“Do you know what are you going to do?” I ask Patricia, trying to pull myself out of the spiral of self-doubt that Roxanne had unknowingly thrown me into.
“You’re not going to like this answer, I think, but I really want to take the settlement.”
I wince, even though I knew it was coming. “I know you don’t want to do it, but you need to report him to the police, Patricia. No matter what you think of this, if you were drunk, you couldn’t consent to what he did. The settlement is to buy your silence.”
She shakes her head in disapproval. “I already told you it doesn’t feel that way to me!”
“Because he manipulated you,” I tell her, my voice more serious and graver than before. “So much so that you didn’t even notice it. But the reality is that he took complete and total advantage of you. If you don’t report him to the police and get him arrested, he could easily go to a different escort agency and do the same thing to another young girl.”
“I’m not a ‘young girl,’ Andries, I’m a grown woman. I don’t need you or anyone else to tell me how I feel.”
I want to argue that she just became an adult a month ago, but I know that it won’t get me on her good side. “Next time itmight not be a grown woman, though. You could stop this right here, right now. I’ll take you to the police station if you want.”
“But…that settlement money would change my life.” I can see a sheen of tears in her eyes, and it twists my heart.
“If you sue him, you could get five times that, or even more. You’d never have to worry about money again, and you’d be doing the right thing in the long run to protect other girls.”
Looking back down at her hands where she was twisting the hoodie fabric again and again, Patricia is quiet for a long time. Finally, I see her reach up and wipe her eyes with her sleeves before she meets my eyes again.
“Five times more you say?” she asks with a small voice, a pensive air lacing her features.
I’m a bit surprised at her question, but nod. “Yeah, maybe even more. God knows who that man is.”
Patricia dips her eyes down to her lap again and remains quietly ruminating further for a few more instants.
All of a sudden, I hear her expelling a breath and she leaps off of bed. “Fine, let’s go, then.”
***
I call the most private driving company I know of, and after Patricia changes again into a pair of jeans, I direct the driver to take us to the police station. Patricia seems like she wants to bolt the entire time, and I know if I make one wrong move, she’ll balk and refuse to report.
Her hesitation to report in the first place is making me feel torn. I’d been so angry that Roxanne had manipulated her, but if she didn’t want to make the report, did that mean I was also manipulating her? I want to be positive that I’m just leading her in the right direction, but as always, anything to do withRoxanne leaves me feeling unsure. I had read many books about victims denying their own assault as a coping mechanism, and Patricia seems to be doing just that. Still, I can’t help but second guess the decision for a brief moment while we are on the back seats.
Once we reach the police department, Patricia looks seconds away from vomiting. I offer to go in with her, but that seems to make her feel even worse, so I let her go in alone, waiting patiently in the car while the poor girl goes to do what must be one of the most painful things of her life.
Nearly an hour later, she looks pale and drawn when she finally sits back beside me, answering my questions with short, one-word answers while keeping her eyes toward the window.
“You did well. I’m proud of you,” I tell her, hoping to earn some sort of reply.
She mutters a vague, “Okay,” not even looking back at me.
“Have I done something wrong?” I ask, confused at her attitude. “I’m trying to help you, but I feel like you’re angry with me.”
She doesn’t look at me, continuing to stare out the window instead, before letting out a sigh in displeasure. “I just wish I had been able to decide what was right for me, on my own, but everyone was rushing me to make a decision.”
“Time is of the essence with these sorts of things,” I tell her. “If we had waited, he could have gotten wind of what you planned to do and try to make you sign that settlement, and then he’d never have to face punishment for what he did.”
Patricia cocks her head to the side, pondering my observation. “Maybe.”
She doesn’t speak to me anymore, even as I walk her to her dorm, and she shuts the door in my face. I try not to take it personally, thinking that she’s probably mentally exhausted.
The sun is setting as I leave her residence hall, and the concourse is nearly empty. I have this itching feeling that there is something I still need to do, someone I need to reconcile with, but I don’t know if it’s a mistake to do so. I need to talk to Roxanne, but if I do, then I’d have opened up communication between us again. It’s a giant step back in the wrong direction.
But then, the image of me squeezing her scared face floats through my memories again, and I know I have no choice. I owe her an apology; maybe not for the breakup, but for the way I treated her the last time we were face to face.
I sit on one of the benches on the concourse, make sure I’m alone, and dial her number.
“Called to insult me some more? Or maybe you want to come and knock me round a little bit? I charge extra for that, you know.”