“What the fuck, man?” he slings at me.
I don’t even try to defend myself. I’m a piece of shit and know it.
“You better fuckin’ say something and give me a reason to not beat the shit out of your ass.”
“Is she okay?” I ask because that’s all I care about.
“No, man. She’s not okay. She’s a fuckin’ mess right now, and I don’t know what to do for her. What the hell were you thinking?”
“I don’t know,” I say as I walk over and flop down on the couch. “I didn’t know it was her.”
“Don’t bullshit me.”
“I’m not bullshitting you.”
“Did you just feel sorry for her?”
“Fuck no. It wasn’t like that.”
“Then tell me what it was like, because right now, my best friend is falling apart,” he says, completely pissed, as he sits down in the chair.
His words hit me hard, and I lose it. I don’t even try to hide my pain from him because at this point, I feel like I have nothing left. I give him the honest truth when I tell him, “I was the one who called 911 that night. But that girl was unrecognizable, so when I met Candace, the only thing that struck me about her and that girl in the alley was their small size. I swear I didn’t know it was her.”
“But you did eventually.”
“She has this tattoo. The same tattoo I saw that night. I had already fallen hard for her when I saw it, and it fuckin’ killed me. I didn’t know how to tell her at that point. I couldn’t hurt her.”
“So you lied to her?”
“It didn’t seem like a lie, man. Not for a while. Not until she opened up to me about the rape.”
“So why didn’t you tell her then?” he asks.
“I was scared I’d lose her. It was selfish, but I love that girl with everything I have. I just . . . I didn’t know how to tell her.”
“When I met you at the bar that morning . . . you hadn’t just found out, had you? You already knew.”
“Yeah, man. I knew,” I admit. “It was just the first time she opened up about it.”
Jase leans forward, with his elbows propped on his legs when he releases a deep breath and says, “You should have told me. We could have figured out a way to tell her.”
The two of us have become pretty decent friends, and now I see that I deceived him as well.
“I’m sorry, man,” I tell him, completely defeated.
He stares out the window when he says, “She’s devastated.”
I want to help her, but I’m not even sure if I know how. “What do I do?” I ask, desperate.
“I don’t know. She feels betrayed and lied to. Like she was some project just to make you feel better about what you saw.”
“She said that?”
He nods his head, and I ask, “You believe that?”
When he looks over at me, he says, “No. I know you love her. I get that you were trying to protect her.”
“I just need to talk to her. I need her to understand.”
“I don’t know if that’s gonna happen.” He takes a pause before continuing. “You know how she is. She avoids and hides. I don’t know if she’s gonna want to deal with this pain.”
Lowering my head, I choke out, “I can’t lose her.” I let the agony take over me for a moment before I sit up, and ask, “How did she find out?”
“She spoke with the detective this morning.”
“What?” I ask in shock. “Wait. Is she pressing charges?” I ask.
“I think she was considering it, but now, I don’t think so. I don’t think she’d be able to deal with it right now. Not with how upset she is.”
I had no idea that she was thinking about this. Enough to make a phone call. It’s all I’ve ever wanted her to do. To take control and stand up for herself. Whether or not she wants me in her life, I need her to do this because I know it will help her deal with all of it, so I tell Jase, “You need to tell her to do it.”
“I don’t think it’s gonna happen, man. Not now.”
Guilt floods me. Knowing that I possibly ruined this for her. Ruined this opportunity for her to seek justice and to help herself fight through this. That my lie would take that away from her. I feel like I keep failing her. Hurting her because of my selfish decision.
“Talk to her. Tell her to not let what I did stop her from doing something about this. She needs to do something.”
“I know that. Trust me, I do. But she’s in a bad place right now, and I can’t push her.”
I take in his words, knowing that he’s right, but it doesn’t make it any easier.
Jase stands up and says, “She wants me to get her things.”
His words take me by surprise. “Why?”
He doesn’t say anything, but I can read his face. She’s having a knee-jerk reaction, and I’m losing control. That she would be so quick to walk away from me. To want her things out of my house. The place she’s been spending all of her time when she’s not at school. How could she want me gone in an instant when I want to fight so hard to keep her? I want to throw him outta here. Not because he isn’t a friend of mine, but because the longer he’s here, the more I feel her slipping away. If he takes her things, he takes a reason for her to come back here. It’s selfish, I know, but it’s all I have.
“How much?” I ask, fearing the words that come next.
“Everything.”
He follows me upstairs, and as I help him pack her clothes and dance stuff, it’s like I’m packing up parts of me that she helped me find. Without her, I just don’t know who I am anymore. I can’t even wrap my head around what’s going on right now.
I go into the bathroom to get her belongings, but I keep a few of her things, including her bottle of perfume. I can’t let him take all of her away from me, so I leave them on the counter as I carry her other items out and pack them in her bag.
I watch as Jase zips it up and slings it over his shoulder. Before he walks out, he steps next to me and says, “I’m sorry.”
Nodding my head, because I can’t speak with the pain in my chest, he adds, “I’ll try talking to her for you. You’re a good guy and the only reason why she was able to be happy after what happened to her,” before walking out of my room and out the front door to head back to where I left my heart—with Candace.
Turning to face the bed, I look at the mussed up sheets where I held her last night. I tell myself that she just needs time. That when she calms down, I’ll be able to explain everything and we can work this out. Because we just have to.
Walking over to her side, I sit on the edge of the bed and see her necklace on the nightstand. She never takes it off, but here it lies. When I reach over to pick it up, I notice the chain is broken. I run my finger over the stamped words and wonder if we’re broken too.
40
“Baby, please. I know you’re upset with me, and you have every right. I fucked up, but I love you. Please call me back. Let me talk to you and explain everything. I miss you.”
I hang up the phone after leaving another voicemail for her. I’ve been calling and texting for the past few days, but I get nothing in response. It kills me to think that I might not ever hear her voice again, but each day that passes without being able to talk to her confirms what I don’t want to accept because it can’t be over. This can’t be it.
I went out yesterday to get her necklace fixed. I didn’t like the idea of it remaining broken. I can only hope that she’ll one day wear it again, but for now, it lies on the counter in my bathroom by her perfume.
I decided to come into work today because I’m going crazy at home. I need the distraction, and when I get here, I head upstairs. Max’s office door is open, and when I stop in, he says, “Hey, man. Been trying to call you.”