Jesse stared into his closet at the lines of clothes and couldn’t move. He wore a suit every day for work and making the decisions of which shirt to pair with what coat, pants, and tie had never been an issue before. It was usually the easiest part of his day. But today…. Today was in no way normal. He gripped the jamb and hung his head as his heart began to beat out of control and his breaths came in ragged gasps. His vision began to swim and he had to let go, thump to the floor, and place his head between his knees. His therapist was teaching him how to stave off the creeping onset of panic attacks, and the meds he’d been taking for almost two months now eased the fuzziness in his brain.
There was little he could do to really prepare himself for what today would hold, though.
A warm hand settled on his back and Jesse leaned into it, needing the support of his mother now more than ever. She crouched down next to him and tried to envelop him in her arms, but he’d outgrown the privilege of being cradled by her decades ago.
“You’re going to hear things today, Mom”—he struggled to speak around the vise constricting his chest, loosened by the quiet strength of his mother’s grasp on him—“things that you should have known years ago that Emily and I kept from you.”
“I know,” she whispered in his ear.
He bit at his bottom lip, cracked his knuckles, and met her eyes. She was too kind for this world, too giving. The world would be a different place if everyone carried the same empathy and compassion she did, and yet, he wondered if that level of caring was possible to hold onto at all, for anyone, once they’d been truly exposed to the violence humans could perpetrate against each other. It was one thing to know evil people existed, another to see the evidence and aftermath of what sadistic fucks were capable of. Wholly another depth of hell to be the victim— No. A survivor. Emily was a survivor. He refused to see her as anything but.
“You don’t know,” he pressed. He needed her to understand that, to be prepared. “Yesterday was bad enough. You and dad having to hear what I did to Ian and to see the pictures…. That testimony was light compared to what Emily will have to say today on the stand.”
She didn’t speak and Jesse wanted to apologize, a barrage of sorrysorrysorry crowding in his throat that he couldn’t get past his lips. They were on day two of testimony, likely to be the last day of his trial, and Jesse’s lawyers had left Emily for last.
He didn’t know if his mother would ever be able to look at him or Emily the same way after today.
“Come on up,” she urged him. “Let’s get you dressed. I’m thinking the dark gray suit with lavender shirt. It brings out the light in your eyes.”
Her endless faith in him riled him. Made him angry in a way that solidified just how off his existence was. There was no light within him. No hope. No hope for him.
He was sure that after today he would be found guilty and would be spending years in prison, completely decimating the good life his parents had provided for him. Erasing any love his parents had for him and leaving pity and regret in his ever-destructive wake.
Jesse let out a choked laugh. “Like Godzilla. Fuck. I am Godzilla.”
“Jesse—” his mom began, her voice cracking.
“Give him space, Laura.”
Jesse peered up at his father as Silas urged his mom off the floor and out the door, clicking it shut behind her.
“I’m sorry, Jesse. I should’ve done that a while ago.”
Jesse pushed himself to his feet and headed for the closet again. “It’s okay. She just wants the trial to go well.”
“I don’t mean today. I mean a long time ago.”
Jesse searched for the shirt his mom had recommended. He couldn’t make eye contact with his dad. “I don’t get it.”
“I shouldn’t have passed responsibility on to your mom to communicate with you. I should have been the one talking to you, with her or without, whether it was comfortable or not for us, for years now. Solomona men have never been good at that.”
Jesse’s shoulders sagged. “You did everything you could for me, Dad. I know that. You can’t beat yourself up over what I’ve become. I’m my own man.”
He pulled the shirt off the hanger, threaded his arms through and began to button it up. His dad was silent, but Jesse could feel his dad’s eyes on the back of his head. His dad hadn’t taken more than a few steps into Jesse’s bedroom. In fact, this was probably the first time his dad had been in his bedroom since the day Jesse had moved in.
“You didn’t know your grandfather, but you look so much like him. No”—Silas chuckled lowly—“We both do.”
