by Lizzy Ford
“What does it matter?” I ask, done with Gerard after tonight. That pain is raw, too. If I’d been given time to process everything, I think I would’ve eventually been at peace with leaving Gerard behind. Right now, it hurts.
“It means there’s something else going on. Maybe another witness. A video of Robert and Madison. Something that made him and Connor want to hush you up. This was not the kind of step they’d take, if they had a better option.”
“Do you think there could be someone else who came forward?” I ask, hopeful. I’m scared about standing alone to face what’s coming, but if someone else who had been through this is with me, we can face our attackers together and put them away.
“I can do some digging and talk to Tenet.” Chris appears troubled rather than encouraged by the idea. “I want you to stay here this weekend.”
“I need the rest.” I had hoped to go out with Ari but after my new round of injuries, and the amount of press that will hound us, I’m thinking I might want to stay in my condo forever. “I know we’re on Gerard’s shit list, but do you think Nellie would come over and make me some croissants?” I ask.
“It shouldn’t be a problem.” Chris’ response is distracted.
We’re quiet for a moment. With him in my living room, and Dom and Fabio outside my door, I’m starting to feel safe again. I’m going to ask Ari over for the weekend.
“Does this change your answer about Joseph’s proposal?” Chris asks, refocusing on me.
I mull over the question. I know Joseph and Molly are waiting for me to say yes.
“Is there another solution?” I murmur.
“They’ll negotiate.”
There’s a part of me that doesn’t want anyone hurt, even Gerard. I’ve spent the past few months in pain, both physically and mentally. I don’t want anyone to suffer, and I definitely don’t ever want to be the source of pain. The only exceptions: seeing Robert and Madison put in jail forever, where they can never hurt anyone again.
“I can come out in public about the family mess,” I reply. “But, Chris, I don’t want to hurt Gerard or anyone else, and I’m not doing talk shows or going any further into the political arena. I’ll give whatever speech they want, and then I’m leaving the area as soon as I graduate.”
“To where?”
“I don’t know. Just far away from here.”
Chris appears to be thinking about the idea.
“That’s my counter-proposal,” I say with an equal amount of uncertainty and confidence. I don’t know if it’s the smart or right thing to do at all. “I can ask Mama to fund Joseph either way if that’s the reason he wants me involved.”
“You’re catching on.” Chris offers a small smile.
“When you want to survive something, you have to play dirty. Right?”
“If you’re surrounded by a good family and friends, the need to survive shouldn’t define any of your actions let alone cross your mind. You should never have to play dirty, either.”
“You sound like a dad,” I say and then grimace as I shift positions. My neck is stiff.
“How far away?” he asks.
I realize he’s thinking about coming with me. I don’t know what to think about that.
“As long as your mother isn’t there,” he adds. “She’s supposed to announce her decision to file for divorce soon. I already resigned.”
“Before or after you heard about tonight?”
“Before. I’ll be dedicated to your case and you.”
“Thank you,” I murmur.
Chris is quiet. I study him. He wants to say something but isn’t.
“What?” I ask finally.
“You being friends with Dom could give fodder to the defense. They can twist this into an inappropriate relationship or cast doubt on his testimony.”
“Omigod. We’re not involved. I text him because my support system sucks!” Here I thought we could have a conversation without him going all lawyerly on me. Or is he going fatherly on me? I have no idea.
“I didn’t say you can’t or shouldn’t,” Chris says with tried patience. “I want you to be aware that everything you do, everyone you talk to, everything you’ve ever said or worn is fair game. If you still believe he’s worth talking to, even knowing the risk or potential risk, then I’ll do my best to anticipate and prepare for whatever argument the defense prepares.”
I hesitate. If I want Dom out of my life, I’m certain Chris can make that happen, too. But I don’t want that. I never have, and I’ve never given a damn about what some attorney I’ve never met will think of me talking to my friend.
“Is this one of those hero syndromes?” Chris asks. “He rescued you, and you’ve built some kind of fantasy around him?”
My head drops back onto the couch and I groan. “You think I haven’t covered this with Dr. Thompkins? If he thought I was doing something wrong or bad for me, he would’ve told you in one of his weekly reports.” I point out. “No, it’s nothing like that. I like being around Dom, because he’s a good person. I don’t know many good people, and I want to become one. It’s kind of hard when you’re surrounded by our family.”
Chris studies me.
“He’s nice to me,” I add. “He genuinely cares for people.”
“If anyone puts the two of you together, things can get rough for him as well.”
“I don’t want that,” I respond, confused. “But I do want him as my friend.”
“Have you asked him what he wants?”
“No.”
“Ask him. Make sure he understands there’s a good chance this can affect his job. If you two want to stay in contact, I’ll talk to Molly. Shea stayed with your father, but Molly’s team is just as media savvy.”
My heart slows. I don’t want anything like my life for Dom. The idea of permanently pushing him away, though, brings tears to my eyes.
“I’ll ask him,” I say finally. “I need some sleep. Thank you for coming.”
“Any time, Mia.” These words are softer and almost warm. Chris is as baffled as I am about our newfound relationship.
