Word count 1000

                                        

“Look at this BS on TV,” cried Riley, scoffing at the cable news report one evening before supper.

“What is it?” asked Tricia, pausing in front of the set to stare at the female anchor.

Riley snorted “Some nonsense about rape.” he replied, pausing to drink from what was his fourth bottle of beer. On the screen, the anchor was relating the story of the forcible rape of a starlet by another actor.

“Why is it nonsense?” queried his wife.

Riley’s face showed contempt. “Because that’s what it is,” he retorted with heat. “Forcible rape! Lookit,” he said, “not a mark on her. Now, if it was statutory rape, then I could see it, but heck, she’s at least nineteen, if she’s a day. And look at who she’s accusing. Jason Jax is a handsome movie star. He can have all the babes he wants who are better looking than Jan Jeffers.”

“Just because she’s not beat up doesn’t mean it wasn’t forced.”

He shook his head, unconvinced. “Don’t believe it,” he said. “If a woman wants to, she can prevent a man from raping her. Don’t all women take some self-defense class these days? She could have stopped him.” He slurped more beer. Riley rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean, Trish. She gave it to him.”

“Next you’ll be saying she asked for it based on her movie roles or how she dressed.”

He shrugged. “You saying I’m wrong?”

“You’re living in a dream world, Riley,” she asserted. “Just because a woman isn’t covered in black and blue doesn’t mean she wasn’t forced to have sex.” She looked pointedly at her husband.

“What’re you,” he asked skeptically, “an expert on rape all of a sudden?”

“I did date men before I met you, you know,” she pointed out cryptically.

The effect was instantaneous. “Were you raped?” he said, his voice rising.

“It happened more than once before and after we got married,” she told him with a nonchalance that he found infuriating. He stared angrily at her, as though he might next accuse her of responsibility for the assaults.

“Before I knew you, a date got me drunk and raped me while I was unconscious. I didn’t file charges because I didn’t think I’d be believed, and I was afraid of the reaction of people who think like you.”

“Who raped you after we got married?”

“I’ll tell you,” she said, “but you have to promise you won’t hurt him.” He started to strenuously object, but seeing the look of determination on her face, he inhaled a breath of surrender and nodded.

“The only other man who has ever forced me, against my will, to have sex with him…is you.”

The silence hung heavy in the air for some moments, before he responded.”Trish, I never…”

She nodded her head. “Yes, Riley, you have.” He stared at her, disbelieving. “Both times it’s happened, you’ve been drunk. As much as you drink, I’m surprised it hasn’t happened more.”

“Then why don’t I remember it?” he insisted. “Because I don’t remember a thing, and….”

“I remember,” she said simply. “You don’t think I’d make up something like this, just to make a point or to win an argument, do you?” He shook his head no. “I can only guess that you blacked out the experience because you were so loaded, or your brain won’t let you remember. I read up on it. You don’t form memories when you are blackout drunk. But,” she went on, “you wanted sex and you were going to have it. You didn’t hurt me much, but for the emotional damage.”

There was deep sorrow and regret in Riley’s eyes. “God,” he said, with self-loathing, “you must hate me. Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“It happend last year when were first married. Then it happened again over July 4th weekend. Both times, you’d been drinking. The first time, I told you I wasn’t in the mood, but you held me down and forced me. You hurt me. The second time I said no, but knew better than to fight. I asked my sister about it. She’s been married twice and said that’s never happened to her in either marriage. I was going to ask Mom but I was afraid she’d tell Dad and what he might do.” Riley gave her a hang dog look. “I love you, Riley,” she said, “and I couldn’t let anything happen to you.” I was embarrassed, not sure you’d believe me. I’ve wanted so badly to…confront you about it. I wasn’t sure how.”

When Riley didn’t say anything for a long moment, Tricia broke the silence. She asked him, “What are you thinking?”

“I was remembering, when I was just a kid,” he said. “My brother and I used to listen to my Mom and Dad having sex in their bedroom. It was so loud! I remember thinking; he was forcing her to do it. I didn’t want to accept it and anyway, by the time I was a teenager, it had stopped.” She touched his shoulder. “Dad used to drink a lot, too,” he said quietly. “He also used to buy those magazines–you know, Penthouse, Oui, all the others. They’d have stories and letters and it always made it sound like the girl wanted it, she was a tease, and had a ‘rape fantasy’ I think they called it. I guess that was pretty stupid, huh? I should tell you that I’ve been warned about coming into work drunk.”

Biting her bottom lip, Tricia only nodded. “There have got to be some changes, Riley,” she murmured. He nodded gravely. She took a deep breath, released it. “Wash up, time for supper,” she said, walking back towards the kitchen. “Want another beer with supper?” she asked, turning back.

He shook his head. “No,” he said. “That’s just one of the changes we’re going–I’m going–to have to make.”

Our first successful collaboration. Appears in Collaborature and Synchronized Chaos