by Claire Adams
As I caught sight of the row of houses belonging to the school’s fraternities and sororities, I felt a wave of relief. If Johnny wouldn’t see me, at least I might be able to pass a message to one of his brothers to give to him. If he was in the frat house, at least I would know he was okay. I would know where he was. I could wait to hear from him, if I only knew that he was okay.
I made my way down the sidewalk, thinking hopefully that Johnny had never given me any reason to think he’d push me away now. Even when I had insisted on the story, even when things had been the bleakest, he had been willing to let me in and let me comfort him. I barely noticed a group of girls up ahead, walking towards another one of the frat houses. They weren’t important; getting to Johnny was important.
I heard one of them say something — I couldn’t make out what — and then they all turned to look at me, stopping in their tracks. I went to ask them to move out of my way when I realized that one of the girls was the same one from the dining hall, the same one who had flashed her boobs at Johnny at the game, who had tried to poison me against him. “Going to see your rapist boyfriend?” she asked, giving me a wicked, cruel smile.
“Where I’m going is none of your business,” I said, keeping my voice as neutral as possible.
“So, how do you like Johnny boy now? Once he’s had enough of you, he’ll probably pass you on to one of his frat brothers — hell, maybe he’ll let them all take a ride!” The other girls laughed.
“Oh God, she probably loves that idea. She’ll probably cry for him to make it even better.”
“Rapist fucker!” one of the other girls called out. My heart pounded in my chest and I felt my eyes stinging with tears.
“Well, you must feel great, too,” I said, swallowing down the lump that was forming in my throat. “I mean, you’re the one who was just hanging on his every word, flashing your tits at him during the game. What’s worse than being me? Being the girl he doesn’t even want!” I turned quickly as the girls gaped and barely glanced over my shoulder to see them walking away, murmuring amongst themselves. I didn’t want to lend any credence to what they had said, but I couldn’t just sit there and take it for them, especially the redhead who’d already tried so hard to ruin my relationship — to call me names, to make fun of Johnny.
I climbed up onto the front porch, my hands still shaking, and took a deep breath. I couldn’t hear anything going on inside the frat; as far as the silence told me, there might not be anyone inside at all. I wondered just how the brothers were handling the situation. Did they believe Johnny? Or were they even now deciding to kick him out? I lifted my hand up and knocked on the door quickly. I looked like a total mess and I knew it. Part of me wished that I had taken at least a moment to straighten myself up before coming. But somehow I didn’t think that Johnny was going to care that much about how I looked. If he wanted to see me at all, if he wasn’t in there blaming me for his current circumstances, he would just be happy that I was there.
I knocked again. “Coming!” someone called from the inside. I tried not to fidget as I waited for whoever it was to answer the door. I wished that I had the kind of guts to just walk in and ask about Johnny, but I barely knew the other members of the frat. I didn’t know if they’d even be okay with me walking in.
The door opened, and I saw a guy I barely recognized — maybe he had been at the party, or maybe he had been hanging out with Johnny one of the times I’d been with him on campus. I took another quick breath to keep myself from crying. “Hey, I was hoping I could catch up with Johnny here,” I said, smiling as politely as I could. “Could I come in and talk to him?” I swallowed. The guy looked at me hesitantly, glancing around the outside of the frat house.
“He’s not around. If he comes by, I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.” I was crushed. If Johnny wasn’t even with the brothers at his frat, I couldn’t imagine where he was. If he wouldn’t take my calls, I couldn’t think of how I could support him, how I could talk to him.
“Thanks,” I said. I hesitated. “Could you — could you tell him that I still feel the same way that I did last night?” I couldn’t think of anything else to say, especially to this stranger.
“I’ll make sure to tell him,” the boy said, smiling slightly. I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to believe that Johnny wasn’t there, but I had to accept what he had said at face value. I thanked him again and turned to leave, wishing that I’d somehow managed to find Johnny, to tell him I loved him and that I was sorry.
Chapter Ten
It was starting to get dark, and I was still wandering around campus; I couldn’t even realistically tell myself that I was looking for Johnny anymore. I was just continuing to walk around, trying to ignore the people talking about me as I passed them, trying to think of what I could possibly do to help the man I loved. I called a few more times, but since the calls went straight to voicemail, I didn’t even bother to leave messages. Johnny had his phone off, wherever he had gone to. He wasn’t going to be answering any of my calls any time soon, if he didn’t even know I was calling him. He would, I hoped, see that I had called him, see my text messages, and hear my earlier voicemail on his phone, and maybe get in touch.
I decided that I might as well go back into the dorms. I couldn’t stand the idea of going into the dining hall even to pick something up to eat on my own. The idea of running into the stupid redhead again, or of having to watch people staring at me, pointing at me, whispering about me, was just too much to deal with. I got into the building and didn’t even take the elevator — I went straight for the stairs without looking up from my feet. I felt like I was a failure. I had no idea where Johnny was, and the fact that he hadn’t called me back yet implied that either he didn’t want to talk to anyone — even me — or he was in deeper trouble than I knew. But all I could do was wait.
