by Gina Azzi
That night, I find the article from months ago about the four actresses who stepped forward and named a famous director for sexual assault. Re-reading the article, I take my time going through all of the comments. Once I’ve read them all, I take a fortifying breath and add my own.
#MeToo
31
Jax
Walking into my house several nights later, my mind is on Evie, still reeling from everything she’s been through. I've been caught up in a daze since she confided in me, going through the motions each day, barely paying attention to what I'm doing. I’m so proud of her for confiding in her family and accepting their support. I’m in awe of her for pressing charges against Gary and Paul. When I’m with her, I want to be the support she needs, someone she can rely on and trust completely.
But I’m also struggling to accept what happened to her. I can’t swallow the fact that two guys we graduated with violated her, hurt her, and continued to torture her about it. Guilt explodes in my chest every time I think about what Evie endured and how I could have prevented it if I had been there. If I had stayed. I know she says it wasn’t my fault but I doubt that would have happened to her if I hadn’t enlisted, if we never broke up.
I unlock the front door and push it open, tripping over air and practically falling inside, the door bouncing against the wall and alerting my family to my arrival.
Daisy looks up from her seat on the couch, startled. "Jax? Everything okay?"
"Hey, man," Denver says, walking into the living room from the kitchen, a bottle of beer half-raised to his mouth. "Haven’t seen much of you lately. You missed dinner again."
I look up, momentarily confused, before I remember that Denver was making chicken parmigiana for dinner tonight and I had said I would be here.
Denver narrows his eyes at me, understanding dawning in his eyes. "You talked to Evie."
“Yeah.”
"Damn," he mutters under his breath, placing the beer bottle on an end table.
"What's going on with Evie?" Daisy asks, shifting her weight to see me better.
"What are you doing here?" I turn to stare at her, my voice scratchy.
Denver shakes his head at me as Daisy looks at the floor.
“Is Carter home?” I ask, and both Daisy and Den nod.
“I really need to talk to him. Carter!" I call out, the emotion in my voice obvious as Daisy winces, and Denver takes a step toward me. "Carter!"
Carter bounds down the stairs, his shirt off, his jeans unbuttoned. A petite blonde trails behind him, the first three buttons of her shirt popped open, her hair falling out of her ponytail: Lori Filton.
“Hey,” Carter stares at me for a beat too long before escorting Lori to the front door. “I’ll call you later, babe.”
She presses a kiss to the underside of his jaw and shrugs, closing the door behind her.
Heavy silence descends on our home as the four of us stare at each other. I move to the couch and sit on the end opposite of my sister while Carter takes a seat in an armchair, and Denver hovers nearby, his eyes bouncing from one of us to the next.
"You need a beer?" Denver asks quietly.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, thinking of how the smell of beer is a trigger for Evie. "Got anything stronger?"
“Yeah,” he disappears into the kitchen. Through the door, I hear the clink of ice against a glass.
"What's going on?" Daisy turns toward me, her eyes questioning.
"Are you supposed to be home?" I ask her, my eyebrows drawing together. I would have remembered if Denver or Carter mentioned her coming back so soon after spring break.
"No," she sighs, "but can we talk about it later?"
I nod, my head about to burst with everything that happened with Evie. I'm not sure if I can handle much more tonight. Especially not where Daisy's concerned. Absently, my fingertips massage the scars on my shoulder. It doesn't make any sense, but my shoulder throbs and aches with pain I haven't felt in a long time.
Denver returns and passes me a glass with three fingers of scotch and one large, square ice cube. He tosses a beer bottle to Carter and picks up his beer from the end table, raising it to his lips.
I clutch the scotch gratefully, taking a sip and closing my eyes. When I open them, all three of my siblings are staring at me, Denver and Carter with uncertainty and Daisy with concern.
I blow out a large breath, my cheeks puffing to the sides as I grip the back of my neck. “Dais, I’m real happy to see you, but could you give us a minute?”
