“Downstairs.” The lump was back, trying to suffocate me. But I had done this once, so I knew I could do it again. “I told her that Rick was hurting me. I even tried to tell her how. But she didn’t believe me.” I could taste soap, smell burned eggs, hear Mama’s footsteps walking away. “She didn’t make it stop.”
Caroline said something that should have been smurfed.
“Mama and I were in a car accident just before I turned eight. And while I was in the ER, they found evidence of the rapes. The doc told Mama. She got all pale and shaky and told me she was going to go home and get a bag for us. But she never came back.”
I’ve known she left me. But saying things out loud makes them real. And God, it hurt.
Caroline wrapped her arms around me. Her grip was so tight I thought she might crack one of my ribs. But I didn’t want her to let go.
For minutes she just held onto me.
When she finally pulled back, Caroline said, “You told your mom what was happening, and she did nothing. That makes her guilty as hell, and she knew it. Her leaving you at the hospital had nothing to do with you, and everything to do with her.”
That helped, a little. The fact that she was still there helped even more.
“We need ice cream,” Caroline said.
Luke came through the door with the words, “I have six kinds.”
“He may be worth keeping around,” Caroline said.
And I hadn’t even told her about the shower yet.
When Luke’s parents got back from their boat trip, they didn’t seem surprised to see Caroline. I guess we do tend to end up together when things go wrong. They fed us dinner and went to their room, leaving the three of us to take care of each other.
We stayed up late, talking about Rick, and lots of other things. Which was a relief. For so long, my dread about telling them came in two levels. First, that they would hate me. Second, if they didn’t hate me, I worried that they wouldn’t be able to look at me without thinking about that. So a wandering conversation about everything was perfect.
Luke fell asleep first, sprawled across one of the couches. I don’t think he’s slept much in the last few days. Caroline and I moved over to the other couch and sat with our feet tucked under us, the way we have a thousand times before.
“So Rick is why you’ve never wanted to date anyone,” Caroline said.
I nodded. “Even with Luke, it gets complicated.”
“How?”
“I know he’s not Rick. But it gets confused. Luke kissed me once in the mural room and slid his fingers into my hair, and suddenly I was thrown back into a memory. It was like it was happening all over again.”
“Did you tell him?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t want to hurt him.”
“He would want to know,” Caroline said. “And you need him to know.”
“I wanted to handle this myself.”
“I know,” she said. “But there are some things we can’t do on our own. We’re wounded in relationships, and we heal in relationships.”
“Which therapist said that?”
“The second one, with the puppets.”
The woman may have been slightly disturbing, but she had a point.
“Let Luke help you through this,” Caroline said.
I looked at the rocks that make up the fireplace, each piece fitting with the one beside it. “I don’t know if I want to get through this.”
“Meaning what?”
I looked back at her. “Meaning that the idea of sex horrifies me.”
“The thought of a repeat of Rick horrifies you,” Caroline said. “But that wasn’t sex. That was a sick imitation.”
She was right. Rick had taken something that should have been a gift in my life and twisted it into a horrific weapon. But now that’s what fills my head.
“I can’t even think about sex without panicking,” I told her.
“It won’t always be like that.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know you.”
“Even after today?”
“Even better after today,” Caroline said. “I’ve always known you were strong and brave. But I have a whole new appreciation now.”
I shook my head. “I’m not.”
“If you weren’t strong, you wouldn’t have survived. And if you weren’t brave, you never could have risked loving someone again. Not after what had happened to you.” Caroline’s face sharpened. “And that bastard has stolen enough from you. He doesn’t get to steal your future too.”
I’ve never let myself think about the future. But tonight, after Caroline and I had gone to bed, I let my imagination wander.
The scene grew slowly. It was early in the morning. My head rested on Luke’s bare chest. His arm was wrapped around me, holding me close. In the distance we could hear a baby cry.
Luke kissed my hair. “I’ll get her.”
He pulled on a shirt as he left the room. He was back a minute later with a baby in his arms. He laid our daughter in the bed between us, and she smiled at me, waving her little arms. I looked from Luke to our child, and I was completely overwhelmed by love.
I love that idea and that there’s a chance it could happen.
I just don’t know how to get from here to there.
Monday, June 27
Luke likes watching the sun rise over the lake. So when I woke up this morning and found his couch empty, I pulled on a sweatshirt and opened the doors that led onto the deck. I found him sitting in an Adirondack chair, staring off at where a smudge of light had broken through the horizon.
When he saw me, he smiled. “Morning.”
“Morning.”
I crossed the deck to kiss him gently before I slid into the Adirondack chair beside his.
For a few minutes, we just sat in the quiet of the morning, watching the light slowly grow.
I knew that if I was really going to let Luke help me through this, there was something I needed him to understand. I just wasn’t sure how to explain it. The best I could come up with was a movie reference.
“Do you remember the movie where all of the girl’s emotions were different characters who lived inside her head?”
“It’s kind of hard to forget,” Luke said. They made us watch it every year in Kids’ Group.
