A CALIFORNIA ROSE
Chapter Thirteen
Rose sat down next to her mother just as the
minister began to speak. Ruth turned to berate her for being late, but stopped
when she caught sight of Rose’s face.
"Rose! What happened to you?"
Rose felt Cal’s hand tighten warningly on her
arm. "I fell down the stairs," she told her, avoiding her eyes.
Ruth seemed to accept this, because she
turned her attention back to the service. Rose slumped back in her seat, her
hand moving up to touch the lump on the back of her head. To her surprise, her
hair was matted with dried blood. Cal saw her touching her head and yanked her
arm back down.
Rose didn’t look at him. She stared straight
ahead, fighting back tears. Why couldn’t she just say that he had beaten her,
and be done with it?
Because, she thought, if she told about the
beating, she would have to tell about the rape, too, and she was too humiliated
to admit to what had happened. Almost deliriously, she wondered if perhaps she
had brought it on herself. Cal was her fiancé, after all, and she should have
been more attentive to him; she should have spent less time running around with
her friends. Still, she thought, he had been wrong about Jack, and even if she
had driven him to hit her, there was no reason for it to have gone so far.
The service seemed interminable. Rose’s head
pounded; the aspirin had helped, but not enough. Whenever she stood, she had to
clutch the back of the pew in front of her for support as her head spun
dizzily. To make matters worse, her stomach felt queasy, and she swallowed hard
against nausea.
When the service ended, Rose stumbled
outside. The bright sunlight hurt her eyes, and she raised a hand to shield
them. Ruth was talking animatedly to the client she had spoken of earlier that
morning. Cal, too, had found someone to talk to, and Rose hoped that one of
them would hurry and take her home. All she wanted was to lie down.
Rose leaned against a wall, willing her head
to stop spinning, as her queasy stomach rebelled against the scents of flowers
and coffee. Letting go of the wall, she staggered over to a nearby garbage can
and threw up.
Ruth noticed and came hurrying over.
"Rose!" She stopped when she saw Rose’s eyes. The pupils were
dilated, one larger than the other. "Rose, look at me." She took
Rose’s head in her hands and found the swollen lump on the back of her head.
"Why didn’t you say you’d hit your head?"
Rose didn’t answer. Her legs threatening to
buckle, she held onto her mother’s shoulders for support. Cal hurried over.
Ruth turned to him. "Cal! Why didn’t you
notice that Rose had hit her head? You should have taken her straight to the
emergency room."
Cal hesitated. "I...I didn’t realize how
bad it was. She got right up. She looked fine, except for the cut on her face."
A crowd had begun to gather. Rose looked at
them, embarrassed by the attention. "I’ll be fine," she whispered, as
the ground rushed up to meet her.