by Taylor Dean
I feel the blood leave my face. “Were you okay?”
“I didn’t bounce back as quickly as I should have. I was in the hospital for four days. Even after that I was at home and in bed for another few days. It took me awhile to get my strength back.”
“I should’ve called an ambulance.”
His fingers lightly touch my mouth. “Shhhhhh. It’s not your fault. Far from it. You were there for me when I needed you. You watched over me and made sure I was okay. I can’t tell you what it means to me to know that you were there with me. It changes the way I look back at that night. And I needed a positive memory of that night.”
Slowly but surely, the pieces fall into place for me, even though my mind wants to reject it.
“I finally admitted to the doctor that I had not taken anything willingly and that the last thing I remembered was sitting in the restaurant. He said it was more than likely that I’d been a victim of drug-facilitated sexual assault and that the drug had probably been slipped into my glass. It’s more commonly known as date rape, but that’s a misleading term. It implies you’re dating the person who did it to you and that’s not always the case. I didn’t even see the woman who did this to me. Actually, until you told me there was a woman in my apartment, I didn’t know if it was a man or a woman or a group of people. It’s nice to have a little bit of the puzzle put together. The wondering would kill me if I let it.
“When the drug is first administered, it takes twenty to thirty minutes for it to take full effect. Sometimes a victim is fully conscious and aware of what is happening to them, but they don’t have the ability to protest. And they still won’t remember it when the effects of the drug wear off. You’re like an automaton. If someone tells you to do something, you do it. Near as I can figure, she must’ve looked in my wallet to get my address and hailed a taxi. I’m sure everyone in the restaurant just assumed she was helping her drunk boyfriend after he had too much to drink. That’s what I assume, anyway. The fact is I really don’t know how she pulled it off without inciting suspicion.
“After the doctor left the room, my friend patted me on the shoulder several times and said, Hey, dude. Lucky you, huh? I bet you had a good time. Too bad you can’t remember it. He laughed as if it was funny, as if because I was a man I enjoyed it.” He scoffs again, this time with anger. “I didn’t even know this could happen to a man. I felt emasculated, powerless . . . weak. I could hardly look at myself in the mirror for weeks. I felt so . . . violated.”
I pull him close and hug him tightly. I’m swallowing my own emotions because this is about him, not me. I don’t know what to say or how to help him. This happened six years ago and his feelings are still raw as if it happened yesterday. I don’t think he’s dealt with his emotions, but I have no idea how you ever get over something like that. I don’t think you ever do.
“I asked my friend if he would keep this between the two of us and he agreed. Then I told him I was fine and that he could leave. I could hardly stand to be around him and his crude jokes. When I was released from the hospital, I took a taxi home. I didn’t want to talk to anyone or see anyone.” Jace pulls away and looks at me. His eyes are a little glazed. “Except you. But I couldn’t get ahold of you. I called your mom and she told me that you no longer wanted to see me or hear from me.” He looks down at the ground, hiding his hurt.
But I see it and I feel like the worst person on earth. “I’m so sorry.” I can’t believe how wrong I was. I stumbled into a situation and had no idea what was actually going on. “I walked into a crime scene and I didn’t even know it.”
He glances at me and I see raw pain on his face. I lose eye contact with him immediately. “I chose to not pursue an investigation. I swept it under the rug and went on with my life, pretending like it didn’t happen.”
“Jace, what did she do to you?”
He’s quiet for several moments and I fear the worst. “The thing is, Shay, I have no idea what she did to me. I was unconscious and I was very ill from the drug she’d slipped into my drink. And I can’t remember a thing. I woke up with no clothes on, feeling like I had been on the wrong end of a fight. I’m sure you can imagine how that made me feel.”
It dawns on me that he’s dealing with feelings of shame. I’m completely unprepared for that aspect of his experience.
“Yes, my mother was right. Something bad happened to me in New York, something that changed me. But as bad as this experience was, it isn’t what changed me. I don’t know what she did to me, if anything. I have my doubts. I mean, I was out cold, sick as a dog, and throwing up. I’m sure that put a damper on her plans and I hope she was thoroughly disappointed and disgusted. There’s a hot place in hell reserved just for her.” His eyes blaze at the thought, then his voice softens. “The thing that changed me . . . was losing you. I couldn’t move forward. I couldn’t date anyone else and I couldn’t even think of anyone else. I still loved you.”
That does it. I lose it and start to sob uncontrollably. He pulls me close again and lets me cry until I’m done. “I couldn’t forget you either, Jace. I tried. I tried to move on, but I just couldn’t do it.”
He tenderly rubs my back, comforting me when I should be comforting him.
“I’m so, so sorry,” I tell him. “I was so wrong about everything.”
“I’m sorry for my silence over the last few days. It took me a while to build up the courage to say it out loud. To be honest, I didn’t want you to know what had happened to me. I don’t want anyone to know.”
“I understand.”
“Other than the doctor, this is the first time I’ve ever talked about what happened and frankly, I have no desire to talk about it or dwell on it or overanalyze it.”
