by Elle Casey
Her confession takes some of the wind out of my sails. “You were raped? You personally?” I can’t believe it. She’s tough. She’s pretty. She’s completely no-nonsense. That kind of thing doesn’t happen to women like her.
She smiles without any happiness to it. “Yes. By five men. All people I thought were my friends, one of whom was my stepbrother. Pretty awful, huh?”
“God.” I swallow with difficulty. “Yes. That’s … terrible.” Now I feel like a jerk for planning to give her a hard time. She’s already had a hard time; she doesn’t need that from me or anyone else.
She leans closer, her hands gesticulating in rhythm with her words. “Terrible doesn’t begin to cover it. It takes over your whole world. It diminishes you. It makes you feel worthless and dirty and unworthy of ever feeling anything good again. You question everyone, their motives, their words, their thoughts, even. You begin to hate yourself for being so stupid, for not seeing this coming, for being responsible.”
I nod, the tears welling up as she’s speaking directly to my soul.
She shakes her head at me slowly. “It’s all a game. It’s a mind-game you’re playing with yourself and it has to stop.”
“I’m not …”
“You are. You’re doing it right now, just like I did it, just like women all over the world are doing it too. We are women. We believe in love and goodness and the kindness of others above all things. We are hard-wired to blame ourselves for things that other people do, even the bad, evil ones. That’s why we’re so good at compassion. It’s also why we’re our own worst enemies sometimes.”
“Why are you telling me all this?” My anger is gone. Now I’m just lost and confused.
“Tough love. I’m good at that part of the equation. I’m also good at getting child support, spousal support, and fair visitation schedules. Your friends want you to hire me to take care of your legal needs … yours and your baby’s. But you’re the only one who can make the decision to hire an attorney.”
My mouth flops open and snaps closed a few times before I can put together an actual sentence. “I can’t pay you anything. I’m completely broke.”
“Your friends have already taken care of that.”
“I can’t owe them like that. It’s not right.”
“Noooo … what’s not right is denying people who care about you the chance to help you out when you need it most. Maybe you think I’m biased, but let me assure you … I have enough business to keep me in Jimmy Choos for the rest of my life. I’ve turned more cases down this week than I’ll accept by a three to one margin. I’m busy because I’m good. I’m good because I’m passionate. I’m passionate because I believe very strongly in what I do. I’m the champion of the underdog, which is why after twenty years I’m still a Redskins fan, which is why I agreed to see you today. You are an underdog. I’d like to be your champion. You let me know if that’s something you think you can handle.” She stands suddenly and gestures towards the door. “I think your friends are waiting for you outside, and I have a client meeting starting five minutes ago.”
I stand up, pretty much numb, her words still flowing around me like a veil of power. I’m pretty sure I was just hypnotized without my permission or awareness.
She holds her hand out as she comes around the desk. “Nice meeting you.”
“Nice meeting you too,” I say vaguely as my hand is clamped into her firm, confident grip.
Colin shows up in the doorway. “Ready to hit the road?”
I don’t know whether to be angry at him or thank him. I school my expression to remain as neutral as possible with my mouth shut and follow him out of the office and down to the car. My ears are still ringing with what she said. Rape. Underdog. Compassion. Champion. Redskins?
“Are you mad at me?” he asks as he opens my door.
I sit in my seat and stare up at him, trying to read his expression. He looks worried, and it melts my angry heart just a little. That lady Natalie was right. People are trying to help me when I need it most. And I have been playing mind games with myself for way too long. “I’m not sure yet.”
He leans down and gives me a thoroughly hot kiss. “How about now?”
“That’s not going to work,” I say, my belly full of happy butterflies.
He kisses me again, longer and deeper. “You sure?” he asks, pulling away only a little.
I smile. “No.” Leaning forward, I grab the inside door handle and pull it closed, causing Colin to have to jump out of the way so he doesn’t get caught in it.
“Bad girl,” he says, pointing at me.
“Trouble,” I say, shaking my head at him. I can’t stop smiling as he walks around the back of the car to join me.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
COLIN DROPS ME OFF AT the house with promises to return later. I’m still not ready to just forgive him for that surprise attack, but I’m also not angry anymore. He did what he thought was right for me, and I know that everything he and the others have done is coming right from the heart.
I just can’t believe I fell for the ruse that the art show Colin is doing was to raise money for Teagan’s legal bills. They really had me fooled. The money isn’t in there yet, but Geraldine says he’s already sold three paintings before the show and that’s enough money to pay for five times the retainer Natalie requires. How can I possibly be mad at my friends for that?
I stop off at the mailbox and grab the few bills that are there. As I walk up to the porch, a slip of paper falls out of the stack and floats to the ground. Squatting down to pick it up is a challenge, but I manage. I grunt as I stand back up, reading the scrawled handwriting on one side of the paper as I waddle up the stairs.
‘Call me. I lost your number. We need to talk about your problem.’
My heart picks up its pace. Flipping the paper over does me no good. This is the entire message and it’s not signed. It’s not even addressed. Is it for me? I look around, up and down the street. There’s no one there, no cars parked on the side of the road.