My sister rolls her eyes at me, “I’m not a kid anymore, Jax, whatever is going on, you can tell me.”
Den shakes his head, “It’s not like that, Dais. Jax can’t tell you because it’s not his story to tell.”
“Then how come you and Carter can stay.”
“Because we knew the story before him. It has nothing to do with any of us or our family, okay?”
She stands up from the couch reluctantly and glances between the three of us. “You guys aren’t in trouble, right?”
“No.” I assure her.
“Okay. I’ll be in my room.”
“Thank you.” I tell her and from the seriousness of my tone, she offers me a sympathetic smile before walking up the stairs without any more questions.
I wait until I hear her bedroom door close and then I fix my gaze on Carter. "What happened that night?"
Carter's face twists, a sharp anguish shuddering over his features. His expression is pained when he sighs and leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his head dropping to the floor.
When Carter looks up, he stares straight at me, his eyes bleeding with a pain that borders on torture. "How much did she tell you?"
"Everything."
Carter rubs the beer bottle between his palms. "Evie came to a party Eric Minz was having. One of those last summer parties that the entire senior class shows up to. A last hurrah. Evie came. I saw her walk in, look around. She was awkward; you know how much she hated the party scene, how much she shied away from attention like that."
Denver and I nod.
"Anyway, she showed up. I grabbed her a beer. We BS'ed for a few minutes, and then I saw Kathy Hayes. Remember her?"
“Cute blonde, a cheerleader?” Den asks.
"Yeah. So I left Evie. Chatted up Kathy. A little while later, Paul Hawkins asks me where he can score some E." Carter stops suddenly, desperation surging from his eyes as he fixes me with a pleading look. "I didn't know, Jax. I swear to God, I didn't know."
My blood ices in my veins as I start to put two and two together.
"They drugged her with E?"
Carter nods.
Denver mutters a string of curses under his breath as Carter hangs his head again.
"No." My voice is strangled. "No. Tell me you didn't supply it, Carter. Tell me you fucking didn't."
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" I spring forward from the couch to tackle my brother to the floor. My shoulder screams in pain from the sudden movement, but I block it out, focusing on pummeling him. When I get close enough, I realize that he doesn't even flinch. He just sits there. Ready to accept the hit, guilt and horror stamped on his face.
Denver jumps up, placing a warning hand out in my direction.
Spinning on my foot, I put my first through the nearest wall, the impact jarring my shoulder.
"I thought they were just after a good time." Carter's voice lacks emotion. "I swear to you, I didn't know they were going after Evie. Or any woman! I would never—God. I'm so fucking sorry, Jax."
"Does she know?" I whirl on him, my hands still clenched, hot fury pouring from my mouth, my pores. “She didn’t say anything to me about E. Or you dealing.”
He shakes his head.
"You need to tell her," Denver says quietly. I expect him to be looking at me but his eyes are boring into Carter’s.
"I know."
"Jesus," Denver mutters. "When we took her home that night, you never told me."
"I didn't realize it t
hen," Carter explains truthfully. "I put two and two together later and at that point, I… Fuck. I didn't know what to do. You were gone." He nods in my direction. "You were on probation." He looks at Denver. "Was I supposed to turn myself in? Probably. But what would have happened to Daisy? Foster system?" He exhales loudly, his fingers digging into his temples on either side of his head. "I didn't know what to do."
I groan, my fingertips massaging the scars on my shoulder. "She filed a police report," I say, looking up at Carter as understanding dawns in his eyes.
"I'll give a statement."
Staring at my brother, I can tell that this devastated him. Ate at him. Consumed parts of him for the last seven years. Regret swells in my chest, an acrid taste working up my throat and sweeping over my taste buds as I watch Carter struggle. Culpability lingers as I realize that while I was off pursuing an out and Denver was keeping his nose clean and Daisy was working towards college, Carter was the one keeping it all together, so the rest of us could do what we wanted. Carter was the one left behind to hold the reins and make sense of the damage and keep the rest of us blinded from the truth, so that we wouldn't have to be burdened.