Jesse turned to meet his dad’s eyes. “You never talk about your dad.”
“And that was a mistake, Jesse. My dad…. He came to the United States when he was eighteen years old as a man facing severe discrimination because of the color of his skin. He spoke two languages fluently and yet he was still called stupid because he had difficulty writing in English. He was a gentle man, soft-spoken and fair, yet people were intimidated by him because of his size. He carried Māori and Tongan blood in his veins and he’d been raised to take pride in that, but when he came here, everything changed. He chose to assimilate. To only speak English, to gain his citizenship, and become American instead of Polynesian. He was a great man and my heart still breaks for him because of the choices he had to make to protect my mom, me, and my sisters.”
Similar choices to the ones Jesse had been making his entire life.
That feeling of being other permeated his existence. The biggest kid. The darkest skin out of all his friends. The only one attracted to guys.
He’d tried to assimilate too, and those choices had led him here. But unlike his grandfather, he’d reinforced stereotypes instead of challenging them.
Jesse cringed.
Silas took a step closer to him. “But the thing is, Jesse, I only know about those decisions because my mom told me, not him. And I….” Silas’ voice shook. “I thought I would do better. I’m sorry I’ve failed you in that.”
“Dad—”
“What haven’t you told me, Jesse? I love you. I will love you no matter what you tell me. I can handle it, whatever it is.”
Jesse sucked in a deep breath. There was no good place to start. No continuous stream of thought that he could verbalize with all of the things he’d hidden from his parents over the years. Emily’s abuse, his anger and depression, his drinking, a slew of random, meaningless hookups…. Men. He opened his mouth, but couldn’t find the correct configuration of tongue, lips, and teeth that would allow him to get any of those words out.
“A lot,” he said instead.
“Like?” his dad pushed.
“Not now, Dad.”
He secured his tie and pulled his suit jacket off the hanger, shrugging it on.
“How about I start with one thing? We’ve got to open this up somehow. So, one thing from me and one thing from you.”
Jesse turned and faced his dad. Silas Solomona was almost the same height as Jesse, the same wide, muscular build, and the same defined cheekbones and jawline. But that was where their similarities ended. “I’m sure your one thing doesn’t have anything on the shitshow that is me.”
“How about that I was an alcoholic when I met your mother? And that I still go to meetings once a month.”
A chill passed over Jesse’s skin. “What?”
“I was sober by the time you knew any better. But it was something I was ashamed of, so your mother and I never brought it up.”
Jesse dropped onto his bed. “Shit. That’s why you never drink.”
His father nodded and took another step into Jesse’s room. “Now one thing from you.”
“No,” Jesse argued. “You can’t just move on from something like that. You and mom are so fucking…normal!”
“‘Normal’ doesn’t exist, Jesse. Your mother and I are the way we are now because we fought our way to stability. She’s a better woman than anyone on this planet deserves.”
Jesse gave a sad
smile. He’d always believed the same thing, and to hear those words coming from his father…. His parents loved each other with a fierceness he’d always wanted to experience. “Did you get sober for her?”
Silas leaned against the dresser, standing across from Jesse. “I went dry for myself. Yes, she was what I wanted to hold onto most in the world, and I knew I wouldn’t if I kept on drinking, but I didn’t want to hurt anymore. I didn’t want to be so sick I could barely make it out of bed. I needed to be well for me. Being okay with myself was what led me to the possibility of being with her for the long-term.”
“Could you have done it without her?”
“I don’t know. I’d like to think I could have.”
Jesse swallowed, blinking back tears that had been too close to the surface in the last few days. He had way more support in that courtroom than he’d expected, but there had been a part of him that had hoped Chuck would be there too. He wasn’t—for good reason. “I think I lost the one person I ever thought about being with long-term.”
Silas sighed. A sound that was so much like Jesse. “I’m sorry.”
