Blind Date

  A uniformed YM janitor pedaled his bike along the path. He puffed and panted, trying to ride over the roots that swelled out from little patches of sand or moss. Finally, he disappeared from sight. Levanter found himself almost hoping the girl would not show up.

  Then he saw her. She walked fast, with a firm stride, as if training for a parade. Her long single braid swayed from side to side.

  He felt neutral, neither aroused nor afraid. He expected his body to act when the time came but could not think about it now. The braid was all he concentrated on. The girl was a few feet away. She passed the mark he had fixed for striking.

  As he was about to sprint toward her, he remembered another of Oscar’s rules: once you start running toward your blind date, run as fast as you can; the sooner you grip her, the smaller the chance that she will have time to hear your footsteps and turn around to see you. To the police, once you grip her she has been assaulted, so you might as well continue and make the best of it.

  He started to his feet, then lunged forward. In an instant he had the braid and, using all his strength, held the girl’s head from moving. She screamed, but when he put his other arm around her neck and tightened it as a threat that he could choke her, her voice faded completely. His arm tilting her head up to the sky, his knee pushing into her thighs, Levanter steered her off the path and into the bushes. Only when he had her behind the thicket, safely away from the path, did he catch his breath. The girl was pleading with him to let her go. Terrified that she detected a weakness in him, Levanter panicked and shook her by the hair. She stopped begging and sobbed quietly. Levanter looked down at her slender neck, then lower, at her back, where her dress was soaked with perspiration.

  Slowly he removed his arm from under her chin while increasing the pull on the braid. The girl made no sound. Then, with his free hand he ripped her dress and, as she began to moan and whine, he pulled her panties down around her feet. Following Oscar’s lessons, he tripped her, and, as she stumbled, he kicked her panties aside and guided her body by the braid, lowering her to the ground. Completing the twist, he fell upon her. She was now immobilized, her face pushed into the leaves and moss, her breath coming in staccato gulps. With one hand, Levanter pulled down his pants and placed himself between her legs. When he felt his flesh against hers, he slid his hand beneath the torn dress, found her breast, and began pinching the nipple. He licked her neck, his tongue gathering the droplets of sweat that surfaced like sap on her skin.

  He was becoming aroused. He reassured himself that as long as he maintained his grip on her there was no danger she would ever know who he was. He was safe. Dusk continued to fall. In the dense bushes of the hollow, he was as safe as the little lizards that had scurried away when he pushed the girl through the thicket.

  He began to think about her. He recalled how she had stood in the shop, smiling, talking, glancing around, unaware of what she meant to him. And he remembered seeing her once on the river-bank, with a tall, handsome boy, a YM swimming champion; every time the boy had inclined his head toward her, her face had lit up with such admiration and joy that Levanter had been filled with envy and had to look away. If she were a thing, he thought, one day he could own her.

  He began to think about her body as he had thought of her all those times; he could remember the filtered rays of sun upon her corn-silk hair. The images seemed remote, yet the girl was now under him. He was preparing to sink into her with all the force of nature’s spring unwinding.

  He was fully aroused. Gently, he kissed her neck. Listening to her sobs, he moved his hand down, stroking her, pushing aside the moss and leaves that stuck to her. Her body eased a bit, and when he detected that, in one smooth motion he planted his flesh in her, guiding it with his hand until it was firmly in place, deep and hard, breaking through a delicate inner barrier that seemed no thicker than a leaf. She screamed, and he thought that, without having spoken a single word to her, he had just become her first lover. The thought quickened his movement. She tensed and lay whimpering. He did not want to rush, reminding himself that as long as he was behind and inside her, pinning her down with his weight, she could not see him, and he could do as he wished for as long as he wished. But, like bark pried off a tree, his thought separated from his body; and he stiffened, ready to scream, his hand pulling her hair harder, almost against his own will. Then, his entire body seemed to let go, suddenly free of the inner pull. He collapsed, but the physical release did not bring about the release of his need. He became conscious of time and glanced at his watch: only a few minutes had passed. The girl moaned under him. He became tender, kissing the soft skin on the nape of her neck, sniffing its fluffy hair, tasting the salty sweat, his fingers lightly stroking her temples. He rested.

