“Hmm.” Lisa seemed to be considering. “I don’t think sex works like that. I mean, I don’t know for sure. But sex is like, I mean, aren’t we tapping into a different part of ourselves? It’s like, not something you can apply logic to, you know? You like what you like, and as long as it doesn’t hurt someone, or it’s not illegal, then I’m pretty sure anything goes. Don’t you think?”
Gabby didn’t wait for me to respond, instead asking, “First, did he do anything to hurt you?”
Now I shook my head vehemently. “No. Not at all.”
Gabby’s gaze flickered over me, and I got the sense a suspicion was forming in her mind. My heart quickened as a result and I finished the rest of the wine in three large gulps.
“Mona.”
“Gabby,” I rasped, my throat tight, experiencing one of those odd moments where you know what’s going to happen, what another person is going to say, but you’re powerless to stop it.
“Is this about that thing that happened when you were fifteen?”
Our gazes locked, her green eyes intense. Mine were probably cagey.
“Is there any more wine?” I asked. Now my heart was hammering.
“You should slow down.” Gabby motioned to the bowl beside me, her tone firm. “Eat your ice cream and answer the question.”
“What am I missing?” Lisa sat forward on the couch, reaching for a spoon and dusting her chocolate ice cream with peanuts. “What happened when Mona was fifteen?”
Gabby made a choking sound. “You never told Lisa?”
I had to clear my throat. “I told you, nothing—”
“Holy shit, you still believe nothing happened? I swear to God, Mona. Get a fucking grip. You were assaulted!”
“What?” Lisa whisper-shrieked, dropping the peanut spoon with a clatter.
I stood up, setting my bowl on the table, turning toward the kitchen first, then the front door, and then the bathroom. “I have to—”
“No, you don’t.” Gabby also stood, placing herself in my path and grabbing my shoulders. “Tell your sister. Tell her. Or don’t but tell someone! Why do you insist on carrying this trauma around? As my therapist always says, you have to confront trauma or else you’ll never be able to move past it.”
“Okay.” I nodded, not really hearing her, my mind in disorder, my hands trembling, but my voice was perfectly calm as I said, “But first I need to pee.”
Gabby released me, shaking her head and lifting her arm toward the bathroom. “Go, then.”
I sprinted toward the bathroom, catching the first part of Lisa’s whispered, “You need to tell me what the hell happened before I . . .”