She drew on her cigarette, the smoke slithering about causing her to squint. “What about him?”
“He’s dead.”
“So, what do you want from me, a sympathy card?”
“He killed himself. Hanged himself.”
Julie crushed her cigarette in the already overflowing ashtray on the table between us and expelled a final burst of smoke from her nostrils. “What was he to you?”
“He was my friend.”
She backed away, folded her arms over her chest and leaned back against the counter. “Is that a fact?”
I looked to Adrian almost reflexively, but he was staring at the table as if it were the most miraculous thing he’d ever seen, so I turned back to Julie. “But I think maybe Bernard wasn’t who I thought he was. Some things have come to light since his death that—”
“What things?”
I stood up. “Look, I’ve made a mistake. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you like this.”
“I saw the news this morning,” she announced abruptly. “A body was found in Potter’s Cove.”
“Yes. The body of a young woman.”
“That kind of thing happens around here quite a bit. Bet it’s big-time news in that little shit-burgh though.” The kettle began to whistle. Julie strode to the stove, retrieved it and filled the two cups on the table. It occurred to me how easily she could have scorched me by removing the top of the kettle and flinging the scalding water in my direction, and although she had given no indication of violence, there was a troubled expression on her face that concerned me. “Sit down, Alan. You came here for answers, didn’t you? Why run off now that you’re so close to getting some?”
Adrian dunked his tea bag and suppressed a giggle.
I felt myself sink back into the chair, and once Julie had returned the kettle to a cool burner and rejoined us at the table, I said, “You knew Bernard then, I mean—you do remember him?”
Julie clutched her cup with both hands, brought the tea to her lips and sipped quietly. “I remember he raped me.”
At that point her answer should not have surprised me. But it did.
“God, I… I’m sorry, I—”
“That’s what you wanted to know, wasn’t it? That’s what you came here to ask me about. There’s nothing else, no other reason to link him to me that you’d know about. You already knew the answer. You would’ve had to.”
“I suspected. He hinted before his suicide that he’d done some things, some horrible things.” I propped my elbows on the table and rested my face in my hands. “God almighty, this can’t be happening.”
“I never told anyone,” she said.
They never tell.
“I’m sorry, but I need to know what happened, Julie. It’s important.”
“Oh, I know it is.” She took another sip of tea, her hands shaking, and before I could respond she said, “It was near the end of summer, 1975. It happened in Potter’s Cove Woods.”
“I don’t mean to be insensitive or—”
“Just ask your questions.”
“Bernard wore those thick glasses and was physically small—a weak little runt in those days—how was he able to—”
“The element of surprise. A knife. And help.”
My heart was ready to explode. “He had help?”
She nodded, reached again for her cigarettes. “I was doing my usual run, and there was a section of woods I always cut through.” She pushed a cigarette into her mouth with a distant gaze, like the memories were just over some horizon only she could see. “Do you remember the stone fireplace out there, the one near the old campgrounds?”
“Yes.”
“He was sitting next to that when I first saw him,” she said, her voice sliding into monotone. “I stopped, I—I thought he was hurt. He was small, like you said, and he looked younger than he was, I guess. He was just sitting there rocking back and forth and moaning and rubbing his leg. I stopped and asked him if he was all right and he said he’d fallen and twisted his ankle. He said if I helped him he thought he could walk, so I gave him a hand. Why wouldn’t I have? He looked like this defenseless and injured little kid. Why—why wouldn’t I have helped him? Was I supposed to just ignore him and keep running?”
“No,” I said, the word catching in my throat. “I understand.”
“When I got him to his feet he pushed me—hard and suddenly—and I lost my balance and fell backwards and…” She drew an angry drag from her cigarette, leaving the filter crushed. “I hit the ground hard, hit the back of my head. I just missed that fireplace. If I’d hit that with the back of my head I wouldn’t be sitting here right now, I can tell you that much. I would’ve died in those woods that day. I still… I still thought I would. I wasn’t unconscious exactly but everything was blurry and swirling and… and the next thing I knew the kid was on top of me. He had a knife, a switchblade he opened right near my face, and he was laughing but it wasn’t like any laughter I’d ever heard before, it—it didn’t even sound human. He held the knife to my throat and he was talking but I don’t remember what he said, only… I only remember the sensation of being undressed, my shorts being pulled down and my legs being forced open.”
Adrian slowly rose to his feet. “I need to go lay down for a while.”
As he hobbled off down the hallway, I saw Julie wipe a tear from the corner of her eye then take another angry stab at her cigarette.
“I’m sorry to bring all this back up, but… but can you tell me who was with—”
“I couldn’t believe what was happening,” she continued, as if she hadn’t heard me. “I couldn’t believe what this little kid, this—this child was doing to me. Even the way he’d tricked me seemed like some playground prank or something, it—it just seemed so impossible, like a dream where nothing makes sense—you know those kind? The kind where nothing looks right or makes sense?”
I felt myself nod.
“None of it ever felt real. He was physically so small too, like this little person crawling on top of me, it—even when he was raping me it—I couldn’t believe what was happening.”
I held closed my eyes until the visions her descriptions had created left me.
“When he’d finished—I don’t know exactly when that was because I came in and out of consciousness a couple times during it—I felt him rolling me over. I was on my stomach and he pushed my face down and there was dirt and pine needles in my mouth.” With the back of her hand she pawed away tears. Tears of rage, a rage in bondage finally set free, escaping her now like a departing soul. “I don’t… I can’t remember how long I was out there. I had a concussion from hitting my head so hard, and I remember it being light, being able to see the sun through the tops of the trees, the blue sky up there looking down on us and… and then the next thing I knew it had gotten dark. Not total darkness like late at night, the kind of darkness there is right after dusk or right before dawn, you know how I mean?”
“Julie,” I whispered, “you said Bernard had help. I need you to tell me who was with him that day.”
She wiped away the remaining tears and seemed to regain total control of her emotions. “You do, huh?”
“If you can tell me, yes.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yes.”
“And you think you’ll understand?” she asked, her tone even more sarcastic. “You think you’ll have the capacity to understand? Even if I did tell you, you wouldn’t have the vaguest fucking clue as to what I’m talking about.” She slammed her lighter against the table. “You wanted to know if your friend was guilty of raping me. Now you know. Go home to Potter’s Cove and get on with your insignificant little life and leave the rest of this alone.”