Remake

by A. J. Sand

  Under Naomi’s militant orders for what the table centerpieces and guests souvenirs had to look like, the group, Kai, Fitz and Hayden included, spent two hours in the living room creating them to her specified preferences then loaded them in the car before getting ready for the evening’s event.

  “Where’d everybody go?” Erica asked when she finally emerged from Naomi’s bedroom and came back down to find only her sister and Fitz still in the living room. It had taken her far longer than anyone else to get ready. She’d been dressed for a while, and most of the time had been spent trying to figure out if she should wear the engagement ring or not. She decided to.

  “Kai asked to see Hayd’s new guitar, and he pretty much ejaculated with excitement…Dylan went to listen.” Naomi’s gaze roamed Erica’s outfit, her face getting progressively distorted by the second. “But, seriously, you’re really going to look better than me at my own engagement party?”

  “Yup! You only get to reap the privilege of being the prettiest in the room at the wedding, so you can put me in something tacky, then!” Erica said, relishing in her sister’s mild jealousy over her pale pink lace dress.

  “No! E, you’re going to love your maid of honor dress,” Naomi said, beaming with encouragement and reassurance, but Erica was skeptical, especially if it was still based on that tattered and flimsy magazine cut-out Naomi had pasted in her “Fantasy Wedding” book twelve years ago. She and Naomi had vastly different tastes. “It’s going to look awesome on you.”

  “It better,” Fitz said, adding a wink at Erica before downing his beer. He set it down with the two other empties. “She’s my partner after all.”

  “Well, would you look at that incentive? I’ll be Fitz’s arm candy!” Erica said with sarcasm. “Which means you have to raise the hem another two inches, regardless of where it is right now, and push my boobs together.”

  “That is how I like dresses.”

  “No, you like them on bedroom floors,” Erica countered as she turned to the bar to pour herself another glass of champagne. Fitz scoffed behind her, though she had expected some kind of confirmation from him, and when she turned back, he was scrolling through his phone. “Am I wrong?” she asked.

  “No, it’s not that…it’s…have you guys heard this story about your friend, Jeremy Bunyan? From the night of the thing at Luz? One of the girls I brought said a friend of hers, who got there late, said another girl was yelling at him near the bathrooms and calling him a rapist. She said it caught her off guard, but that’s what she heard the girl say. Crazy, right?”

  Shit. Erica nearly dropped her glass from her shaking hand and waves of pinching pain rolled through her stomach.

  Naomi cast a questioning glance at her and Erica gave her a slight nod to indicate she was the girl. “No, sick, isn’t it?” Naomi asked.

  Fitz looked unsure but he nodded. “Yeah, I guess…but…I don’t know if I believe something like that ‘cause he’s one of us…”

  “One of you?” Erica and Naomi said in unison.

  “You know…you look a certain way, live a certain lifestyle, and it essentially guarantees you women. And when there’s a guy like that, you hear about these things all the time…” Fitz explained, shrugging. He chuckled at something on his cell, his attention in the subject already fading. But Naomi’s was not.

  “What do you hear all the time? False allegations? Or do you just assume all the ones you hear about are?” She crossed the room until she was standing directly in front of him.

  Fitz shifted his gaze upward and slowly lowered his phone as his countenance moved between annoyance and surprise. “Why are getting so mad, Naomi? It’s not like it was you, right? It was probably some dumb bit—chick mad at him for hittin’ it and not calling or something! You know some chicks start seeing dollar signs after they have sex with someone famous.”

  “So, because it isn’t me, I shouldn’t be mad? We’re only supposed to care about bad things when they happen to us?” Naomi let out a loud sigh of disgust and coupled it with a twisted expression. “Wow, your mom and dad must have handed you over to wolves right after you were born. They had Hayden already, I guess.”

  Erica’s hand tightened around the glass as she tried to process how quickly the conversation had deteriorated. She envisioned herself walking out of the room and going to join Kai and Dylan, but her unfettered curiosity had such a hold on her, that no amount of will to leave could compete.

