Steve Gannon - Kane

“Why didn’t you say something?” I asked at last. “Why’d you keep it a secret?”

“What good would telling have done?” Allison shot back. “The guy who attacked me was dead. There was nothing more anybody could’ve done to him. Not even you,” she added bitterly. “I just wanted it all to go away.”

I knew the statistics. For whatever reason, crimes involving rape and sexual assault are the most under-prosecuted in the country, with nearly sixty percent of all victims never reporting their attack. But my own daughter…

“You must have known something like this couldn’t stay buried forever,” I said.

“At the time I was so shaken up, I wasn’t thinking too clearly,” Allison answered with a sad lift of her shoulders. “Like I said, the guy who attacked me had already paid for what he did. And after I lied to the sheriffs about what happened, things just snowballed.”

“And later?” I asked. “Why didn’t you come forward then?”

“What for? How would that have made things any better? I got myself checked out at a clinic in Santa Monica. No STD’s, no pregnancy. As far as I was concerned, it was over.”

“But-”

“Look, for my entire life I’ve been trying to live up to your expectations,” Allison interrupted, her voice trembling. “Yours, and Mom’s. Kane kids are the best, the smartest, the toughest. Kane kids excel at sports, get the best grades, never lie, never cheat, never steal. Kane kids kick butt while other kids are still sucking their thumbs. Bottom line, it’s been hard enough being the only girl in our family without becoming ‘the little sister who got raped.’ I couldn’t have lived with everyone’s pity.”

“You should have told us, honey,” I said.

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, I do.” I paused, sensing she was still holding something back. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

Allison didn’t respond.

“Please, Ali. Tell me everything. I want to hear it all.”

After a slight hesitation, Allison shrugged. “Why not? You know something, Dad? The old saying, ‘What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger,’ is wrong. Some things make you weaker.”

“What do you mean?”

Allison took a long, shuddering breath. “I learned something about myself that night,” she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her fist. “Along with feeling weak, I also learned that I’m a coward. I tried to fight him, but he was too strong. He kept hurting me and hurting me and… and in the end I just gave in. I was so afraid, I just quit fighting and did what he said. I’m not tough, Dad. I’m not tough at all.”

“Ali, I’m so sorry.”

“Guess I’m not a real Kane, huh?”

“You’re a Kane, all right,” said I numbly, thinking that of all my children, in many ways Allison was the strongest. I recalled the day she had come into the world, wishing I could somehow turn back the clock. With a flash of shame, I also remembered that after having two sons in quick succession, I had initially been disappointed to learn that my third child would be a daughter. Boys, in my mind, were a known quantity-sturdy, strong, malleable. Girls, on the other hand, constituted a mystery. Nonetheless, months later when I stood in the delivery room and held the tiny bundle we’d named Allison, my reservations had evaporated. And as the years had passed, my daughter had surprised and pleased and puzzled and enriched me in ways I could never have predicted. Unexpected, for example, was Allison’s unswerving resolve to best her senior brothers in every contest, substituting determination and strategy for any lack of physical strength. Unexpected too was the barrier she erected around herself, especially over these past years, using words as lances and reason as armor, cloaking herself in a mantle of humor and intellect and wit.

As Allison grew older, although remaining as prickly as a roll of barbed wire, she had increasingly come to resemble her mother. I saw it not only in her appearance, but also in her gestures, the tilt of her head, her flashes of impatience followed by equally abrupt reversals, her quick intelligence, and a hundred other things. And as she’d grown older, although part of me had taken pride in her stubborn core of self-reliance, another part had hoped she would someday soften. It had never happened. Until now.

I felt my heart swelling with sadness as I gazed into Allison’s eyes, eyes brimming with confusion and doubt, her spirit sullied by a tragedy I was powerless to erase. “For better or worse, you’re a Kane,” I repeated. “And a lot tougher than you think.”

Allison looked away. “So now are you going to tell me everything is going to be all right, like in the movies?”

Actually, that’s exactly what I wanted to do. More than anything I wanted to wipe away her tears and hold her close and tell her everything would be all right. Unfortunately, I knew that wouldn’t work, because it wasn’t true. Some things will never be all right. “No, I’m not going to tell you that,” I said. “I only know that there’s no shame in what happened to you. You’re no coward. Everyone has a breaking point, and you’re no less of a person for what that scum did to you. If anyone should be ashamed, it’s me for not seeing what you were going through. I’m sorry, Ali. You, too, Nate. I’m truly sorry.”

“Do you have to tell Mom?” asked Allison.

“Of course I have to tell her,” I answered.

“When?”

I hesitated, realizing what Ali was getting at. “Well, I suppose there’s no point in ruining her trip with this, but when she gets back-”

“Please, Dad,” begged Allison. “Does she have to know? I mean… how will I ever explain keeping this from her?”

“You’ll find a way. This won’t get fixed in a day. But telling me was a start, and bringing in your mom is absolutely the next step. And whatever she wants us to do-be it sending you to a counselor, talking to a priest, whatever-that’s what we’ll do. That goes for you as well, Nate. But first she has to know. Agreed?”

“Will you let us tell her?”

“Ali, this is-”

“Please, Dad?”

“Provided you do it as soon as she gets back,” I conceded reluctantly.

“Promise?”

“Allison, don’t you think your promises have already caused enough hurt?”

“Please, Dad.”

After another hesitation, I nodded. “All right. You have my word. But do it the minute she returns.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

I ran my fingers through my hair, knowing there was more to say but not certain how to proceed. Struggling for words, I recalled my discussion with Travis in the music annex. Although again feeling inadequate, I pushed on nevertheless. “Despite the mistake you two made by not being truthful about what happened and coming to your family for help, I think you’re the finest children a father could ever want,” I said. “Maybe I don’t act like it sometimes, but I’m more proud of you than I can say. It kills me to see you doubting yourselves like this.”

When neither of them responded, I continued. “Unfortunately, at some point or another, along with all the good things in life, bad things are going to happen, too. Terrible things are going to happen to me, and to you, and to everyone on the face of the planet before we all eventually get planted in the ground. That’s the way life is.”

“Gee, I feel better already,” sniffed Allison.

“I don’t want to sound overly pessimistic,” I said, trying to soften things. “I suppose there’s a chance that someone could lead a charmed life and then die peacefully in their sleep like your mom’s granddad… and not like the five screaming people with him in the car he was driving.”

Allison and Nate both smiled fleetingly at my attempt to lighten the mood.