her back. She's still exhausted, but

there is something fierce about her posture that makes her look

indestructible.

“I'm going to call my parents,” she says, “and I'll ask them to

come to the police station with me. I want them to be there when I

make my statement. They need to know what I've been through.”

“They will wonder why you have never told them before,”

Jabir says, “and I can't promise they will understand, but they won't

doubt the truth of your story. Break that glass bell around you, dear!

But are you certain you want to make a statement? It won't be easy,

“I don't care whether I win; all I want is acknowledgement.

Wilfred tried to wipe my memory with GHB; I tried to wipe it by

working eighty hours a week. But I cannot possibly go on pretending it

hasn't happened, and neither can he. My story has to be taken

seriously, even if I can't prove anything. That's why I'm reporting the

rape to the police.”

3 comments:

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  2. An interesting, if rather depressing, story. Got anything more upbeat in the pipeline?

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