Sorry

*TRIGGER WARNING: SEXUAL ASSAULT*

You’re not sure if you remember it correctly, you tell yourself. He said he was sorry and his sorry starts filling in the blanks for you. The last things you remember become the first. The Christmas lights hanging above his room. You think there was a brown robe but it could just be the tuffs of hair on his chest.

I don’t remember a lot of things but I remember what I wore that night. I think about it every time I get naked in front of a boy without letting him touch me. Is this too much? Is this too much? Am I taking off too much to the point you want me? To the point it’s out of my control?

I wore a white undershirt and a long skirt. I wanted to impress him because I liked him. I wore tall green underwear. The kind my ex made fun of because he said they were for “old ladies.” Maybe he never said this, but I know it’s what he meant. Maybe I don’t remember it correctly and I’ve started filling in the blanks for him.

At some point, I turn to face him. I’m 20 and tired and drunk and lonely and want someone to love me, in whatever term the word “love” means. For me, it’s sleep. For me, it’s sleeping next to someone you like. I don’t know when climbing in to bed meant “yes” but it translates to “yes.” Definitive. Maybe it was when I took off the green skirt I picked out earlier so I could lay comfortably. Maybe it was when I didn’t say no. All I know is I turned to face him and the Christmas lights overhead were the last lights I saw.

The first lights I saw.

Lasts became firsts. Our first kiss. Our first touch. You’re not sure you envisioned it this way but this is the way it is now. Finding out four months later he didn’t use a condom. Finding out tomorrow morning he ate you out on your period. Finding out the minute you wake up, the first words out of his mouth are

“sorry.”