This is Charlotte’s account of what happened next:
They beat around the bush, asking us about Jenny’s friends, did we know about the party, did she have any troubles with any boys, did she mention anyone bothering her at school or in town or on her social media? Tom was answering them like he was in some sort of fog, like he couldn’t see we were all just avoiding what needed to be discussed. I’m not saying that those weren’t legitimate questions or that we shouldn’t have answered them at some point. But I had had it, you know? I wanted someone to tell me something. I try really hard to let Tom “be the man” because I know I can be controlling. No one complains when the house is in perfect order and the fridge has everything they all need and their clothes are washed and ironed and put away where they belong. Anyway … I do try because I know it’s important in a marriage for the man to be the man. But I couldn’t take it. I just couldn’t!
So I interrupted all of them, all of the men, and I said, “One of you needs to tell us what happened to our daughter.” Dr. Baird and the detective looked at each other like neither of them wanted to go first. The doctor drew the short end of the stick. And then he told us. He told us how she had been raped. It was not what I had hoped—that it was some boy she liked and he got carried away. Oh God I know how bad that sounds. The feminists would have my head, wouldn’t they? I’m not saying that that kind of rape isn’t really rape or shouldn’t be punished. Believe me—when Lucas is older, I’m going to make damn sure he knows the kind of trouble he could be in if he isn’t absolutely sure he has consent. I do believe that men have a responsibility, that they need to realize that when it comes to sex, we are not on equal footing. And not just because of the physiology. It’s the psychology as well—the fact that girls still feel pressure to do things they don’t want and boys, men, have very little understanding about what girls go through. Anyway, it was not what I had hoped. And actually, it was what I had feared most. Detective Parsons filled in this part. He wore a mask. He forced her to the ground on her face. He … I’m sorry. This is hard to say out loud. I can hear the words in my mind, but saying them is another thing altogether.
Charlotte stopped to gather herself. She had a particular method, which she used without deviation. It was a long inhale, eyes closed, quick shake of the head, then a slow exhale. She looked down first after opening her eyes, then nodded in confirmation of the control she had wrangled.
I’ll just say it, all of it, quickly and then be done. She was raped from behind, vaginally, anally, back and forth apparently, for an hour. Okay. I said it. It’s done. They did the rape kit. They found traces of spermicide and latex. This … this creature wore a condom. They didn’t find one hair either, and the forensic people who were brought in from Cranston later that night said he probably shaved himself. Can you imagine? He prepared for this rape like an Olympic swimmer. Well, he didn’t get his gold medal, did he? Every physical wound healed beautifully. She won’t ever feel any different from any other woman. And emotionally, well …
She paused again, this time more to take stock than regain her composure. Then she continued in a voice that was irreverent.
I remember thinking, thank God for the treatment. Everything he did to my little girl, we undid. So, I’m sorry for the bad language, but I thought—fuck him. He doesn’t exist anymore.
Chapter Three
Charlotte and Tom Kramer did not agree on the decision to give Jenny the treatment. Charlotte won that fight.