“I get that.” The experience caused a snowball effect and touched all parts of his life. It broke us apart and changed the course of our lives. Not for the better. He lost everything in one fell swoop.
“Afterward, I buried myself in law school. It numbed my mind and took away the sting.” He leans back and takes my face in his hands. “The other day, you took me off guard when I heard you were there that night. I mean, it floored me. I had no idea. I’m sorry if this sounds silly, but it makes me feel as though an angel came and watched over me. I was helpless and you saved me. I’ve had a lot of time to think this through over the past few days. Do you realize your incessant knocking and calling interrupted her and probably stopped her from taking advantage of me? She would’ve had all night with me. You said you showed up at my apartment at nine o’ clock. It was around seven when I was getting ready to leave the restaurant. With the time it must’ve taken for her to get me to my apartment, she didn’t have much time with me. I realize you thought you caught me cheating and in the end, it ruined us, and I hate that so much. But if you hadn’t been there, it would’ve been so much worse. You saved me, Shay. You saved me.”
We stare at each other at close range. I can’t wrap my head around what he is saying. He leans forward and kisses me on the lips, gently at first, and then we sink deeper into the kiss. I can let myself go now. There’s nothing holding me back from being with him any longer. He’s always been faithful to me and my heart soars at the thought. At the same time, my heart hurts for him. Not just hurts, it aches with an intensity I never knew it could. He wraps his arms around me and I do the same, bringing us as close as we can possibly be. I still have so many questions and I know we need to talk, but right now, I just want to kiss him. He seems to feel the same. I can hear the wall clock ticking in the room as time passes us by. We ignore it and let ourselves be swept away with each other. Our mouths open to each other and we deepen the kiss. I melt into him and love feeling so close to him. I’ve longed for him for so long and I’m making up for lost time.
I understand why he didn’t come for me now. Suddenly, I had completely cut him off. I changed my number and left for the west coast. My actions screamed I want nothing to do with you. Under normal circumstances, I believe he would’ve come after me.
Absolutely. Jace would’ve stormed in and confronted me. He wouldn’t have left me alone until I told him to his face that we were over with a capital O.
I believe his ordeal affected him more than he realizes. Of course it did. He hasn’t been able to move forward and although I’m flattered that he says it’s because he couldn’t forget me, I can’t imagine how much his awful experience affected his psyche. Much more than he’s giving it credit for, I think.
It hits me then. I have the ability to help him. I can make him feel like a man again. His masculinity is alive and thriving, no doubt about that.
As he kisses me with passion, I match his fervor. Without words, I let him know just how much I want him. His response tells me that he receives the message, loud and clear.
Everything is going to work out. I know it is. We can get through this. As long as we’re together, we’re unstoppable.
The key is together. Always together.
CHAPTER
Thirteen
AN HOUR LATER we’re sitting in a quiet corner of a restaurant, simply coming to terms with everything. Jace wanted to go somewhere to decompress and I readily agreed.
Jace sips his water and I watch the sliced lemon bob around the ice in his glass. Then he says, “You know, people don’t even believe a man can be raped, as if it’s not even a thing. And then if it happens, the attitude is that he probably enjoyed it because all men love sex, right? It’s just a big joke. Even if I’d known who she was and wanted to prosecute, the whole thing wouldn’t have been taken seriously by the media. Society mocks the man who claims such a thing. Our culture says men are supposed to be sexually dominant. So, where does that leave me? The thing is . . . a victim is a victim. It shouldn’t matter either way.”
“No, it shouldn’t.” But I understand the stigma attached to such a thing happening to him. As I listen to him talk, I hear so much that he’s not saying. Regardless, the floodgates are now open and I think talking about it is a good thing for him. My heart goes out to him. I know he’s still struggling with what happened to him. And if I’m being honest with myself, so am I.
“At any rate, I knew I had to tell you everything. I couldn’t stand the notion that you thought for one second that I had cheated on you. I would never do that to you, Shay. I loved you more than anything. I still do.”
“I’ve never stopped loving you, Jace. Not for one minute.”
He shakes his head with disbelief. “How did this happen? When I arrived home, I thought for sure you hated me. And now this. I can’t keep up.”
“Me neither. But catching up will be fun.”
He smiles at me and it’s the first smile to touch his lips all evening. There’s such a look of relief in his features and I swear a few of the lines etched into his face have now disappeared.
My heart is about to burst open. Jace and I have a future. There’s suddenly no doubt in my mind.
He massages his right temple. “I feel like a weight has been lifted off my chest. Just talking with you about it changes everything.”
“Thank you for having the courage to tell me.” I pause because I’m hesitant to delve further, but I know we need to get it all out in the open. “Jace, can I ask you something?”
“I know you have questions. Go ahead.”
“Now that you know it was a woman, do you have any idea who it could’ve been?”
“I’ve always wondered who it was and if I knew the person. It’s enough to drive me crazy and I don’t like to think about it or I’ll start suspecting everyone and anyone. That’s no way to live.”
