clearly—Lena’s big eyes alight in her face, and the innocently flirtatious look she’d given him when he’d asked if she had a beau. It had seemed so simple at the time.
“I courted her for several months, and we were stupid in love. But she was a good girl, wore her Saint’s medal on a chain around her neck every single day, so it was just courting. We kissed, but she never let me go no further than that.” And if at times his desire for her had seemed like more than he could bear, it had also been part of what made her so alluring.
He had to take a deep breath before he could say the next bit. “We got engaged, and I can’t tell you how happy I was. But then three weeks to the day before we were supposed to be married, she was raped.” He had to hold very still as he said the words. He had to hang onto the edge of the bunk, just to keep himself grounded. “My ship was due in, and she went down to the docks to meet me, but we were late and three dockhands got her first.”
He shook his head, remembering the helplessness and the rage he’d felt. Three men, gone before anybody found her huddled and sobbing in the alley. “My eyes were closed,” she’d said over and over, when they tried to ask who’d done it. “My eyes were closed.” Like a mantra, as if it might have protected her.
“Oh, Simon, that’s so awful!”
Simon nodded, because it was all he could do. At the time, he’d known about rape in theory, but he hadn’t realised the ruthless horror of the act or its brutality. It had never occurred to him how some men used their desire as a weapon, or how they looked at women as tools rather than people, just something to be used. He began to realise then how vulnerable women were, just living day to day. How they were dependent upon men, at their mercy, and instead of helping, some men took advantage in the worst ways. And the damage it did was more than he could ever have imagined. “That kind of thing,” he said to Frances, making himself move on, “it does something to women. They may walk away, but I think it kills something inside of them. Maybe not all of them, I guess, but it did for her. I didn’t know right away.” But he’d learned. He’d had plenty of time over the years to think about it.
“Did they ever catch them?”
Simon shook his head. “When we went to the magistrate to ask for help, he said, ‘She was on the dock. Everybody knows what kind of woman loiters by the shipyard.’”
Repeating those words made the horrible anger rise up again in his breast, as hot and strong as it had been that day. He’d flown at the man, determined to wring his flabby white neck, but his shipmates, the ones who were trying to help, had stopped him. They’d had to drag him away.
He sighed, swallowing the anger. He was heading down the wrong path, he knew, letting his rage at what had happened distract him from the real story. He rubbed his temples with his fingers, making himself move back to what mattered most.
“Her father had no idea what to do. Neither did I. It wasn’t just that she was hurt. She was embarrassed. And ashamed . I never understood that, but she was.”
“Did you still marry her?”
“I did. She swore she wanted to go through with it, but things were never really the same.”
Lena had never been the same. That was the point he couldn’t quite bring himself to expound on. She was like a flower that had wilted. As if the light inside her had gone out. She turned in on herself. She’d sit, lost in her head for hours. He’d try to talk to her and realise she hadn’t heard him at all. “I’m fine,” she’d say, if he dared to ask. “My eyes were closed.”
“Simon?” Frances asked quietly, and Simon realised he’d been sitting silent for too long, lost inside his head as Lena had so often been in those days.
“I don’t know what I thought would happen. I guess I didn’t think about it much at all. I loved her, and she said she wanted to be married. I thought
“I courted her for several months, and we were stupid in love. But she was a good girl, wore her Saint’s medal on a chain around her neck every single day, so it was just courting. We kissed, but she never let me go no further than that.” And if at times his desire for her had seemed like more than he could bear, it had also been part of what made her so alluring.
He had to take a deep breath before he could say the next bit. “We got engaged, and I can’t tell you how happy I was. But then three weeks to the day before we were supposed to be married, she was raped.” He had to hold very still as he said the words. He had to hang onto the edge of the bunk, just to keep himself grounded. “My ship was due in, and she went down to the docks to meet me, but we were late and three dockhands got her first.”
He shook his head, remembering the helplessness and the rage he’d felt. Three men, gone before anybody found her huddled and sobbing in the alley. “My eyes were closed,” she’d said over and over, when they tried to ask who’d done it. “My eyes were closed.” Like a mantra, as if it might have protected her.
“Oh, Simon, that’s so awful!”
Simon nodded, because it was all he could do. At the time, he’d known about rape in theory, but he hadn’t realised the ruthless horror of the act or its brutality. It had never occurred to him how some men used their desire as a weapon, or how they looked at women as tools rather than people, just something to be used. He began to realise then how vulnerable women were, just living day to day. How they were dependent upon men, at their mercy, and instead of helping, some men took advantage in the worst ways. And the damage it did was more than he could ever have imagined. “That kind of thing,” he said to Frances, making himself move on, “it does something to women. They may walk away, but I think it kills something inside of them. Maybe not all of them, I guess, but it did for her. I didn’t know right away.” But he’d learned. He’d had plenty of time over the years to think about it.
“Did they ever catch them?”
Simon shook his head. “When we went to the magistrate to ask for help, he said, ‘She was on the dock. Everybody knows what kind of woman loiters by the shipyard.’”
Repeating those words made the horrible anger rise up again in his breast, as hot and strong as it had been that day. He’d flown at the man, determined to wring his flabby white neck, but his shipmates, the ones who were trying to help, had stopped him. They’d had to drag him away.
He sighed, swallowing the anger. He was heading down the wrong path, he knew, letting his rage at what had happened distract him from the real story. He rubbed his temples with his fingers, making himself move back to what mattered most.
“Her father had no idea what to do. Neither did I. It wasn’t just that she was hurt. She was embarrassed. And ashamed . I never understood that, but she was.”
“Did you still marry her?”
“I did. She swore she wanted to go through with it, but things were never really the same.”
Lena had never been the same. That was the point he couldn’t quite bring himself to expound on. She was like a flower that had wilted. As if the light inside her had gone out. She turned in on herself. She’d sit, lost in her head for hours. He’d try to talk to her and realise she hadn’t heard him at all. “I’m fine,” she’d say, if he dared to ask. “My eyes were closed.”
“Simon?” Frances asked quietly, and Simon realised he’d been sitting silent for too long, lost inside his head as Lena had so often been in those days.
“I don’t know what I thought would happen. I guess I didn’t think about it much at all. I loved her, and she said she wanted to be married. I thought
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