HER WORDS SHOULDN’T SHOCK ME, but they do. And I realize that, in a moment of weakness, I opened myself up to the idea that maybe she cared.
“My God, Camellia, what were you thinking? He’s a grown man!”
“Nothing happened.”
“Those text messages tell a very different story,” she lashes out. “How could you be so naïve to let this man take advantage of you?”
Her unjustified words fuel my anger, but still, she keeps going. “If this gets out, do you have any idea how this will make our family look?”
“Are you serious right now?” I lose it. “And what about you? Are you blind to your own reputation in this town?”
She shifts in her stance and glares at me. “I’m not a child opening my legs for an older man—a teacher that works in the same school your father did. Thank God he isn’t here to see the disgrace you’ve made of yourself.” She then swings open the door to the fridge and pulls out a bottle of wine.
“I’m a disgrace? Me? Well, if you think what I did is disgraceful, I can only imagine what he thinks of what you’re doing!” I seethe as I stand here, clenching my fists.
I step out of her reach the moment she rears her hand back to slap me. “You can’t do this to me anymore!” I yell, growing emotional with words that crack as they fight their way out of me. She drops her hand, but I keep going. “You haven’t been a mother to me since Dad died. You left me all alone and forced me to pick up the pieces of this family. I can’t even properly mourn him because I’m too busy taking care of all your shit!”
“So this is my fault? It’s because of me that you . . .” She tosses her hands up and then braces them on the countertop when they drop. “I’m still not even sure what you did with that man exactly. How far did this little tryst go?”
“Do you really think, that for one second, I can trust you with anything about my life?”
“Well, I think it’s pretty clear you don’t trust me.” She pulls out the wine opener and starts unscrewing the cork. “I had to find out in a police interrogation room that my own daughter is moving halfway across the country to go to college, and somehow failed to tell her own mother. You’d think I’d be included in the decision if I’m going to be footing the bill.”
“Footing the bill? You really think I would depend on you to pay for anything? Who do you think keeps our electricity on and our water running? Dammit, Mom, because of you, we could’ve lost this house!”
She takes a big gulp from her wine glass, and I have to bite my cheek to keep myself from totally going off on her.
“The house is fine, so you can tone down the dramatics. We have bigger things to worry about, so I suggest you cut the teenage attitude and fill me in on what the hell has been going on between you and that teacher.”
“There’s nothing to tell.” Nobody is worth breaking my promise to David, not even her.
She sets down her glass and steps toward me. “This isn’t something you can lie your way out of. Do you understand how serious this is?”
“I was just questioned by a detective, Mom. I get the seriousness of the situation, but there is no situation. Nothing happened.”
“You’ve always been a terrible liar. It’s time to start telling the truth.”
But I don’t. I’m so done with her that I just stare into eyes I don’t recognize. She is not the mom I used to know.
“So you’re not even going to say anything?”
I shake my head in defiance.
She picks up the wine bottle by the neck and says, “Silence is incriminating, dear,” and then turns her back to me and walks away.
Unable to stand still in a storm of rage, fear, and sadness, I lose restraint and scream. With my eyes pinched shut, I scream so hard it’s like knives in my throat. Cords ignite in gritty fire as I try to release the pain and anger that’s eating me up inside, but I know it’s a wasted effort, so I give up and drop my head to my open palms.
I wonder which one of us my father would be more disappointed in: me or her?
What’s the point in wondering though?
We’ve made our choices, and here we are, broken with our own vices to run to—hers alcohol, and mine cutting—but I refuse to believe I’m anything like her. Yet, in this moment, it isn’t the blade I crave, it’s David. He’s so close, so within my reach, only a five minute drive away, and knowing that he’s never been more forbidden than he is right now breaks me. Breaks me down to the point I have nothing left but the blade to seek comfort from.
So, that’s what I do.
Knock-knock-knock.
“What?” I drone in annoyance from behind the locked bathroom door.
“Randall, the attorney, just called. He’s on his way over.”
I drag myself off the floor when I hear my bedroom door close and then look at my phone, which reads 6:43 PM. Fatigue weighs me down as I clean the crusted blood off my stomach and then attempt to make myself presentable. I don’t move very fast, not wanting to face anything on the other side of this door. When I finally dredge up the courage to go downstairs, Randall is already here.
My mother was clearly able to practice restraint with the bottle today as she stands here, dressed in a nice cashmere sweater and a simple strand of pearls.
Who does she think she’s fooling?
But I go along with her charade, pretending as if we were the same happy mother and daughter from before the accident.
“Camellia, it’s nice to meet you,” Randall greets when I walk into the living room. “I wish it were under better circumstances, but it’s still good nonetheless.”
We all nod, recognizing the awkwardness in the room.
“So, what are we dealing with here?” my mother asks as she sits next to Randall on the couch and I take a seat across from them on the loveseat.
“Well, with Camellia being a minor, her name won’t be public knowledge,” he informs. “Now it’s up to you if you choose to comply and work with the DA in the prosecution—”
“No,” I blurt.
“Camellia, listen,” he addresses cautiously. “After talking with the detective assigned to the case and Mr. Andrews’s attorney regarding the evidence so far . . . well . . . it doesn’t paint this man in a good light. The text messages alone make it clear that he crossed a line.”
“You saw them?”
“I saw enough.”
My neck scorches in embarrassment, and I can’t even look at him.
