“Just watching a kitten video.” I wipe my eyes. “I can’t stand to see those animals hurt.”
“Oh honey, I know.” He pulls me into his arms and I rest my head against his broad chest. There’s no place safer in the world than your dad’s embrace, I think. I allow him to hold me for a long time, until the warmth of his love seeps into my bones and chases away a little of the chill. But the images from the video play out in my mind on an endless loop. I need to occupy my mind with something else.
“I’m going down to the commons to watch television,” I say, pulling away.
He tucks a finger under my chin and lifts my head to search my face for clues. “All right then. You go down, and when you’re ready to talk about what had you crying your eyes out in your room, I’ll be right here.”
He doesn’t believe it’s kittens. My lip quivers and the whole story is on the verge of spilling out, but I manage to give him a weak smile. “Okay.”
He kisses me on the top of my head. “You and your momma. You’re the most important things in my life. You remember that, baby.”
I nod because if I open my mouth I’ll start bawling, and I’m just not ready to cry again.
Down in the commons room I find two young kids watching cartoons in French. It’s mindless entertainment and just what I need. I’m so engrossed in trying to translate the idioms that I don’t even notice Colin is sitting next to me until he lets out a laugh at the mouse grabbing the cheese from a trap before the cat can catch him.
“How long have you been here?” I ask.
“Long enough to wonder what your asshole boyfriend did.” He pops a nut into his mouth and then shakes the bowl toward me in offering.
I turn him down. I may never eat again. “Why do you ask that?”
“You have the look.”
I remember then how his girlfriend cheated on him when he was sick the first time around. Hotness prickles at the backs of my eyes, but I clench my jaw hard to keep the tears in. Last thing I want to do is cry in front of him.
“I guess you’d know,” I retort.
Instead of being offended, Colin just shakes his head in amusement. “I don’t understand how you’re so soft, Charlotte. You gotta build up your defenses, or you’ll just be a rug by the time he’s done with you. Flattened out and matted down.”
“He’s not like that.” The protest comes automatically.
“Right. Because good guys always cause their girls to look like they’ve been to a funeral. You’re at a crossroads here. You can either forgive him, which will teach him he can treat you like shit time and again, or you can get revenge.”
“Those are my only two options?”
“The only good ones. So what’s it going to be?”
And then he places his hand palm up between us.
His smooth palm, pink and white, almost babyish sits between us like the apple in the Garden of Eden. And part of me is tempted. Colin is clever and sneaky and vengeful. He probably has a whole book on how to mete out retribution. But what would be the point?
“No.” I shake my head. “Hurting him won’t make me feel better. And I don’t want to contemplate exactly how I’m supposed to exact revenge. Sleep with you?”
“If that’s how you want to play it.” He gives me a fake leer.
“What happens? We videotape it and send it to him?” I shudder. “No thanks and no offense, that’s not my thing.”
“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” he responds lightly. But despite his smug words, his eyes show a hint of relief. I don’t think that is his thing either. “Is that what they did? Send you a video?”
I nod and push my hands through my short hair in utter frustration. “I don’t get it. I can’t believe he’d do this to me. You know, he never dated North Prep girls before.”
“How come?” He’s genuinely curious.
“His brother says you don’t shit where you eat.”
He purses his lips together and nods slowly. “Makes sense. The brother live by that rule too?”
This makes me laugh. “No, Nick sleeps with everyone. That way no one’s feelings are hurt.”
“Damn, that’s smooth.”
We share a grin as I briefly forget what is sitting on my computer, but my memory loss isn’t long lasting. The scene nags at me. The whole setup doesn’t feel right. Nate having sex at a party. Nate sleeping with a girl from North Prep. Nate videotaping this. Nate cheating on me. None of it makes sense.
“And with Greta. He doesn’t even like her.”
“Hate to tell you this, but if he cheated on you by having sex with a girl he a) doesn’t have to like her and b) that’s not dating.”
“But his girlfriends have all been either older, like college, or from other schools. Like Jefferson West or something.” I try to understand.
“Miss C, he’s not dating. It’s not his girlfriend. It’s a hookup. A shag. A fuck.” He emphasizes the last graphic word as if I don’t know what the meaning is.
“I know.” I whimper, and then I can’t stop crying which embarrasses me to no end. I shove my palms hard against my eyes as if the pressure can stop the river of tears, but they keep coming.
“Oh fuck. I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.” He dabs his sleeve on my face. “Shit, please just stop crying.”
“I’m sorry,” I blubber. “I’m trying.”
He stands up abruptly. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?” I ask. His swift change of subject jerks me out of my self pitying episode.
“I’m watching this stupid video.” He marches out of the room and I trail behind. We take the elevator up in silence and are down the hall in no time.
“I heard the elevator,” Dad explains as he opens the door.
“Hey Mr. Charlotte’s Dad.” Colin offers his hand and Dad shakes it, his eyebrows raised.
“Don’t worry. I’m a eunuch. The radiation kills my equipment. We’re going to watch a movie,” Colin lies.
