This is exactly like a movie.
Except it’s real.
Everything else might be straight from the silver screen.
In spite of the hundreds of people milling around me, the only sound permeating my ears is that of my own breathing.
In and out. In and out. A harsh, rasping noise that grates against my fragile nerves, heightening my anxiety. The faces around me swim, blurring together, with the exception of their eyes. Those overly bright orbs pierce through me with unspoken resentment and accusations.
They don’t want me here.
I’m back to not belonging anywhere.
A warm squeeze to my hand redirects my attention.
Rob smiles down at me, but there’s no masking the worry in his eyes. They mirror my own fears. “We’ll be okay. It’s fine. Everything will be fine.”
His voice is hollow, almost assuredly meant to convince himself as much as me. He repeats the mantra every few steps we take, and I feel a slight shudder travel from his body to our joined hands.
Or that might be me shaking. I’m not sure.
“Stop saying that,” Mallory snaps at him from my other side. “We’re just as likely to be lynched as hugged in this mob.”
He points an accusing finger at her. “Shut. Up. You’re not helping.”
She shrugs her shoulders, cloaked in a black robe that only she could pull off. “Lying isn’t helping, either. At least I’m honest.”
“Honest,” he scoffs. “You lied from the beginning.”
“I didn’t lie. I simply didn’t say anything.”
“A lie by omission is still a lie.” He practically chokes on the words. Maybe he realizes the hypocrisy in his statement. He absolutely resents the fact that she’s the only other person I’ve willingly shown my scars.
“Enough,” I whisper. “You two aren’t really embracing the purpose of the evening.”
From behind me, Mike’s harsh yet quiet voice rolls over my shoulders. “This is supposed to be for support, for healing. Not for trying to claw each other’s eyes out.”
“Easy for you to say,” Rob mutters low enough only I hear him. “You don’t have to speak in front of all these people tonight.”
“Too bad this is a dry event,” Alex chuckles. “A couple of shots and everyone would be way more chill.”
I don’t have to turn around to know Mike shoves him for that inappropriate comment.
Rob pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “Not tonight, kids. This isn’t the time or place.”
“Sorry, Dad,” Mike and Alex chime in unison.
“You have weird friends,” Mallory mumbles as she casts another glance behind us at the guys bringing up the rear of our little bubble.
“Yeah, well, we’re a package deal. You get used to them.” You learn to love them. “And since you’re my friend, you get four for the price of one.”
Rob doesn’t say a word, but his entire body tenses like a live wire beside me. From the moment I told him what happened, who Mallory really is, he’s questioned her motives. I’m pretty sure the only reason he lets her stick around is because it honestly makes him feel better to have eyes on her at all times. It’s a keep your friends close, but your enemies closer kind of thing.
As if on cue, he pulls me against his side, wrapping his large arm around me like a shield. “You sure you’re good with my speech?”
“For the millionth time, yes. If you’re so nervous about giving it, then just tell the organizers you changed your mind.” Truth be told, I’m not so sure him speaking is a good idea.
While I still firmly believe Rob’s in a unique position as an up-and-coming, soon-to-be professional athlete, who can leverage his public platform for good, this event might not be the best opportunity.
The feminazis Rob denounced in high school make up a large part of the crowd. Rather than decrying rape culture, their signs seem to incite hatred against the male half of the population. While I don’t necessarily disagree with castrating rapists, I’m not sure that posters of dismembered penises really promote the level of empathy the Take Back the Night march is supposed to create.
Mallory casts another nervous glance at a group of women who pass by us, hoisting hand-made signs into the air that proclaim, “Power is a penis.”
“Why are we here, again? If power is a penis, then we’re missing some very important equipment.”
I crane my neck toward the quad as we approach the end of the march across campus. Sure enough, the very person who convinced Rob and I to make an appearance is checking the audio lines that run the length of the makeshift stage, currently bathed in flood lights.
I squeeze Rob’s hand while aiming the calmest expression I can at Mallory. “Taking back our power, and proving everyone has the right equipment.”
The crowd floods into the open space surrounding the stage. As bodies jostle our little group, Rob keeps a firm arm around me, leaving Mike and Alex to part the way through the throng.
There are three men keeping my demons at bay tonight. Why can’t I stop lamenting my own shortcomings long enough to appreciate their efforts?
The organizers of the event take the stage, welcoming everyone. As they go through their speeches, a familiar face appears in front of us.
“I wasn’t sure you’d show.” Julie wears her expression of shock on her sleeve, unlike the first time I met her.
“I should have listened to you before,” Rob admits.
