It all began with a light-hearted conversation with my boss, “Mark,” at the YMCA.  He was the branch Aquatics Director.  Our previous discussions with each other had always been solely work-related.  One day, we happened to be eating lunch in the break room at the same time.  The lunchtime conversation took a lot of twists and turns –  friends and families, next weekend’s plans, and our relationships with our significant others.  I was in a long-distance relationship with my then-boyfriend, Pat. Mark was in a long-standing, serious relationship but made subtle comments that maybe the relationship was not going well. I never asked questions but just politely listened. With that, our lunch break ended, and we both returned to our duties.  Later that afternoon, my boss requested that I drop by his office before leaving for the day.  I was consumed with worry for the remainder of my time at work.  What does my boss want to discuss with me?  Had I done something wrong or made a YMCA patron angry?   At the end of my work day, I grabbed my backpack and nervously headed for his office.  I knocked on the door, and he motioned for me to enter.  Trembling internally, I entered his office and sat down.  I was waiting for a bombshell moment when, in a low voice, Mark told me that he wanted to talk to me about the problems he and his girlfriend were having.  My face went from doom to total relief to complete puzzlement.  Why would my boss, almost eight years older than me, share personal information about his love life with me, a seventeen-year-old girl?  The more I heard of his personal problems, the more uncomfortable I felt.  I didn’t feel I could just leave because he was my boss, an authority figure.  I politely sat in his office while Mark told me about the difficulties he and his girlfriend were having.  Again, I just listened until he directly asked me my opinion. As a seventeen-year-old teenage girl, I thought I gave some pretty good advice.  I told him it would be best to get some counseling so they could work out their problems. I then boldly talked to him about my faith and how Jesus might help him with his problems.  He immediately told me that he was already a Catholic and quickly dismissed any need for more “religion.” Finding a break in the conversation, I told him I needed to head home to finish my homework.  I excused myself, wished him the best, and left.  

This situation repeated itself often over the next few months.  I would finish with my classes for the day and begin heading out the front door. He would then call me into his office to discuss his “girlfriend” problems.  Eventually, this became a regular occurrence almost every day I worked.  It was incredibly awkward, but I felt obligated to listen because Mark was my boss and my grade-giver for the work-study program.  I also felt that by showing him compassion during his struggles, I was fulfilling what Jesus would do. Unfortunately, these chats began interfering with my attendance at my church youth group meetings on Wednesday nights.  At first, I would try to break off the conversation in time to go to church, but Mark would just press the issue that he really needed to talk to me about his problems. I convinced myself I was doing what Jesus would do by listening to Mark instead of attending church.  I eventually knew I was in error because I began to lie to my Mom that I had work commitments keeping me from Wednesday night church.  Listen very carefully!  The following is a Truth alert . . . The enemy is usually not forthright and blatant about sin and deceit.  He runs a covert operation underwritten by confusion.  As a follower of Christ, the enemy will sneak into your life when you least expect it and offer you opportunities to compromise just a little.  One little compromise turns into two little compromises, and before long, you find yourself drowning in confusion and compromise. Soon, you become separated from the very One, Jesus, who loves you the most.

As a soon-to-be 59-year-old woman, I have reflected back often on my time at the YMCA. I have often wondered why no one from the YMCA staff ever questioned Mark or intervened in Mark’s ongoing regular “meetings” with me.  Why didn’t the inappropriateness of his relationship with me ever raise red flags, especially to Mark’s boss?  It was as plain as black and white: Me, a 17-year-old minor employee, and Mark, my 25-year-old boss.  Something should have stood out to somebody.  Someone should have protected me.  I was clearly being taken advantage of, but no one stepped in to help. Everyone with any authority seemed to turn a blind eye to it.   Fortunately, the holiday season was soon upon us. I finally got a break from Mark, my YMCA classes, and the awkward drama I couldn’t escape. Before I could blink, my Christmas break was over, and a new year had begun.  My life had resumed as before. My 18th birthday was quickly approaching the end of January.  On my birthday, Mark approached me at work and told me he wanted to take me out to lunch to celebrate my birthday.  I agreed to his invitation, confident that he most probably did this for other employees.   We went to a local Italian restaurant, had some small talk while eating, and then it happened.   During our meal, he reached across the table, put his hand on mine, and told me he was attracted to me.  I was shocked and stunned.  After an awkward moment of silence, I reminded him that I was already dating someone. He took my rejection in stride, but it made everything uncomfortable. Once again, the entire event brought so much confusion to me.  Everything about this seemed wrong, but I didn’t know who to contact.  I never felt I had led him on, but my heart was heavy with the idea that he thought we could be a couple because of my kindness.  Maybe he was just mourning the loss of a relationship with his girlfriend.  I just wasn’t sure. 

