Rage to Live

by Shirley Anne Edwards

  “Thanks, lady!” She rushed away with her treats and right into the arms of a woman who was probably her mother.

  “I saw what you did, but I won’t tell anyone.” Jo nudged me in the side.

  “It’s hard seeing all these people, knowing they don’t have a place to go home to like we do.” My nose tingled, a big sign I was about to become emotional.

  Jo rubbed my arm, giving me a sympathetic nod. “I don’t take anything for granted. That’s why I volunteer as much as I can.”

  I had once been one of those people who took so much for granted. Back in Underwood, I’d never even thought to volunteer for anything that would help others. Since coming to Albee, the charity bug had bitten me. It had for most of the town, based on the number of people cooking and serving food for the less fortunate. Aunt Eloise and Uncle Abe were cooking in the kitchen while Tris and Paul served up front. Even Beau cleaned up tables and emptied garbage.

  “I’ve become pro volunteerism also. You’ve rubbed off on me.” I swung my arm around her shoulders.

  Jo hugged me back. “I’m so glad you’ve settled in here and found your place in the community. I hope you feel like you belong.”

  Damn nose wouldn’t stop tingling. “You and your family helped me belong.”

  Jo’s eyebrows came together, and she made a strange quirk with her mouth. “Stop saying ‘your’ family. You should be saying ‘my’ family. You’re a Dryden as much as if you were my real sister.”

  Oh God, she had to go there in front of all these people. If I started crying now, I’d never live it down. I stared down at the table, stunned. If she told me she loved me, I would burst into tears.

  “That means a lot.” Luckily I managed to speak through the lump in my throat. I needed a few minutes alone to meditate and find a balance before I became a sobbing mess. “I, um, have to go to the bathroom. Take over for me?”

  She went back to serving people in line, totally oblivious to the blow she’d just sent me. “Sure.”

  I grabbed my bag, and on swift feet, cut across the crowded room to the exit. I spotted Arielle talking with Theo as they entered through a side door. I quickly darted out of the room before Arielle saw me. She would take one look at my face and know something was up. As much as I wanted to be with her, I had to regain control.

  I hurried down the hallway and to the bathrooms. Pushing open the door, I hoped not too many people would be inside. Other than one occupied stall in the corner, it was empty. I went to the closest sink and turned on the faucet, running cool water over my hands and then patting my eyes and cheeks. I still had issues with staring at my reflection straight on, but this time I looked in the mirror. My face was flushed and my eyes glossy. And I finally noticed I had a new mark, a small discoloration on the lower part of my throat uncovered by my T-shirt.

  A giggle-like snort erupted from my mouth. Arielle had left an impression in more ways than one. For some reason, the mark lifted my spirits. Pressing my palms down on the sink, I took some deep breaths.

  The stall door squeaked as it opened, and my eyes locked with the person exiting. Robyn rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Oh, you’re here,” I said, at a loss for words.

  “I have the same right to be here as you.” She moved to the row of sinks, her glare turning icy. “We know the only reason you’re here.”

  We? Who’s we? I hated it when people talked in the plural when they meant themselves. “I’m giving back to the community like you are.” I refused to give her what she wanted and start an argument.

  “I would say the same thing when Arielle asked me to join her in some feel-good charity event or bleeding-heart deed. I only cared about impressing her, and for a time it worked.”

  “Until she figured out how selfish you are and got tired of you?” I did a little head bob, enjoying how her mouth twisted into an ugly grimace.

  “The rewards she gave me were well worth the hassle.” She moved close enough that I smelled her cloying baby powder-scented perfume. “She would show her appreciation in so many ways, like the one you have on your neck.”

  This bitch just didn’t quit. I had to leave before my fist met her face. “I get it, you’re jealous—”

  “Jealous?” Her eyes widened, and she laughed. “I’m not jealous of you.”

  “Oh please, the way you’re acting right now proves it,” I snapped.

  “Ah, proof is an important thing.” She tapped her lip with her nail. “How much proof did you show Arielle to make her pity you?”