  Then a wave of excitement came again. He felt more in command this time, less at the mercy of his flesh. She seemed to sense that her attacker was not through with her and began pleading with him to let her go. He pushed her face deeper into the earth, and when she gasped and coughed, he entered her again, more forcefully, changing the angle of pressure, feeling her resistance and steadily breaking it. When, at one moment, she tensed and he slipped out, she started to thrash. He grew impatient and angry; he spread her flat. She let out a high-pitched scream and strained to pull away from him. He remembered another of Oscar’s lessons; he slowly moved his legs, first one, then the other, until they were over her shoulders and he was sitting upon her with all his weight. As his feet forced her face harder into the ground, he thrust into her once more, but not where he had entered her the first time; her moans turned into a piercing shriek. There was something unnatural about the sound. He imagined an inner spring had snapped inside her, and even though he thought of withdrawing, he once more succumbed to his own need. His body grew taut and he pushed into her with all his might, no longer able to withdraw. He felt his neck tensing, his fingers involuntarily digging into her skin. Soon it was over; he was drained.

  As she moaned, her body splayed under him like a grotesque puppet with its limbs dangling; all he wanted was to see her face. Her body alone could not tell him what he wanted to know. Only on her face would he be able to read what she felt.

  Both his body and his mind were empty. Slowly he lifted himself from her, reflecting that his blind date was not over yet. He kept her pinned down with one hand, and with the other used her torn dress to wipe the blood off his groin, thighs, and hands. He stuffed the panties into her mouth, then ripped strips of fabric from her dress and bound them loosely around her feet and hands so it would take her some time to get free. He remembered to tie one strip over her eyes so she could not see him as he left.

  He was finished now and ready to get away. It was almost dark and he was not afraid. He dressed slowly, as if to convince himself that he was in no danger, then jumped onto the bike and rode back toward camp, ready to slip into the bushes if anyone approached from the opposite direction. He replaced the bike and quickly entered the bunkhouse through the back door. No one was there. He crawled into his bed and pretended to be asleep. The smell of her lingered on his hand. His memory randomly protracted or compressed images of her in the forest; he was astonished that he could recall so much without having made any effort to remember.

  Soon the other boys returned. He opened his eyes and told them his headache was almost gone. He took a shower, but even when he was dry, the scent of her flesh persisted on his body.

  Oscar came in. Levanter was at first tempted to tell his friend about his blind date. But he was feeling possessive about the girl and didn’t want to share the details of his encounter with her. Instead, Levanter complained about his headache and the lost afternoon.

  In the middle of the night, everyone in the bunkhouse was awakened by a sudden commotion. All the lights were turned on and, as Levanter and the other boys watched, two uniformed policemen, accompanied by the camp director and two camp counselors, marched in and took Oscar and all his belongings away with them. The lights were turned off, but Levanter could
not sleep.

  Even before morning roll call, the whole camp seemed to have heard of Oscar’s arrest. As Levanter was known to be Oscar’s closest friend, he was besieged with questions. Levanter shrugged and said that he too was astonished by the arrest.

  After the routine morning ceremonies, the camp director, looking quite angry, addressed the two thousand boys lined up before him. He announced in a stern voice that the previous afternoon a vicious sexual attack on a girl camper had been committed and that police authorities had already arrested the perpetrator. It was a boy who had confessed to similar crimes in the past: Oscar.

  Levanter felt overcome by a horror he had never experienced before. He realized for the first time how irreversible was the process that had already claimed the girl and Oscar. He stood paralyzed by panic. He knew only one way to end it.

  The director had finished and was ready to give the signal to dismiss the campers. Levanter stepped out of line.

