I always thought that Jonathan Bradley was the lovable goof
type of the group. He never had goals,
was recklessly spontaneous, and late for everything but a blast to hang out
with so it was always like none of those other flaws existed. Plus, he was my friend’s boyfriend and then
ex, not the type of guy you’d expect to turn into a date rapist.
My name is Jenny Burgos and I was raped.
I became friends with Sam when I was still in high school,
I’m 30 now. We waited tables together at
this little coffee shop in Yonkers and started hanging out after work. She was loud and funny, something I was
instantly drawn to because I was always scared to say what I felt. We would go to the beach, get our nails done,
watch movies, go to parties, dinners.
She was single for the very beginning of our friendship, something I would learn was a rarity, you see Sam was
one of those girls that didn’t like to be alone; monkey arms as they say,
always swinging from one relationship to the next. She didn’t even tell me she’d started dating
Jonathan. We just went to a party at his
house one night and when we left and she kissed him goodbye, I asked about him.
“Oh yeah, we’re together,” Sam said casually. I was giddy for her, like any good girlfriend
and that night began what would years later turn into my worst nightmare.
Over the next couple of years, my friendship with Sam
progressed as any normal friendship would.
She made me a part of her family, literally. I would kiss and hug her mom and dad, attend
family parties and holidays, and was treated like a second daughter. She welcomed me into her group of friends as
well. She and Jonathan went to high
school together and were friends with all of the same people. They instantly became my friends and we all
lived happily ever after, for the time being.
After cheating on Jonathan with his best friend Vinny of course all
unbeknownst to Jonathan, they broke up.
Sam blamed it on him and his immaturity, which was true, but once you
cheat on someone it’s hard to keep a relationship going. She said it was an amiable split, that she
didn’t want to stop being Jonathan’s friend, and it worked for awhile but
Jonathan and Vinny couldn’t be in the same room together. When they were it was trouble.
But Sam didn’t care that I stayed friends with Jon. And at the time I needed a friend. Jon was my escape from the physical and
emotional abuse that I’d been exposed to at home. Looking back on it now, I hate that I’d hang
out with him and drown my sorrows in alcohol, especially because alcoholism
runs in my family, but it was my way of surviving. Jon would always come on to me all those
times we’d be out and I always said I wasn’t interested because Sam was my
friend. Even though I dated Vinny for a
short time while she was with Jon, it wasn’t right and regardless, I wasn’t
interested. He kept pushing though and
I’d have to threaten that we couldn’t be friends anymore. He’d say he would stop and he would, but only
for a short period of time. I wish I had
told Sam back when she was with him, about the time he even came onto me
then. Once a piece of garbage, always a
piece of garbage.
I was supposed to go out with a guy I had been seeing the
night I was raped. Instead I accepted a
last minute house sitting job and was just settling in for the night and I was
lonely so I called Jon. He was with his
family and said he’d be over soon so I poured myself another glass of wine and
waited. He came over soon after I called
him, something that to this day I will never forget. Opening that big mahogany door and seeing his
face. That was the last time that the
sight of him didn’t send fear coursing through my body. We were just hanging out watching TV for most
of the night. I was doing a load of laundry
and he picked up a guitar that was in the family room. I sat down after folding my last load of
clothes. He reached over and tried to
kiss me but I backed off.
“What are you doing?” I yelled at him.
He didn’t even say anything.
He just pushed me further down on the couch. His 6 foot 3 lanky frame felt like it was
pushing a 1000 pounds right on my chest.
“What is happening to me?” I thought.
I must have blacked out after that because the next thing I
remember I was naked outside being raped on a lawn chair. I opened my eyes and all I remembered seeing
was the outline of moon in the night sky.
He was raping me and I couldn’t move, I was frozen in fear, humiliated,
degraded. When he was done, he pulled
me into the house, limp and naked. I sat
on the couch crying, sobbing.
“Put your clothes back on, stop crying, it’s going to be
okay,” he snarled.
It wasn’t okay, he made me a victim that night.
“The condom broke,” Jonathan said. I couldn’t even comprehend the words that
were coming out of his mouth.
I couldn’t be pregnant with my rapist’s baby.
As soon as I processed those words I ran upstairs, jumped in
the shower with all my clothes on. I had
to get him off of me. I scrubbed myself
raw, my tears mixing with the scalding hot water. I couldn’t rinse away what he’d done.
I woke up the next morning, in my cousin’s bed, my clothes
in a wet rumpled heap next to me, my hair matted to my tear stained face. I was sick as soon as I woke up, nauseous and
vomiting, every muscle and bone in my body felt like it had been run over by a
tractor trailer. I dragged myself over
to the computer and started looking up places that I could buy the morning
after pill. Most of the night was fuzzy,
a blur of unconsciousness, but that part I clearly remembered. As soon as I realized, I could get it from my
local pharmacy no questions asked, I walked downstairs to look for my car keys
so I could go.
He slept over.
That piece of garbage slept over in my family’s house after
he raped me. I rushed around frantically
looking for my keys. Just as I was
almost out the door without him waking up, he opened one eye.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“To get the morning after pill,” I replied.
Expressionless, he turned over and fell back asleep.
Getting the pills from the pharmacist was another
humiliation. Did she think I was a dumb
slut who had a one night stand and didn’t use protection?
I got the instructions, grabbed the pills, and ran out of
there as fast as I could.
When I got home, I had to get him out.
“You can’t stay here, my cousin is coming home and I’m
leaving and you have to also,” I said.
He finally got up, I locked the door to the house behind us,
and sprinted to my car.
Just as I was reaching over to pull the driver’s side door
closed, he grabbed it.
“Are you mad at me?” he asked.
I was scared to think how he might react, so I chose my
words carefully. If he didn’t think I
was mad and he thought I blamed myself, he’d walk away without a care in the
world, right?
“No I’m mad at myself,” I said, slamming the door.
I saw my therapist two days later. I couldn’t even say the words, I was still in
shock. But it was clear. I had been raped.
I never could tell Sam all those years. My friendship with Jon died that day but I
still tried to keep my friendship with Sam separate and sustain it, even though
I was dying inside. How do you tell your
best friend that her ex-boyfriend is a rapist.
Part of it, I think was that I had to admit it to myself first and
accept that it happened. How can you
tell someone else and expect them to handle it when you can’t even handle it
yourself. It was more than that
though. I always had intense periods of
time where I would be panic stricken because I hadn’t told her. But that didn’t matter. I had to deal with it and accept it myself to
a certain degree before I could tell anyone else, much less her. And my friendship with her was separate. What did I expect if I told her? That she would punish him? Maybe at the time, but to tell someone
something so traumatic, you need to trust them and feel like after the initial
shock, that they would be able to support you.
For reasons that had nothing to do with the rape, Sam wasn’t that kind
of friend to me anymore I kept telling myself up until the day we had our last
blow out fight.
Everything was about her, her problems, her life, her
time.