Jesse stood, going to the mirror and adjusting his tie. “So now it’s time for me to get better for me, right?”
“It’s a solid plan.”
One thing. He could open up to his dad about one thing, and it was the most honest he’d ever been with his father. “I’m scared, Dad.”
His father set his hands on Jesse’s shoulders—a firm grip of faith and surety. He would do everything to earn his parents’ full trust again.
“Me too, Jesse. But whatever comes next we’ll get through it together, okay? Emily isn’t the only one who deserves a fresh start. You do too. It’s time you fought for yourself.”
Emily was still in her cast. It had been scheduled to come off a few days ago, but Jesse’s attorney, Patricia Feltz, ever-practical and calculating in the way only a seasoned defense attorney could be, had decided that Emily still being in it—almost two months after her husband had attacked her—would only help Jesse.
Jesse didn’t like any of this. He didn’t want to use Emily as a defense to get him off the charges. He didn’t want Emily to testify at all. But Emily had forcefully, yet lovingly, reminded him that her story was hers to tell.
So, Emily was here. Her blonde hair was swept back into a tight ponytail. There were black circles under her eyes because she’d barely slept in the last week as her turn on the stand drew closer. She wore a light blue blouse that was their mother’s—the first thing Emily had accepted from their mom in years—and it hung loosely on her bony shoulders. She was as tiny as ever, yet with a fire in her eyes that he’d never seen before.
Her black heels clicked against the wood floor as she made her way to the witness stand. Well, more of a platform with a chair and a microphone. There were so many parts of being in an actual courtroom that didn’t match up to anything Jesse had ever seen on TV. He didn’t want to know or see any of this, yet all of this was first-hand knowledge he was gaining because of his own damn stupidity.
There was a pronounced ringing in his ears as Emily was sworn in, and Jesse spent the first few minutes of her testimony fighting to keep his panic under control. Then he heard his attorney say, “Do you blame yourself for what happened on the night of December twenty-sixth?”
Jesse took a deep breath and dared to pay attention to what was unfolding in front of him.
“When my father killed himself, I blamed myself. I didn’t think that I deserved someone who would treat me right. That’s how I ended up married to Ian as soon as I was on my own. As for that night…. No, I don’t blame myself for what Ian did to me.”
“And you’ve been with Mr. Parker for how long?”
“Eighteen years. Off and on.”
“You say off and on. Were you ever divorced or have you been married to him for all eighteen years?”
“We’ve been married the whole time.”
“And how many times during those eighteen years has he been arrested for domestic violence?”
“Arrested, charged, or gone to jail?”
Jesse’s attorney glanced at a file folder on the table. “Let’s start with arrested.”
“I think it’s ten times.”
“Eleven, according to police records. How many times was he charged, as you recall?”
“I don’t know.”
“Of those eleven arrests, he was charged five times for domestic violence. And of those five charges, he’s been to jail three times. How many of those attacks resulted in you being admitted to the hospital?”
“Two times. Including this one.”
“This one? Could you be more specific, please?”
“December twenty-sixth. The night he slammed my arm down against the tub to get my cell phone out of my hand and cracked the bone so badly that it went through my skin.”
There was an audible hiss from a woman in the jury. Jesse ventured a glance at the jurors set off to the side of the courtroom. Most of them were pale. One woman had tears in her eyes. Emily’s testimony wasn’t new to the jury—they’d seen pictures of Emily’s injuries yesterday. But seeing it and hearing about it from Emily were two completely different things. Jesse shivered.
“Who were you trying to call when Mr. Parker attacked you?”
“I’d already called 911, but when Ian broke down the door to the bathroom I was talking to Jesse.”
“Your half-brother and the defendant.”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell Mr. Solomona that you had called 911?”
“No.”
“Did you tell him that you thought Mr. Parker was going to harm you?”
“I don’t remember if I was able to before Ian broke the door down.”
