Reliving a Memory

Much of the time it feels like ancient history.

It used to come rushing back much more frequently.  I would be walking past the fraternity house on the corner of San Jacinto and Park.  The big house just beyond J. P.’s Java.  I would be headed toward the law school.

And I would freeze.

And then—I would be gone.  Reliving a memory.

I am lying on a bed.  I am on my stomach and he is pushing his penis into my anus.   I can feel my skin stretching and tearing slightly.  And I am wondering why he took off his condom. 

And suddenly, I would be standing on the street corner with the sun peaking out from behind the stray clouds.  And I would resume my walk to class.

Much of the time it feels like I’ve forgotten.

But then I will be standing in a crowded bar and someone will slide past me, barely grazing my back.  Or I will be standing on the edge of the dance floor and someone will try to dance with me, pushing their crotch against my ass.

And I will freeze.

And then—I will be gone.  Reliving a memory.

I am sitting on the toilet in the bathroom next to his room, trying to cry quietly so he won’t know.  And I am wiping the blood and semen off of me.  And I keep thinking over and over again, “You can’t call the police, you don’t even know the name of the apartment complex.  You are such an idiot.”  

And suddenly, the sound turns back up and I am standing in a crowed bar or on the edge of a dance floor.

But then November comes and I am wondering why I feel so off kilter.

And I freeze.

And then—I am gone.  Reliving a memory.

It is late on December 2nd, and I took the LSAT just hours before.  I am standing in a crowded bar on 6th Street with one of my friends and her roommate.  And we decide to go back to their place to continue the party.

And suddenly, I am sitting at the desk in my office and counting the years.  I reach five this time and I cry.  

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2 Comments

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2 responses to “Reliving a Memory

  1. Colleen

    You are a strong, amazing woman. I am proud to be your friend. Thanks for sharing this story, and for listening to mine.

  2. Lola Mojiminiyi

    Thank you. I am very proud of you. Thank you for speaking about those relived memories. You give me the courage to speak too.

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