  “Hey! Come on!” Fitz, getting flustered and indignant at the slight, shifted uncomfortably. “All I’m saying is, I just don’t see a guy like him having to force a girl to fuck him—”

  “‘Fuck him,’ Fitz? Fuck him? To use your terms, she didn’t fuck him, Fitz, it was rape. One would assume you knew the difference. If you don’t, you need to get out of the fucking frat house and learn it.” Naomi wasn’t screaming, her vocal level was still below the guitar strumming in the other room, but her tone had inched up. Erica had never witnessed any argument between these two before today. Naomi poked fun at Fitz occasionally, but they always got along, and found a kinship in being the outliers in this family: neither eager to conform to the acceptable standards set forth by Mrs. Van Der Bausch.

  Fitz, getting paler, clenched his jaw, but even while in a sitting position, his stance revealed that he was only going to get more recalcitrant. “Okay, well to use your term, I don’t think he has to rape anybody, Naomi.”

  It was going to get worse if she didn’t do anything, but Erica still felt trapped where she stood, her brain unable to put forth anything to counter what was happening. She was shaking, unbeknownst to either of them; she had become invisible to them like she had been tossed behind some veil. She was so unprepared for this moment, maybe because her emotional shield wasn’t on full strength when she was around these two. Overhearing a similar conversation between strangers would’ve gotten under her skin, but not pierced and cracked and seeped through her bones like this one between people she knew. Emotions were stirring in her, her skin felt hot, and her breaths quickened.

  “Oh…riiiiight. He’s not the type?” Naomi asked, giving sarcasm free roam in her tone.

  “Exactly!” Fitz said cheerily, and Erica couldn’t tell if he was still being defiant or if he was trying so hard to cope with the intensity of the situation that he had missed the acerbic nature of her words. “That girl either had sex with him and now is trying to get a payday with extortion, or she had sex with him and somehow her boyfriend found out and now she needs an explanation for why she did something slutt—”

  Naomi’s small palm slammed against his cheek, effectively ending his statement. Erica gasped. Nothing that came out of Fitz’s mouth should’ve surprised her still, because everyone was well aware that he could be an asshole, but for the first time ever, she was horrified by his pronouncements.

  “Slutty? SLUTTY?” Naomi slapped him again, and when she hit him for the third time, a closed fist collided with Fitz’s jaw and snapped his face to the side. Erica was witnessing her sister like this for the first time, and it scared her more than Fitz’s crude assessment.

  Fitz tried to scoot around her, but she shoved him back down. “Nay—”

  Her arms swung, thrashing, sending blow after blow at him: his face, his head, his upper body, anywhere her small hands could make contact. Fitz shielded himself with his arms but it was futile. The movements were panicked and sloppy but ferocious and clearly backed by a lot of rage. “Slutty? He left her on a fucking beach! A fucking beach! He left someone’s sister and daughter like she was trash. What if that had been someone you cared about?! Huh? You asshole! Did you ever think about that?” Naomi was screaming now and tears were streaming in rivulets down her face as she continued to hit him, though, with the impact weakening the more she cried. “It’s people like you who make this so hard for her. People like you!”

  “Naomi! Stop!” Erica’s numbness finally faded, and she yanked her flailing sister away from him and dumped her into Hayden’s arms when
he barreled into the room behind her, with Dylan and Kai right on his heels. Naomi wailed as she collapsed against her fiancé.

  “Time and time again, I have defended you as a person! But you are exactly what everyone says about you!” Naomi shouted at Fitz. She was clinging to Hayden, barely able to stand. Based on the looks of everyone in the room, the situation was only going to escalate.

  “What happened? What did you do, Fitz?” Hayden demanded.

  “Me?! Me?!” Fitz’s face was completely red, and already starting to bruise. He was also seething as he stood. The button side of his dress shirt flapped loosely, just beneath his collarbone, revealing light red streaks across his skin. “Your future wife is a fucking psycho!”

  “Don’t call my sister names, asshole,” Erica said, her temper suddenly flaring past her anxiety. “Don’t you dare.”