“Has anyone ever asked you why you didn’t leave Mr. Parker the first time he hit you?”
Emily gave a dark laugh. “Everyone in my family has.”
“Why didn’t you leave him, Emily— I’m sorry, can I call you Emily?”
“Please do, I don’t want to be known by Ian’s last name anymore. I’ve already filed for divorce.”
Jesse’s attorney nodded thoughtfully. “So, tell me, Emily, why didn’t you leave Mr. Parker?”
Emily hunched over even farther, her lips twisted into a grimace and tears brimming in her eyes. Jesse had to grip the armrests of his chair to keep from going to her. This was too much. It was her choice to be here, but she shouldn’t have had to endure these embarrassing and painful questions because of him.
“Fear,” she answered in a quiet voice that cut through Jesse like a knife. “There was a lot of that. Also drugs. I got hooked on heroin for a while. Ian had a steady job so he would pay for it and bring it home to me. I’m clean now, but it took years to get that way. I left Ian for a bit in there too. But he told me he’d gone to anger management classes and I came back.”
“You believed him.”
“I don’t know if I did or if I just didn’t think there was any other choice but to stay with him. I wish I had a better excuse. But I don’t. I just didn’t believe I deserved any better than him and I was afraid of what he would do to me if I didn’t come back.”
“Were the beatings the only type of assaults he perpetrated against you?”
“Objection,” the prosecution cut in. “We’ve allowed this line of questioning so far, but Mr. Parker is the victim here. He’s not on trial.”
“Your Honor, this answer goes to the Defense’s assertion that Jesse was acting in defense of his sister,” Ms. Feltz smoothly answered. “This is information the jury is already privy to through Mr. Parker’s criminal record.”
The judge nodded. “I’ll allow it.”
“How else did Mr. Parker assault you, Emily?”
“He raped me on multiple occasions. I reported those to the police but it’s not illegal for a husband to rape his wife in this state.”
“It wasn’t then, but it is now.”
“I didn’t know that. The
re was a lot Ian told me that was a lie.”
“Mrs. Parker,” the judge interrupted. “I’m going to ask that you keep your answers for when Ms. Feltz addresses you directly.”
Emily nodded. “Yes, your Honor.”
Jesse ground his teeth together. He knew where his attorney was going with the questioning next, and this was a tactic he’d initially dismissed. But Emily had been adamant—saying the jury needed to hear the full truth from her in order to understand why Jesse had reacted as extremely as he had that night. That the jury needed to see him as the protector she knew instead of drawing prejudicial conclusions based on his size and his skin color. And, unfair and racist as it was, that message would be heard differently coming from her than him.
Ms. Feltz took a step closer to the witness stand. “Do you think you deserved to be raped, Emily?”
“I did for a long time.”
“And you don’t now?”
“I don’t. Jesse always told me I didn’t. He’s my little brother but he’s always watched out for me and tried to protect me when the legal system couldn’t or didn’t.” She took a big breath and locked eyes with a female juror in the front row. “Jesse was the only one who knew that my father had beat and raped me—”
The prosecutor jumped to his feet. “Objection, your honor! That is information that hasn’t been entered into the evidence provided by the defense, is hearsay since Mrs. Parker’s father is deceased, and no formal charges have ever been placed against him to my knowledge.”
“Objection sustained,” the judge agreed. “Strike that question and comment from the record.”
Ms. Feltz held her silence. Emily was crying, tears tracking down her face that she didn’t wipe away. It didn’t matter that Emily’s testimony about her father couldn’t be a part of the official court record, Jesse doubted that the jury members would be able to forget it when it came time to decide a verdict.
Ms. Feltz knocked a closed fist on the table and the hollow sound echoed around the quiet courtroom. “Do you have anything else you’d like to say, Emily?”
Emily drew back her shoulders and her gaze landed on Jesse. “Thank you for protecting me, Jesse. Thank you for never giving up on me.”
Out of the Shade Page 20
