"And this is my kitchen," I said, pointing my phone toward the small, galley kitchen. Jake oohed over-enthusiastically, which made me giggle. FaceTime was a wonderful thing when your best friend lived across the country.
"I like it," he said.
"This is one of my favorite rooms," I continued, waving my phone in front of the sun room. My favorite spot was the small courtyard off the master bedroom where I spent most of my mornings drinking coffee. Watching the sun rise and inhaling the budding scents of life carried on spring breezes distracted me from how dead I felt inside.
Although on the small side, the apartment was exactly what I needed. I loved my brother and Janice, but they needed their privacy as much as I needed my own. And even though Dante and I had toured the apartment together, it didn't hold memories the spare bedroom at my brother's did.
"I can see you sitting there reading a book on a rainy day, which is like every day in Seattle, right?"
I laughed. "It's not quite that bad. But yeah, I spend a lot of time here, reading."
I'd enrolled in several classes at the community college to get my feet wet again. I loved being on campus, socializing with people my age, and learning new things. While I loved all of my classes, my upper-level social work classes were my favorite. I wanted to help women overcome the horrors of their past, even if I couldn't find the strength to do the same.
The women's mission had become like a second home. Helen had offered me a part-time paid position and worked around my school schedule. For the first time in forever, I felt like my life had a purpose. I was needed. While most girls my age were climbing the corporate ladder, and clubbing on the weekends, I spent my days working alongside Helen, who had become a confidante.
"Any more news on that asshole and his cronies?" Jake asked.
"They're still awaiting trial. There's a good chance I'm going to have to testify."
Brent, the CEO of Hot Shot, and my agent had all been arrested. Apparently, Brent hadn't been the mastermind behind the whole sick thing. He'd just been the bait. The Tribune had blown the whole story wide open, thanks to Allie's untiring devotion to bringing the truth to light.
There were twenty-four of us in all, the attacks spanning more than five years. I'd reached out to a few and our experiences had been similar. None of us had any knowledge or memory of what had transpired.
Those requesting anonymity, like myself, were respected by the press. Several had done interviews with national news stations and talk shows when the story first broke. One was even writing a book about her life as a model. I had no desire to be in the limelight. Just like I had no desire to see the full extent of what had happened to me.
I didn't know which was worse, not knowing or knowing. But I saw what knowing had done to Dante. In spite of all of his promises, I knew that he would never be able to look at me the same.
Not that we had seen each other much over the last month. After his initial onslaught of texts, voicemails and unannounced drop-ins, Dante had respected my wishes and stayed away. Every text and voicemail he'd left, I'd deleted.
I was being unreasonable. But I didn't care. He had betrayed my trust. Stomped on my wishes to satisfy his own curiosity.
The harsh words I'd uttered in the bathroom still haunted me. They had been utter bullshit. I did believe in love and I wanted the fairytale. With Dante. It had taken every ounce of my restraint not to turn around and fling myself into his arms.
"Hey, you still there?" Jake asked.
I turned the phone around and gave Jake an apologetic grin. "Sorry, I got a little lost in my own thoughts."
"Let me guess, the D-bag?"
"Yeah, the D-bag."
"Have you seen him again?"
"No, I think he's avoiding me like the plague. Which is probably good, because the last time I saw him, I added five pounds to my waistline."
"That's normal. Everyone puts on weight after a breakup. You look fabulous."
"Thanks. You're not looking too bad yourself. I really like the new haircut," I said.
Jake patted his spiky, bleached hair. "Thanks. So, when will you know if you have to testify?"
"Soon."
"Do you want me at the trial for moral support?"
"I appreciate the offer, but I'll be fine."
"What about your mom? Isn't she going to come?"
"I haven't asked." My mom and I had started to talk. To really talk. It had broken her heart I hadn't felt comfortable enough to go to her when my life was falling apart. She was determined to mend our relationship, in the domineering and sweetly tenacious way she approached everything. "But maybe I will."
"You should. I'm sure she'd love to be there for you."
"Yeah, you're probably right."
After hanging up, I went outside with my laptop and started doing research for my psych paper. The cheerful chirping of birds in the trees accompanied my keystrokes as I launched into school mode. A half hour later, a push notification from the Tribune sounded on my laptop. When the box popped up and Dante's name appeared, my heart did a little jig in my chest.
My ritual was more than pathetic, but for some reason I couldn't give it up. Every time I'd considered unsubscribing to Dante's column, something had stopped me. It was my last link to the man I still loved. Dante hadn't produced a new article in over a month, which had been disappointing.
Before I could stop myself, I clicked on the pop-up box and went directly to Dante's column. I almost fell out of my chair when I saw the headline at the top.
Why I'm an Idiot - Confessions of a Former Football Player. By Dante Williams
I had a woman who loved me. So much so that she was willing to forgive the fact that I am an idiot. A woman so amazing that she gave me chance after chance to see what was right in front of me.
A woman as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside. A woman who was able to see beyond the cocky athlete to the damaged boy underneath and accepted me in spite of that.
With one broken promise, I ruined it all.
She fell for me when she was just fourteen. It took me a little longer to realize I had fallen, but now I am flat on my face. I know there are no words, no matter how eloquent or well-edited, that can change the mistakes I have made, but if you're reading this, know that I love you.
There is no excuse for what I did. There is nothing I can say that will make the betrayal sting any less. I was so angry with myself because I sent you off to slaughter all those years ago. I didn't protect you from those monsters. I couldn't protect you from my own mother. And I didn't protect you from myself.
I have come to realize that you didn't need my protection. You needed my love. My compassion and steadfastness. And I failed you.
You told me that love was all about forgiveness. I disappointed you and while I promise it was unintentional, it will probably happen again. All I can do is ask for your forgiveness and promise to be better.
But please, do one thing for me, if not for yourself.
Extend forgiveness to the one who needs it most.
After reading through the article two more times, hands shaking as I scrolled, I shut my laptop, laid my head down and cried.