At work on Saturday, Halley is burbling with excitement about rumors regarding this year’s secret Fourth of July party.
The three of us are back in the small staff lounge on the first floor of Zion Lodge, brainstorming ideas for what type of educational material we could put on the individual display signs along the touch trail. While we’re doing this, Rachael has hired a crew to come in and dig all the post holes for the handrail and the display mountings.
“I heard it’s going to be back in the Narrows this year,” Halley says.
The Narrows is a section of the park where the canyon walls rise hundreds of feet above the Virgin River. I remember reading somewhere that the hikes in that part of Zion are often closed due to the danger of flash flooding.
“In the river?” Elliott asks. “In the dark? Seems kind of dangerous . . . and wet.”
“There are dry areas over there too,” Halley says. “And if they wait to use the restaurant upstairs like usual, the party won’t be able to start until after ten p.m. when all the customers are gone.”
“What about a Narrows display?” I suggest, trying to bring the conversation back on topic. “Maybe we could build canyon walls that the kids could walk through?”
“That’s a good idea,” Elliott says. “Put it on the list.”
Halley adds “Narrows walk-through” to the short list of ideas for displays. “All right, Jen, if you’re going to make us work, do you guys care if I put on some music? I know it seems counterintuitive, but it helps me focus.” Halley pulls a portable music player out of her backpack. “This is hooked up to my Pandora channels.”
“Fine with me,” I say.
Elliott makes a face. “I hope you like ear-bleeding, soulless pop music.”
I shrug. “I can listen to whatever.”
Halley swipes at her phone a couple of times and sure enough a recent dance hit starts playing. I go back to my internet browsing. We’ve already got ideas listed for the plants and animals in the region. I do a search for all the types of stone that make up the cliffs. It might not be interesting to everyone, but some kids would probably have fun touching the different rocks.
“What about constellations?” Elliott adds. “We could do a display that shows the different major constellations that are visible above Springdale in the summer.”
“For little kids?” Halley asked skeptically. “What do you think, Jen?”
My brain flashes back to Elliott and me looking up at the stars from the roof of the Ninja Warrior gym. To him pulling me close. To him kissing me.
Halley clears her throat. “Jen?” she repeats.
“Hmm?” I look everywhere but at Elliott, hoping that my cheeks aren’t red.
“Do you think a display with information about constellations would be too advanced for three- and four-year-olds?” Halley arches an eyebrow at me.
“Depends. Some kids are pretty advanced these days.”
“We could just do the location of the Big and Little Dippers,” Elliott suggests.
A fist clenches in my stomach as a few familiar chords emanate from Halley’s music player. Dallas’s label must have released the second single from Try This at Home. The song is called “By My Side.” It’s a rock ballad, a mix of him playing piano and guitar. He wrote it back when he was sixteen.
He wrote it for me.
“Ooooh, Dallas Kade. I love his whole album.” Halley sighs wistfully as she turns up the volume on the music player. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”
“Too loud.” Elliott shakes his head. “The whole lodge can probably hear that.”
“I’ll be right back.” Grabbing for my purse, I jump up from the table where we’re working and dart out of the staff lounge, hurrying across the main room of the lodge to the restroom.
I lock myself in a bathroom stall and wrap my arms around my middle. My whole body is shaking. I try to inhale but I can’t get any air. It’s like there’s something stuck in my throat. My head starts to go fuzzy from lack of oxygen. Calm down, I tell myself. Just breathe.
I sink to the floor of the bathroom stall and sit sideways, my back up against the partition that separates me from the handicapped stall. I know I need to get back to the staff lounge before Halley and Elliott start to wonder about me, but I can’t move. What I need to do is do the right thing and tell the truth. The problem with the right thing is that apparently the longer you wait, the harder it is to do. I thought I just needed a few days to work up the nerve. But now days have stretched into weeks and I still don’t feel any closer to being able to admit what I did.
I imagine all those tweets, those blog posts, those death threats directed at me and my family. So what if I wasn’t drinking? I still picked a fight with Dallas and made him leave the party when it was dark and I was tired. I caused the accident, and worse, I remained quiet and let someone else take the blame.
The door to the restroom opens. I struggle hurriedly to my feet.
“Jen?” It’s Halley.
