She was named after a month in the Spring. She had dark hair and olive skin like me, she laughed freely, didn’t stop to think about the little things for too long, and we became fast friends in the 5th grade. Several years of sleepovers and birthday parties passed and in the 7th grade we were finally allowed to join the youth group at our church. Our leader was wild and charismatic, he shot Cheeto balls out of his nose and made us laugh endlessly. We all adored him like some big brother home from college.
One night, in the summer before 9th grade, at the girl whose name belongs in Spring’s house we stayed up late talking about boys, the other girls, and how 9th grade was clearly going to be the greatest year on Earth. What would it be like, we wondered, to have boyfriends at school…to walk around holding hands, and have someone to meet in front of your locker. The girl whose name belongs in Spring stopped talking when I brought up kissing. She fell silent, an unusual state for her.
“What?” I asked
“I’m scared.” She replied
“Why?”
“Because of my father”
“Is he really that strict?”
“Well, yes, but that isn’t why…it’s because of what he did…”
“….”
“…to me.” Said the girl whose name belongs in Spring
I bombarded her with questions; what did she mean? Had he hit her? He seemed so nice!
“No he has never hit me.” Said the girl whose name belongs in Spring
I stilled as the realizations hit me. Years of stranger danger videos flickered through my mind at an alarming rate, my heart beat quickened, and I felt paralyzed. That man was right down the hall! Could it be true?
“Girl whose name belongs in Spring,” I asked softly “What exactly did he do to you? Did he touch you?”
“Yes”
“Does he still touch you?”
“Not as much anymore.” I could hear the panic rising in her voice
“Does your mother know?”
“No!”
“You have to tell her!!!”
“NO!!! and anyway he almost never does it anymore. It was a lot worse a few years ago.”
I excused myself to go to the bathroom. I darted across the hall staring at her parents' bedroom door in fear. What do I do? I asked myself over and over. He’s so nice! How can it be true?! But she wouldn’t lie and she sounded so scared. She kept trying to brush it off like it was no big deal. She had tried to change the subject and told me to forget it. I was disgusted and completely mortified.
Back in her room, I told her again that she had to tell. Panicked she tried to talk me out of the idea, but I was unyielding. She asked me who we would tell, what would happen to her, her family, and her dad. I didn’t have any real answers.
“…if I told our youth leader, do you think he would let me live with him?”
“Maybe.” I said, though I was sure this would never happen. I knew it may be the only thing that got her to finally tell an adult.
“I could help him and his wife. I could babysit their baby.”
“Yeah, could work.” I said
A week later we were in a room with our youth leader. The girl whose name belongs in Spring was shaking, too scared to talk. She whispered terrible things in my ear and I repeated them to our youth leader. The details made me cringe, speaking them to a man made me uncomfortable, and the room covered in forest green fabric with large flowers made me claustrophobic.
I didn’t see the girl whose name belongs in Spring for weeks. I had no clue what had happened. I called her house everyday trying to get a hold of her. One day while babysitting, I called and her brother picked up. He yelled at me and called me a liar. He told me I had ruined their lives and if I called again, he would kill me.
The girl whose name belongs in Spring called me a few months later and told me she was okay. She said they took her dad away from the home and her brother thought I had made it all up.
“Did you tell him the truth?” I asked
“I tried, he doesn’t believe me. Don’t call the house anymore. I’ll call you whenever I can.”
She called a few more times over the next year, but the conversations were short. Anytime I tried to bring up her dad or what had happened, she cut the conversation off. The last time we talked in the 9th grade, she said her dad had moved back in. I didn’t understand. She gave me no answers and cut the conversation short.
I went the youth leader a few days later. He yelled “Why can’t you keep your mouth shut?” in my face. It shook me to my core. I had never seen him yell at anyone. He walked off and I was left crying and confused.
The summer after 12th grade, I was riding in a car with some friends. I was surprised to find out that one of them had just dated the girl whose name belongs in Spring.
“I was shocked to hear about what she did to you” He said
“What she did to me?” I asked
“Yeah, how she lied to you about her dad and then blamed it on you and told everyone you had made up the lie.” He replied.
Her dad had never touched her?! She had said that I made it up?!
Why had no one talked to me if they thought I had lied? No one had an answer. I did find out because her parents were from the Middle East that things had been that much harder on them. I found out she had told a fair amount of people it was my lie. So why tell the truth to her then boyfriend? Was the guilt too much or had she simply grown up?
I sent her a message on FB a few years ago asking her why. She didn’t reply.
To this day, it remains the worst lie anyone has ever involved me in.