“There was Sadness, and Anger and Fear and Disgust—”
“And Joy,” Luke said.
“Right.” Joy. I pulled in a breath. “I feel like I have an extra emotion. Dread.”
If Luke thought I had lost my mind, it didn’t show on his face. So I kept talking.
“She’s a six-year-old little girl who’s still trapped in that house.”
Luke’ reached over to hold my hand.
“Caroline thinks I can marry you someday and have everything that comes with that.”
“Including sex,” Luke said.
Heat rushed into my cheeks, but I nodded. “And I want all of that. But every time I seriously think about it, that one piece panics.”
“That was the part that freaked out in the mural room,” he said.
I nodded again. “You slid your fingers into my hair, and it set off a flashback.”
“Aly, I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t know. I didn’t either. Just like the night on the side of Mount Washington.”
Luke’s face shifted, thinking back.
“I looked back and saw a man’s shadow framed by two trees. And it looked like Rick standing in my doorway. In my head, I was back in that room, and Rick was coming to hurt me. But then it was you, asking if I was cold. You gave me your sweatshirt.”
“And that helped?”
I nodded.
There are times I feel like I’m walking through a minefield, never knowing when something is going to blow up in my face. But I know about a few land mines now, and I wondered.
“Will you do something for me?” I asked.
“Anything,” he said.
“That’s a dang
erous promise.”
“There aren’t any bodies to move.”
I smiled at him.
“What do you need me to do?” he said.
“Slide your fingers into my hair.”
Luke shifted back in his chair. “You just said that went badly.”
“I know. But I don’t know of another way to convince that one terrified part that it’s different when you do it.”
Luke still looked concerned about this plan. But when I stood up, he came with me. We were barely a foot apart.
“You’re sure?” Luke said.
I nodded.
So Luke reached out his hand and stroked the side of my head. My breaths were coming faster, but I didn’t move. Luke slid his fingers into my hair, and the memory came crashing down around me.
I gasped, and Luke started to pull away. But my words came out in a rush. “Don’t leave.”
“I’m right here.”
I could feel Rick’s hand twisting through my hair, feel the tears on my cheeks and the desperation in my chest. But I knew it wasn’t happening again. It was a memory. I was at the lake with Luke.
“I’m safe.”
“Completely,” Luke said.
I pulled in a deep, shaky breath. I wasn’t a six-year-old child. I wasn’t trapped in Rick’s house. I didn’t have to do anything out of guilt or fear. I was standing on the deck with Luke, because it was where I wanted to be.
The memories of Rick were still there, but they were fading. I felt the strength of Luke’s hand, the tenderness of his touch, the intensity of the love in his eyes. And I was overwhelmed. I reached up and kissed him.
I had kissed Luke before. But never like this. Never without secrets or shame. Never with complete abandon.
And we stood on the deck, lost in the wonder of that kiss, as the sun rose over the water.
Tuesday, June 28
Driving into Trinity today was surreal. Everything looked the same but felt different. My friendships have changed. I’ve changed. But the trial is still there, waiting for me. Only now the countdown is in days—seven days until I have to face Rick.
When we got back to the Harrisons’ house, Mrs. Reese was waiting for us.
“Mom,” Caroline said. “What are you doing here?”
“We thought it was time we all had a talk,” Mrs. Reese said.
I glanced at my friends. But they looked as surprised as I felt. The three parents sat down on one side of the Harrisons’ living room. Luke, Caroline and I sat on the other. All five of them were watching me.
“Normally, we would say it was your parents’ place to ask this question,” Mrs. Harrison said. “But your parents aren’t here.”
“And your foster parents aren’t winning any awards,” Mrs. Reese added.
Luke’s dad looked right at me with eyes that were so much like his son’s, and said, “Aly, is there something you need to tell us?”
Need? Probably. Want? No. I don’t want anyone else to know about this.
But Luke has been subpoenaed. He has to go to the trial. And chances are at least one of his parents will go with him. They’re going to find out. And I needed to be the one to tell them.
“I have to testify in a trial,” I told them. “Against the man who abused me when I was young. The one who gave me HIV.”
Luke’s parents would have been good poker players. They didn’t flinch. Mrs. Reese’s face took on a look of rage that was worthy of her daughter.
“The same trial Luke was subpoenaed to testify in,” Mrs. Harrison said.
“Yes. They’re going to use the fact that I didn’t tell him about the abuse to try and make it look like I made the whole thing up.”
“They know how often children keep this a secret,” Reverend Harrison said. “They’re just trying to rattle you.”
It’s working.
“Have you talked to a lawyer?” Mrs. Harrison said.
“Just Mr. Raleigh, the prosecutor.”
“His job is to get a conviction. You aren’t his first concern,” Mrs. Harrison said.
“I’ll call Dan Richards,” Reverend Harrison said.
“We’ll need rooms in Boston,” Mrs. Reese said. “I’ll take care of it.”
Lawyers and hotel rooms cost money. Money I don’t have.