“I’m here,” I say. “Sorry. I just felt sick to my stomach.”
“Do you want me to call Rachael for you? I think she’s down at Weeping Rock.”
“No, don’t bother her.” I open the door to the stall so Halley can see I’m okay. Striding over to the sink, I splash some water on my face. I stare at myself in the mirror, waiting for my reflection to distort like a surrealist painting, to become someone I hardly recognize so my insides and outsides will match.
Halley’s face is a mask of concern. She taps the toe of one of her cowboy boots and then reaches out to feel my cheek. “You’re a little warm,” she says. “Maybe you should take the rest of the day off.”
“I’ll be okay,” I say. “I’m feeling better now. Sorry to run off like that.”
Her phone chimes with a text. She glances down at it. “Elliott,” she says. “He’s worried about you too.”
“Well, then let’s get back there so he can see there’s nothing to worry about,” I say, my voice unnaturally bright.
Halley and I head toward the door to the restroom. “He likes you, you know?” she says.
“Yeah, he told me.”
“I know you’re leaving at the end of the summer, but he isn’t the kind of guy I would push away.” She puts her hand on my arm. “I’m not saying you ought to date him necessarily. Just that two months with Elliott might be better than years with other guys.”
I smile. “Sounds like maybe you ought to date him.”
Halley laughs. “Nah, he’s like my brother.” She wraps an arm around my waist and leans over to give me a half hug. “Sorry, I shouldn’t make you talk boys when you’re not feeling well. To be continued.”
“To be continued,” I agree. I catch sight of her black-and-white bracelet in my peripheral vision and my hands start to shake again. I tuck them deep into my pockets. Focus, I tell myself. I can fall apart later at home—in private, where no one else will see me.
I follow Halley back into the staff lounge, where Elliott looks up in concern. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say. “Sorry for the dramatic exit.” I clear my throat as I return to my seat at the table. “Where are we on ideas?”
“I think we’ve got everything we need,” Elliott says.
“All right. So then what do we do now?” I ask.
“Something else we’ve been waiting for you to do.” He grins. “Want to be one of the first people to officially walk the Zion Canyon Touch Trail?”
“You guys haven’t walked on it yet?”
Elliott shakes his head. “Nope.”
“Let’s do it,” I say.
Halley and Elliott have worked at this park for years. They’re paid staff and this is much more their accomplishment than it is mine. But I am strangely excited about playing a role in the creation of a brand new trail, especially one for kids. It’s a tiny flicker of brightness in an otherwise dark tunnel I can’t seem to find my way out of.
The three of us walk the trail, and I can’t believe how good it looks. The surface is set and has a natural-dirt look to it but the flatness and stability of asphalt. All the holes for the handrail have been professionally dug, and someone has laid out lumber along the side of the trail.
“This afternoon we’re going to start building the railing,” Elliott says. “Get ready to swing a hammer for the first time.”
I force a smile. “I’m definitely ready for more hard physical labor.” I hope swinging a hammer has the same effect on me that swinging a Pulaski did. Anything that will clear my head for a couple of hours is definitely welcome.
Halley has been quiet for most of our walk, but near the end of the trail she turns to Elliott and me and grabs both of our arms. “We totally need to celebrate. I know just the thing.”
Elliott smirks. “Let me guess. A certain Fourth of July party?”
“It would be kind of perfect.” Halley grins back at him. He rolls his eyes and she turns to me. “What do you say, Jen?”
“Count me in,” I say. I’m nervous at the thought of being around so many people, but Halley has been an awesome friend, and I want to do this for her. Who knows? Maybe it’ll actually be fun.
On Sunday, I text Shannon to fill her in on what I’ve been up to.
Me: Hey Shan. You would not believe how that trail project I’ve been working on for Rachael is coming along. It looks like a legit trail. What about you? How’s life at the pool? More importantly, how’s Niko? ;)
Her: Sweet. The pool is good. And Niko is fun, but I’d rather hang out with you.
Me: Wanna come visit? I did this amazing hike I could show you.
Her: I doubt my mom would let me, even if I could get time off work. How about you come home instead? I can teach you how to do a back flip off the diving board.
Me: Ugh. Waiting for stuff to calm down.
Her: You might be there forever then.