  “What the hell are you talking about? She doesn’t pity me.” My strangled words barely made their way through my gritted teeth.

  “How you play up being the victim of some fake rape.”

  Danger! My lips went blubbery, and my breath came out in small gasps. I couldn’t have a panic attack now of all places, especially in front of this vile person.

  “You don’t know me or what I’ve been through.” I clutched the side of the sink.

  “I know enough. Maybe Arielle is just stringing you along for a shot at your five million dollars.”

  “How do you know that? It’s sealed to the public.” I locked an arm around my waist. How did she know?

  “I have my ways of finding out information.” Her face now shone with pride instead of animosity.

  It was one of my worst nightmares come to life. Robyn’s opinion shouldn’t matter, but she had backed me in a corner, literally. I hugged the side of the sink, my legs shaking so much that I couldn’t stand much longer.

  She waited for me to respond, just staring at me, smirking in glee at my pain.

  “Do you get off on attacking me? If so, you’re one sick bitch. God help you if you’re ever in the type of situation I was in and no one believes you.” I wiped a tear from a corner of my eye. She might see that as a sign of weakness, that she had won, but it was more about frustration and bitterness.

  Her cockiness receded when she realized I hadn’t fallen for her bait. She might have shaken me up, but I refused to be another victim just because of her hateful words.

  The door behind us swung open, and Arielle entered. Coincidence or not, I didn’t care. I was so happy she was here.

  I whimpered her name, reaching to her. She came to me and tucked me to her side, scanning my face and then turning to Robyn. My body ached from the strain. Arielle was all rigid strength.

  “What the fuck is going on here?”

  I flinched. She had to be really angry to curse that way. I moved my arm behind her and fisted the back of her sweater.

  “Nothing. Just talking.” Robyn had the audacity to pout.

  I gripped Arielle’s sweater harder. “She accused me of lying about being raped in order to get your sympathy.”

  Robyn quickly lost her pout and stumbled back in astonishment.

  Arielle squeezed my hip hard, her only reaction, visible or otherwise. “Robyn, that’s a low blow even for you.”

  Robyn held out her hand and shook her head wildly, reminding me of a bobblehead doll. “Ari, I would—”

  “Shut up!” Arielle jabbed her finger at Robyn and lunged forward. Robyn jerked back, hitting the edge of the sink.

  The silence was deafening, except for water dripping from some of the faucets and some heavy breathing. Robyn now looked like she was going to burst into tears. My heartbeat invaded my head, making me nauseous. Arielle stood lock jawed, her body vibrating.

  “I’m sick of your pettiness and spoiled-girl antics. I should have stopped it long ago.” Spittle flew out of Arielle’s mouth, and her grip around me grew even more binding. “I’m putting a stop to it here and now. If I find out you’re spreading shit about Charlie, I’ll make your life a living hell, so much you’ll transfer to another college.” She shifted in front of me in a protective stance. I pressed my forehead to her back. So what if Robyn thought it was a sign of weakness? I didn’t care.

  Arielle’s back muscles rolled and stiffened. But she didn’
t back down.

  “You know I have the power to ruin anyone I choose, and right now you’re number one on my hit list,” she said in a low, almost eerie voice that made the hair on my arms stand on end.

  I thought Robyn said Arielle’s name again, but I couldn’t be certain because it was so quiet. Arielle moved one hand behind her until she touched me. I sighed into her back.

  “Leave now before I say something else that will make you cry harder.” She took my wrist and rubbed her thumb over my pulse.

  Robyn didn’t respond to Arielle’s order. I heard rather than saw her shuffling as she walked to the door. It hit the wall as she opened it, and she rushed out.

  As soon as the door closed, my legs turned to jelly, and I sagged to the floor, tucking my knees to my chest and hiding my face on top of them. Arielle joined me there, taking me in her arms and just holding me… protecting me.

  “HAVE I ever told you the view from your window is pretty sweet, especially when it snows?” I rested against the wall on Arielle’s window seat in her bedroom. The snow, thick and clumpy, fell from the sky, sticking to the window and blanketing the ground below. I pressed my palm to the glass, the chill from outside traveling up my arm. But it didn’t bother me. I was wearing one of Arielle’s Maison sweatshirts and sweatpants to keep warm.

