The Mechanic's Daughter

The Mechanic's Daughter Part 13 : An investigation

Nancy Burden asked me to come for interview in a board room in the administration building. The leather chairs around the huge table were so big my feet didn't touch the floor. But she sat close to me, writing occasionally on a notepad as I told her about the boys lined up out in the hall and what I'd seen when I'd stepped inside. I told her about Nikki's hospital examination and how I'd tried to support her since that night. And I named name two or three people from the party, including Howie Glossop, because he had been my date.

"I hope that's a help. I know the ones I saw can't have raped her, because they were still waiting outside. And I don't know anybody's names. I can point out the room."

"The room they used belonged to students who were off campus for the weekend. Whoever took her there at least knew that much." There was a note of censure in her words, even the fact she had said them gave me hope. She seemed at least to believe what had happened was wrong.

"So now what?"

"I'll look into this. I may call you again as I investigate further. And Miss Collins, don't talk any more about this in public. It's easier on Nikki."

"Okay." I haven't spoken at all about it in public, even to classmates like Heather and Terry.

Howie called me at home a week later.

"Why'd you give my name to that Burden woman?" he asked.

"Hi. How've you been? Happy New Year."

"You've put me in an impossible position."

"Howie, you saw as much as I did. And you were at the party before me. You might know who some of the guys Nikki was with. I thought you might want to help," I said.

"Get real."

"You may have even known what was happening." This thought had not occurred to me before this minute and I didn't know why I let it slip over my tongue.

"Bitch." He hung up.

No man had ever spoken to me this way before. Why would something as simple as co-operating with a rape investigation upset him? Surely there must be men in that residence who think what happened was wrong.

"You give them too much credit," Barbara said, when I told her about it over tea. "No one wants to be the one who rats on another guy."

"You know what? I'm getting such a negative view of men this year." Nikki said, a startling reaction. She had taken so much punishment and only just arrived at this conclusion?

"Well, we all know there are great men, ones you want on your side. I'm not saying they're all guilty of group think." Barbara backed down a little, no doubt trying to make Nikki feel better.

"It seems to me I've wasted a lot of the last three years desperate for male attention," Nikki said. She was deep into a self-blaming phase, hating herself for being cute and compliant. I wondered if this was common with women who had been assaulted.

"We're all like that. I crave attention just as much as you. I was dating Howie that night. And I'd gone out with three other boys since the beginning of the school year. I just didn't like them enough to continue." I wasn't admitting, even to myself, how much I liked Andrew.

"Well that's the point of dating, isn't it? Try men out to see if you can stand them?" Of course Barbara said "stand them" instead of something more neutral like "found them interesting" or even "had some chemistry."

"Why do we get so invested, though? Even after what happened, I still think I want a boyfriend." Nikki's voice was plaintive.

"Biology. Reptilian brain." Nikki and I found this very funny. Our fit of giggles changed the mood and we went on to less fraught subjects. 

After Paul, who got a little too used to telling me what to do, I wasn't sure I wanted a boyfriend. I was an independent woman, feeling my way through a new bigger world. I didn't want to be emotionally dependent on anyone, no matter how much I liked him. There was a poster on Barbara's wall "A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle." The image of the fish looked so relaxed, peddling happily. I always thought of how free you felt riding a bicycle, surely the opposite of what was intended.

This conversation was still in the back of my mind when Andrew called and wanted to meet for lunch. I tried to keep the excitement from my voice as I agreed to meet with him.

In the coffee shop, he sat with his long legs planted wide apart and leaned across the table, looking at my face.

"Did you ever go to any of the Vietnam War protests?"

"I went with a group from my high school two years ago."

"Yes, I was at that one."

We discussed Richard Nixon and agreed Ford should not have pardoned him. Andrew wondered why it was politically necessary.

"We still have his legacy to worry about. Vietnam, for instance. I think a lot of people are getting hurt with this withdrawal plan. It's not going to lead to any sort of peace," he said.

"It's all chaotic now. Who do you think is going to suffer?"

"More the ones who've supported the U.S. I don't think the North Vietnamese are going to let a little thing like that go."

"What I'm worried about is the state of the landscape where it's been napalmed." He listened while I talked about whether the jungle can be brought back from napalm, which retards the growth of vegetation, or whether there will be a lasting chemical residue in the soil.

"I'll bet you loved Lord of the Rings when you were younger." His magnetic smile.

"I did. I read it the year I was 13." I couldn't put it down, ploughing through all three books in a few weeks. "Why do you say that?"

"The way you describe the jungle, as if it's alive. That's a Tolkien thing." I wondered if I'd been typecast – Tolkien-reading nature lover.

"Well it is alive. The Mekong Delta is an incredibly rich ecosystem. What about you? Did you like it?"

"Yes. Sam's a great character. And, well, I liked that kind of fantasy stuff at the time I read it." Then we moved on to discuss Ayn Rand and Henry Miller and films we liked and I stopped worrying about being typecast and also about being told what to do. He was just feeling his way with me as I was with him. The way he craved my attention did something for me, because I wanted him to keep talking, to keep focusing on me.

"What do you want to do for your birthday next week? Would you like to hear some music? There's some bands coming we could go hear." That sounded like a date.

"We could go see my brother, Jimmy, and his band. He's playing in town next week."