"Why the hell were you dealing, man? I was on fucking probation. You know how bad that could have been for our family? Child Services was looking for any reason to pull Daisy from this house back then.” Den speaks up, his tone barbed with anger.
Carter drops his head back against the top of the chair. "I know. I did it for her."
"What are you talking about? For who?" I ask.
"Daisy. She had her heart set on ASU," he answers honestly.
“You told me she got a scholarship.” I say.
Silence.
“Fuck.” Denver looks away, and I hang my head.
Everything fell on Carter, and he kept it together for as long as he could. Even dealing with all the fall out on his own.
"I'm sorry," I tell him, looking him straight in the eye, so he can see all the meaning I can't convey with words. "I really am."
"Me too, Jax. For all of us."
That night I can't sleep. Every time my eyes close, I see her, drunk and drugged at a party, being taken advantage of. I see Gary and Hawkins. I see so many things I don't want to see, can't stand to see, that it's easier to stay awake.
When I'm not thinking about Evie, thoughts of Ethan infiltrate my head, the heat of fire, the feel of coarse sand, the rusty tang of blood.
At three in the morning, I kick off my blankets and exit my room, going downstairs to make myself a sandwich. I hope Carter bought more potato chips on his last grocery run.
Walking into the kitchen, I halt, the sight of Daisy sitting at the island crying as unexpected as it is painful.
"Dais?"
She turns to me, wiping her knuckles across her cheeks and trying to smile. "Hey. Couldn't sleep?"
“Nope.” I walk closer to the island. "You hungry?"
She shrugs.
"I'm going to make some sandwiches." I turn toward the cupboards and start pulling out random items, relieved when a new bag of chips falls out of the snack cabinet. Plugging in the sandwich press, I continue to focus on my task to give my sister some time to pull it together.
"Why're you crying?" I finally ask after a few minutes of silence.
She sighs, still trying to get her sobs under control. "It's stupid."
"I'm sure it's not." I chance a glance at her, and she's shaking her head.
"It is," she insists, “I’m being dramatic."
"Dais, come on, you’ve always been a Drama Queen, but I can count on one hand how many times you’ve sat around crying. The fact that something is bothering you, enough that you're home from school and crying in the kitchen in the middle of the night, means it's not stupid. Not to you. So what gives?"
She takes a sip from the water glass in front of her and offers me a half smile. "I had a job lined up for after graduation."
"Congratulations! Why didn't you—"
"It fell through."
"Oh. Damn. I'm sorry, Daisy."
She presses her fingertips into her eyelids, "I’m graduating in a few weeks and I don’t even have anything to show for it!”
"That's not true. You have lots to show for it."
"Like what?"
"Friends who have places in St. Barth's," I remind her, my heart swelling a little when she laughs.
"I just, I want you guys to be proud of me," she admits, picking up the sandwich I slide in front of her.
"We are proud of you. Incredibly, stupidly proud of you. So much so that we brag about you all the time."
She rolls her eyes, but a small smile flickers across her lips. "What am I supposed to do now?"
"You're supposed to enjoy the rest of your senior year of college. Have fun with your friends. Take your final exams and apply for new positions. Just because one job fell through doesn’t mean there won’t be another. In fact, maybe your next opportunity will be even better and you’ll be grateful that this one didn’t work out. Don’t sweat it. Come home for the summer, and let your big brothers spoil you rotten. And I bet if you do all those things, you'll have a new job lined up in a few months."
She bites into the sandwich, her eyes flashing to mine with surprise as the potato chips crunch. Chewing thoughtfully, she finally nods. "You really think I'll sort it all out?"
"I know you will."
"And you won't hate it if I'm around for the entire summer, annoying you guys and yelling at you for leaving the toilet seat up?"
"I'd miss it if you weren't."