As I open the door I take out my phone, wondering if I should call Charlie again. He’s the only one who would leave me a note like this. But maybe this is a note for Teagan. She has problems. Maybe someone wants to help her or something.
But she has lawyers. And Rebel. She already has all the help she needs. For some reason, I think about Natalie. What would she do in this situation? I don’t know about the Natalie that got attacked, but I’m pretty sure I know what that bulldog lawyer person who I met today would do.
I sigh. Might as well get the humiliation over with.
Dialing the phone, I take several long breaths in and out. As the number rings through, I walk into the kitchen and sit down at the table. I can hear my heart beating in between the phone rings in my ear.
Charlie answers after a few seconds. “Who’s this?” he asks abruptly.
“The person who got a letter in her mailbox.” If he’s going to be rude, then so am I. I try not be hurt by his ugliness. He used to be so nice to me… No! Do not go there. He’s a criminal and an asshole and he doesn’t deserve your kindness right now. Shut it down. Toughen up. Be strong.
“We need to talk,” he says, his voice going lower.
“Yeah, I got that.” I’m somehow channeling the power of that lawyer lady. I’m feeling bold. I’m not going to let him intimidate me.
“What do you want from me?” he asks.
My mind draws a blank. It’s too wide-open of a question. I want the moon, but I know I can’t have that. And from him? Really, I want nothing. I just want to be left alone.
“Are you going to say something?” he prompts.
“I’m thinking.”
He snorts. “Sure you’re qualified to do that?”
The stark offensiveness of his statement is like a bucket of cold water on my face. Holy wake-up call. “Charlie, I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, but you’d better just back up and take a closer look before you get yourself into deeper troub
le than you’re already in.” Where did that come from? I have no idea, but I’m going with it.
“Trouble? I’m not in trouble. You wish I was in trouble.”
“No, what I wish is that you hadn’t turned out to be a criminal. But wishes aren’t fishes, so no matter how many times I cast that net, I’m not going to change reality.”
“What?”
“Just shut up, Charlie, and listen for once in your life. You raped me. There’s no getting around that. I’m pregnant, and there’s no getting around that either. It’s your baby, the DNA will prove it. The thing is, I don’t want anything from you but nothing at all.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means, I want nothing. I want you to stay away. I want you to write us both off and never have anything to do with either of us. Sign away your rights.” I bite my lip as I wait for his reaction. Maybe I won’t need to fight him after all. Maybe he’ll just go quietly into the night never to be seen or heard from again.
“Fine with me. Except for one problem.”
“What’s that?”
“You keep calling me a rapist.”
I’m instantly fuming. He’s trying to pretend he didn’t do what he did, and it’s like calling me both a slut and a liar all in one shot. I struggle to keep my tone under control. “F … Y … I …, Charlie … when you drug a girl and have sex with her without her permission, while she’s unconscious, that’s rape. Okay? That’s rape. Look it up, jerk.”
“You’re dreaming. You came on to me for months. I just gave you what you were begging for. And for the record, you weren’t unconscious. You were moaning and groaning like a total whore the entire time. I have it on video, so don’t even think about denying it.”
I stand up so suddenly the chair tips over behind me and makes a loud banging sound on the floor, like a gunshot. “Don’t you dare say that.” My voice is raw. My stomach is churning and burning. My skin goes cold and sweat pops out of every pore on my body.
“What? You’re going to try and deny it? Typical. Fucking chicks, man. Always playing games.”
I abandon the phone on the table so I can make it to the sink on time. I vomit the entire contents of my stomach in a series of what feels like never-ending retches. I’m still clinging to the edge of the counter when Quin walks in.
“Hey, are you okay?” she asks.
I’m sliding to the floor when she appears behind me. She grabs me under the armpits and eases me down, making sure I’m leaning against the cabinets before letting me go.
“Holy shit on a stick, what is wrong with you? You look like a ghost.” She puts her hand on my forehead and then pushes my sweaty bangs to the side.
I’m trembling all over, so much so that it almost feels like I’m having a seizure.
She turns around and runs over to the phone, grabbing it. She’s about to press the buttons but then stops and stares at the screen quizzically.
I reach my hand out to stop her, but she’s too fast.
She presses the phone to her ear. “Is someone there?”
“No!” I yell.
She’s listening for a few seconds as I try to organize my limbs for action. Problem is, they won’t cooperate. They’re made of gelatin right now, apparently. My legs keep folding back under me and my arms aren’t strong enough to life me.
“Who is this? Is this Charlie?”
Her expression turns mean. “Ah-haaa, so you just tried to have a little intimidation conversation with my friend Alissa, is that right?”
She pauses.
“Okay, okay, Charlie, just shut your pie hole for a second so I can clear the air, okay? Here’s what’s happening. You … are a penis. You are a sick, diseased, full of rotten pus penis that needs to get chopped off. And guess what? We’re going to do it, dude. We are going to come over there, to your house, and chop your shit off. And guess what else? If you ever, and I mean ever, call Alissa again … or try to make contact with her under any circumstances? We will hunt you down and take you out completely. Not just the penis, but the whoooole shebang. We have friends in dark places, and all of us put together have maybe one or two morals max. You are vermin. We are exterminators. Do not fuck with us.”
