The Bill’s Bus ride to Calypso’s was interesting. Eventually, I figured out Eva’s friend’s name. It was Brad. We all got along so well. Brad was really cool after I got to know him, and it seemed like we had all been friends for so much longer than an hour.
Soon we ended up at Calypso’s. Once we got inside I saw a few of our friends at the bar. So we all went over there first, had a drink and chatted it up for awhile. A little later, the girls and I decided it was due time to hit the dance floor. All of us went out except for Brad and Eva and one of Brad’s friends, Dave. I, being my nosy self, kept checking on them to see where the sparks were flying. A couple times I looked and they weren’t there, but then they would soon appear from wherever they had gone.
This time it was a little longer, so I walked over to Dave who had been sitting with them and asked where they went. He thought maybe the bathroom or outside. He seemed pretty confident that they were still around, so I didn’t see any reason to call out the search squad.
Before I knew it, it was 2 a.m. and we still hadn’t seen Brad and Eva. We decided to wait a little longer, hoping that if they did go anywhere else they would be back soon. Soon everyone was getting restless and wanted to leave. I tried calling Eva on her cell but kept getting her voice mail. They must have been somewhere loud or talking and didn’t want to be interrupted or something like that. But either way it wasn’t like Eva to just not answer her phone, especially when my name appeared on her screen.
We left Calypso’s at 2:30 a.m. Soon after we got back everyone left my house, so I walked over to Eva’s, hoping she was there, only to find that nobody had returned home yet. Walking back home I remembered getting jealous of her again. Tactlessly thinking to myself how lucky she always was and here I was alone again. And, to top it all off, she didn’t even have to wear the leather pants.
I got home at like 3:15-3:30ish and climbed into bed. A few seconds later, I heard someone come up to my window and lightly tap it again and again. I got a little scared, but the voice that followed was Eva’s. Phew! I went to the door and let her in. She was a mess; her hair was all matted, mascara everywhere, her eyes were puffy, red and soaked with tears. She was shaking. It was bad.
I brought her in and tried to calm her down. All she could do was hold on to me like there was no tomorrow and whimper as she tried to catch her breath. I told her to take her time and just relax; it would be okay. Little did I know what I was dealing with.
Gradually she started telling me bit by bit. “He was so sweet … He didn’t mean to … I know him, we have lab together … We were having fun … I should have worn my black blouse instead … (and lastly) … It was my fault!”
Finally, I asked her straight-out what had happened, what was her fault. That’s when she looked me in the eye and said, “He raped me.”
Imani Rupert and Muriel Philips are media interns for the Rape Prevention Education Program.