He Hurt Her Too

When I was twenty in the late 1960’s, my best friend from high school and I got an apartment together, and it was fun. We bought gently-used furniture and almost-antique dishes from the many thrift stores in Minneapolis-St. Paul, Minnesota at the time. Our taste in decorating was similar so we soon had a very pretty apartment. We both had steady weekday jobs, and also we shared shifts on a weekend job as restaurant hostesses at a nice hotel out on the beltway.

I did not mention to my girlfriend that I had been raped the year before because I thought that I had moved far enough away from the rapist, but my grandmother told him where I was. The rapist came looking for me, and when my girlfriend told him that I was out, he broke down the door, and raped her. She blamed me for the hurt the repulsive rapist caused her. I do not know what lies he told her because she could not speak. I did not know what questions to ask, or how. My girlfriend and I lost our friendship, we lost our apartment, and we both lost money getting started again on our own broken paths.