Dad frowns, his gaze drifting south briefly, and then jerks his eyes back up to Colin’s. Clearing his throat, Dad gruffly directs us to my room and wanders off.
“Is that really true?” I whisper as we scurry into my room.
“Nah, I made that up so he wouldn’t stand there with the door open. I’m guessing you don’t want him to see this.”
No, I do not want my dad to see the video. Colin sits down at my desk, acting as if he owns the place. Flipping open the cover, he watches the video as I lay on the bed with a pillow over my head. He watches it a couple of times without sound and twice more with sound. The pillow does nothing to mute the voices or the moans.
“Shit, this guy is totally passed out. You kill Greta’s cat or something?” he says.
I bolt upright, the pillow still clutched in my hands. “What do you mean?”
“This, what’s his name, Nate? He’s not even moving.” Colin gestures with disgust toward the screen.
“He moved his hand all over her breast,” I argue.
“No, she held his hand against her tits.” He says these words slowly as if I’m too dumb to comprehend, and maybe he’s right. I lean forward as he explains, “He isn’t moving even once. And if a guy’s got two hot chicks grinding their pussies all over him and he ain’t moving, guy is dead or passed out.”
“Why would they do this?” I argue. I want to believe him, but I’m afraid.
“Revenge. What’d you do?”
“I didn’t do anything,” I cry. “I’ve been here. And before I was sick Nate and I didn’t even date.”
“So it’s him. Did he do something to one of them?”
“I don’t even know the guy or the girl. Just Greta and . . .” I stop. “He mentioned to me that he’d had a run-in with her, but I wasn’t there at the time so I don’t really know what went down.”
“Meh. This isn’t even good porn.” Colin kicks out his legs and folds his hands behind his head. He’s officially over the video.
“Thank God.�
�� I guess I can be done too. Although I’m still feeling hollow inside. I don’t know if it’s relief or the remnants of fear. I know I won’t be whole again until I talk to Nate.
“What? We can’t be friends without having watched porn together.”
“You watch porn with all your friends?” I give him a skeptical look.
“Not the guys, ‘cause that would be weird.”
“I’m not watching porn with you.”
“You are such a killjoy, Miss C.”
I do not want to talk about porn with Colin, but I recognize his act. He’s trying to make light of something to make me feel better, which is actually kind of nice, porn references notwithstanding. “What do you think I should do?”
“About this?” He jerks his head toward the computer. I nod. “Call your boy. Tell him you love him and get back at Greta.”
“Why are you being nice to me?”
“Eh, why not? Being an asshole to you takes effort. You’re too nice. It’s like kicking a kitten.”
“There was a compliment in there somewhere.”
Colin rises and stretches and then ambles over to give me a kiss on the top of my forehead. “It is. Wish I had a girl like you, Miss C. I’ll see you tomorrow. Let me know how it goes.”
I ring Nathan almost before Colin has left. He doesn’t answer.
I hang up and dial again. It would be early evening there. It rings several times.
I get on the computer, but he’s not available on Skype.
I text him.
Love you babe. Miss you.
Nothing back.
I text Nick next.
Hey, miss you. Hope to be home soon. What’s happening?
He responds immediately.
Miss you too. You shouldn’t have left. We’re a mess without you.
I haven’t heard from Nate. He okay?
There’s a long pause.
Yeah. Why?
I decide to confess.
Got the video.
Shit. He did not cheat on you. He was totally out of his head. They drugged him.
Colin was right.
Greta?
Yeah and this guy from Northwestern that Juliette Waite brought. She set us up so we’d fight them then bc the asswipe got his pants kicked, he decided to get back at Nate. N would never do this to you.
No, I know. I figured it out. But I texted him and called him.
I don’t mention that I needed help.
He’s sick. He’ll call you promise.
Okay. Tell him I love him. Give him a kiss for me.
Yeah, not doing that. But love you too. Take care of yourself. Hurry back.
And with that, a little of my hollow parts are filled out.
22
Nathan
“Are you sure?”
I nod, refusing to look up. Dad exhales heavily. He’s frustrated with me and casts a beseeching expression of help toward my mother. He wants me to say it out loud, but my mouth is sealed shut. I’m afraid of what will come out if I open it. But she’s not going to convince me to change my mind. The sadness and fucking pity on her face are the exact reasons I’m sure of my decision.
“You’re going to miss Switzerland.” He makes a last ditch effort to change my mind. What he doesn’t get is that he’s barking up the wrong tree, chasing the wrong ball—whatever wrong metaphor there is, he’s doing it.
“You mean Charlotte.”
There. I’ve said her name. Acknowledged her existence. The piercing agony that slices through me as the vowels and consonants reverberate through my head is less this time than the last. I’ll keep saying it until I can’t feel anything any longer. Not pain, humiliation, shame, or even . . . love. I just want to stop feeling.
Because if I went to Switzerland and the first thing I saw on Charlotte’s face was the expression my mom is currently wearing I’d . . . well, it wouldn’t be good.
