I wasn’t wondering whether I had been too sensitive or whether I should have stayed quiet.
I had asked for something reasonable.
When my request was ignored, I had spoken up.
And when that wasn’t enough, I had calmly asked for help.
It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t revenge.
It was simply standing up for myself.
By the time the train reached my destination, I felt lighter than I had when I boarded.
My mother opened the front door before I could knock twice.
“Gabby! You’re late!”
I hugged her and handed her the gift.
“Happy birthday, Mom.”
She smiled, but then she studied my face.
“What happened?”
I laughed.
“How much time have you got?”
“Considering you’re helping me serve dinner, about ten minutes.”
“Then you’d better let me start talking.”
As we carried food to the table, I told her everything.
I described the heat, Lucas taking off his shirt, the way he kept pressing against me, and the ridiculous comments he made whenever I asked him to stop.