I trudged up the stairs, grateful that at least there was no one there to see me. There was no one there to laugh at me for dating someone being accused of rape. I lingered at the door to my floor, listening closely to make sure that no one was in the hall, and I hated the fact that I had to do that. I took a deep breath and pushed through the door and moved quickly to the room I shared with Georgia.
She was in the common area, the TV on, reading one of her books from class. The moment I came in, she jumped up. “Did you find him? Is he okay? What’s the news?” I shook my head and sank down onto the couch, exhausted beyond what I could believe any person could feel and still be awake.
“I couldn’t find him anywhere. He’s not in thy gym, he’s not in the dining hall, and I know he’s not in class. He’s not in the library, and he’s not in the frat house. As far as anyone knows about him, he just fucking vanished.” I rubbed at my face with my hands. “Everyone’s talking about it, Gigi. Everyone. I can’t walk past anyone on campus without them whispering or pointing.”
“Yeah,” Georgia agreed grimly. “It’s a shitty situation. Nothing is a secret around here.” We talked for a little while, and I started to feel a little bit better, but I couldn’t convince myself to even go downstairs with Georgia to get some food.
“Let’s just order a damn pizza and have it delivered to the dorms. I’ll put it on my card,” I suggested. “You go and sign for it and we’ll binge on it here and not have to deal with anyone.” Georgia pulled up the closest delivery site on her computer and we killed a few minutes trying to figure out what we wanted. I wasn’t really hungry; I felt as if I might throw up. But I knew that I had to at least try to eat. It wasn’t going to do me any favors to starve myself while I waited.
I tried to call Johnny again, even knowing it was useless. I sent him another text, telling him I was starting to get worried about him and begging him to call me, text me — anything. To just let me know that he was okay. I couldn’t stand not knowing. I hated the fact that there was absolutely nothing I could do to make the situation better.
Our pizza came and I ate a couple of slices even though every bite felt like it
took the effort of forcing down blood pudding. Georgia and I tried to study, but neither of us could focus. We talked about the situation with Claire — what I had learned, what I knew about it. I told her about my fights with my parents, and we sat around watching TV. I hated waiting; I had never been a patient person in my entire life, and the thought that Johnny might be in trouble, that he was definitely hurting from the whole crazy mess, only made it worse.
“I guess we could see if there’s any more news on it online,” Georgia suggested. I didn’t think there would be — after all, it wasn’t like they really had anything — but I agreed. I just wanted to feel like I was doing something, even if it was compulsively checking the internet for news about him. There wasn’t any note of an arrest being made, so at least Johnny wasn’t in jail, his phone turned off and confiscated. Somehow that made me feel better and worse at the same time. He had to have his phone, but he wasn’t taking any calls at all. He might not even be checking it. He might not know that I was looking for him, that I wanted to talk to him.
As we looked through the newer articles, I could see that everyone was in an outrage over Johnny. People were coming out of the woodwork to talk about the case, and as we read, I started to regret eating anything at all. Everyone talked about what had happened to Claire in detail, about how she had killed herself, about the information that had come out in the trial. I wanted to throw up, reading it. Everyone was convinced — absolutely convinced — that Johnny was involved, that the only reason that he hadn’t been brought in with the rest of the boys was that he was a hockey star with big future prospects. I wanted to grab each and every one of the people talking about him that way and shake them or punch them. I wanted to scream in their faces that they didn’t have a single clue what they were talking about.
Someone somewhere wrote that they lived in the area where Claire White had been from and that it was just as well that Johnny never came home, because if he showed his face in that part of the state, he was likely to be lynched. I started crying as I read people describing what they would to do him if they ever ran into him — people who had no idea of even who he was, who had already judged him based on hearsay. People who didn’t know that Johnny tortured himself over what had happened to a girl he had loved over and over again.
“Close it out,” I told Georgia quietly. There was nothing new for us to learn from the articles being posted. I couldn’t stand to read more people talking about cutting off Johnny’s cock and feeding it to him, or beating him bloody, or killing him. I forced myself to eat another piece of pizza in the hopes that it would somehow, though I had no idea how, keep me from throwing up, put something heavier in my stomach. I felt like I was freezing cold, I felt like I was drowning. The only thing I wanted was to be able to talk to Johnny and tell him that I loved him and believed him and would stand by him. I wanted him to tell me he was okay. That he wasn’t about to do something stupid.
I was starting to give up hope, to tell myself that whatever Johnny was doing, he obviously wasn’t planning on even speaking to me. He might even hate me. Just when Georgia and I were starting to talk about going to bed, my phone buzzed. I nearly jumped off of the couch in my hurry to grab it; even though I told myself that it was probably one of my parents, or one of my friends, or anyone else but the person I wanted most to hear from, I had to look. A flood of relief washed through me when I saw a message notification from Johnny.
I unlocked my phone and pulled up the message and my heart sank. Becky, I’m sorry I’ve made you worry so much, but I can’t talk. I can’t put you through this. It’s my burden to bear, it’s my problem to solve. You…I love you, more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life. I can’t hurt you with all this. You have to just move on and forget you even met me. As much as I love you, you need to just cut me out of your life forever. I’m so sorry.
