by Shey Stahl
Waylon is on the football team with Asa. He’s become a good friend and it makes me sad to think that if this hadn’t happened to me, I wouldn’t have met him or Joey. They’re part of my book now. A journey I never thought I’d find myself on, but slowly navigating through it.
“How are you doing?” he asks, walking beside me as I peddle slowly.
“Fine, I guess,” I assure him, trying to appease him. He knows I’m lying.
“Are you though?” He shifts his eyes to mine.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be fine again.” The cool crisp fall air hits my face.
The longer we walk, the more my mind drifts. We pass by Madrona Hall where Asa lives. I check the time. Nine. He’s probably home.
When I count over from the far left to find his window, I see his light is on. I let my mind drift as I inhale and sit down on the concrete bench outside. I kind of feel like a stalker for a half a second.
Then I remember why I do this. I miss his smell and the warmth of his body. I miss him. It’s hard to say why I can’t let him go. It’s because I need the connection. After that night, I was lost in more ways than one. I’ll be the first to admit a part of me died on that rocky shore and the other part, she might as well have.
Waylon touches my shoulder. “C’mon. I’ll walk you home.”
“It’s fine. You live here.” I motion toward Madrona Hall and then place my hand on the seat of my bike. “I’ll be fine. Got my bike.”
He’s hesitant and gives me a nervous smile. “I sorta promised I’d make sure you got home, and the last person I want to piss off is Asa.”
I snort, hanging my head. Staring at the peddles of my bike, my heart thumps wildly in my chest at the mention of his name. My gaze travels lower from my ripped black Pearl Jam T-shirt to the black jeans that fray at the heels. “Fine. Walk me home.”
“He’s just looking out for you,” Waylon adds. “He loves you.”
Asa’s never told me he loves me, and though I see it in his eyes, he’s never said the words. Neither have I, but I went through something pretty damn tragic and he was there to help me through it. I love him. There’s no escaping that. Without a shred of doubt, I’m completely in love with Asa. But still, I’ve never said the words either. There just seems to be too much that goes with it.
I love you, but I’m fucked up.
I love you, but you don’t have time for me.
I love you, but you won’t report the rape.
It’s the truth. Asa hates that I still haven’t reported the rape.
Why haven’t I? I still haven’t come to terms with it.
“Waylon?”
“Yeah?” He glances over at me, his hands buried in his pockets and the whites of his eyes shining brightly under the street lights. I look at his skin, dark as the night, and then I wonder how he deals with it. He’s African American, gay, plays football, and secretly in love with their tight end. All of that doesn’t really matter, but then again, it does. He has a lot going for him with his future and announcing to the world he’s gay, well, that’s not something he’s willing to do. I can’t say I blame him. Most know. He’s not obvious about it, but he hasn’t been seen with a girl, ever, so a lot of people just assume. Waylon always says it’s none of their business.
His story? He’s a junior this year, and freshman year he was raped at a party off campus. I haven’t talked to him much about it, but now I’m curious. “Did you report it to the police?”
He holds me captive with his stare for several seconds until his gaze slides over my shoulder to the passing halls. “I did….” And then his words hang there.
“And?”
His jaw tightens. “It’s still sitting on a shelf with the Seattle Police Department waiting to be tested.”
We keep walking, our steps intentionally slowing down. “Really? They didn’t do anything about it?”
He runs his hand over his face, sighing. “I mean, yeah, they took the test when I went into the ER, but three years later, nothing. Every time I call, they say they’re working on it. Out of every thousand instances of rape, it’s something like only thirteen get referred to a prosecutor and only seven lead to a felony conviction.” Waylon shrugs one shoulder. “Those aren’t great statistics so I don’t exactly have my hopes up that anything will come of it.”
He’s right, nothing may become of it, and I think in some ways, I haven’t reported it yet because of that. I’m also not sure I’m ready to deal with it if I know who it is. Right now, I can pretend they have no face.
Waylon stops walking and looks over at me. “Barrette?”
My eyes lift to his.
“I’m not going to tell you to do something you don’t want to, but I can understand why it bothers Asa so much.”
“Why?”
“Because he watched you go through something horrendous and he wants justice. It’s only natural, and until you report it, there will never be justice.”
Again, he’s right, but I’m still not sure I’m ready. Or if I ever will be.