Me: What’s that supposed to mean?
Her: Everyone is riled up waiting to see if the Kades are going to file a lawsuit. Apparently there’s some FB page with 25,000 likes where people are asking for them to sue. And Freeman’s mom is too afraid to leave her house because people have been calling and leaving death threats on her voicemail.
Me: That’s horrible.
Her: Yeah. But it’s also horrible that he might get away with killing someone. The #KadetKorps needs #JusticeForDallas.
Me: I don’t think a bunch of angry, emotional strangers without all the facts are the best people to be doling out justice.
Her: Well somebody needs to do it.
Do they? I wonder when exactly the whole world decided it was their responsibility to judge and punish total strangers.
Her: Are you mad at me for telling you?
My fingers are trembling on the screen of my phone, making it hard to type. I should just tell her, just type it out a letter at a time: Freeman didn’t kill Dallas. I did.
But I can’t. Shannon wouldn’t understand the secrets I’ve kept from her—from everyone. There’s a chance she might not forgive me, and I can’t lose anyone else right now—especially not my best friend.
Me: I’m not mad. I’m just not feeling very well. I think I’m going to crash.
Her: Okay. Bye. All the hugs.
It takes me three tries to tap out my standard All the <333 without messing up, because my hands are shaking so badly.
I drop my phone onto my nightstand and grab my laptop. I shouldn’t do it, I know I shouldn’t, but I have to see what’s being said. First, I search Twitter using the #BradFreeman hashtag.
Siobhan @curlsinterupted • 8s
I just read over at @Celebrity_Watch that #BradFreeman’s ex-wife filed for a restraining order! bit.ly/1XNNbr5
Tyrell James @RealTyrellJames •4m
Please do not harass the Kade family in this trying time. The decision whether to pursue civil action against #BradFreeman belongs to them.
Reale News Now @RealeNewsNow • 4m
How many of us make it thru a week without doing something someone else finds wrong? Who gets to pick whose lives get ruined? #BradFreeman
Justine @Kadet4Ever • 6m
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Kade. Please sue #BradFreeman for wrongful death. The #KadetKorps needs #Justice4Dallas.
Allie Cat @Allison_in_Hell • 6m
People need to stop weaponizing their social media. There is no proof #BradFreeman broke the law.
Allie Cat @Allison_in_Hell • 7m
Where does seeking justice end and seeking vengeance begin? #BradFreeman
Monkey Man @boxxofmonkees • 9m
Boycott the Eight Ball Bar and Grill in New Melle, MO. They employ drunk drivers and killers like #BradFreeman
CharlotteinCharlotte @charlottecharl • 11m
What’s the name of the District Attorney out there in Wentzville? Someone find a phone number so we can make some “concerned citizen” calls.
Patrick S @pxs1228 • 14m
Here’s the Yelp link to that craphole where #BradFreeman works if anyone wants to leave them a review. bit.ly/1RkZzXQ
@boxxofmonkees
Lyle Fritz @LyleFritzThird • 19m
Did you hear that douchebag #BradFreeman used to beat up his wife? Can’t we put this asshole behind bars for SOMETHING?
Sighing, I click on the first link.
CELEBRITY WATCH
Brad Freeman’s Ex-Wife Pursued a Restraining Order Against Him
DAVE CLINKER, 2 hours ago
Six years ago, just after Carly Freeman filed for divorce, she also asked her attorney about filing a restraining order against Brad Freeman. We reached out to her to inquire about what precipitated this and her comments were quite chilling. “I was afraid. He’d been coming around my office, asking to talk to me.” When asked about his alcohol intake, Carly said: “Brad comes from a family of drinkers . . . he’s been known to have one too many.”
Carly Freeman declined to comment on whether she thinks Brad Freeman should be held accountable for Dallas Kade’s death. A Sue Brad Freeman Facebook page has popped up to go with the Fire Brad Freeman page that now has over 25,000 likes. If the Kades do indeed file a lawsuit, it’s likely that Carly Freeman will be called to testify.
Recent Comments:
Kadet4Ever: I hope the Kade family pursues the wrongful death lawsuit. The #KadetKorps needs closure!
lovemelongtime: Get over it, world. Dallas Kade and Tyrell James are both sellout wannabes. Kade’s whole album sucks the big one.
