‘Because if it is true, it’s my fault.’
‘You’ve lost me.’
‘Some women lie, Nasrin, they do. It’s rare but they do.’
‘And you think Lucy is one of these rare liars? If it’s true, how would that be your fault? Do you want it not to be true because you think being a rape victim is hereditary? How fucked up is your thinking, Ruby?’
‘I can’t explain it.’ I began to sob, shoulders heaving. How could I make her understand?
‘Jack is upset, you know?’
Poor Jack. I had broken his heart.
‘What are you not telling me?’ said Nasrin. My relapsing and not believing my own daughter when she’d told me shehad been assaulted did not make sense to Nasrin. It barely made sense to me.
‘I lied,’ I said.
‘What?’ she said, exasperated. ‘About what? Youhavebeen drinking today?’
‘No, I lied about being raped.’
72
Nasrin got up from the chair she was sitting in and took two steps back. ‘I don’t understand. You weren’t raped at all? Why did you say that you were?’
In AA, everyone had a story that explained their drinking, and while these stories were rarely shared in meetings, the close bonds we formed with other addicts made us confessional, and most particularly with our sponsors. Jack had his screwed-up family backstory; Nasrin had her own story about being adopted into a family who had used her as a servant. In order to fit in, I’d told her my rape story. It was a lot more dramatic than the Kenny story. The impact far more explosive. She sympathized. The ‘fact’ that it had broken up my family, uprooted me from my home. She understood why I drank. The truth was, I’d had an idyllic childhood. A comfortable home, a strong faith, loving parents, good friends, a great school. Until Kenny Carter. And a huge lie.
Now Nasrin was staring at me, waiting for a reply.
‘I was jealous.’
‘Wait, what, I don’t understand? You lied about being raped. What does that have to do with jealousy?’
‘The boy I accused. He was my sister’s boyfriend, remember? She was always perfect. I came second to her all the time. Then he went to jail for thirteen years. His mom committed suicide. I destroyed his life.’
‘You didn’t just lie about it, you framed a boy? And you never set the record straight in all this time? You were a kid, right, when this happened, or did you make that up?’
‘I was sixteen, he was nineteen.’
‘Why would you do that to your sister? He didn’t assault you in any way?’
The tears were streaming down my face.
‘No,’ I whispered.
‘Were you drinking when this happened?’
‘No, I’d never had alcohol in my life at the time.’
Nasrin gathered her bag and her jacket that she had left on the bed.
‘That poor guy. You fucking bitch. It didn’t have anything to do with your alcoholism. I believed you, but I forgot you’re an actress, and you’re convincing. You had us all fooled. Does Jack know? Is that why he kicked you out?’
‘No.’
She went to the door, her face full of hurt and anger.
‘You have a week to tell him, and the cops, and everyone else who needs to know that you are a lying piece of shit responsible for a massive miscarriage of justice. One week, or I tell everyone. Don’t look at me like that. I owe you nothing.’ She stopped as she opened the door. ‘And by the way, don’t judge your daughter by your own standards. She was raped. You call yourself a mother? You’re a monster.’ The door slammed.
