“Good, that’s good,” Dad said.
I nodded and changed over to sit beside her. “I’m sorry I haven’t been back to visit since I brought Olivia but I needed to take care of some things.”
“Oh?” Her brows drew together and she adjusted her seat so that she could look at me better. “How is Olivia by the way? You should bring her again. I know I get out of here in a few weeks but I’d like to see her.”
I bit my lip and tried to focus on what I wanted to say. I could let her distract me and we’d never talk about it. I would end up having my dad tell her and I didn’t want that.
“She’s fine, Mom. She’s off reading or laying out by the pool right now. Enjoying the rest of our week off.”
“Why do you have a week off? I thought the ski trip was your last vacation before spring break.”
She looked from me to Dad. “Avery, what aren’t you telling me?”
“It’s okay, Mom.” I reached out for her hand and steeled myself. It was now or never.
“I got myself into a situation.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Avery. Don’t talk like it was,” Dad offered.
“What kind of a situation?” Mom asked, ignoring him.
“I was seeing someone before Olivia. A man. One of the teachers at school.”
She gasped, looking between us, pulling back a little. Of course, it was shocking.
“It wasn’t exactly a good relationship. He hurt me. He’s been arrested and today they’re charging him in court.”
“I don’t understand. Hurt you how,” she looked to Dad. “Gareth?”
He nodded to me, knowing that I needed to tell her. I’d always let other people say it for me.
“He raped me.”
There, those three words. And it came home to rest within me. They sounded so dirty but they weren’t outward. Like something had been done to me. They felt like they were directed inward. There are important words in sentences and this one had three words but they weren’t all equally important.
The action was merely a description of what Ben had done to me.
“What?!” She was crying already.
I couldn’t cry too. It was a rule for me. Unwritten in my head. If someone else was crying I tried not to as hard as I could. I would always try to take care of people I loved and I was used to taking care of my Mom.
“It’s okay,” I heard myself say.
“It is not. How did this happen? When?”
“He was the journalism teacher at school. He was the one that sent Olivia to interview me and after that I just didn’t want to see him anymore. She changed everything.”
I looked at Mom, trying to make her feel better about this when I didn’t even know how to feel about it and I’d lived with it for a lot longer.
“We had been seeing each other for awhile and he did some abusive things and I didn’t find the courage to get out until after I met Olivia.”
Details weren’t important right now. Not before I knew how she was going to take it. If it would tip her back toward her addiction.
“Mom? Say something.”
“I’m so sorry, honey.” She pulled me close, hugging me so hard. I couldn’t breathe. How she found that strength in her rail thin frame? I don’t know.
“He’s going to pay,” Dad said. “Olivia’s mom, Judge Holbrook, is helping us. And she’s assured me that he’s going to be nailed to the wall. He won’t receive any leniency.”
“I suppose it’s good to have a Judge on your side then,” she smiled faintly.
She was in her own head. It was a trait we all possessed. Now, I knew why it bothered Olivia so much.
“Mom, are you okay? You’re not…”
“Oh, no, Avery,” she squeezed my arm. “This just means that I need to be there for you even more. You’re my daughter and this went on without my knowing. I should have been there. I had a responsibility and I failed. I’m sorry.”
I knew it wasn’t going to be over just like that but I prayed that she would find help to deal with this. She would blame herself and she would need someone to work her through that. It wasn’t her fault- it was mine, in some ways- and the rest of the blame belonged to Ben.
“Here, Avery, why don’t you go get some coffee for us and I can speak to your father for a second. Visiting time is going to be up soon and I need to tell him a few things.”
“Okay,” I said, not liking it.
I left them to go find the coffee, knowing that she didn’t really want any. She just needed an excuse to get me to go. It was in the corner, two carafes with paper cups, creamer, and sugars beside them. I filled a cup and drank it black.
It was disgusting but I swallowed it. Mom wasn’t giving anything away. I could tell she was shocked but I couldn’t tell how she was dealing. I’d become so accustomed to seeing her just go straight for the bottle that it seemed strange seeing her go through this without that.
I waited around a few minutes more and then walked back with two more coffees in my hands. They were talking in low tones, just finishing up when Mom saw me.
“Thank you,” she said, taking one of the cups.
“The coffee here is terrible,” I said, giving Dad his own.
“I know, but we make do with what we have,” she said.