My ears perk up at this. What is he referring to? He didn’t even want to give an interview; what could he have possibly listened to her about?
Julie shrugs. “You weren’t ready. You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”
I glance up at Rob with an unvoiced question.
He places a chaste kiss on my lips in response. “I’m looking at all that matters.”
My cheeks heat. Not from the conviction behind his words, but because I’m not used to having an audience when he speaks like that to me.
Mike clears his throat, breaking the awkward silence of our little group. “You’re up, Falls. Go get ‘em.”
I almost expect him to slap Rob on the ass after that typical jock encouragement, but Rob ascends the stairs without any such displays of male affection.
The mood of the crowd seems to shift as Rob takes his place in front of the mics, the screech of reverb jolting everyone like a tangible connection.
“Hi.” Rob clears his throat, cutting his gaze to me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as Alex gives him a thumbs-up along with a shit-eating grin.
Julie’s arms are crossed firmly over her chest, almost like she’s waiting for him to fail.
Mallory seems stiff, but her focus remains on the marchers surrounding us. She’s still waiting for them to magically realize her secret and lynch her.
Mike seems calm. The usual surface of the pond while rushing waters move beneath, where no one can see.
And me? Though we’ve planned this together for weeks, weathered the storm of fallout from his Heisman win for months, and still found a way to connect in our bed every night, all I have to offer is a small smile.
I’m so drained.
I don’t know how much longer I can do this.
As Mike once explained, Rob seems to draw strength from my weakness. From yards away, he reads my slumped shoulders and defensive posture. By the look in his eyes, he knows full well I’m running on empty. Which is why he’s up there. For the both of us.
He faces the crowd, his shoulders squared, his public persona “on.”
“Good evening. Thank you for coming out tonight, whether as survivors, supporters, or anyone whose life has been touched by sexual assault and violence. My name is Rob Falls. I’m the quarterback for the State Miners. I understand it’s uncomfortable for many of you to see a male at the podium, addressing what is largely a crowd of women, because this issue mostly affects…women.”
He takes a deep breath, but continues on in spite of his stumble.
“I’m not here to tell you that you’re wrong. I’m not here to remind you men can also be victims of sexual assault. What I’m here to say is, men are not immune to the effects of rape culture, of sexual violence. While I haven’t personally experienced a violation of my own body, I’m sure most of you know by now why it’s a matter close to my heart. My girlfriend was sexually assaulted over three years ago, and that day still haunts me. Not only was the love of my life stripped of her rights as a person, but I saw it happen.”
A jeer goes up from the throngs that jolts me, propelling my body to collapse in upon itself. Mike and Alex flank my sides, each wrapping me in an embrace meant to sustain. They can’t possibly understand that tonight has brought all my demons out to play. Their touch burns me alive.
Rob sucks in his lips and nods as if he understands the dissent. “That sounds awful, doesn’t it? It happened to her, not me. So, how the hell is a guy like me standing up here, speaking to you?” He releases a rueful chuckle that is met with stone silence. “I’ll tell you, it wasn’t easy. When I was first approached with the offer to speak tonight, I didn’t want any part of it. I had the same thoughts that are probably running through your minds right now. Jocks are poster boys for sexual assault, right? I’ve never been raped. Isn’t that what you’re thinking? I can’t possibly understand what my girlfriend experienced that day, let alone what she lives with still. Right?”
He pauses, but takes his time to make eye contact with seemingly everyone and no one at once.
“I went to some of my closest friends for advice on whether I should make an appearance here tonight or not. Yeah, they’re fellow football players, like me. And you know what they said? They said, ‘Man up, Falls. Don’t be such a pussy.’”
Finally, finally a reaction from the crowd. It’s small, but several snickers float among the chilly night air.
“That’s bullshit.” Rob smacks his fist on the podium, causing another screech to catapult across the gathering. “Language matters. Whether we intentionally use it as a pejorative or not matters. Being told to man up as an encouragement, but not to be a pussy as an insult, matters. My friends aren’t bad guys. They’re some of the best people I know. Which is why I asked their advice. But, you know what? I’m standing up here because I understand in a way I hope they never will, that what we say, what we think, how we act, matters.”
The mood changes again. As I look out at the faces of those gathered, I see nodding, silent agreement replacing distrust.
“I’m not going to stand up here and say I empathize with what many of you have been through. But I will tell you that I sympathize. In a way most men don’t. Evie herself has been my strongest supporter of speaking out. Of using what I’ve experienced through her to be a bridge to those who have little to no understanding of these issues. The bottom line is this: we need to find a common ground. We need to find a way to include everyone in this discussion. We need to change the tide of what matters.”
