Always Watching

nodded encouragingly but never asked any questions, just made the occasional note. “My mother said that he used to give me swimming lessons, but I’m not sure if that’s when it started.…” The room was so quiet I could hear the officer breathing—the walls pressed in, the sudden urge to run. I opened my eyes. “Can we leave the door open?”
    She looked startled.
    I said, “Or is there a bigger room? I have claustrophobia.”
    “We can open the door, but officers will be walking past. Unfortunately, this is our only interview room. Would you like to take a break?”
    “Just give me a minute, please.” I centered myself, taking three deep breaths. When I was ready, I began again. “We were down at the river…” My eyes closed, I noticed a rhythmic sound, a pattering against the roof, and realized it must’ve started to rain. My body relaxed, and I drifted back into a memory.
    Now I remembered how it had all started.
    We haven’t been at the commune for long, maybe a couple of months, when Aaron starts paying special attention to me, making eye contact at the campfire, giving me an extra piece of fruit, his hand lingering on the back of my leg when he shows me how to sit for meditation. I’m shy with him, barely speaking when he asks me a question, and my mother scolds me, telling me to be nicer to him.
    I’m alone in my cabin, having snuck away from the other kids. One of the dogs, a spaniel, has puppies under my bed. I’ve just slid their box out, and I’m holding one, rubbing my nose against its soft fur, when Aaron comes in the cabin.
    He says, “Are you okay? I noticed you weren’t with the other children.”
    I stumble over my words, confused and flustered by his attention. “Yes, I just … I just wanted to make sure the puppies were all right.”
    I can feel him watching me as I kneel down and slide the box back under the bed. When I stand up, he studies my face, his gaze lingering on my mouth.
    I’m uncomfortable at the way he’s staring and want to move away, but I don’t want to offend, remembering my mom’s warning to be polite.
    He says, “Come to the river with me. I want to show you something.”
    I follow him down to the trail as we push our way through shrubs and bushes, wet from the rain that has now stopped. As we pick our way over the slippery moss-covered rocks on the shore, our footsteps are drowned out by the roar of the river. Finally, he finds a spot around the bend, blocked on both sides by dead trees. I shiver in my sweater and jeans, my breath cloud puffs in the air. He comes close and puts his arms around me, burying my face in his coat. I stand still, my heart hammering loud in my chest, wondering why he’s touching me.
    I pull away, peeking at him nervously as I look around. “Why are we down here?”
    He spreads his arms wide and smiles. “Life, it’s in every leaf and every drop of water.” He tilts his face to the sky, inhales deeply. “Can’t you smell it?”
    Confused again, and wanting to give the right answer, I tilt my own face up, take a breath, and say, “It smells good.”
    He eases himself down on a flat rock, crossing his legs, and motions for me to sit in front of him. I hesitate.
    He tugs at my hand. “Let’s meditate together. It will be fun.”
    I sit, cross-legged, our knees brushing. I bow my head and close my eyes, waiting for him to lead the chanting.
    He leans toward my ear, his breath, smelling of sweet marijuana, hot against my neck as I stare at the ground, frozen. He whispers, “Look at me.”
    I raise my face toward his, confused and nervous. I’ve never meditated alone with Aaron, and I’m worried about making a mistake.
    He says, “I had a dream last night about you.”
    “Me?”
    He nods. “You’re very pretty.”
    I blush, embarrassed and uncomfortable that he’s telling me this.
    His face clouds over. “You don’t like me very much, do you?”
    “No, I like you.” I was even more embarrassed that he’d sensed my discomfort around him, wanted to assure him. “I’m just shy.”
    He smiles, looks relieved. “You don’t have to be shy with me. We’re friends, right?”
    I smile back, feeling more relaxed now. “Sure, we’re friends.”
    “Okay, close your eyes and we’ll meditate. It’ll be cool, trust me.”
    I close my eyes again, waiting for him to start chanting. He cups his hand around the back of my head, holding me in place. Then his mouth presses against my lips, his beard scratching. I