Except this time.
“Your mother,” Francine told her. “Is a lovely, well-meaning person, and she is right. We should get to do whatever we damn well please, and men should learn to restrain themselves. But they don’t, Elise. I was raped in college. Did you know that?”
“N-no,” Elise stammered.
“Yes, I was, by a filthy, disgusting beast of a man who broke into my apartment while I was sleeping and fucked me raw.”
Cash winced. He’d never heard her talk about it like that. The rape had always been a touchy subject. A landmine.
“That’s the real world, Elise. You cannot count on men to have self-control, and when you prance around in front of them for a week with your tight little ass hanging out and your tits in their face, and you flirt with them constantly, what do you expect, Elise? Really. What did you think would happen?”
“But I—I—”
“You were alone with my fiancé for what? An hour? My fiancé has been alone with tons of women, and I’ve never walked in on him humping anyone before. So you can’t tell me that this was all him. I’ve sat in silence since you came, watching this flirtation between you two, trusting that it would go no further than that.”
“Aunt Fran, I said I was sorry.”
“I know you like him, Elise. I can see why. Most women do.”
“Well, yeah, I liked him. I mean I had a crush on him.”
“I trusted you, Elise.”
“Wh—what?” Shock.
“Like I said, the attraction between you two was obvious. Cash is a man. A young, virile man. I expect him to have little to no self-control, but you’re my family. You’re a woman, too. I would have expected more loyalty, more restraint on your part.”
Elise’s voice was high-pitched. “My part? Aunt Fran, what he just did to me was—”
Francine didn’t let her finish. “Did you tell him to stop?”
“No, I—not at first—I didn’t think—”
“Did you tell him no?”
“I don’t know. I mean maybe, yeah. I don’t know. It all happened so fast.”
“Did you push him away?”
“Well, not at first. I—”
Francine’s questions were like machine gun bursts. “Did you scream? Did you yell for help?”
“No, I—”
“Did you hit him? Scratch him? Kick him?”
“I didn’t—I couldn’t—”
“Did you think for one second how I would feel?”
Elise’s voice went up another octave. Cash could hear the tears in her voice again. “Aunt Fran, I said I was sorry.”
“Did you like it?”
Incredulity. “What?”
“Even for a little bit, did you like it? Did you enjoy having this attractive older man not be able to keep his hands off you? Did any of it feel good?”
“Well, sure at first, but—”
“I’m so disappointed in you, Elise. What will your parents think? Your dad?”
“Oh my God, my dad will freak.”
“Yes, he will. You realize what you’ve done here, don’t you? All these people have traveled here for my wedding, which is only three days from now. Grandma and Pop-pop have spent tens of thousands of dollars on this wedding—all of which will be lost now. It’s way too close to the wedding for refunds. But never mind the money, Elise. This is a true scandal you’ve embroiled us all in. Cash will go to jail. It will likely be on the news. Everyone in the whole family will know what you did. And Grandma—well, she just started feeling better from her last round of chemo. The doctors told us not to stress her out, but this . . . well, I don’t even want to think about what something like this would do to her.”
Elise sniffled again. Francine let her cry it out for a few minutes. Cash had no idea how she had done it—spun the entire situation so that it seemed like Elise’s fault. He’d never heard her talk that way before or be in total control of a situation. Staring at the hallway paneling, he could almost believe it wasn’t his fiancée speaking at all. He was tempted to peek into the room to make sure it was really her, but he couldn’t risk breaking the spell Francine was weaving around young Elise.
Finally, Francine spoke again. “Sometimes, things happen and we feel . . . conflicted about them. Sometimes we need to put those things behind us and move on because not doing that would hurt more people than it’s worth.”
“What are you saying?” Elise said.
“I’m saying, right now, both you and Cash have a choice. This little thing between you two, this indiscretion, the two of you can drag the whole sordid thing into the light, tell the whole world, ruin my wedding, disappoint your parents, scandalize the entire family, and put Grandma’s health at risk. Or you can keep quiet about it, and all of us can move on with our lives. I know Cash will apologize, and I am sure I can get him on board. Really, it’s for the greater good. Why hurt more people than you have to? This way it will only be me that the two of you destroyed.”
“Are you telling me to lie?”
“Of course not,” Francine said. “I’m telling you to do the right thing.”
With that, Francine left the girl alone. As she passed Cash in the hall, she clutched his elbow and dragged him into the bathroom. She pushed him until he hit his head against the top of the cabinet where Francine’s mother kept the towels. Then she opened the cabinet door roughly, hitting him in the face with it. He reached for his nose, eyes watering as Francine rifled through the inside of the cabinet. She pulled out a towel and threw it at him.
“Clean yourself up,” she snapped.
Before she left him alone, she said, “I hope you’re happy, you piece of shit.”
The fucked-up thing was that he was happy. Elise didn’t get pregnant, and she never told anyone what happened. Francine married him, they got her inheritance, and she bought her dream house. Most importantly, Francine kept him out of prison, in spite of his infidelity and its unfortunate proximity to their wedding.
They never spoke of it after that. He never saw that side of his wife again. Oddly, she never really punished him for what happened with Elise. Once they exchanged vows, she acted as if it had never happened. They danced the night away at their reception and fucked like bunnies on their honeymoon in Punta Cana. Everything went forward exactly as Francine had wanted.
But Cash always suspected that, someday, she would make him pay for that day.
Chapter 37
November 17, 2014
Camille had fallen asleep curled up next to Olivia in Olivia’s new twin bed. Her “big girl” bed Jocelyn called it. It was just big enough for a four-year-old and a grown woman. Jocelyn watched them sleep for several minutes, the two of them on their sides, their brown hair fanned out on the pillow. A year ago, Jocelyn had told Camille that she could be part of Olivia’s life. She had no way of knowing how Camille would handle it—if she would be the kind of aunt who sent cards on Olivia’s birthday and at Christmas, or if she’d make a real attempt to know the daughter she’d given up. Jocelyn was pleasantly surprised by Camille’s efforts. She had made several trips home to visit, and she skyped with them regularly. Most importantly, when Camille was with Olivia, her attention was truly focused on the girl.
This is what Jocelyn had hoped for, and yet, the sight of the two of them snuggled up, side by side, started a small niggling anxiety in the pit of her stomach. A voice in the back of her head asked, what if she wants Olivia for her own one day? The rational part of her mind answered that that was impossible. Camille had signed her parental rights away when Olivia was less than a month old. Last year, when Camille talked about getting clean, Jocelyn had made it very clear that Olivia was her daughter, not Camille’s, and that was not going to change. What if Olivia wants to go with Camille? The voice asked. But Jocelyn was the only mother Olivia had ever known. This was her home. Living with Camille, having Camille for a mother, would never enter the young girl’s mind. At least not for a very long time.