“But shortly after that, things started to go wrong. I had already made plans to spend New Year’s Eve with the volleyball girls months before, because we had to buy tickets in advance for the House of Blues New Year’s Eve concert. He asked me multiple times to stay home and spend the evening with him and his friends. I told him I was sorry, but there was no way I was giving up that ticket. He still was mad at me, but he seemed like he was getting over it.
“That night, he wouldn’t stop texting me. At first it was things like I miss you, or I wish you were here with me. But then they kept coming, and got more aggressive. And the girls told me I should just turn my phone off. That I deserved a girls’ night out. I hadn’t spent any time with them at all since I had started dating Trip, and I agreed with them. So I sent him a message saying I’d talk to him tomorrow, and shut my phone off. But I guess that wasn’t okay with him, because when I got home, at 2 o’clock in the morning, he was sitting on my front steps waiting for me.”
He was treating her like this all the way back in January, and she didn’t break up with him until April? What could possibly have possessed her—?
“He started yelling at me, asking me where the hell I had been, why I wasn’t answering his messages. I reminded him that he knew exactly where I was, and told him I had shut my phone off to save the battery in case I needed it on my way home. Of course that wasn’t exactly the truth, but that’s not the point. He told me—“ She stops to take a deep breath, and she still doesn’t open her eyes. "He told me it was complete and utter bullshit that I would rather spend New Year’s Eve with my bitchy girlfriends when I could have been spending it with him. That’s when I started yelling. I told him if that’s the way he felt, then he could take a flying leap and find a new girlfriend.
“He immediately sat down on my front step and started crying. And the idiot that I am, I walked up and sat down next to him on the step. I asked him why he was crying, and he said that if I was breaking up with him, that he might as well go jump off a bridge. I asked him why on earth he would do that, and he said that he loved me, and if he couldn’t have me, then he might as well just end it all. I didn’t really know what to say to that, so I just stayed silent. Then he turned to me and said he was sorry for freaking out, but that he loved me, and when I didn’t answer his texts, or later his calls, he was terrified that something had happened to me, and that if I had just stayed home with him, whatever had happened wouldn’t have happened.”
Wow. I knew Trip was a piece of work. But this? He’s like a freaking con artist.
“So you tried to break up with him four months before you actually did?”
She puts a finger up to my lips to shush me. “Please, just let me finish, or I might not be able to get through telling this.”
That sentence shuts me up even more than her finger on my lips. Because although I’m not sure I want to know all of this, I need to hear it.
“I fell for it. Hook, line, and sinker. He looked so heartbroken. And I wanted to believe him. And of course I didn’t want him to hurt himself. So I did what I thought was best for the moment: I apologized for saying I wanted to break up with him. That I was just angry that he was mad at me. He hugged me so hard, it almost hurt. Then he kissed me, and went home.”
I almost interrupt her, to ask if that was the last time he did anything like that, but I don’t want her to stop telling me what happened, so I keep my mouth shut.
“I spent as much time as I could with him, hoping that would be enough to keep him happy. But the way he was treating me…I constantly felt like I needed to ask him permission about things, like whether or not it was ok to spend time with my friends, and even my family sometimes. And he constantly told me, not only with his words, but with his actions, that his plans and activities were more important than mine, and that the things I wanted were stupid, or never going to happen. When he got his acceptance letter to UW, for their pre-med program, he kept pushing me to apply there once I got my ACT scores back. I told him I didn’t really want to go to UW, because they didn’t have a very good music education program, and I couldn’t get a track scholarship from them because they’re a division three school. He said I didn’t need a scholarship for track, and that I shouldn’t play college sports anyway, because we go to college to get a degree, not play games. Then he told me going to school to be a music teacher would be a waste of time, because it didn’t pay diddly squat, and I could do so much better than being a teacher, saying that stupid freaking cliché ‘Those who can’t do, teach.’ He made me question everything I had ever wanted. I thought maybe he was right.”
What kind of jerk, who says he loves a girl, tells that same girl that her dreams and aspirations are stupid?! I take a deep breath, to help me keep my tongue from spewing out my thoughts.
“You remember in March, when Mr. West assigned you and me that duet for contest?”
“Yeah.” Of course I do. One of the best decisions Mr. West ever made. “Why?”
“Well, Trip accused me of asking Mr. West to sing with you, saying that I wanted to date you instead of him. I told him over and over again that it wasn’t true. But he didn’t believe me. The next day, he came back and apologized to me, saying he didn’t mean to yell at me, or accuse me of anything. That he didn't want to hurt me. But that he still didn’t want me to sing with you. So I told him I would find a way to get out of it.”
“But you never asked to get out of it. At least not that I heard.”
“Please. I’m almost done. I told him I would find a way to get out of it, but I never even tried to. I wanted to sing that song with you. And if this was the only way I could do something that I wanted to do, well, then he didn’t need to know about it.
“Two weeks later, he found out, from Hillary, that I was still working on that duet with you…”
-----
Becca
I pulled into Trip’s driveway after my shift at the hardware store was over. As I pulled the keys out of my ignition, the radio clock read 5:37 PM.