He leaves, and I take a quick shower.
I resist the urge to search my apartment for signs of Robert or Madison. Instead, I retreat to my safe room. I stretch out on the twin bed and pull out my phone. I text Ari the details of my night. While waiting for the barrage of her response, I send a note to Dom.
Thanks for being there tonight. I’m so sorry it was terrible. I hit send and then pause to think about how to ask him the question Chris asked me.
It’s one of those issues that is probably better discussed in person.
The first of Ari’s texts comes in followed by six more. I read through them and respond in between hers. She’s pissed. For some reason, that makes me smile. She cares. She always has. She’s always been my anchor in my fucked up world.
The more I dwell on Chris’ words, the more concerned I become. I’ve been at the edge of the spotlight my whole life and am still shocked by the insanity. Dom has never faced anything like what I have always known. How would he handle sudden fame? Being unable to travel anywhere because of the media? Seeing pictures of himself in tabloids or online or on the television? Can he handle it? Would he want to?
If anyone can cope, I’d like to think it’s him. I’m just not confident he will want to stick around once he realizes how crazy it is. He has a good head on his shoulders and does what’s right, because he’s a good person.
I’m not sure what kind of person I am. Not good like Dom, but not bad like Gerard. Maybe that makes me normal. I’m not sure.
I text Ari until I fall asleep.
16
I dream of the night that changed my life and wake up close to tears.
Ari arrives mid-morning with two cups of coffee for each of us, ice cream, some groceries and a bag full of pastries.
We talk for hours about everything that’s happened before putting on movies. Chris leaves me alone. In fact, everyone does. I don’t even s
ee a Fabio. It’s the best day I’ve had since before the incident.
Ari spends the night, and I wake up feeling as normal as I can with my uncomfortable injuries and the summer from hell.
Ari makes breakfast, and I toy with my cell. After a great deal of internal back and forth, I text Dom.
Are you on duty today? I ask.
“Omelets!” Ari announces and pushes a plate with an omelet and bacon in front of me, along with one of the leftover croissants from yesterday.
We both take our plates to the living room to eat while watching more movies.
Dom’s text comes a short time later. I’m on the night shift. I report for duty around seven.
Will you meet me at seven fifteen?
He responds quickly. Sure.
I set my phone aside and watch movies with Ari for the rest of the day.
At around seven fifteen, I leave my apartment. Molly would say I’m underdressed, but I don’t plan on leaving the building. Fabio trails me to the ground floor, and I wait.
In full uniform, Dom enters the lobby, checks in with the guard and Fabio at the door, and then approaches.
I glance at my Fabio, who moves away without me asking him to.
“How’s the hand?” Dom asks.
“I’m getting used to pain,” I reply.
He frowns. Whenever I look too long at Dom, I forget what I’m doing. His brown eyes are on me. I wonder if some part of him thinks I’m going to send him away again. I’m ashamed of how I’ve acted towards him but I meant what I said to Chris. I’m not really sure what a good person is supposed to do if not look out for someone else, which I thought I was trying to do.
“I, uh, wanted to ask you something.” I didn’t bother trying to prepare my question or speech this day, because I tend to forget what I want to say anyway. “My life is a media circus, and I’m a regular on the front page of the tabloids. My relatives are insane. There’s a good chance I’ll be seeing my therapist for years. I’m not ready for anything more than friendship and won’t be for a long time. I’m about to destroy the careers of two high-level politicians. I don’t even know what the fallout from that will be. Anyone – everyone – associated with me is likely to be dragged through the mud by the press.”
It comes out as verbal diarrhea. I hope I’m coherent. As I speak, I start to think I never should bother asking what I want to ask. Who the hell would want to be part of this disaster?
“If you want to be in my life, you could lose every piece of privacy you have now. Every day could be like a new and different train wreck,” I finish.
Dom’s scrutinizing me once more.
“I owe you the courtesy of asking you if you want to be involved in my life,” I say awkwardly. “I can’t or shouldn’t make that decision for you, even if I think you deserve better. Even if I’m afraid of what you’ll say.”
“I can handle myself, Mia,” is his quiet response.
“Your family could be dragged into the tabloids. You could lose your job,” I insist and study his features.
Neither doubt nor regret is in his face. His gaze is steady, clear. He’s sure of himself.
I don’t think I’ve ever been sure of myself in any way.
“The answer is yes,” he replies. “If all we ever are is friends, I’m happy to be in your life, no matter what.”
I’ve never met anyone like Dom. I didn’t even know someone like him existed. Selfless and caring, warm and authentic. He has no hidden agenda. He doesn’t view me as a pawn who can be used.
He sees me. At my worst. And still wants to be in my life.
“Okay,” I murmur, uncertain what else to say.
“You want to go for ice cream next weekend?” he asks. “Bring Ari, and I’ll bring my nieces.”
“I’d like that,” I reply. I start to smile and then stop myself. Is it appropriate? I don’t know. I’m not convinced he made the right choice. Dr. Thompkins would tell me it doesn’t matter what I think; it was Dom’s choice to make.