“We’ll cover the cost,” Mrs. Harrison said as if she was reading my thoughts. And Mrs. Reese nodded.
I tried to protest, but Mrs. Reese leaned forward and said, “You’re family, Aly.”
And something caught in my throat.
“Thank you,” I managed.
“What else do you need?” Reverend Harrison said.
For Rick to die suddenly sometime in the next week so I wouldn’t have to do this. Barring that, there was one more thing that would help. But I’m terrible at asking for things. And they were already doing so much.
“What is it?” Caroline said.
“Can I have the wall?” I asked Mrs. Reese.
“What wall?” Mrs. Reese said.
“The ruined wall in the mural room. The one you want to tear down. I know it would cost less to tear it out and start over and that trying to keep it could delay opening the wing. But I think I can save at least part of the painting.”
Everyone in the room was looking at Caroline’s mother, waiting for her answer.
“Fine,” Mrs. Reese said. “You can have until the end of July.”
“It won’t take that long,” I promised.
“It isn’t your only obligation,” Mrs. Reese said.
It’s just the only one I want to think about.
Wednesday, June 29
“They’re here,” Caroline said.
“I changed my mind,” I told her.
“Too late,” she said and left the room.
“I could write them letters.”
“You know it’s better face to face,” Luke said.
In that moment, I wasn’t sure. But then Caroline was walking back into the room with Ben, Kyle and Natalie following behind her. Caroline came to stand next to me and Luke. The other three turned, taking in the finished mural and the paint supplies laid out in front of the ruined section of wall.
“Aly, this is amazing,” Natalie said. She looked back at me, her eyes shining. “You even included Anne of Green Gables. I adore her.”
“I know,” I said. It’s why she made the list.
Ben’s hand rested on the image of an enormous lion with deep, wise eyes. Kyle was grinning at Max from Where the Wild Things Are.
“Why didn’t you tell us you were almost done?” Natalie said.
“There’s a lot I haven’t told you.”
Ben and Kyle both turned to look at me. They were all watching me now.
“Maybe we should sit down,” I said.
I told them an abbreviated version of the story, skipping over the worst of the details, and finished with, “Rick’s going on trial next week for attacking another girl. And I’m going to testify.”
Silence stretched out around us.
“They aren’t saying anything,” I whispered.
“Give them a minute,” Luke said. “It’s a lot to take in.”
Their faces were struggling. I wished they would say something.
But it was Caroline’s voice that broke the silence. “Show of hands. Who thinks Rick Wallace should die a slow and horrible death?”
Caroline’s hand was already in the air. Luke joined her, followed a second later by Ben, Natalie and Kyle.
“Who’s hurt that Aly lied to us, but understands why she did it?”
Natalie’s hand was up almost as quickly as Luke and Caroline’s. Ben’s followed. Kyle’s face was still struggling, but as he looked at me, his hand rose slowly into the air.
“Who still loves her?”
One by one, every hand in the room rose. Even Kyle’s.
Tears started sliding down my cheeks.
Natalie was the first to stand up. But Ben reached me before she did. The two of them w
rapped their arms around me, and I closed my eyes. I felt Luke and Caroline join the massive hug. And a minute later a prosthetic arm touched my shoulder.
I wasn’t the only one who cried.
Friday, July 1
When I was in fourth grade, there was a split in the sidewalk outside our school. The gash was big enough that it was considered a hazard. So a man came and filled it up with cement. But he rushed the job and the cement dried in an uneven mound rather than a smooth line. Eventually, another team had to come out with a jackhammer, tear out the patch, and refill the gap.
That’s how I feel. Like as a little girl I had this gaping wound I didn’t know how to deal with. So I filled it in with cement. That worked, in a way. No one could see how broken I was. And I was able to push down most of the pain. But the wound never healed. It festered.
Now I’ve torn away the patch. And there’s incredible relief in that. But that choice also exposed the gash.
Most of the time, I’m fine. But then suddenly, out of nowhere, the pain comes back. And with nothing to dull it, I’m completely overwhelmed.
Painting has helped.
I’ve thrown myself back into the mural room. Only now, instead of creating, I’m restoring. Or at least, that’s the idea.
Once I had gotten rid of as much of the soot as I could, I tried to paint, but quickly discovered that my usual techniques weren’t going to work. The wall was too delicate. I had to work slowly, in small, incremental steps. There were moments when I had made real progress, only to have a whole section flake off and set me back hours. But I took a deep breath and started again.
This was turning out to be more complicated than I had expected. Because even when my technique was working, I still struggled to know what to paint. I wanted to be true to the original. But there were times it was difficult to tell what had originally been there. The colors were too faded, and whole sections of mural were gone. I realized I couldn’t make this the exact painting that it was. And I couldn’t undo what had happened to it. But I could bring that little girl back to life. The fire might have changed her. But it hadn’t destroyed her. And with a little help and a little time, she could be as beautiful and alive as she had ever been. Maybe, even more beautiful.
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