I hopped out of my car, leaving it unlocked since I was the one driving to the movie theater. I was exhausted, but Trip had been bugging me all week to see the action flick that came out the previous weekend. So, I finally gave in today so I wouldn’t have to hear him talk about it anymore.
I knocked twice on the door, then opened it. Trip’s parents never kept it locked, and his mom had very firmly told me to just come on in whenever I came over, after the second time that I had stopped by and waited at the door for someone to answer it.
As I turned to close the door behind me, Trip walked into the hallway and immediately started screaming at me.
“What the hell, Becca? I have to hear from Hillary, of all people, that my girlfriend is singing with that idiot, Asher, when she specifically told me she was going to find a way to get out of doing it?!”
I stood against the wall, frozen. I wasn’t sure if it would be best to just let him get it all out, or if I should try to defend myself right away. But Trip didn’t wait long enough for me to make a decision.
“You won’t even deny it! And you shouldn’t, because I already asked Mr. West if you were singing with Asher, and he said yes. You want to know what I think? I think you have been cheating on me with Asher. I think the reason you’ve refused to sleep with me, over and over again, is because you’ve been screwing Asher this whole time. You’re nothing but a dirty little slut.”
I could hardly see Trip through the tears I was trying to hold back. But it was no use. The sobs began racking my body, making it impossible for me to respond to Trip’s accusations. He stood there, staring me down, fists clenched at his sides. His face was getting redder by the moment, and I knew he was about to explode.
I took a deep breath, and whispered, “It’s not true.”
A wicked sneer came across Trip’s face. “Is that so?”
I got a little braver. “Yes. I have never—not once—cheated on you with anybody, and the reason I won’t sleep with you
is because I’m a virgin, and I plan on staying that way. I made a promise, before God, to wait until I was married. You know that.”
Trip made it pretty obvious that he didn’t believe me when he rushed up to me and punched the wall next to my face.
I began crying harder again. I whispered through my tears, “I’m telling you the truth.”
He immediately pressed his entire body against mine, one hand pressed slightly against my throat, while his other arm wrapped around me, holding my arms to my body. “Well, I don’t believe a word you just said. I think since Asher’s already gotten a piece of you, it’s about time I got my fair share. After all, I’m the one who’s actually been dating you for the last seven months.”
Tears continued to stream down my face as Trip ran his tongue up my neck to my ear. I didn’t know what to do to make him stop. Between Trip’s hand restricting my vocal chords, and my crying, I barely managed to get out a hoarse, “Please Trip. Don’t do this.”
His response to my plea was to run his lips across my neck and to my other ear before whispering, “Becca. I would rather see you dead than to see you with Asher.”
His words terrified me, seeming to trigger my fight response. I tried to push Trip off of me, and strangled out, “Please Trip! Just let me go!” My pushing and wriggling did me no good. Trip was stronger than I was.
He sucked my ear lobe into his mouth. When he released it, he whispered, “Never.”
He released my neck, moving that hand down my body, stopping to feel my left breast, then continuing down my stomach, where he started to unbutton my jeans.
A wordless scream left my body. Trip covered it with a kiss, as he moved his hand from my now-released button to my zipper.
Just as I went limp with hopelessness, I heard Trip’s dad yell, “Trip, what in the Sam Hell are you doing?!” He ran down the hall, and ripped Trip off of me.
I stayed against the wall, but leaned over, putting my hands on my knees, trying to breathe.
I hadn’t even noticed her in all the commotion, but Trip’s mom had come up to me, and put her arm around my shoulders. But after what Trip had done to me, I didn’t want her to touch me. I didn’t want anyone to touch me. I shrugged her arm off, and ran out the front door, zipping and buttoning my pants between the front steps and my car.
I jumped into the front seat, locked my doors and grabbed my phone. I thanked God that my mom was on speed dial, or I might not have been able to find her name through my tears.
“Hey Becca. What’s up? I thought you were going to a movie with Trip?”
“Mom?” I croaked out, then started sobbing all over again…
-----
Asher
Silent tears are streaming down Becca’s face. They haven't really stopped since she started her story. I wipe them away with my thumbs, and tell her, “You don’t have to tell me the rest. I don’t want to hurt you any more than you already have been.”
“I want to. And you’re not hurting me. He did.” Becca starts turning her purity ring around her finger, and I slide my hands down her arms, then carefully pull her hands apart, and give her hands a small squeeze. “Anyway, she could barely understand me through my tears, but I asked her to come pick me up, because I couldn’t drive while I was crying. My dad drove her over, and she drove me home in my car. When I finally calmed down enough to talk, I told them everything, from the very beginning. They had suspected that I wasn’t really happy in our relationship, but they didn’t have a clue about everything Trip had done to me. When I finished telling them what happened, my parents apologized for not realizing what was going on. But it wasn’t their fault, and I told them that. Then my dad called Trip’s dad, and we all agreed to meet back over at their house to discuss what had happened.
