In the meantime, I am already back in London. My mother picked me up and it was a bit awkward between us. I just think she doesn't know what to say.
I asked Denise to tell my mother about the incident. I probably couldn't have managed to tell her on my own.
Just then there is a knock on the door and my mother comes in. "Hey, sweetheart. How are you?" she asks me. "I'm fine. Is something wrong?" I ask as she sits down on my bed. "No. I just wanted to talk to you." I knew this was coming either way, but does it have to be now? I'm kind of not in the mood for it.
"Sure," I say after all. I don't want her to think I just don't want to talk to her about it. "So you want to explain to me again exactly how it happened?" she asks me carefully as she puts her hands on mine.
"Please don't be angry with me, but I don't think so. It's not so easy for me to talk about it." I look at my mother, who looks away a little disappointed. "I understand. You just don't want to tell me. Me. Your mother." Now exactly what I didn't want to happen has happened.
I take one deep breath and exhale again. "No, mum. It's not like that at all. I didn't ask Denise to tell you because I just wanted to, because I don't feel like telling you. I asked her because every time I think about it, it gets worse. Because I would like to forget about it forever." She looks at me. Is she going to say anything now? She opens and closes her mouth alternately.
"I'm so sorry. I mean everything that happened, that I wasn't there for you." "No, Mum. You're always there for me, even though you might not realise it at times. But even the smallest comments can make you happy as a child. And please don't blame yourself. Because it's not your fault. Not yours, not mine. It's all that disgusting sack's fault." She smiles a little and then takes me in her arms.
I am a little surprised at what I have just said. I've been thinking a lot about what Jude said the last few days. That it's not my fault and that I'm the victim. And I think now I finally understand.
No one to whom this happens is to blame. No matter what you wear, no matter how you look. As long as you say no, it means no. I could walk naked through the city and it would still not be an invitation for anyone to touch me, against my will.
I understand that now and I feel much better about it.
"I have decided that we will fly home today. I have nothing more to do here and I think you'd rather go back too, wouldn't you?" she asks me, afraid I'll say no.
But she is right. I want to go home. There is nothing left in this city that tells me to stay here. Except for this house.
I know it must sound strange, but this is the only place that really feels like home. Or at least felt like home. But every time I'm here, a piece of life comes back into me.
It's probably the memories that come back after being away for so long. After instead of thinking about them every second, you think about them less and less, until only once a day.
"Yes. I agree," I finally say. "Okay. Grab your bag and then come downstairs.", she says and disappears from my room.