As the months went by, I was finally nearing the end of my high school career. I remember the last day of high school like it happened yesterday.  While many of my friends and acquaintances were yelling, screaming, and celebrating as they exited the building, I was mourning the loss of structure and routine.  As I walked out of the front doors of Mehlville High School for the last time, I was overcome with fear and panic.  I was afraid of the fact that I had no future plans for my life.  For the last 13 years of my life, my schedule consisted of getting up in the morning and attending school.  What would I do now?  While many of my friends would talk about their college plans for the Fall, I quietly slipped away so I wouldn’t have to answer any questions about myself or my lack of direction.  I felt lost and disconnected.  I felt like a failure. 

My high school graduation ceremony was held near the first of June.  The location of the ceremony had bounced from inside to outside multiple times due to an uncertain weather forecast.  Finally, the school decided that the ceremony would be outside.  My school colors were green and white, so the boys wore green caps and gowns while the girls wore white.  All of us wore green tassels on our caps.  Sure enough, as luck would have it, rain began to fall during the graduation ceremony.  When it came time for me to receive my diploma, I proudly climbed the staircase, accepted my diploma, walked across the stage, and then . . . slipped on the wet staircase and tumbled to the ground. It all seemed to happen in slow motion.  Before I could scream for help, I was helplessly lying on the wet track.  The entire stadium went silent for a moment, hearing only the sound of raindrops.  As someone came to help me get up, the crowd began to clap their hands and cheer for my safe recovery.  Physically, I was fine, but I was embarrassed beyond words.  With tears in my eyes, I composed myself and returned to my seat.  Years later, I would never realize how much that fall down that staircase represented my senior year and the months that were ahead of me. Unbeknownst to me, things were going to go from bad to worse. 

Within a few short weeks following my graduation, I learned that Mark had attempted to take his life.  I was shocked.  It was at this point that my emotional relationship with Mark seemed to change.  He seemed lost, wounded, and needy, and somehow I felt I could help him.  Upon reflection, the problem was I was also a needy young lady with no direction or purpose for my life.  Growing up in an unstable home life made me more susceptible to trying to resolve other people’s problems.  To add more confusion to an already challenging set of circumstances, I made the difficult decision to break off my long-distance relationship with Pat.  It was heart-wrenching for both of us, but we were drifting apart.  Looking back, everything seemed to come together like a perfect storm.  

After spending some time in a mental health facility, Mark eventually reached out to me and began inviting me to do things with him outside of work.  Overall, the relationship seemed platonic yet confusing.   He took me to a YMCA fundraising event.  We went boating with his family, which was incredibly awkward because they kept asking him about where his ex-girlfriend was.  He also introduced me to his Mom.  As time went on, I actually began to believe that maybe this relationship was meant to go somewhere.  I lacked peace about everything going on, but I guess I ignored the warning signs that were happening all around me.  He never came to pick me up at my house.   I always had to meet him at the YMCA parking lot to go somewhere.  We never went out on a true date with each other.  He also never called me at home.  All of our conversations happened in person at the YMCA.  After asking him numerous times, he agreed to come over for a Sunday dinner to meet my Mom. After he left, my Mom told me straight up that she didn’t care for him, nor did she understand what I had in common with him.  