She pauses and then laughs.
“Bring it, dude. Bring. It. Your shit does not scare her or us. We talked to a lawyer today. She is going to eat you and your family alive. Your shit is going down, like all the way down. No chick will touch your shit for the rest of your life, which is probably no big deal since you’re going to be in jail anyway getting it up the ass on a daily basis from some dude named Bluto. But don’t worry. Teagan will bake you some cookies.”
She smirks as she hangs up the phone. Then she walks over to me, grinning. “He thinks that cookie thing was like an apology, but that’s because he’s never ever eaten one of those mofos.”
She hooks her arms under my armpits and heaves me to my feet, grunting the whole time. “Holy … shit … woman … how much … do you … weigh?”
I start laughing and crying at the same time. This is madness. My life is a complete and utter mess. Whatever ideas I might have had about this whole thing fading into the past or blowing over are now blasted to pieces. I have a major fight on my hands, and there’s no hiding from the fact that I’m going to have to face up to it and deal with it starting right now. Charlie is not just going to disappear and sign off on a paper giving me my life back. He’s dangerous and he’s mad, and that’s a terrible combination.
Part of me wants to be angry at Quin for getting involved, but the bigger part of me wants to hug her and thank her from the bottom of my heart. So that’s what I do. She was my guts when I didn’t have any to use of my own. I squeeze her with everything I have.
“He says he has a video,” I say, bawling into her neck. “He raped me on video.”
“Shhhhh … shhhhh … don’t worry about that right now. We’re going to get that video. We’re going to get him, I promise.”
She’s still patting me on the back and talking nonsense to get me to stop crying when Teagan, Mick, Rebel, and Colin all walk in the door together.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
I’M IN BED WITH COLIN next to me. The entire family wanted to come sit on the bed too, but he kicked them out. It’s amazing how well he already knows me. I’m proud to be a part of this group, but sometimes they’re just too overwhelming for me.
“He took a video,” I whisper. My face is pressed into Colin’s chest. We’re cuddling at an angle, our legs nowhere near each other to make room for my giant belly.
“Shhhh … I know it’s awful, but it’s really a good thing.”
“How can you say that?” I cry, looking up at his chin.
“It’s evidence, babe. He can’t deny what he did.”
Fear slithers through me. “He says I liked it. That I … that I … moaned.” Just the idea of that makes me want to vomit again. Problem is, I have nothing left in my stomach but acid. It burns the back of my throat.
“I know it’s pretty much impossible, but you have to forget what he said, okay? Just stop torturing yourself by thinking about it.”
“I can’t! I can’t! It’s all that I can think about.”
“Come on, you can focus your mind on other things.” He kisses my head. “Remember our picnic today?”
An image of him kneeling in the grass flashes across my mind.
“Yes.”
“Remember talking to me in the attic? Our first real talk?”
“Yes.”
“What do you see?”
“You. Sitting on that stool. Wearing those jeans.”
“Those jeans? What’s wrong with those jeans?”
I wiggle a little. “Nothing. I like those jeans.”
He looks down at me. “I look much better with them off. Want to see?”
I can’t help but giggle. “Stop. I’m traumatized right now.”
“Seeing my naked body is anti-trauma medication. You should take some.”
Maybe I should be worse-off picturing Colin naked, but it’s having the opposite effect. “Stop. I’m pregnant.”
He kisses my forehead. “So? That’s not going to stop me. The only thing that stops me is the word no.”
“Okay then …” I should say no now, but I don’t. I’m suddenly on fire and desperate to exorcise the ghost of Charlie out of my brain. I keep conjuring images of me on a video that I’ve never seen. It’s ugly and awful and terrifying all at once.
“You’re not saying no,” Colin says. “Say no.”
“Why? You want me to?”
“Hell no, I don’t want you to. I just don’t need you encouraging me by accident.”
I wait three breaths before answering. “I’m not.”
He backs away a little and stares into my eyes. “Babe, I don’t want you to do anything you aren’t ready for.”
I hold onto his upper arms with surprising strength. Staring right back into his eyes I answer. “I’m afraid I’ll never get that image that Charlie created out of my head. I have no real memory of anything pleasant, and he’s turned my one experience into my worst nightmare.”
“So you want to…?”
“Make a new memory. A good one.”
He frowns, almost with an expression of pain. “I’m not sure about the psychology behind that.”
“Me neither. But it feels right.”
“I’ll tell you what …” He pauses to kiss me on the forehead and then the cheek. “How about we take it real slow, and you just say stop whenever it gets to be too much?”
“But … that’s not really fair to you,” I say, suddenly very shy.
“Screw that. It’s perfectly fair. Every second I get to touch you is a gift. Don’t worry about me.”
I put my hand on his cheek. “Are you for real?”
He shrugs. “I feel real when I’m with you. Only when I’m with you.”
Then he leans down and kisses me and I’m lost in the warmth that begins to build.