Carly Freeman: [This comment has been deleted by an administrator.]
Carly Freeman: Fine, I’ll try it again without swearing. This article took my words completely out of context. For anyone interested in the truth, it’s over here: bit.ly/1qFdySJ
It feels weird to be reading words that Brad Freeman’s ex-wife wrote. It feels weird that I know she’s his ex-wife, as if he’s somehow become intertwined with me, even though we’ve never even met. I skip over the rest of the comments to click on her link. A plain black-and-white blog site opens. There is only one post.
THE TRUTH ABOUT BRAD FREEMAN
BY CARLY FREEMAN
A couple of days ago I was approached by a blogger from the website Celebrity Central regarding the Dallas Kade accident. I was told that as one of the people who knows Brad Freeman the best, I deserved to have my story told.
But what appears on their website isn’t my story. It’s bits and pieces of my story, excerpted out of context and rearranged to fit the narrative that Brad Freeman is a terrible person—an abuser, an alcoholic, and a repeat offender drunk driver who is responsible for the accident that injured Genevieve Grace and killed her boyfriend Dallas Kade.
I’m not going to speculate about who’s to blame for the accident, because I wasn’t there that night. But I’m also not going to stand by and let my words be used to hurt a man I was married to for eight years, a man I still respect and consider my friend.
During the divorce proceedings, I inquired about a restraining order because I was afraid of both Brad and I getting into trouble at work since he’d been coming around my office between his paramedic calls, asking to talk to me. I didn’t want either one of us to lose our jobs and I figured the easiest way for us to move on from the divorce would be if we minimized contact. However, my lawyer was quick to explain that a restraining order can only be filed if there is proof that someone has threatened or stalked a person. Brad Freeman has never threatened or stalked me.
About his drinking, what I actually told the blogger was, “Brad comes from a family of drinkers, but he’s not an alcoholic. Like most of us, he’s been known to have one too many occasionally, but nothing out of the ordinary.”
I am so angry and hurt that my words were twisted in this manner. Please share the link to this page so that everyone can know the truth.
Recent Comments:
jenjennjenni: how do we know you’re really brad freeman’s wife?
Carly Freeman: I don’t know. To be honest, I don’t care. I just wish that all of you out there liking those mean Facebook pages and destroying a man’s reputation without all the facts would stop and think about whether the media is giving you the full story.
Macon Bacon: Do you want to earn $4000 a month working from home? Now you can kick back from the comfort of your living room sofa and make enough money to support your whole family, just by reviewing products and service companies. More info: bit.ly/1VfNIl0
pxs1228: I bet this post is from Freeman, pretending to be his wife. Hey Freeman, you need therapy, dude.
CharlotteinCharlotte: LULZ! I bet it is him. #Loser
Carly Freeman: I should have known some of you would think I’m Brad. I’m not going to waste time trying to convince you of otherwise, but the next time you decide to tell someone they need therapy, stop and consider whether your own actions have helped cause them to lose their job and their immediate access to mental healthcare.
Allison_In_Hell: I’m so sorry you had to create your own blog just to get the truth out there. There’s no denying that our legal system is flawed, but holding individual people accountable is not fair or helpful. Even if Brad Freeman did cause the accident, what people are doing to him is the digital equivalent of stoning someone, and that is not okay.
Carly Freeman: Thank you, Allison. I agree.
Sarah Kwan: So Brad really lost his job?
Carly Freeman: Not just Brad. The restaurant where he works was vandalized. The owner can’t afford to fix the damages so he’s closed the place permanently, leaving about forty people without jobs. I also heard the nurse at the hospital who drew Brad’s blood has resigned because protestors have been demanding to know her identity and she was afraid for her safety and for the safety of her coworkers. People think their anger is righteous and justified, but they can’t see beyond their target to all of the other innocent people they are also hurting.
Tears burn my eyes. I read the last sentence over and over. Carly Freeman might as well be talking to me. I wish I could respond, but my mom would kill me. Of course I could always respond anonymously. Half of these people are hiding behind screen names and false identities.
But before I can come up with a name to use, I’m distracted once again. An email notification has just popped up on my screen.
I have a message from Brad Freeman.