The Revenge of the Radioactive Lady - Elizabeth Stuckey-French [114]
Now she wished, wished so much that she hadn’t done it, because the more she thought about it, the more unnecessary the whole thing seemed. She could’ve happily gone her whole life without smelling that oniony rubbery thing which was like a persistent thin-skinned animal trying to slide down her throat. And she could’ve happily gone her whole life without enduring Buff’s treatment of her. He hadn’t hugged or kissed her or even looked her in the eyes. He hadn’t removed any of her clothing or his. Didn’t turn off his office light. Just unzipped his pants, pushed her down until she was sitting on his desk and then got down to business. He hadn’t even acted like he enjoyed it. It was more like he was performing some grim duty, encouraging himself with nasty words, which made Suzi feel really icky. And then afterward, there was his refusal to even pretend it meant something to him. He’d driven her home without saying a word, and she was so stunned by his behavior, and hers, that she didn’t speak either.
What had she expected? She’d expected hugging and kissing and professions of love, and maybe undressing and fondling, if they hadn’t been in an office. But what had happened—she hadn’t even known that men acted like that. She had to wonder: Did other men do such things? She found herself staring at the men walking past her house, in the car beside hers, her friends’ fathers, her own father! Grown-up, painfully ordinary men. Surely not!
For years she’d been warned repeatedly, boringly, about perverts, and had never thought much about what a pervert might do once he got hold of you, but now she supposed she knew at least some of it. She was ashamed, and disappointed in herself for not following Officer Friendly’s advice. She hadn’t run away or yelled or kicked him in the balls. Which she’d just assumed she’d do. She’d assumed she was brave and bold. She was Suzi! But, no, she’d stood there like a wimp and did as he asked, even though it made her sick. And the worst thing was—she’d asked for it! But why? Why had she?
When she got brave enough to ask her mother these questions, her mother’s response, after hugging Suzi, was to get on the phone. She called around, polling people about counselors; and many of them recommended Doris as the best person in town for “this sort of thing.”
Doris was the calmest woman Suzi’d ever met—soft-spoken and kind but no-nonsense and unflappable. On the old side. On the nondescript side. But Suzi kept watching Doris and marveling—Doris was a real counselor! Like the kind Ava went to!
Doris had told Suzi in no uncertain terms that it was a very good thing that her mother had overheard, because this kind of thing needed to come out in the open and not be a secret. That was the worst thing about it. The secret part. And Nance should’ve told her mother right away, Doris said. She said that Suzi really needed her parents’ protection against men like Buff.
When Suzi explained that she’d started it, that she’d told Buff she was available, Doris explained that Suzi was too young to understand the ramifications of what she was doing. She’d gone along with Buff because she didn’t know what would happen, and once she got into his office she was too intimidated, too frightened to act. Buff obviously had a lot of problems and was so immature he felt it was okay to act out the way he did.
When Suzi thought of Buff’s behavior, his heavy breathing and dirty talking—had he really compared her mouth to a pussy?—and his violent pumping away as “acting out,” Suzi wanted to giggle, but she stifled it because Doris was so serious. The thing was, Doris said, Buff was the adult, and he’d abused his position of authority that the church had given him, not just with Suzi and Ava but with all those other girls. It was a good thing, for everybody’s sake, that his behavior was discovered and stopped. Suzi was not responsible for any of the pain this was causing anyone. No, the blame lay squarely on Buff’s shoulders.
Tears