I wondered if she’d learned that in one of her therapy sessions or if it was just a throw away phrase to pass conversation.
“Well, we better get going,” Dad said.
I stepped over and hugged Mom full on, not holding anything back. “If you need anything, even just to talk, call me please. Don’t… Just stay sober, okay? I couldn’t stand it if I was the reason you started drinking again.”
“Avery, you could never be the reason. I promise.”
I didn’t believe her but I let her go and stepped away, waiting for Dad to hug her.
“The same goes for you. Call me if you need to talk and I’ll be home in a few weeks. I love you.”
“I love you too, Mom.”
I waved and we turned to go. Every step we took away from her seemed more dangerous. Like if I stopped being there she would fall apart. I couldn’t stand to think of that happening. My mom was precious.
The whole ride home I thought about it and about Olivia. What she would be doing when I got back. Dad didn’t say much. Just asked me a few questions that were answered easily enough and I tuned the awful music he put on out while we sped back toward home.
By the time we got back to the house I was itching to get to Olivia. I needed to see her, to breathe her in and feel her skin on mine. I figured that she had gotten some rest by now and I was ready to make good on my promise.
I hugged my dad one more time, promising to come by at the weekend. The rest of the trip was me speeding alone to get to Olivia. I didn’t care if I got a speeding ticket, I needed to see her. I drove like a normal person out of the driveway and a little ways down the road so Dad wouldn’t yell at me and then I gunned it hard.
Maybe I should be more cautious with cars, since our family’s tragic history, but the speed made me feel good, like I was getting somewhere. The roads were moderately busy but I took the traffic like it was nothing, weaving in and out of it.
I had nothing but pent up emotional energy in me. When I got close, I pulled in the drive, slowing down again and taking the route around to the guest house. I parked beside Olivia’s car and got out, running towards the doors. When I opened them I could already smell her. She was in so much trouble now but in the best kind of way.
Chapter Fourteen
Olivia
The drive to the courthouse was solemn and off-putting.
It sort of felt like my old life.
Like I was back to being a lonely stalker just waiting for something big to happen or for Avery to notice me again.
It made me laugh in a way but then I remembered what would happen today and I had to shudder.
“Are you coming to the arraignment?”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t
miss it,” I said over speakerphone. “Avery doesn’t know though, she’s gonna be pissed.”
“It’s probably good she doesn’t know,” my mom warned. “I haven’t said it this week but you were right at that meeting, bringing that diary and making her talk.”
“Mom,” I sighed. The last thing I needed right now was to feel good about defying Avery in such an obvious and public way.
“I know, I know,” she said, feeling stress. “I’m just saying she wasn’t going to talk and you knew. It was good Olivia. We wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t done that.”
“Well, I didn’t really have a choice.”
“No. You did,” she said firmly, twisting that knife just a little bit more. “You could’ve been silent. A lot of people do that.”
The line was silent for a little too long.
“I want to talk to him,” I said.
“I was worried about that.” How she knew me sort of baffled me now. Maybe she studied me. Her queer little child.
“Can we do it?” I asked.
“We can but I don’t want you in the same room.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “I don’t need to be close to him.”
“Olivia,” she sounded like she was about to tell me that it wouldn’t be worth it but then she stopped.
“What?” I asked, knowing.
She backed down.
“I’ll send for you,” she relented. “I pushed back two other hearings just so I could be there and see what he says.”
“See,” I said.
“What?” She asked.
“I knew you couldn’t stand to have this happen and not be present.”
“We’re a lot alike,” she said.
“I know.” I was starting to see.
I pulled up to the courthouse and used my mom’s badge to get into the parking garage.
Once I parked I felt nearly paralyzed by the site of two Policemen pulling Ben out of a Police car.
I got out and leaned on the back of my car.
“Hey,” I said loudly, suddenly wanting him to notice me.
He was in an orange jumpsuit and he had cuffs on his hands. The Policemen were leading him to the elevator but he turned his head and saw me. He looked confused like maybe he hadn’t expected to see me again. There wasn’t joy in him nor sorrow. No indifference either. Frazzled confusion. A bit of gratefulness. A bit of regret. I felt the same.
It was like in class when he'd been daydreaming too long. He just seemed dazed but then he registered me, came back. The way he saw me sometimes was sort of bizarre. He looked at me like we knew each other inside and out like I was a part of his life and he was a part of mine and that was normal as normal can be, like we were family, blood of blood, cut from the same cloth, never to be questioned and never to separ.
