"Why would you?" I counter.
Sam's hand flies to his hair, his fingers raking it roughly. "I knew he hurt you. I thought he hit you. I never thought... it never occurred to me..."
"It's fine," I murmur out of habit, and Sam's brow furrows and his glare intensifies.
"It's notfine, Rory. How can you say that?"
"I didn't mean it'sfine. I just... what do you want me to say, Sam?" I ask. "You need all the details of why I'm fucked up? You need to feel bad for poor little victim Rory?"
"Damn it, Rory! Stop saying you're fucked up! You're no more fucked up than the rest of us, remember? You're not the only one who's ever been hurt, you know! I'm just trying to understand you! I-" Sam stops. He shoves his fingers through his hair again, and I'm idly aware that I didn't even flinch when he shouted at me. "I care about you," he says more gently.
I'm instantly awash with guilt. "Look, I know I'm not the only person who's ever been hurt. You told me about your mom. I get it. I didn't mean to imply-"
"Not just my mom, Ror." Sam's eyes are utterly solemn, and I understand his meaning immediately.
His father didn't just beat his mother. He beat Sam, too.
"I'm so sorry." I utter the words I never found comforting when said to me. "I didn't know."
"No one knew. No one knows. Except my mom and Bits - well, and Tuck... and now you."
I look down. The sorrow for Sam I initially felt upon hearing his admission is evolving into something else. Anger. Outrage for the little boy whose father betrayed him in the worst way. "I hate that he hurt you," I grate.
Sam offers me a faint smile. "Now you know how I feel. Somewhat. It just kills me that you went through that, Ror. After you said that last night... I can't stop thinking about it. I've been thinking about it all fucking night. I just can't understand how someone could do that to a girl... toyou.Violence is bad enough, but,God, Ror.He was your boyfriend, he was supposed to take care of you, not-" He takes a deep breath. "Is that why you broke up with him?"
"Yes. I mean, there were a lot of reasons, but yes, that was the main one."
Sam shakes his head with incredulity, as if he's still trying to wrap his mind around this, and I really don't understand what's so difficult to comprehend. He already knew Robin hurt me. So he thought he just hit me or something. Is it really all that different?
"So one day he's your boyfriend and the next heattacksyou? Is he in jail?" Sam has a million questions. Of course he does. But he doesn't understand.
"It's just so much more complicated than that, Sam. I get that you didn't anticipate this, and I know it's my fault for drunkenly blurtin' it out last night, but-"
"Howis it more complicated? Explain. Make me understand." He's staring at me intently, his words adamant. He wants to know what happened to me to make me the way I am. I can understand that. He's seen so many of my scars. And he knows that I know I can just saycalculusand this conversation will be over. But I'm tired of being a coward.
"Robin was...isa big deal in Linton," I explain. "Football is a bigger deal there than it is up north. And he was the quarterback, the star, and he was real good. Not just small town good. He got a full ride to University of Florida, and everyone said he'd go pro. No question.
"And it wasn't just Robin - it was his whole family. His dad was the mayor. His sister's Miss Popularity. And I was... just me. I wasn't especiallyunpopular or anything, just... nothin' special, you know?" Sam narrows his eyes at me and I can sense that he wants to interrupt, but he doesn't, presumably afraid that if I stop talking even for a moment, I might rethink confiding my story at all. "I was a tomboy growin' up," I continue. "I liked sports and video games, and my best friend was a boy."
This time Sam can't help himself, he interrupts. "You've mentioned him... in the group of men who have only hurt or abandoned you," he says accusingly.
I nod. "Cam would never have hurt me," I assure him, but I hastily move on, knowing there's no way I can talk about Cam. My newfound strength does have its limits, after all. "Robin's a year older, but his sister Lacey's our age, and when I started hangin' out with her, I guess he started to notice me. Everyone kind of knows everyone - it's a real small town. Our dads grew up together - they're real close - but my mom didn't like theirs, so our families never spent much time together, and Robin had never said two words to me. Until the night he asked me out."
"That'swhy your dad didn't help you? Because Robin's father was his friend?" Sam is disgusted, and he should be - my father is disgusting.
"That's also more complicated," I murmur. It isn't really. A shot at being related to a pro quarterback was more important to him than protecting his daughter from a monster. Simple.
"So you and Robin started dating..." Sam prompts.
I continue. I explain how Robin was my first date, my first kiss, my firsteverything.I describe how he was at first, and for a long while, really. How he was such a gentleman, treating me like a princess, always opening doors and bringing me flowers. How he'd drive out of town to get me foods I liked. But how, despite all these things, I never felt ready to be intimate with him.
I tell Sam about the time I overheard Robin say he was stepping out on me. How sorry he was, how he told me he loved me, and how like a stupid, naive, little girl, I said it back - even though I really just nodded when he asked if I loved him too.
"Did you? Love him, I mean," Sam asks.
"No." I don't elaborate. I don't need to. I never loved Robin, I know that without question.
I tell Sam how kissing Robin never felt more than just nice, and that he started to get frustrated with my innocence. How how he started to make me touch him, how he touched me even though I'd asked him to stop. I don't give too many details, just the gist of the incidents a smarter girl would have taken as warnings. As giant, gleaming red flags. I tell him how stupid I am that I stayed with him even then. Even when all the signs were there. But I didn't see them - I didn't want to.
