Another Side Of Rape
February, 1986
I watch as the man who raped my girlfriend 15 years ago walks toward me in this trendy bar. He is now bloated, with a face so fat that his eyes are pinched into a permanent squint. I rise from my table and motion for him to sit down. He is expressionless; he doesn't remember me, doesn't know who I am or why I've called him to join me. But I remember him.Laurie and I were sophomores at the University of Iowa when it happened. It was a cool Sunday night and we were lying on a blanket beside an iso...