  She joined me on the seat, dressed in an AGP sweatshirt and yoga pants, with two mugs of hot chocolate. She handed me one. “Sorry I don’t have something stronger, but this should hit the spot. We could both use a nice dose of chocolate after the night you’ve had.”

  I held the mug on my knee, watching the steam rise. “Don’t you mean ‘we’?”

  “You were the one who got attacked, not me.” She winced. “Sorry, bad choice of words.”

  I seized her hand, squeezing. “Don’t apologize. That word isn’t a trigger like it used to be. If you hadn’t come in the bathroom when you did, I would have probably punched the bitch, which is progress for me.”

  Her lips twitched in humor. “Slapping someone is progress?”

  The condensation on the window made it easy for me to trace our initials on the glass. “Better than me lying in a ball on the floor or throwing up all over it. A few times last year when I thought of my rape, I’d get sick or have to take a shower because I felt dirty. Robyn’s accusations didn’t make me feel ashamed or dirty. It made me angry. I’d rather be angry than a broken, blubbering mess.”

  “I wanted to do more than just slap her when I caught her in the bathroom with you and your told me the horrible thing she said.” Arielle sipped her drink and drew something on the glass. “I don’t condone violence, but she was close to pushing me to that edge.”

  I bent forward to see what she’d written. Both our names, with a heart between them. My belly fluttered, and my pulse started to race.

  “I’m glad we’re both mature enough not to catfight.” I finally took a sip of my chocolate, closing my eyes to savor the rich taste.

  “Are you planning on going to the support group on Sunday? If so, I’ll go with you,” she said.

  I opened my eyes and set my head back on the wall. A flare of nervousness hit me, but it didn’t make me as antsy as it would have in the past. I hadn’t been back to the group since the night my aunt spoke.

  “I’m not at the point where I’m comfortable enough to go. Hearing others talk about being victims won’t help me.”

  Arielle frowned. She dropped her hand on my knee, grasping it in a firm grip. “They’re not victims. Charlotte, you’re not a victim either. You’re all survivors. Never forget that.”

  Easier said than done. I appreciated her pep talk, but she just didn’t understand. I had survived the ordeal and the aftermath, but I would always be a victim in my mind. I just had to show the world I wasn’t.

  I swallowed down my drink, enjoying the burn of the sweet liquor in my throat and how it bottomed out in my stomach. Standing, I took Arielle by the hand and helped her rise. She also finished her drink, staring at me with too many questions in her eyes that I didn’t feel like answering.

  “It’s late. How about we watch the snow from your bed?” For tonight she would help me forget. It would be enough to help me get through another day.

  I SNAPPED upright in the bed, giving my head temporary whiplash. It wasn’t because of a nightmare, but the buzzing coming from my bag on the floor. Arielle lay on her stomach, asleep. She was a deep sleeper, unlike me, who woke up at any sound. The wind from the outside rattled the snow-covered window.

  I drew off the covers, shivering from the air hitting my bare legs. After throwing on the sweatpants and sweatshirt I found on the floor, I went over to my bag. I took out my cell, checking the time. It was a little after midnight. Matilda had texted and called me within the last hour. Her texts were all in caps—CALL ME ASAP!!

  My stomach pitched. She wasn’t the type to panic. Maybe an update on her visit over winter break? Maybe she couldn’t come?

  Instead of staying in the room to talk to her and possibly disturbing Arielle, I went out in the hall and into one of the small study lounges. I sat on one of the couches and called Matilda. She picked up after two rings.

  “Hey, Tilda, what’s the emergency? Nervous about seeing me in a few days?” I joked. I’d never seen her nervous in my life, not even when she played the violin solo at the spring concert our freshman year.

  “It’s really bad. Are you sitting down?” She sounded spooked.

  It must be bad for her to sound like this. “Yeah, I’m sitting down. Did something happen to you or your family? You’re not coming next week?”