  “Sir,” he called. He felt his knees begin to buckle under him and summoned all his strength to stand straight, before the whole camp. In the past, he had been called forward to receive praise. Now he was stepping forth to turn himself in.

  He felt numb again, as he had before he sprang upon his blind date. He could no more step back into line than he could undo the rape. He waited.

  The director recognized him instantly. “There is Levanter, our gold medalist,” he announced, his voice turning cheerful. “What is it, my friend?”

  Levanter’s mouth was dry. His tongue moved sluggishly as he started to speak. “I raped that girl, Oscar didn’t,” he heard his own voice say. “I did it alone.”

  A frightful silence fell. Levanter heard the wind snap the flag around its pole.

  The director looked at him baffled. “We appreciate your motive for making this statement, Levanter, because we know Oscar has been your friend,” he said firmly. “But we know Oscar is the only culprit.” He was about to end the roll call.

  “As I’m making this statement officially, sir,” Levanter interrupted, his voice now clear, “I insist that my admission be formally entered in the record of the investigation.”

  “Let it be in the record, then,” the director said indulgently. “Come to my office in an hour.”

  After roll call, the boys surrounded Levanter.

  “You couldn’t have raped her,” said one of Levanter’s bunkhouse mates. “You were sick and slept the whole afternoon. I saw you!” he exclaimed. “We all saw you in bed,” added another, and two or three nodded in agreement. “Maybe you dreamed about raping a girl,” said one boy, and others laughed. “There’s not much any of us can do for Oscar now,” one of them said with a snicker.

  Levanter did not know what to say. “What if you’re all wrong?” he finally asked. “What if I did do it?”

  “But I saw you sleeping” another boy yelled. “And I saw you going to the shower after you woke up, just before supper,” shouted another.

  At the director’s office, he was introduced to a young police lieutenant, who patted Levanter on the shoulder and directed him to a chair.

  “There’s no use, Levanter, no use at all in what you’re trying to do,” he said. “When the local police summoned us last night, we already had our suspicions. Then, early this morning, faced with the evidence, your friend Oscar admitted that he has raped many girls before, though, for some reason, he still denies that he raped this one.” He paused and looked hard at Levanter. “Could it be, Levanter, that he asked you in advance to take the blame for it?”

  Levanter did not respond.

  The lieutenant continued in an even voice. “What’s more, we found his diary, in which he describes, in his own handwriting, dozens of his past assaults. These rapes match the police files. What more can we ask for?”

  The director handed the lieutenant a sheet with Levanter’s statement. The lieutenant glanced at it, then, to indicate that he refused to accept it, gently pushed it across the table to Levanter.

  “Oscar might have raped other girls,” said Levanter. “But I raped the one yesterday. I can identify the girl and the exact spot where I did it.”

  The lieutenant appraised him thoughtfully. “Of course you can,” he said. “Oscar might have pointed her out to you. He might even have showed you his raping grounds.”

  “I can provide all the details of how I did it,” said Levanter insistently. “I can show you exactly what I did to make this girl —”

  “Of course you can,” the lieutenant cut him off softly. “But you don’t have to. You see—” He paused. “We know all this already. There’s no doubt that the poor girl who was raped yesterday was attacked by the same man who raped a dozen others in our town. In each case he used the same tricks — grabbing the victim’s hair from behind and wounding her in the same perverted way.” The lieutenant spoke in an even, controlled voice.

  Levanter leaned on his hand and breathed in the girl’s scent that still lingered under his nails. “But I can give you a precise recollection of what went on in the forest,” he argued. “Minute by minute. Where I stopped her, how I shoved her. What and how I touched. I can tell it all, and you can ask her to verify my account.”

  The lieutenant gave him another thoughtful look. “Let’s leave this girl alone, Levanter. She’s suffered enough; she’s still in the hospital and, as a friend of the man who raped her, you’re the last person in the world she would want to hear from.” He looked at the director. “They say she’s going to need surgery, you know,” the lieutenant said quietly.