He pauses to catch his breath. “And I know, I know, by the expression on your faces from when I started this speech until now, you have little faith in a guy to get it done. But, here’s the thing. You shouldn’t have to do it yourselves. In fact, and I realize you’re probably really going to hate me for this, but…you can’t. You can’t do it alone. It has to come from us, too. It has to come from the guys who are the most likely to perpetrate these types of crimes. We need to realize these aren’t assaults on women, but on our shared humanity. We, the men, need to ‘man up,’” he makes air quotes, “and realize sexual assault has very little to do with sex and everything to do with power. And we need to leverage that power to change how other men think about women. It’s not about standing up for you, the perceived weaker sex, but with you. It’s about realizing how freaking strong women are, and doing our part to make sure we recognize that fact, embrace it, and not become your defenders, but your allies. Because rape culture and sexual assault affects us all. It leaves everyone that it touches…powerless.”
I expect that last line to be met with more jeers, but there’s only a slight murmuring wafting on the night breeze.
“It’s not going to be easy. As an athlete, I know nothing worth having ever is. As survivors, you know taking back the power that’s been stripped from you requires an enormous amount of strength. And in that hard work is where we find our common ground, build on it, and start changing minds. One person at a time.”
Rob cuts his gaze to me, a silent question in his eyes.
Do we really want to do this?
I nod. It might be a dismal failure, but we no longer have the luxury of doing nothing, of hiding. And if we fail, at least we can’t say we didn’t try.
“Because language matters, because most of us don’t yet understand the power words hold in our society, we need to start small. My girlfriend once told me music is the soundtrack to life. And humans have the ability to communicate so much emotion through music. In some ways, where words can destroy, melody can rebuild. That’s why Evie and I have decided to start with music—for healing, as an aid in communicating with each other where words might fail us, for commiserating with those who have had similar experiences, and finally, hopefully, and most importantly, as a way to change the hearts and minds of people who just don’t fucking get it.”
Surprise washes over me when his curse is met with thunderous applause. With wide eyes, I survey the crowd, suddenly behind this super jock, frat member one hundred percent. Finally, my gaze rests on Rob. He looks nothing like the shy boy who struggled to lead a team on the field during JV games in high school; the one who could barely make eye contact with a fellow classmate in the halls. Before my eyes, and without knowing quite when the transformation happened, I’m bearing witness to a phoenix rising from the ashes.
His shoulders are squared, his chin held high. Eyes that bear a steely determination meet countless faces staring back at him. He doesn’t shy away; it’s not more than he can handle. Where the accolades of fans burdened him, the cheers and excitement of this group seems to buoy him.
His voice booms out, a mic probably unnecessary when he speaks again. “Grass roots movements have to start somewhere, and this one will begin at State. We’d like to introduce you to what we hope will eventually become a global foundation for women’s rights. Sing Out seeks to bridge the gap in communication between survivors and allies. Music will be the key for healing, for hope, for camaraderie, and for change.”
As Rob continues with the finer points of what we’d like to institute on campus, Alex and Mike become caught up in the rush of the mood of the crowd, loosening their grips on me until I can breathe again and step away from them, unnoticed.
No sooner do I suck in a healthy gulp of air than Julie is by my side, leaning close so her voice can compete with the roar of the crowd and Rob’s speech.
“Does he really believe half the shit he just said?”
I jerk my gaze to her, but she’s focused on the stage, seemingly transfixed by the charismatic man who’s still speaking. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
She shrugs, but doesn’t break her stare at Rob. “This is a huge one-eighty for a guy who refused to even speak of your assault a year ago, until the story was finally forced from him. He mentioned being an ally, not a defender.” She cuts her calculating green eyes to me finally. “It seems to me like he was perfectly content to bury his head in the sand and protect you at all costs. That doesn’t sound to me like someone who really believes you’re strong enough to take the heat on your own.”
Is she a friend or foe? Unlike Rob, I have no questions about Mallory’s loyalty or motives. As much as a part of me is drawn to Julie, I’m still unsure of this woman’s agenda.
“We have a reciprocity.” My mind floats back to a long-ago conversation in a quaint diner. “We’re about give and take. When one is weak, the other is strong. We’re a team.”
She smirks at me. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“What was the question again? It was lost in all your rhetoric.”
Her expression changes to something almost resembling respect. “How would you like to stand up for yourself for a change? To step out of his spotlight, and help women all over the world regain their power? Not through him, but through you.”
The small spark of independence I’ve fought to keep lit for the past few years grows with the fire in her tone. The exhausted parts of me succumb to the light, to the hope she might be offering.
“What did you have in mind?”