Once he saw me, remembered me, he tilted his head back and returned my, “Hey.” It was gentler than my own, less intentional, and it sounded a lot like: I’m sorry.
In a lot of ways I irrationally felt like he was my older brother.
I watched the Policemen pull him into the lift. I stared straight at him and he stared back at me. We both saw each other. Not just our bodies. We saw through. Two broken people at opposite ends of life.
The metal doors closed. Like a broken spell I was back in the empty garage wondering if any of that actually happened.
It wasn’t like the hotel.
It wasn’t like before when I had panic and fear and rage.
That was Ben.
That’s all that was.
That was just Ben.
I locked my car and felt shaky taking the elevator up alone. On the reception floor, my mom came and found me.
“You won’t have much time. They won’t let him talk long.”
“It’s fine,” I said, while she led me through door-after-door, using her badge as a church key to zap us through-and-through-and-through. At some doors she had to enter number codes. Most rooms had visibly staffed security. The halls were the scariest places but we were together. I tried not to look at all the spaces or feel anxiety but I know I did both.
There was so much security here. It really drove the point home.
By the time I got to the room with the phones and the glass dividers my heart was pounding in my chest as I caught his sight and then sat down.
Beside myself, I gave him a soft apologetic smile I couldn’t control. It was about me, not him.
I lifted up the phone and he followed.
I heard him deeply breathing. Just like he did in class sometimes around me.
I remembered that from school.
“Why are you here?” He asked, once I spent too long without dispensing words.
“I needed to talk to you,” I explained.
“You didn’t need to,” he said. “You know now, I’m sick.”
“I don’t know anything,” I said, staring back at him and feeling strange.
“Did she tell you everything?” He wondered.
“I don’t think so,” I said, swallowing bitterness that I’m sure showed plain on my face.
He wasn’t getting pleasure from this. He was sorry. He was ashamed. But not for show, not for my benefit. He didn’t want for me to have come. I could tell that. Around me he felt shame.
“Why her?” I asked, needing the answers.
I remembered the diner, when I’d followed them both there.
God, what a strange memory.
Why me…
That had been Avery’s question then.
I didn’t know it then. I didn’t know what she meant or why she asked.
It wasn’t: why am I special? Why am I good enough to take up your time?
That wasn’t it. Now I knew.
It was: why do you want to hurt me so much?
I felt sour bile burning in the back of my throat. Sick acid eating away inside at my skin.
“I could ask you the same thing,” he said, seeing me and probably knowing my fears. I wasn’t scared of him. I hadn’t come to get mad or say my peace.
If the tables had been flipped, and I’d been the one he had hurt and not Avery, Avery would be in here railing at him. She’d be telling him how horrible he was, cursing him, threatening him, damning him to hell.
The fuck was wrong with me?!
I couldn’t think it now. Now was answer time. Now may be my only chance to get answers.
“I’m serious Ben. I don’t understand why you’d hurt her.”
“I told you, kid. I’m a sick man.”
“Had you done this before?”
“More or less,” he said.
“So what about me?”
Monsters need friends too.
That’s what Avery said. Was I his friend? Of course, I was...
Monsters can’t make friends with normal people. Monsters befriend monsters. It doesn’t work any other way.
It was supposed to make me feel better, what Avery had said. Instead it only settled inside me and took on a life of its own. Now it was swimming about, this notion, like a gang of large ugly piranhas just getting ready to chew me up and eat me alive.
“You really think I could do that to you?” He asked disturbingly.
“You did it to her,” I said.
“She wanted to hate herself.”
A kick in the stomach. A hard bowling ball straight to the gut.
“So you saw that and you used it?” I asked, bitter now.
“I saw that- I loved it,” he said, eyebrows lifting just a bit, relief in the truth. “It wouldn’t have been the same with you.” He swallowed and shook his head as if he’d imagined it often. How he and I could be.
“Goddamit,” I said- bested. “I didn’t want to have to hate you, Ben.”
“You think we’re alike, don’t you?” He asked, scaring me. He was so level in the head it frightened me because I knew that type of mental strength, I had it too.
“We are alike,” I said, reading his mind.
“I followed you,” he
swallowed. “I know too.” He seemed relieved now to be having this conversation. The burden of secrets could stifle the human mind.
Paper Dolls [Book Three] Page 25