Awkward as usual, I turn away and return to the elevator, trailed by Fabio. I can’t bring myself to look back at Dom, in case he’s starting to doubt himself. I don’t think I can handle his rejection at the moment.
The elevator doors close, and I release my breath.
“You won’t need me, if he’s around.” Original Fabio speaks.
My Fabios are yet more people I’ve never valued the way they deserve to be. I gaze up at him. “I’m sorry I’ve never appreciated you being around, either. Thank you for protecting me, Fabio.”
“My pleasure, Ms. Abbott-Renou.”
I return to my condo and sit down on the couch, where Ari is waiting to hear about the exchange with Dom. She squeals when I tell her. We start watching more movies, while I text with Dom off and on.
Chris texts me later that night to let me know I’m not going to school the next morning.
I’m going for a lineup.
A different lineup.
This time, I’m going to identify the other man who raped me.
I’m going to pick out Robert.
I’m nervous when I arrive to the police station with my detail in tow. Chris meets me there, along with four members of his team this time. I’m not sure why he feels the need for the display, but I’m not the only one who picks up on it.
Paparazzi hover around us as we enter the police station. It’s quiet inside, and I’m escorted quickly to the same room where I identified Madison.
Men and women in suits who can be no one other than Robert’s attorneys are in the hallway. There are six of them to my four, but I have Chris, who counts as a hundred as far as I’m concerned, not just because he’s an incredible attorney, but because he’s my father.
Self-conscious beneath the intent looks of everyone, I cross my arms and enter the small room. Thankfully, only Chris, a single member of Robert’s team, the DA, and Detective Wilson are present.
The five men file in. It takes no time for me to identify Robert, even if he didn’t have a swollen nose.
“Three,” I say quietly.
“A word, counselor,” says the head of Robert’s legal team, addressing Chris.
The two step into the hallway.
Robert and the others file out of the room. I want to stay here in the dark space for the rest of the day. Mondays are rough enough without starting them out in a police station.
“Saw your picture with Gerard in the news. Anything you want to tell me?” the DA asks.
“Talk to my lawyer,” I reply.
He smiles. “Today starts the very long process of seeking justice.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes,” I whisper and then swallow hard.
“You’re doing the right thing,” Detective Wilson assures me.
“I know.” I do. It’s taken me a long time to realize what the right thing is, but I feel like I’m finally there. “You can expect a call from Gerard.”
“I’ve fielded several,” the DA replies. “I imagine you’re under a great deal more pressure than I am.”
I consider his words. Before this weekend, I would have agreed. After Gerard’s antics Friday night, I know there’s nothing he can say to me, no pressure he can put on me. Not anymore. It wasn’t his intention, but he forced me to acknowledge he was not the man I thought he was. He never will be. I won’t let him influence me anymore.
I feel a certain release in this knowledge. It’s painful, and I wish with all my heart that I could change the truth. I can’t. Gerard is who he is. I am who I am. I’m not even his daughter, and there’s nothing he can do that will make me change my mind about moving forward with this trial.
“What happens next?” I ask.
“He’ll be arraigned tomorrow and bail set,” the DA responds.
“He’ll be out by noon.”
“Probably. I’m not counting on him seeing the inside of a cell any time soon.”
“Madison?”
“I have a feeling he’ll come out of the woodwork.
The Connors are pushing hard to blame him for everything.”
“But you won’t let them,” I say and face him. “You know that’s not true.”
“I will do everything I can to ensure they both serve time for their crimes,” he says firmly.
“We suspect more victims will come forward once everything hits the news,” Detective Wilson says. “They both have some sketchy shit in their pasts. We’re hoping more women are inspired by you.”
“I gave Chris the rules for any interaction you have with the press,” the DA says.
I don’t know how to reconcile my feelings of guilt over what happened to Tanya and the flicker of pride I experience when I think I can inspire someone else who has suffered. I should have done the right thing from the start.
I can’t change that, either. The only thing I can do is become a better person going forward. I can be more like Chris, who chose me over Gerard, and more like Dom, who will never hesitate to do what’s right, and more like Ari, who has never once failed to be by my side.
Hopefully, one day, I can become the person I want to be.
Right now, I feel the need to sit down before I vomit.
Fortunately, Chris returns not long after leaving. He’s not happy, but no one is. I can’t imagine how stressful his job must be. He’s the only person standing between me and Robert’s attorneys, Gerard and whoever else would pounce, if given the chance.
Chris and the DA exchange a look before my daddy turns his attention to me.
“No school this week,” he says and opens the door to reveal Fabio and Chris’ team.
“Media circus?” I guess.
“This time, the administrator has asked you to stay home until this all blows over. He’s sending over a tutor.”
I scowl. If there’s anything worse than trigonometry, it’s trig at home. After my confrontation with Madison and phone call with Robert, and Madison’s disappearance, I’d rather be at home than at school.
We return to my condo. I don’t relax until I’m safe inside my home. Chris follows me in and sits on the couch, texting and emailing, while I change clothes. I join him and wait for him to finish or to acknowledge me.