  The director nodded. “I’m sure Levanter realizes that his claim, however honorable his motives, is an attempt to obstruct justice,” he said. Without allowing Levanter to say anything further, he got up. The lieutenant and Levanter followed. The director took Levanter by the arm and gently led him to the door. He embraced him at the threshold. “You’re a good man, Levanter, a good YM medalist, too. But there’s a limit to friendship. I’m glad you won’t be seeing Oscar for a while. He’s going to get at least three years for this case alone.”

  The following spring, Levanter attended his school’s annual citywide dance. Each time the band took a break, Levanter and his friends gathered in a knot. One time, a group of students from another high school joined them, and introductions started. When Levanter turned to one pleasant-looking girl and said his name, another girl, a tall blonde with short hair, who had been looking the other way, wheeled around, quickly, as if startled. Levanter looked at her. For a moment he had the feeling he had seen her before, but he couldn’t place her.

  As the others paired off to dance, the blond girl spoke to him.

  “So you are George Levanter?” she said, looking at him curiously.

  “Sorry to disappoint you,” Levanter joked. “Yes, I am.”

  They started to walk away from the dance floor. As they moved toward the side door of the gymnasium, he could hear the tapping of her high-heeled shoes on the polished floor.

  “I was told you were a friend of someone I met once,” she said.

  “Someone you met once?”

  “Someone I met only once,” she corrected.

  “Who is it?”

  They had left the gymnasium and began to walk more slowly in the corridor outside. It was empty, lit only by a few bare bulbs.

  “A boy.” She said it without feeling.

  “And you say he was my friend?”

  “I said you were a friend of his, not the other way around.”

  Levanter was confused. “What’s his name?”

  They reached the end of the corridor and stood next to the large window, looking out at the schoolyard. A solitary lamp lit the basketball backboard; the net swung in the breeze.

  “Will you promise never to repeat what I’m about to tell you?” she asked. She turned around and leaned back against the window, facing Levanter.

  “I promise,” said Levanter. He could barely see her features.

  “The boy’s name was Oscar. He raped me
last summer,” she said flatly.

  Levanter felt the blood rush to his face. In seconds he was covered with sweat. He stepped backward, uncertain of what to do or say. Now he recognized her. But the braid was gone. She was more shapely, more womanly. He wanted to see her eyes, but they were obscured in the shadows.

  “The police told me Oscar had a friend named Levanter, who claimed to have done it,” she said. “I’ve never understood why you would claim that.”

  Levanter did not say anything.

  She kept on. “Of course, since several boys in the dormitory saw you asleep that afternoon, you knew all along nobody would believe you. You had nothing to lose.” She paused, offering Levanter time to speak.

  He said nothing.

  “Still, why would anyone want to pose as a rapist?” She tried again to make him respond.

  “Would it really matter to you now whether it was Oscar or somebody else who hurt you then?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “I’ve never doubted it was Oscar. He raped girls before, you know. No one saw his face, true, but he did the same things to them as he did to me. You were his friend, he probably told you.”

  Levanter detected some anger in her voice. “Do you really want to talk about it?” he asked.

  “Not about it. About him.”

  “All right,” said Levanter. “I met Oscar by chance on my way to camp. Once we became friends, he told me he had raped girls before we’d met. But I never saw him doing it, and I was never sure he was telling the truth.” Levanter felt the heat emanating from her body.

  “Ironically, I remember seeing you at camp, but not Oscar,” she said.

  “Do you really remember seeing me?” Levanter asked. He was more at ease now.

  “Yes, I saw you two or three times. The last time was at the sports shop — actually, that was the day it happened, my last day at camp.” She sounded plaintive. “You were picking up sunglasses or postcards or something. I stared at you: you looked lost.”

  “And I saw you and stared at you many times,” said Levanter. “I recall everything about you. You see, I followed you every chance I got.”