“This is not your fault. Guys like this prey on vulnerability, and with your father’s passing, he took advantage. No one is blaming you or accusing you, but these guys, they don’t stop. It’s a sick compulsion.”
I want to bite back, call him a liar, tell him he’s wrong, because he is. He doesn’t know David like I do. None of them do.
“That man should be locked up,” my mother says in disgust.
“He is.”
“What?” My eyes dart to Randall.
“A warrant was issued to search his house, and after finding a photo of the two of you and a few articles of female clothing, they felt they had enough evidence to file charges, so they made the arrest this morning.”
Why would he keep that photo?
My stomach turns, knotting itself into a rock. I didn’t think I could break anymore, but somehow I do as images of David in handcuffs pop into my mind.
I drop my head into my hands and blink back tears, but with my chest heaving in severing breaths, they see right through me.
“I will do whatever you tell me to do,” Randall says. “If you prefer to talk to me without your mother present, we can do that, but you staying quiet won’t make this go away. It’s only a matter of time before this gets picked up by the media. Something like this is always news, but in this town, you can guarantee it’s going to get a lot of attention.”
I lift my head in horror when he tells me this.
My mother panics. “How do we keep that from happening?”
“Again, your names won’t be mentioned due to Camellia still being a minor, but there are always cameras in the courthouse for these initial appearances in front of the judge. When he goes in for the charges to be read, the media is going to have a field day with the story, so I’m just warning you.”
I clam up, and my lungs tighten, making it even harder to breathe. “How is this happening?”
“So what do we do?”
“There isn’t much you can do,” he tells my mom. “Either you cooperate or you don’t. You have the right to do whichever you choose.” He then turns his attention to me. “I’m going to be straightforward with you though. I read through those texts, and from what I saw, whether you cooperate or not, they have enough to possibly charge him with multiple counts of second degree rape.”
“From text messages? How can they do that?”
“They will charge one count for each time they feel they can prove sexual contact based on your conversations.”
“A count? I don’t understand.”
“A count means each individual time the crime occurred. If they can prove sexual contact occurred two times, they will charge him for the same crime twice,” he explains. “And for this particular charge, each count holds a maximum sentence of fifteen years imprisonment.”
“He didn’t do anything wrong though!” I burst out, my eyes darting between the both of them before landing on Randall. “I promise you, he didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You do understand that everything you say to me is confidential, don’t you?”
“Yes, but I’m telling you the truth.”
“They found a picture in his house of him kissing you.”
My mother huffs in repulsion from her spot next to him, and I narrow my eyes. There was nothing repulsive about that moment I foolishly captured and printed off for him to put in his office.
“It was a kiss on the cheek, that’s all,” I defend. “It was purely innocent, I swear.”
“That’s not how the prosecution will see it.”
“Well, if you want me to help them, I won’t. I’m not saying anything.”
“Camellia,” my mother scolds harshly.
“No, Mom!” I turn to Randall, pleading, “What can we do to help him. There has to be something, right?”
“That man is a child molester!”
I pop out of my chair. “No, he isn’t! Oh my God, are you crazy?” I yell at my mother, wishing to pour acid on her words.
“If she won’t cooperate, surely I can, right? I’m her mother.”
“Yes,” Randall says. “Again, since she’s a minor, you can step in.”
“You can’t do that!”
Her eyes narrow, “I can, and I certainly will.”
“With what? You don’t even know anything, so how the hell do you think you’re going to help?”
“I don’t understand why you want to protect this man when—” She stops, and I see cognizance sharpen in her eyes. For the sake of appearances, she comes across as a concerned mother when she softens her voice so tenderly and says, “Sweetheart, whatever you feel for this man is only the result of his manipulations.”
“You have no idea what I feel or don’t feel about anything.”
“It’s clear you want to protect him.”
“Because he didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Or maybe because you feel like you love him?”
I bite my lip when she says this, but I can’t stop my chin from quivering. There is no alleviating the vicious suffering of this love ripped so violently out of my chest. My eyes singe with tears that I quickly blink back before saying, “If this is about punishing a man who you feel hurt me, then don’t do it, because he never hurt me. The only thing hurting me is everyone else.” And when I can no longer bear the thought of something bad happening to David, my defense cracks and a tear falls. “I’m begging you . . . don’t do this. You have to trust me. Please. Just let it go.”
The room falls silent aside from the few whimpers that escape me as loss consumes. Never, not even after losing my dad, have I felt so depleted and empty inside. It’s like a tomb of hollowness, waiting for me to keel over and fill it. And the sickening thing is, it doesn’t even scare me. I want to embrace the idea when I think of what could happen to David.
My mother stands and, with a quiet tone, thanks Randall for stopping by. “I think we should give her a little time. This is all so sudden.”
“Of course. Please, call me if you need anything. Until then, I will keep in contact with the DA and let you know of any new developments. Though I’m not sure how forthcoming they will be if you’re unwilling to cooperate.”
“I understand.”
She shows him to the front door, and with nothing left in me, I head to my room.
When I pass my mom, she drops her façade and digs the knife in deeper. “I can’t believe you were stupid enough to fall in love with that pervert. You just better hope when this hits the news, nobody finds out it was you. I don’t want our name being dragged through the mud.”
I turn and face her dead on. “You know, sometimes I think the only reason you had me was because it was what Dad desired. That you never actually wanted me. That maybe you’re just as needy as I am for love that you gave him whatever it was he asked for. So in the end, I guess you’re just as stupid as I am.”