I stared at my phone in shock, not sure of how to feel other than miserable. Johnny loved me; he didn’t blame me for what was happening to him. That was good, but I couldn’t help but want to cry at the fact that he had told me that I should forget I had even met him. He wouldn’t let me in. I understood what he meant, I was grateful that he was thinking of me at all, that he wanted to spare me the pain of how incredibly fucked up the whole situation was. But I couldn’t bear the thought of giving up on him. I couldn’t just pretend I had never met him — he was the best lover, the sweetest guy I had ever met in my entire life.
“What did he say?” Georgia asked me. I took a deep breath.
“He says to stop calling and texting him. To forget I ever even met him. He told me to cut him out of my life forever,” I replied. It sounded so final, saying it out loud. I didn’t know how I could even try to argue with what Johnny wanted.
BREATHLESS #5
Chapter One
A couple of days later, it was the weekend and I got out of bed feeling as if I hadn’t slept at all, in spite of the fact that I had “slept in” a few extra hours. I hadn’t heard anything from Johnny since the text he had sent me the night everything came out, and I had no idea what to do. I didn’t even know what to think. He had practically vanished from the campus — he wasn’t there to walk me to my classes and even though I sent him one or two texts to tell him that I loved him, that I believed and trusted in him, and that he didn’t have to shoulder the burden alone, I got nothing in return.
It was bad enough not to know what was going on in the life of the man I loved. What made it all worse was that I couldn’t go anywhere on campus without people staring, whispering amongst themselves, or laughing when they saw me. I hated it. It is just as well that Johnny is apparently no longer anywhere to be found on campus, I thought; if it was that bad for me, it would be far worse for him.
“Hey,” Georgia said when I finally managed to get myself out of bed and walked out into the common area where she was sitting on the couch, watching cartoons. “Hungry?”
I hadn’t been hungry for days. I made myself eat because I knew I had to have something in my stomach, but every meal seemed to twist and turn and churn in my stomach even while I was eating it and especially afterwards. I’d taken to just grabbing the easiest foods I could from the dining hall and going on my way. I didn’t want to have to deal with the other students any more than I absolutely had to. I just wanted it all to be over; I wanted something to happen to someone else, so that everyone would forget about Johnny and the whole incredible mess. I wanted to be able to go to classes without everyone staring at me and talking about me until the teacher called them to order. I wanted to see the man I was in love with again.
“Not really,” I replied, throwing myself down into a chair. “But I should probably eat anyway.” Georgia looked at me and I could see the real pity, the real concern in her eyes. I hadn’t been sleeping well, I hadn’t been eating enough, and even after only a few days, it was starting to show all over me.
“Why don’t we grab something off campus? It’s not like the DH has anything worth a damn to eat on the weekends anyway.” I considered it. After my fight with my dad, I wouldn’t be surprised if he closed my card on his account, but so far it had continued to work, so I had to trust that however mad at me he was, he didn’t want me stranded. I could afford breakfast.
“Sounds good,” I said, though I couldn’t manage to work any enthusiasm into my voice. Georgia bounced up anyway, giving me a quick hug before she started towards her side of the dorm room.
“We’ll get some pancakes and bacon in you, some good diner coffee, and then you’ll be right as rain,” she said, ruffling my hair. “Go get some clothes on and let’s head out.”
I got up and went back into my room. I wished, stupid as it was, that Johnny could have been there, that we could be going to breakfast with him. I knew it was an idiotic thing to want; I didn’t know where Johnny even was, and he wasn’t taking my calls or even answering me anymore.
I pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and pulled my hair back into a ponytail. I decided that that wa
s all the effort I was going to make. I wasn’t likely to see Johnny, and I was too exhausted to make an effort to look good for anyone else. I grabbed my keys and my purse and made sure that my phone was fully charged; I didn’t think I was likely to get a call from anyone I actually wanted to hear from, but just in case, I wanted to be able to answer.
“Let’s head out,” Georgia said, and I nodded. My eyes felt itchy — scratchy, as if they had sand in them, my eyelids heavy. My stomach felt unsteady. My legs felt as if they weighed a ton each. All I wanted to do was curl up in my bed, but I knew that even if I did, I wouldn’t sleep. The only thing that would allow me to sleep would be to know that Johnny was okay, that he really loved me.
I tried to keep up my end of the conversation as I drove off campus, ignoring the few people who looked at my car as we left the parking lot. Georgia was reminding me about an upcoming test; she tried to get me to talk about one of the shows we both liked, and I tried to be interested in it, but I was too consumed with worry, guilt, and depression to really feel it. I just wanted to get through the day. I just wanted to find out what was happening, I just wanted the situation that Johnny was facing to end.
After a while, Georgia seemed to realize that I wasn’t going to be distracted by anything else, that the only thing really on my mind was Johnny. She sighed as we pulled into a diner, one we’d been to a few times before, as an alternative to the dining hall, and liked. “You’re not going to even pay attention to anything unless it’s about Johnny, are you?” I smiled weakly.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I know it’s pathetic and I should just — move on or something. Just like Johnny said. But…” Georgia returned my smile, reaching out to rub my shoulder.