I have a habit of staring at nothing. It’s calming to get lost in thought, only now, it’s not. It’s like I’m nervously waiting for something bad to happen. On the edge and unattached to everything around me. I’m sitting at my window, smoking weed I got from Roman, staring out it at nothing in particular as smoke drifts through the small crack. I don’t usually smoke, but I recently found how calming it can be for me. It certainly helps when I can’t sleep at night because I’m afraid of the nightmares.
My phone dings beside me and I notice a missed call and a text from Asa. It’s not often that I see Asa during the normal hours of the day. As the starting quarterback for the Washington Huskies, to say his day is busy in the fall is an understatement.
Asa: Dinner?
I stare at the text for a few minutes. We haven’t been to dinner since freshman year. Then I remember a comment he made the other morning when he was leaving my dorm room that I needed to eat more.
Me: Trying to make me fat?
Asa: I like something to grab.
Me: Sure. Where?
Asa: Well I like to grab your ass. You know that.
It takes me a minute to reply, shocked he’s flirting with me so openly.
Me: I meant dinner.
Asa: Lol, I know. Be there in a minute.
We’re flirting. We have been for probably the last year. It hasn’t led to anything yet, but we flirt and tease, and sometimes I provoke. Let my hands travel over his body to see what he does. Every single time, he reacts and holds me closer. It hasn’t always been like this with us. It’s just sort of evolved into this. Freshman year, even after everything that happened, we actually went on dates that summer before college started but never classified anything as “dating.” Once college started, it became harder with school and his crazy football schedule.
When he knocks minutes later, I move toward the door and notice Cadence in her room through the bathroom that separates our dorm. She keeps her headphones on and smiles. We’re roommates, but my friendship with her will never be the same again. I can’t tell you why, but I pulled away from everyone but Asa, Joey, and Waylon. Cadence has some resentment over me hanging out with Joey, but school keeps her pretty busy. She and Roman broke up again. I honestly can’t keep track. He’s like the campus whore these days, and I know it bothers her to see it. I know it would if I saw Asa acting the way he does.
My heart beats a little faster knowing Asa’s on the other side. There’s a fraction of a moment before I open the door that I imagine our lives to be different. I imagine we’re together again and that night never happened. I imagine they didn’t ruin our lives.
But then I open the door and I see his eyes. The golden hues that meet mine changes things for me. It’s adorable in ways only Asa can be. When I look at him, that light hair sticks up in the front, those dark, brooding eyebrows that crease when he’s nervous, that’s when I know that everything is different and nothing will ever be the sa
me again. Because of me. Because of a night I can’t change.
Asa smiles softly, stepping inside my dorm room. Smiling and waving at Cadence, he sits on my bed flipping through my History of Motion textbook that’s on my pillow.
“I’m failing,” I tell him, shrugging.
“That sucks. Need help? I took that class last year because I thought it was interesting.”
“That’s okay.” The last thing I want is for him to feel like he has to do this. “You’re busy with football.”
He nods, his eyes on the floor, seeming to know I don’t want him to help me and not pushing the issue. “Dinner?”
I bite my lip, my arms wrapping around my stomach. “I really should study.”
“It’s just food.” He nods again and then looks up at me standing near the window as if he knows that but he’s wanting something from me. “You’ll feel better if you eat. It’s a proven fact that food and… well…” He pauses and winks. “We’ll start with food. Food helps you concentrate.”
I want to beg him to tell me where he was going with that, but I know he won’t tell me. “Fine.” I roll my eyes sarcastically. “I guess I gotta eat.”
He laughs, throwing my sweatshirt that’s beside my bed at me. “Don’t sound so enthused to go out with me.”
This time I laugh. “It’s like going out with a celebrity.”
Once outside the door, he slings his arm around my shoulder. “It’s not that bad.”
Just wait, I think to myself. He really has no idea the trance he has everyone on campus in. Including me.
WHEN WE ARRIVE at the Pagiliacci Pizza, I’m regretting it already. It’s never easy seeing girls instantly hanging all over Asa, regardless of how undefined we are. But it’s the way it is with us lately. Like a Taylor Swift song, I’m always in the shadows and he’s center field where he belongs.
He walks in ahead of me but reaches for my hand when we get to the door. I feel safe when he touches me like this, warmth enveloping my body instead of the all-encompassing cold I live with daily.
