Silent Key

by Erin Leland Tuttle

Forty-five minutes passed. I was the only one who spoke. The rambling monologue bounced off of the walls. Finally, I said, "I guess that's all."

  Aaron stood up and began to pace around the room, back to me, hands in his hair.

  Reagan took a small breath. "Foster. I'm not sure what to say." 

  "Say something. Anything," I begged. "Please."

  Aaron turned to face the both of us. His expression was disconcerting. "Dr. Lane is right. It never happened."

  Reagan turned to Aaron quickly, "Wait just a second ..."

  "It never happened. It doesn't make any sense except inside your head."

  "Aaron!" Reagan stood up.

  "Hard facts. No reports. No arrests. No rapes for God's sake." When he said the word rapes, Aaron looked like he had just smelled bad cheese. "The man got hired by the university. You don't think they do a background check? I’ve known him for years. He's an accomplished musician who has traveled the world. He can get laid any time he wants!"

  "Are you saying she's lying, Aaron?" Reagan busted out. "Is that what you're saying?"

  "I don't know. I don’t know what I’m saying. And I sure as hell don’t know what Foster is saying!" He was yelling now. I had never heard Aaron yell except to cheer on the basketball team on our first date. This was more terrifying.

  "Is she jealous? I don't know! But none of this makes any sense."

  I stood beside Reagan, covers falling to the floor. "Stop calling me ‘she.’ I’m right here. I am not lying and I am not jealous. This situation is very real. I've been living with it for months." 

  "I can't listen to this anymore. It's making me as crazy as you are!"

  In one leap, Reagan launched toward Aaron and slapped his face so hard that he stumbled backwards into my desk, sending papers and sheet music cascading to the floor.

  "Reagan!" I screamed. 

  "Don't you dare call her crazy, you asshole! She trusted you enough to tell you everything and this is how you react? Why don't you go spend Valentine's Day with him? And Stephania? Maybe he'll rape you both!"

  "Oh my God, Reagan ..." I sat back down on the bed, dizzy.

  Aaron, hand on his cheek, looked past Reagan to me. I saw pain flood his eyes as he turned and walked out of the room, letting the door click shut behind him. 

  Reagan faced me and kneeled at my feet. "I believe you. I promise that I do. You've always been there for me and I promise that I believe you." 

  I put my forehead against hers and we sat in silence for a few moments before she continued.

  "But," she said, leaning back, “have you ever considered the fact that maybe, just maybe, Dr. Lane is right?"

  I jerked back. "What? What do you mean? You said you believed me."

  "I do. But a best friend always has her number one girl's best interest at heart. And I'm just thinking ..."

  "Yes?" I asked, coldness creeping in.

  "Well, there are always two sides to every story. Maybe we could explore them together. Find more answers." 

  "The man cornered me in broad daylight today. He's a predator. He left that pink boot in my practice room."

  Reagan reacted.

  "What?"

  "I don't know about that pink boot, Foster,” she said cautiously. “I mean, that part is a little hazy."

  "How so?" I was starting to really ice over.

  "Well okay, for one, he would have to have known that you saw him in the ravine that night. Two, he would have had to go back to get that boot. Three, he would have had to be able to get into your locked practice room. I mean, it would take a guy with nuts of steel to pull all of this off. He gets this job, discovers you, and then begins to taunt you, risking his job and reputation?" She took my hands. "I want you to really think and talk this over with me, your friend, your sister who knows you."

  For the first time, I questioned my own memory. "But he cornered me on the stairs."

  Reagan shrugged. "He's cocky. You're beautiful."

  "Come on," I started. "There's no way ..."

  "Maybe he's a perv, Foster. I mean, that wouldn't surprise me. You know musicians, they are a different breed. A horny breed."

  "Good Lord, Reagan ..."

  "Consider it." She really was gripping my hands now, almost violently. "Please. For me. For your sanity. For Aaron ..."

  "Screw Aaron."

  "Okay, screw Aaron. But do it for yourself. For your life and career and future."

  "Okay. I'll consider it," I said, hoping Reagan would let go of my hands, which were now slightly numb. 

  On cue, she let go, but leaned in to hug me. "Good. Thank you. We'll figure this out together. But please don't go back into your cave again. This is too much for one person to deal with. And since Aaron is more in love with Jacob the perv than he is with you ... oh shit, Foster. I'm sorry. That came out wrong. You know what I mean. I think."

  I nodded. "Yes, yes. It's all fine. I'm fine. I mean, my heart is breaking a little, but I feel ... free."

  Reagan stood up and clapped her hands like a ten-year-old cheerleader. "Yes! Freedom!" She skipped over to my closet and began rummaging around inside. "Now, it's Valentine's Day. I'm single, you're free, and we're going to go out, eat good food, and celebrate! Who needs diamond rings?" 

  There was no arguing with her. I stood up and caught my reflection in the mirror inside of the closet door. Reagan was right. For the first time in a long time, I stared back at the young, talented woman I saw and recognized that she was quite lovely, sexy even. Freedom indeed.