Freedom: Angie

Delilah Penske was her name. She was a natural beauty, one of those girl next door types. Thomas shows me a picture of her on the hood of his car. She had a radiant smile. Her relaxed style reminds me of my cousin.

He says that her birth parents were Japanese immigrants who moved to America before she was born. They owned two businesses and a large house, but when she was three her home caught fire. She was put into foster care, and soon adopted by George and Anne Penske.

Meeting the "Peculiar Penske's" as Thomas calls them, is just as he described.

The husband is a round man wearing his shirt tucked into the khakis pulled to his chest. The thick glasses pushed up the bridge of his nose make his eyes bulge below his combover. He's shorter than me, sweating profusely in the Florida heat.

He introduces himself, revealing a stutter. Introducing myself as well, I smile and wonder if that's what my dad's father might've been like. I would love to have a grandpa as cheery and rosy cheeked as Mr. Penske.

The wife is a giggly woman who is around my height. Her graying hair is candy curled, and she's dressed in a patterned and long brown hippie dress.

What makes them so peculiar is that they finish each other's sentences. A few times they even speak the same words in unison.

"Should we be worried?" they say.

We're at Thomas' house, and this time his sister, Grace, is home as well. She has features similar to her brother, except for those dark brown eyes. She's twenty-two, and finishing up Med school while working on the side. Her accent is even thicker than his. She says hello to the older couple, catching up with them before excusing herself to a phone call.

He explains to them that the video is of her assault, and their smiles die like blown out candles. They talk amongst themselves for some time, finishing sentences before the other has barely begun.

They agree to watch it, and Thomas hits play, walking away. He can't stomach to see it twice.

I follow, helping to calm his nerves. Their gasps let us know what part of the video that they're on. He holds me tight when her screams play next.

They're visibly troubled, but still insist that we turn it into the police. Witnessing the jolly couple cry out is too much for me. Before Thomas can grab his keys, I'm outside by his car.

"They're going to wait here for us." He pulls the car out of the driveway.

I grab his arm. "I'm sorry that you had to hear that again."

"Me? I don't understand how you're so strong. This must be Hell for you to relive it again."

"Oh. It's weird, but sometimes I forget that it happened to me. It feels like it happened to some other girl that I knew."

He reaches for my hand, kissing it softly. "It's not weird at all." He turns left. "I'm glad that I met you, Angie."

I want to tell him about the other night, but for now I keep it to myself. Maybe when all of this is over I will.

"I'm glad that I met you, too." I smile. "Before we go to the station, can we make a quick stop? There's something that I have to do."

~

Rose is unpacking from her college tour trip. She looks tired and ready to crash, but when I enter the room she sits up. A small smile exposes her gap and a cherry blow pop.

"Rose, can we talk?"

"Yeah, sure." She pats the plush lavender bed beside her.

"I'm going downtown to the police station."

Her eyes bulge. "Is this about the drugs?" she asks, talking low.

I can't help but laugh. "Noooo. I stopped smoking."

"Whew! Because I'm too broke for bail money."

I let her laugh, not knowing when I'll see it again after this. "I'm going to file a report against Dan." I don't know how else to say it.

It grabs her attention. "Dan? A report for what?"

I exhale the sudden rush of anxiety, wishing that I was still a smoker. Thomas is waiting outside, and the video has to be turned in today while the Penske's are still here.

I start from the beginning of that night, speaking my truth and watching as it tears her apart. This is why I could never bring myself to do it. I knew she'd blame herself, and until I was brought back to the surface I had blamed her too. When I was drowning I couldn't forgive her for walking away...For leaving me.

But, I'm done carrying around this hate and pain. Forgiving her and myself is like letting go of a ton of bricks. Even the air is easier to breathe.

My tears are salty. I smile, finally feeling free.