She takes another bite of her sandwich. "Okay, then. I'll come home."
"I'll help you move back," I tell her, taking a bite of my own sandwich and closing my eyes at the extra crunch that pops in my mouth.
I'm startled when I feel Daisy's arms around me, but as I open my eyes and hug her back, another puzzle piece snaps in, and I remember that this is why I came home in the first place.
32
Evie
Steaming espresso and hints of cinnamon sprinkles and buttery goodness greets me as I step inside Kindred Spirits Bakery. I love it here. It's easy to get lost, holed up in a big, comfy armchair, watching the world pass by outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, a book in my lap and a latte in my hand.
I breathe in the soothing scent of fresh baked goods and look around at the occupied tables. Craning my neck to the left, I spot him in the back, sitting at a two-top with a cup of coffee near his hand, biting into a doughnut. He fidgets restlessly, his toes tapping out a beat on the rung of his stool. Nerves is not a look I am accustomed to associating with Carter, and I feel my own blood pressure spike as I watch him.
"Can I get you something?" The barista asks and I jump, turning toward her as I realize the line has dwindled, and it's my turn to order.
"Skinny vanilla latte, please. And," I say, peeking in the front display window of treats, "a chocolate croissant."
"Eight eighty-three." She cups her hand out as I fork over a twenty.
Waiting for my order, I dawdle, wasting time before I alert Carter to my presence.
It was strange that he called me this morning, completely out of the blue, and asked me to meet him here. Of course, I've seen him around over the past seven years. It's hard not to run into someone you're actively trying to avoid. Although he's always been friendly and kind when our paths have crossed, he's never directly sought me out. Not since a week after the incident when he came by to check on me, and I made him swear he would never tell anyone what happened, especially Jax.
But here we are, about to sit down and grab a coffee like old friends catching up. He's got to be here because of Jax or something Jax-related, and that makes me nervous. I'm grateful for the caffeine in a cup the barista hands me, and I take a long sip, burning the roof of my mouth but calming myself at the same time.
Walking toward Carter's table, he looks up as I approach, and a hesitant grin ticks the corners of his mouth upward.
"Hey."
"Hi." I smile back, settling myself on the stool across from him. "Want some?" I push the plate with my croissant in his direction.
"Nah, thanks." He gestures toward his empty plate. "I already had two doughnuts." Carter leans back in his seat, his fingers playing with a napkin. "I wish I’d seen you come in, I would have gotten your coffee and croissant.”
“It’s okay.”
“Thanks for coming."
"I'm still not sure why you invited me here."
"I know. I, uh, I wanted to talk to you."
"Is everything okay with Jax?" I fumble my croissant, my nerves making me clumsy.
"Jax?" Carter leans forward again, resting his elbows on the table. "Yeah. Jax is fine. This isn't about Jax."
"It's not?"
"No. I, Jesus, I need to tell you something, Evie."
"Okay."
"Things between us used to be so easy. You were like another sister to me once."
"I know. I, um, I'm sorry, Carter. I know you were just trying to help me that night, and afterwards I completely pushed you away. Pretended like I didn't even know you and that, that was pretty horrible of me," I admit. What is wrong with me? It's like now that I told Jax the truth, I have to just keep on spilling my guts to everyone I encounter. But it’s freeing in a way I never expected.
"No, you were right to dismiss me. I fucked up." His eyes darken, and the usual easygoingness and good times I've always associated with Carter turns serious, foreboding. "Evie, there is no easy way for me to say this, so I'm just going to say it. And then, if you want to leave or kick me in the nuts or never see me again, we'll do that. Okay?"
"Carter, you're freaking me out. Just tell me whatever it is."
"That night, with Paul and Gary, at the party," he pauses, eyeing me to make sure I'm following along. As if anything could ever make me forget anything about that night.
"Yes, I remember."
"Right. Well, a little while after I saw you at the party, Paul hit me up for E." He watches me expectantly.
"E?"
"Ecstasy."