  “Did you not just see her hit me like a fucking psycho, Erica? Oh wait, you did, but you just stood there like you were—”

  “Get out!” Hayden yelled, startling everybody, but his expression was conflicted and pained.

  The color dripped from Fitz’s face, his own expression revealing the hurt of betrayal as he glared at Hayden. “What? Me?”

  “Get the fuck out of my house, Fitz. Go. Now. Go wait outside. I’ll call you a cab.”

  Fitz’s wild eyes moved between each of them, and he looked like a rabid animal, vibrating with anger and bewilderment. “Really, Hayd? You don’t even know what happened, and you’re siding with her?” He paced for a few seconds before his eyes arrowed Hayden again. “Mom is right. She’s so right. Ever since you let these people into our lives—”

  “Whoooooa. You need to listen to your brother, Fitzgerald,” Kai warned, “‘cause he’s gonna to be real pissed when I kick your ass in his finely furnished home.”

  “Kai, don’t…” Erica said, and she hoped she sounded imposing enough to dissuade him, along with her raised hand.

  “Baby, please, don’t,” Dylan reiterated in a frustrated plea. Her hand was locked around his wrist.

  “What, guys? Venereal Disease is a goddamn douchebag, and someone needs to say it.”

  “Hey!” Hayden said. “Come on, man, he’s still my brother…”

  “Yeah, but he’s talking to my family like he wants me to break shit in here. And I will, Hayden, I will break shit. So, to repeat, listen to your brother, Fitzgerald. Get out, before you can’t.”

  Though he appeared ready to continue speaking, Fitz’s defiance was quickly buried beneath his fear and he stormed out the door. Erica looked only at Naomi, aiming a sympathetic smile at her and considering for the first time the effect all of this might have had on her. They had never really talked about it.

  With everyone in the room calling after her, Erica followed Fitz out and found him behind the steering wheel of his car. She was so disappointed in him, and much more so than she was hurt, she suddenly realized. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” she asked him, leaning in the window. “I really thought we were friends.”

  When he turned to look at her, there was genuine remorse in his eyes. But she wondered, for which of his offenses. “I didn’t mean it, E. I’m really sorry about what I said in there. I shouldn’t have talked about you and Naomi like that. I love you both. I lashed out. I was pissed she hit me. She hits hard for such a small person. And what was that about? I thought we were having a hypothetical conversation, and now she’s the goddamn opinion police.”

  Erica scoffed and shook her head. “Well, Fitz, that was quite an opinion to have. But part of the problem is, everyone around you, myself included, just let’s you say and do what you want without calling you out on it. And it’s troubling.” Erica flexed her jaw. “Well, here’s something to form an opinion over. I was the girl near the bathroom. And I was telling the truth. It happened to me. Everything Naomi said happened to me. And you’re about to sit here and listen to all of it.”

  You Can Fall — Chapter 12

  The sight of the magnificent lawns at the Clary Gardens was nearly enough to lessen the solemn mood of the group when they arrived early for Naomi and Hayden’s engagement party about an hour later. Inside an enormous, billowing white tent, sat a span of tables bordered by curvy vases, which hugged the inside edges of the structure. Nearby, Donnie and Casi from Fading Fast were setting up by a dance floor surrounded by trees draped in twinkle lights. And a small pond and lush garden served as the backdrop to the setting.

  Stars, Erica thought with a smile when she stared at the light-drenched trees as she and Dylan hurried to put all the centerpieces on the table. And maybe she and Bryson would be able to dance under them tonight if he decided to show up. As she set the last one down, she noticed Fitz strolling at a slow pace toward her with a heavy sway in his step, suggesting that alcohol was running the show.

  “If I talk to you, is Kai going to rip out my intestines or something?” Fitz leaned against the back of a chair next to her.

  “Hmm…he hasn’t mentioned any plans for disembowelment, though, you surely have earned it…” Erica said. “And how the hell did you get here? I thought Hayden told the cab to take you home?” If Erica had the ability to see auras around humans, she guessed that his would be the shade of Jack Daniel’s.

  “I didn’t drive, E… I swear. A friend from the bar drove me over. I’m so mad at myself. I fucked up, Erica. I’m so sorry,” he said, nearly in tears.