One afternoon in late July, Mark invited me to his house for a BBQ dinner.  I accepted his invitation and even brought my little dog with me.  We spent some time in his backyard talking and playing with my dog.  Once the meal was prepared, we went inside and sat down at his kitchen table to eat.  The conversation seriously lagged.  While watching television together, a physical relationship suddenly took off.  Little by little, I allowed things to progress, and I became more and more uncomfortable.  Finally, he took me by the hand and led me to his bedroom.  There was an immediate hesitation and a still small voice within my heart that whispered, “Don’t do this.” Unfortunately, my mixed-up emotions were like a tiny leaf caught up in the swiftness of a rushing river.  It seemed like my brain just shut down, and I tried to ignore what was happening. Sex was short, mechanical, and to the point.  It was absolutely nothing like I thought an experience like this would be.  When the act was over, I felt hollow inside and completely used.  I had somehow allowed myself to be given away, but didn’t feel like I received anything in return – except guilt and shame.  As I was getting dressed in the bathroom, Mark’s phone started ringing.  I could hear him softly talking to someone.  The tone of his voice seemed nervous yet upbeat.  When I finished using the bathroom and walked into his living room, he told me that he needed to drive me home.  Concerned, I asked why.  He hesitated for what seemed like forever.  Finally, as I became increasingly agitated, I pressed him for an answer.  He finally told me that his ex-girlfriend had just called and that she wanted to try to work things out with him.  She was coming over to his house to talk, and he needed to get me home right away.  At first, I was shocked and speechless, but then anger quickly set in.  I was so enraged at Mark, but I was honestly more furious with myself.  How could I have been so stupid and naive?  I gave myself away to someone who had absolutely no respect for me.  All he really wanted was an opportunity to have sex with me.  The signs were all there, but why couldn’t I see them clearly?  My heart was beyond broken.  I had been duped!  Mark kept repeating that he was sorry, but he really needed to see if he could work things out with his ex-girlfriend.  He also kept prodding and rushing me to gather my things so he could quickly drive me home.  Without any warning, I gathered my things together, including my dog, and I walked out the front door of his house.  Without any warning, I quickly walked past his car and began to walk home.  I knew when I set out on my journey home that it would be a long walk, approximately 12 miles, on a very busy and dark highway.  As I quickly walked along the shoulder of the road with my dog, all I could do was cry and beg God for forgiveness.  Because Mark lived in a pretty rural area, finding a pay phone was nearly impossible.  After walking a couple of miles, Mark pulled off onto the shoulder of the road in front of me.  He got out of his car and pleaded to drive me home.  I honestly did not want to go anywhere with him, but I had already rubbed blisters on my feet as I had worn sandals unsuitable for a long hike up a highway.  After watching my little dog pant in the heat, I finally agreed to let him drive me to my grandmother’s home. My father had been staying at my grandma’s house following my parents’ separation, and I knew he wouldn’t badger me about the events of the evening like my mother would.  When we arrived at my grandmother’s home, I exited Mark’s car without one word and knocked on her door.  My grandmother cautiously opened her door, and seeing it was me, she immediately invited me inside.  She quickly saw that I was very upset.  I asked her if my dad was there, and she told me no but that he would be back a little later. She told me that I could wait for my dad upstairs with her, or I could wait privately downstairs where he was staying.  After telling her that I would rather wait for my dad in her basement apartment,  she led me downstairs, gave me a hug, and told me she loved me.  A short time later, my dad showed up.  He was very worried about me.  Embarrassed, I just couldn’t tell him what happened. My father just hugged me tightly, told me he loved me, then encouraged me to go to bed. To avoid unnecessary worrying, he called my mom to let her know I was safe.  The next morning, after breakfast, my dad drove me home.  Surprisingly, my mother never questioned me about my evening with Mark. After all that had happened, I was determined to move forward with my life and the plans God had for me.  Other than seeing him at my job at the YMCA, Mark was out of my life for good, or at least, I thought he was.