I’m not sure if I should press the issue, but I know the thought is there, hanging in the air between us. It needs to be said. “I know what she looks like.”
“I know,” he says. “And I know what that means.”
“I could identify her.”
“It was six years ago. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“I think it does.”
He shakes his head in the negative. “It’s like ripping off a band-aid when the sore underneath is barely healed. Taking it off will tear it open again.”
“Or it will let it heal properly this time.”
“What are you saying, Shay?”
“I’m saying that I want to identify her. I don’t think she should get away with what she did to you.”
I know his thoughts are going wild inside of his head as he thinks it over. After a few minutes, he reaches out and holds my hand.
“Look, I appreciate your desire to help. I really do. But I didn’t want to pursue it then and I don’t want to pursue it now. The victim gets dragged through the mud in these types of cases. I don’t want or need that in my life. It’s been a long time and your memory would be considered suspect. A good lawyer would crucify you on the witness stand.”
My heart drops. I hate that he doesn’t want to see justice satisfied. He’s a lawyer. Isn’t that the foundation behind his job? The very core? Well, maybe not to all lawyers, as every single lawyer joke in the world testifies. But I know ensuring justice is served is important to Jace.
On the other hand, I understand his feelings. It’s his personal life that would possibly come under attack and it needs to be his decision. “What is the statute of limitations?” I ask.
“It’s complicated and depends on the crime. In New York, murder or any heinous crime that would result in life imprisonment has no statute of limitations. If it’s a felony, punishable by eight or more years in prison, the limit is six years. A felony punishable by less than eight years has a statute of limitations of three years.”
My head is swimming with information. “What would your case be classified as?”
“Drug assisted sexual assault. In New York, sexual assault is considered a class D felony. If a defendant is found guilty in a criminal case, the sentencing judge has discretion to set the sentence. But the sentence can only be within a certain time range. The minimum sentence is one to two years and the maximum is seven years. The judge can choose any amount of time within those limits, depending upon the case. So you see, the point is moot. The statute of limitations is up. Believe me, I’ve already thought this through, Shay.”
“Why is there a time limit to prosecute someone? That makes no sense.”
“It’s not designed to let criminals go, it’s designed to protect the innocent. As the years go by, you may have lost the necessary information to prove your innocence. The prosecution has the burden of proving you’re guilty. But the accused has to have the right to prove their innocence as well.”
“But you have new evidence that’s only just now come to light.”
“True. Technically the statute of limitations time limit begins when a crime is discovered or should have been discovered. It’s a tiny loophole that could be used to our advantage, but I doubt it. I knew at the time a crime had been committed. I could have had the police turn my apartment into a crime scene. They would have had her fingerprints, possibly her DNA, and we might have discovered her identity. Frankly, I wasn’t thinking clearly at the time. I just wanted the whole thing to go away.”
“You’d been drugged. Of course you weren’t thinking clearly. I don’t think you can be held accountable for your decisions at that time.”
He lets out his breath. “Shay, please, let’s leave it alone.”
“I’m sorry. I know this is hard.”
“You need to talk about it. I get it.”
“What about a civil case?” I persist. “You now have an eye witness. I’m sure your medical records are still at the hospital. And you do have the toxicology report. We have evidence. Let’s use that loophole and pursue this.”
“I don’t want to pursue it,” he says flatly. “I don’t want to go through it.”
I understand, I really do. But I can’t stand the thought of that woman getting away with her crime. “I’m sorry. You’ve had a long time to think about this. This is all new to me and I’m fired up over it as if it happened yesterday.”
“I know.”
“What if it had happened to me? What would you be telling me right now?”
He frowns and sighs heavily. “I would be telling you to fight until you had exhausted every path.”
“Why won’t you do the same, Jace?”
“Gender,” he says shortly.
One word and I can’t argue with him. He’s right. It shouldn’t make a difference, but unfortunately it does.
“What if I go to a sketch artist? I can describe her. We would have a picture of her. We’d be able to identify her.” I’m pushing and I know it. I want justice for Jace. I want that nasty woman to pay for what she did.
“Do you realize what we’d be up against? For example, how do you know she did it?” he says forcefully.
“She was there. I saw her.”
“How do you know she wasn’t someone who was trying to help me and she had nothing to do with giving me the drug?”
“I . . . I . . .”
“You see. There are too many holes and it’s been too long. The case won’t fly.”
I smirk. “You’re such a lawyer.”
“Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment.”
I deflate. I feel as though I want to fly to New York and stand on the street corner until I find the woman. Then I want to scream at her until I’m blue in the face.
Which is irrational and entirely ridiculous.
“Hey,” Jace says. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be harsh with you. If this went to court, you would be questioned like that mercilessly. The reality is that cases like this are an uphill battle.”
“I understand. I’m just angry about the whole thing.”
“Can we put it behind us? I want to concentrate on us now. It’s our time, Shay. Me and you. And there’s nothing to keep us apart anymore.”