  “I have a feeling you’re only sorry because it’s me, Fitz,” Erica countered. “If it were still some nameless, faceless girl, you would’ve said the same thing, and stood by it.”

  He trailed her to the bar, ordered a drink and bummed a cigarette from the bartender. “You know what someone told me tonight? The best kinds of monsters are the ones who can hide in plain sight. My friend from the bar who brought me here told me that, and it made me realize how badly I messed up. I swear I’ll make it up to you, E.” Fitz took her hand and dropped a kiss on it before he stumbled away.

  Over the next hour, as dinner commenced, the tables filled, and the cups were topped with alcohol, the mood at Erica’s table and the adjacent one—Elliotts, Jamie and her date, Leko and Ribsy—turned lively. It was a lot like old times: Women wandering over because of the guys, Wes, with a girl in his lap, telling some long, convoluted story that usually involved someone almost getting arrested or in a fight, and everyone laughing loud enough to annoy anyone who wasn’t in on the conversation or friendship. But even surrounded by friends, she still missed Bryson, especially as couples followed Hayden and Naomi to the dance floor.

  “Come dance with us before Kai performs,” Dylan said as she and Kai stood.

  “Sure. Let me grab a spare Elliott!” Erica said, swiveling around in her chair to search out Abel across the darkened lawn.

  “Whoa! Look at this guy…” Kai chuckled to someone over Erica’s head.

  “Hey, man. Long time. You’re playing weddings now?”

  Erica flinched at the sudden sound of the voice behind her, but she refused to turn around; it’s not like she didn’t know who it belonged to. To say everything about the man approaching was so infused in her memory, in her soul, in her bones, to say everything about him had possessed her in a way that frightened her before, would still only be capturing a fraction of the reality. Erica could detail all of him in her mind with specificity: the cool way he would stride across a room and pull the attention of every woman in it into his orbit, his captivating, warm smile that preceded every first word he spoke to someone, the scar in his right eyebrow, comma-shaped and deep, and the spot on his face where the skin was so delicate he always nicked it when he shaved. She could build him from scratch herself. Bryson had come; after an entire week of her worried speculation, he was actually there.

  “Erica, we’re here.” The squeeze to her shoulder jolted her awake. She recoiled against the passenger door, ramming her side against it.

  “Don’t,” she said curtly. She was so fucking tired of being touched.

 
“E, it’s just me… It’s just me… You’re okay.” Her gaze drifted over to Naomi in the driver’s seat, who was holding her hands up and away from Erica like they were radioactive. “It’s just me. You’re fine.” Is that what she was? ‘Cause ‘fine’ felt really fucking terrible.

  Naomi looked tired and terrified; she wasn’t used to Erica being like this. Erica wasn’t used to being like this. Shaking. Flinching. Crying at everything. So wary of people. Wary of him. Whoever he was. And he was still out there. It was like his shadow had been cast over her. All the way here from Phuket. The U.S. Embassy in Thailand had given her a list of mental health professionals to seek out counseling for what was probably PTSD after the rape. Yeah, right. More people having to see her in this state. The past two days, she’d waited until Naomi was asleep before going into the bathroom and curling on the frigid tiled floor to cry when her mind went back to Thailand. The moon. That really fucking gorgeous moon over her on the beach. Her eyes had been pinned to it that night, and she had felt so close to the sky, like with a flick of her fingers she could stroke the surface. Anything to ignore that her legs and arms had betrayed her and prevented her from fighting back right away or how hot the tears were that glided down into her ears. Or how he had pushed her down into the sand so hard, she’d bitten her tongue. The headache. The hospital. The exam. The fucking exam. Take this pill. Why? It’s just a precaution. We’ll have to give you some other tests. Why? It’s just a precaution.

  And then she’d throw up. Not on purpose. But over and over and over because the thoughts made her so sick. That someone had… Why her? Why had she left her friends? Why had she walked back alone? I should have known better. Fuck. Why didn’t I know better? Endless rounds of internal questioning that left her too crazed to sleep or eat with any regularity.