Eric Ascot! That’s her uncle, thought Coco. The girls looked wide-eyed at each other. The mention of Eric Ascot’s relationship to Deedee was a big surprise to them. Eric Ascot was one of the most popular producers in the music industry.
“Those muthas, whoo! I don’t believe…” Coco exclaimed.
“I don’t believe that shit. But that’s city life for ya...man,” Josephine said as she stared straight ahead. “That’s why my dad wants to leave the city.”
“Your dad’s a player, Jo. That’s why he wants to leave the city.”
“They fucking did her.” The words were so final that they made the air go dead inside the taxi. The ride continued in virtual silence. Nothing said until they reached the building where Josephine and her parents lived. Coco paid the fare, and the girls walked to the entrance of the huge building.
“Dammit. I don’t have any cigarettes,” Coco said after searching the pockets of her oversized jeans.
“We could get some stoges off my parents,” Josephine said.
She opened the door and the girls walked in. Coco gave an excuse for not calling home. She knew her mother would be asleep or drunk, probably both. Danielle called her mother. Josephine led the way to her room, and the girls followed in silence. Once inside the room, Josephine turned the television on. All three girls plopped down on the small bed. Josephine sprang up and tossed the remote to Coco, who began to scan the channels.
“Nothing but reruns,” Danielle said. Coco continued to channel surf. Talk shows and religious programs. “Misty and overcast,” the weatherman reported.
Josephine left the room and reappeared ten minutes later with milk, soda, water, cookies and cigarettes. Coco helped herself to a cigarette and soda. She lit up and took a drag.
“This was a fucked-up evening, yo!” she proclaimed, her thoughts disappearing in the cloud as she reminisced over the still-unsettling events. The girls sat around, nodding their heads in agreement.
“Yep,” Danielle finally said. “This was more a fright night than any thriller could bring.”
“Shit’s foul,” Coco said, and leaned back, closing her eyes.
The room seemed to grow smaller. Josephine had always liked to get away to this space. When she closed the door all the world’s trouble stayed on the other side—except for today. The dawn had already dragged something sinister across the threshold of her room.
THREE
In the emergency room, Deedee lay on a stretcher. Her eyelids felt heavy, but she could not sleep. A nurse sympathetically smiled down at her. Deedee had just retold the most horrifying saga in her young life. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, she thought. I was just trying to have some fun, but it turned out to be the worst. She had to tell the story to the police, who had brought her here. They showed no compassion. They made her feel cheap, like it was all her fault. Then there were the doctors and nurses, who tried to get more information.
“Did they penetrate? Was it oral, anal or vaginal?”
Damn it, I was raped, Deedee wanted to scream at those fucking rape advocates, with their phony ass promises. Yeah sure, it will be forgotten. Deedee was lost in thought when the smiling nurse approached and began to speak.
“Feeling a bit better? Can I get you some water?” The smile annoyed Deedee. She wanted to lash out at the next person in a white uniform. She wanted to yell, “I’ve been violated. I want my virginity back!” But she just lay on the stretcher. Finally, she sat up.
“Water please,” she said.
“Oh sure,” the nurse replied. She brought a cup of water to Deedee. “You may get dressed anytime you wish. The bruises will soon be gone,” she added.
“I’m scarred for life,” Deedee said. The words poured out in a soft cry.
“It will get better. It’s going to take some time. You’ll have to come back for a follow-up, or you may see your family doctor. Call this phone number for the results of your HIV tests. Your uncle is here.” The words sent a chill through Deedee.
“My uncle is here?” Deedee echoed and took the card with the phone number.
Her mind lingered. How was she gonna face him, she wondered. He was gonna be so mad at her. Deedee felt ashamed and instinctively covered her body with the hospital robe. This was not enough. She glanced around the room. It seemed everyone was staring at her, or talking about her. They all knew. She could see it in their eyes, even though they were all in the hallway, and she had a screen around the stretcher.
“Nurse, where are my clothes?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Here you are. Your uncle brought these,” the nurse said and handed Deedee fresh clothing. They were her own gears but she didn’t feel right putting them on.
“Thanks,” Deedee said. She sat on the stretcher, and a younger woman in a dark suit approached. Here we go again, thought Deedee.
“Hi, I’m Maxine Singleton and I am a rape victim counselor.” Her stare made Deedee uneasy. “Here’s my card,” the woman said. “Feel free to call me. I know you’ve had an awful and scary experience. You’re going to need a lot of help. I can provide that. All you need to do is call the number on the card and I will call to check on you periodically. But you should call me whenever you need someone to talk to. Call me and I’ll try to help,” concluded the counselor. Deedee took the card and stared past the fast-talking counselor.
“May I leave now?” she asked.
“I think the police have some more questions. I’ll stay with you if you don’t mind.”
As if on cue, a policeman and a woman came around the screen. Deedee’s uneasiness returned. She lay back on the stretcher and crossed her legs.
“My name is Officer Brown. I’m from the District Attorney’s office,” said the woman, dressed in a blue suit with black shoes. She looked more like a lawyer than a cop. She even smelled like one. Her perfumed hand was highlighting every word.
“How’re you feeling Deedee?” the male officer asked. Deedee mumbled something inaudibly. Everyone peered at her when she cleared her throat. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“We know it’s a very difficult thing for you to do, but please, you have to try and help us catch the men who did this to you.”
Deedee was close to tears. The query made her go back to the ordeal, which she sought to escape. It assaulted her mind, and started an ache in her stomach that rose to her throat. She cried uncontrollably.
Her uncle, standing just outside the screen, dashed in and grabbed Deedee. She sobbed into his chest. He held her close, reluctant to let go. Officer Brown interrupted.
“We need to find out what happened, sir. Who are you?”
Ascot kept hugging his niece. He ignored the officer.
“Uncle, uncle. I’m sorry,” Deedee cried. “I’m so sorry,” she said, and the tears continued to flow.
“It’ll be alright,” Eric said.
He held Deedee, hoping she believed him. He wasn’t sure, but the phrase seemed to fit. He loved his niece. Eric had raised her since she was six years old, when her father, his brother and partner, was killed.
“Are you the uncle?” Officer Brown asked. “I have a question about—”
“What’s