“I had already told my parents I didn’t want to date him anymore, and they knew everything that had happened, so I didn’t say a word the entire time we were there. In front of all of our parents, Trip promised never to talk to me, or touch me, again. His parents asked us to not press charges, as Trip was getting the punishment of a lifetime from them, although they understood if we still wanted to. I shook my head no, that I wouldn’t do that. I just wanted to get the heck out of there. I knew I was going to have to still see him in the hallways at school. But something like this on his record would mean he would not be moving nice and far away from me to go to college. And I didn’t want to add to the reasons that Trip might want to hurt me. I went out and sat in the car while my parents told his parents everything else that happened before that day, because they wanted to know. And I never wanted to relive those moments again.”
She can’t seem to speak anymore through the tears that are now pouring like rain from her eyes. I continue to wipe away as many as I can.
Becca breathes in, holds it, then finally blows it out. “And Trip kept his promise. He never said a word to me, or touched me again.”
Until now.
I know I promised Becca I wouldn’t do anything. But if I ever get my hands on him…I’ll kill him.
Chapter Ten
Becca
The moment I stop talking, I lean my face into Asher’s chest, and just start sobbing again. I can’t believe I just told Asher all of that. But now that it’s all off my chest, I can’t stop crying. He wraps his arms around me, and starts slowly rubbing my back. I just need something to hold onto, so I slide my arms around his back, and hang on tight.
When I can finally breathe normally again, I say, “I know. I’m stupid. And weak. And I shouldn’t let one little post on Facebook upset me like this.”
Asher runs his hands from my back, over my shoulders, up my neck, and cups my face, forcing me to look him in the eyes. “Becca, you are not stupid. Or weak. You are one of the strongest people I know. And you have every right to be upset about that post. Hell, I’m upset about that post.”
“You really think that?” I find it hard to believe. I think I’m stupid for dealing with my relationship with Trip the way I did. And I certainly feel weak.
“Of course I think that. You are an amazing person. And Trip is the world’s biggest douche bag. If I could, I would—“
“No. You promised. You promised you wouldn’t try to do anything about it. I didn’t tell you so that someone would seek some sort of revenge for me, or for you to feel sorry for me, or anything like that. I told you because I wanted to be honest with you. And I wanted you to understand why I am acting like a lunatic.”
“I know. And I won’t. And I’m glad you were honest with me. And yes, I understand now why you’re acting the way you are, but you are most definitely not acting like a lunatic. You are acting like you’re scared. And I would be too, after what he said, and what he’s already done in the past. But Becca, I think you need to tell your parents.”
“Maybe…I don’t know. I don’t want to get them worried about something that’s on the stupid internet.” I start to turn my face away, but Asher’s hands are still on my face, and he turns me back to look at him.
“I know you probably don’t want to do this, but do you think it would be alright if I read the comments on that post? And if I read the text messages on your phone, which I suspect are from Trip?”
I’m not sure if I want Asher to read all of that, but I really don’t think I can do it myself. “There’s also a voicemail on my phone that’s probably from him too. And no, I don’t think I can read any of that, or listen to his voice. You go ahead and read or listen. Or not. Whatever you want. But I can’t be here while you do it. I’ll go out on the couch or something while you do it.”
“No. You stay here. Lay down. Rest. I will go out into the game room to take care of this. I’ll let you know if there’s anything you have to know, but otherwise, do you want me to keep it to myself?”
“Please? I just…I don’t want to know.”
I move off of Asher’s lap, and up toward my pillows. Asher slides off the bed, then tucks me into it. He leans over me, to brush my hair off of my
face, and says “I promise. I will do whatever I can to help fix this.” With his face only inches from mine, I push myself up, just enough to kiss him on the cheek, and whisper a thank you before rolling over to face the wall. I’m exhausted, and need a few minutes to myself.
-----
Asher
The first thing I do when I get into the game room is set Becca’s phone on the coffee table, plunk down on the couch, and rub the crap out of my eyes. Between staying up all night, and this, I’m exhausted. But this is much more important than sneaking in a nap.
I pick Becca’s phone back up, and scroll through the comments on Trip’s post on her wall. Becca may not believe it, but she has some amazing friends, even after everything that’s happened. The girls she plays volleyball with, and a bunch from the track team, have all supported Becca through their responses to Trip’s post. A number of them asked Trip to delete it, since it was obvious Becca hasn’t been online, and they had a whole lot of things to say about Trip himself. I’m tempted to delete his post off her wall myself, but I don’t want to do that without asking Becca’s permission. And if she tells her parents, they’re going to want to see exactly what he said. I take a few screen shots, making sure to get the entire post, just in case.
Once I finish scrolling through all of the comments, I open Becca’s text messaging app. Seven of the eight text messages are from Trip. The eighth one is from Livvie. That must be why she had wanted to talk to Becca when they got back from fishing. Livvie must have seen the post online. And it’s pretty obvious Livvie didn’t tell their parents, because I can’t imagine in a million years that Amy and Rich would let Becca find out about this on her own if they could help it.
I open the texts from Trip, and they start out simply enough:
Our Song Page 7