We sit there in silence, waiting. I’m waiting to be dismissed. Dad’s waiting me to say something, anything. I’m hollow inside. I retched out every ounce of liquid in me earlier today when I woke up nearly bare-assed in my bed with only vague memories of what happened the night before.
I dry heaved for half an hour after Nick anxiously recited how he found me in a room on the third floor of Juliette’s house starring in my very own personal porno.
After I kicked Nick out, I sat in shock and horror watching the video while texts from Charlotte came in, first cheerful and then worried. After my continued silence came the calls and the unplayed voicemails.
The sounds echoed in the bathroom, and I turned the volume off to shut out the barf-inducing fake porno sighs from the two girls in the video. One of the girls I hadn’t ever seen before. She’s kissing me, or at least her face is on top of mine. I look dead. My mouth was slack, and my eyes were closed. Greta was grinding on top of me. It looked like they were fucking a corpse. Nick swears we weren’t fucking. That it was all for show. I don’t even care at this point. What I know is that someone took something precious from me: Charlotte’s trust.
What could I say to her? No matter how many times everyone says it wasn’t my fault, I know that isn’t true. I could have made different choices. Like staying home and not going to Juliette’s. Or walking away when the fuckhead challenged me. Or paying more attention to Nick’s warnings about Greta.
“You’re not at fault,” Dad says gently, as if he can read my mind. Maybe he can. And if that’s true, it’s just another reason to get away. I don’t want to be where everyone knows me and can tell every little thing I’m thinking. Where everyone looks at me with pity. “You’re the victim.”
I fucking hate that word. I’m over six feet tall. Over two hundred pounds. “I’m no victim,” I bite out.
Mom sucks back a sob, which tears at me. I should have protected all of us. That’s my job. But I let everyone down, and now I’m weak and used up. Worse, the guys at school are acting as if I’m some kind of fucking hero. The texts they’d sent? All congratulatory with a whiff of jealousy. No, no one would believe that I’d been done wrong, no matter that I was drugged. No matter that I didn’t want it.
Man, you got some at JW’s. Major props.
We’re not worthy!
Shit man. 2 at 1 time. Your getting your bucket list done!
Charlotte would have made me text back “It’s you’re, you dumbass.” I didn’t respond to any of them.
No one is going to believe that I was forced to do something against my will. No one would believe I was . . . I can’t even say the word in my own head.
Dad sighs again. “Okay, hoss. You’re going to have to come to your own conclusions. But let me repeat my words. You didn’t do anything wrong. Not by going to the party. Not by fighting some asshole. Not by drinking. No one deserves what happened to you. Not a female and not a male. With time, you’ll come to that realization too. I called Gray. He’s expecting you at the beach house, where you’ll spend time with Sam and him and the kids.”
I open my mouth to protest, but Dad gives me the I’m talking look. “Only for a week. No arguments or you don’t get to enlist early and you’ll have to cool your heels here until your eighteen.”
It’s a compromise I can live with. “We done?”
At his nod, I rise and walk toward the door. As I’m leaving, he says, “I’m proud of you. Proud that you’re my eldest. You’re a good boy, Nathan, and you’ll be a good man. Don’t listen to the rest of the shit that’s swirling around your head. We love you.”
He draws my stiff body into a hug, and I’m tempted to lean into him like I’m a child again, but right now, I don’t deserve it. Mom is next.
“You think you see pity in my eyes, but it’s not. It’s anger. You can be angry too. You have the right to be angry about what happened but don’t hold that inside you. Let it out. We love you so much, honey.” She clutches me tight.
I squeeze her back because, shit, I can’t help it. She’s my mom. But the hug is all I can give.
<
br /> Nick comes in while I’m packing. “Charlotte texted me. Said she was having problems connecting.”
Unspoken is the question of when I’m going to call her. “Yeah, I just . . .” I run a hand through my hair. “You gotta take care of her now, Nick.”
His return gaze is somber, and he allows me to leave without another word.
* * *
Dear Nate,
I’m sorry you weren’t here for the birthday party. We had ice cream cake, and the restaurant served limoncello which Dad encouraged me to drink. It was so awful! I hated it, and everyone at the table laughed including our waiter who brought it. Dad says that all liquor is that awful and I should stay away. It’s like he thinks I’ve never snuck sips of his brandy with you. ;)
Your mom gave me a writing set, which is why you are getting this handwritten letter. It’s beautiful paper, isn’t it? I already ruined about ten pages trying to write in a straight line. How do people write without lines? This time I’m using a ruler, and it’s working out better.
Anyway, she said that your dad and her used to write letters when he was in the Marines. Isn’t that cool? I can’t see your dad writing love letters. He gave me a weird look the other day, asking if he had some leftover dinner on his nose, which he didn’t. But I couldn’t stop staring at him because you know he seems so imposing and, well, not a little uptight at times. Don’t get me wrong. I totally adore Uncle Noah, but Daddy is so much more easy-going, and I could totally see him writing my mom corny love letters. When I asked Daddy if he wrote to Mom, he said no. That he couldn’t bear to be away from her long enough to write a letter. That and he didn’t know Mom while he was in the military.
The Charlotte Chronicles Page 14