  “I’ll still come. I wasn’t going to tell you until I was there, but I can’t keep it a secret. It’s been eating me up inside the past few weeks, and I haven’t been sleeping—”

  “Matilda. You’re rambling. You never ramble.” Something alarming suddenly occurred to me. “Oh no, Tilda, your parents aren’t getting a divorce?”

  “My parents are the same, although they’ve been watching me like a hawk since it happened.”

  “What happened? You’re scaring me.” I didn’t realize I’d been tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear over and over. I grasped the arm of the couch.

  “Byron is dead.”

  “What?” My voice came out as a squeak.

  “His wake and funeral were on Friday.” Her sniffling slammed my ears.

  The room started to tilt. I bent over my knees and set my forehead on them. “Wake? Funeral?”

  “I’m getting ahead of myself. Byron came home from college for Thanksgiving. It might have been permanent, because he failed out of school. The day after Thanksgiving, someone in his family found him in the garage with the car on. He died of carbon monoxide poisoning.”

  “Oh shit, oh shit.” I dived forward, losing my balance and landing on the floor.

  “Larissa found him. The neighbors heard her screaming for help outside the garage.” Her voice sounded like it was coming from a tunnel. My pulse hammered my ears and drowned her out.

  “I… I….” The inside of my mouth was like glue.

  “Charlie, he also left a suicide letter. I don’t know what he wrote, but it was a few pages.”

  “Oh God. How? Why?” Questions flew around in my head.

  “Probably guilt. He didn’t just try to destroy your life but his sister’s also.”

  A gurgled laugh exploded from my mouth. “I just bet Larissa suffered as much as I did.”

  “I’m not saying that. But her life changed for the worse when her brother wrecked yours. She never did go away to college. She gave some excuse that she wanted to wait a year because she wanted to travel, or so she told me in September when she saw me, wanting me to convince you to give her a call. Remember?”

  That was one memory I wouldn’t forget for a long time, like so many that had happened last year. “You don’t sound upset about B-Byron.”

  “I hope he’s burning in hell. You’re not happy he killed himself?”

&nbs
p; “No. Now it makes things even more difficult. No one can heal because of his selfish actions. He left so many behind to suffer.” I didn’t mean to include myself in the mix. It was his parents, his brothers, and especially Larissa, who had always idolized him. He had been her best friend.

  “He doesn’t deserve your sympathy, and neither does his family.” Matilda’s fury crackled over the line, her indignation filling me with sadness.

  “I don’t know what to do or how to feel about all of this.” I shifted to my side, tucking my knees to my chest, not caring about my cheek on the musty carpet. I closed my eyes, wishing the black behind them would take me away from everything.

  “Where are you? Are you alone?” Matilda asked, now with concern.

  “Right now I am.” My sluggish words were barely loud enough for even me to hear. “I want to go home.”

  “Home? What do you mean?”

  “What I just said. I’m coming home.” I dropped my phone and curled my arms around my head to quiet my sobs.

  Chapter EIGHTEEN

  I LOVED growing up in Underwood. I also loved my house—a rustic, four-bedroom Tudor style my parents had bought a year after they married. Even after my mother had come home to die, falling asleep one night in her bed and not waking up, I still loved my house. Her death there hadn’t made me want to move—it made me want to stay and feel her spirit there even though she was gone. Dad had done the best he could with a daughter who had lost her mother. I had many happy memories with Dad in our house on Hampton Street.

  Everything came down to being a memory for me, both the good and the bad. It was like watching scenes from a movie, an out-of-body experience, because even though I recognized what I saw, the emotions I’d had during those events didn’t linger.

  Matilda telling me about Byron’s death was now another memory to add to my growing stock. It resonated, much like the unfortunate ones during and after my rape.

  I was in the middle of an ongoing memory now, another one that would stay with me for years. I would remember the bus I took and the seat I chose to sit in next to the window. The chills and trembling attacked me even though I was bundled in my coat, wearing Arielle’s sweatshirt and sweatpants underneath.