Just before he opens the door, a group to our left calls his name as they sit outside in the green plastic chairs reserved for outside dining. Asa gives them a nod, never letting go of my hand as we’re led to a table in the back, his eyes on the televisions that line the wall above the bar.
When he lets go of my hand to take a seat, that’s when I feel the warmth leave me.
Everyone stops by to congratulate him on the game against the Oregon Ducks. They won 38-3. I watched the entire game, so I have an idea of what they were talking about. Asa threw for 204 yards and ran with two touchdowns himself.
“That’s amazing!” one tall brunette says to her boyfriend when he tells her about the yards. She has no idea what he’s referring to, but she’s impressed by Asa and smiles, her eyes never meeting mine.
Asa is low-key. He’s always modest when it comes to his playing ability, and though he’s the captain of the team, you’ll never hear him say he’s the best player. He doesn’t believe that even for a second.
“It’s pretty cool,” he says, giving the guy standing beside him an autograph on a beer coaster. He and his girlfriend take a photo with him and then they leave.
Tonight isn’t any different than it ever is with him. Since his freshman year here, he’s been this school’s superstar. They worship him. It isn’t too hard to be a superstar back home, but at a university where tens of thousands of students and faculty know your name and high five you randomly walking around campus, yeah, that’s a big deal. What they don’t see is what he has to give up because of it. When most college kids are home for holidays, Asa is at practice. Summer? He’s in summer classes trying to keep up, hitting the weight room, and pushing through two-a-days.
What’s the reward?
Big Ten title? NFL contract? College degree?
If you’re lucky, yes, but it’s not a guarantee.
A cheerleader comes by. I don’t like any of the cheerleaders. Not to say they don’t have talent, but I hate the way they look at Asa. Like he shouldn’t be with the tiny depressed girl. This one, her name is Eva, her hands lingering over the chest I lay my head on and watch the night fade to morning. Her dark hair is perfect, her body toned and eyes bright. So different from me with the messy hair pulled back in a bun, baggy clothes, and tired eyes fighting an internal battle even I don’t fully understand. I feel like when I see him like this, surrounded by people and girls who pine for him that I’m in the way. An obligation he feels entitled to watch over.
Sometimes I wish he wouldn’t bother with me.
Sometimes I wonder why he does.
Sometimes… I’m thankful he does, because if I didn’t have Asa in my life, I’m not sure I could have kept going.
“Nice game, Asa.” Her pretty brown eyes flutter to mine. She knows Asa doesn’t belong to me, but she’ll never understand just how much he and I control each other.
Asa looks up at her, winks and smiles. “Thanks, Eva.”
He’s always polite. I don’t think he knows anything else.
I shift my gaze from them. I don’t want to see this. It hurts to see it firsthand, but I have no say. I’ve created this monster, fed it. My unwillingness to move on from the past keeps this monster’s viselike hands around me. The longer I watch him and the endless flow of students congratulating him and talking about the game, I see what kind of person he is.
Asa is different than most college football players. Even Waylon, and he’s definitely nothing like Roman. Nothing rattles him like it should. He’s extremely focused on the field. Off the field, he has a 4.0 and still manages to be the star quarterback. Naturally everyone looks to him wondering where the fault lies. We all have them. Some just hide it better than others.
He has one. And it’s me.
I’m the disease slowly killing him.
Eva turns away from him. “See you in class.”
Great, they have classes together. Even better.
Asa turns back to me. “Sorry about this.”
I shrug. “It’s okay. I know what it’s like going out with you.” And then I freeze at my use of “going out with you.” Our eyes meet. “I mean, being seen with you.”
“I knew what you meant,” he says, but there’s a different edge to his words. It’s almost upset. I can’t place it.
Picking at a slice of pizza, I avoid eye contact with him when I mumble, “Are you having sex with her?”
I can’t believe I just said that! It’s a bold question, I know, but I ask it anyway. Caught off guard, Asa looks down at the bill on the table and then up at me. He doesn’t say anything.
I reach inside my pocket and pull out a twenty. “You don’t have to pay for me.”
Asa doesn’t answer. He watches my reaction to his silence and slides the money back at me. “No,” he says, taking a drink of his water and then gives a nod at the door.
“No, what?”
“No, I haven’t slept with her.”
I’m relieved somewhat. What if he did? How would I feel about that? We’re not dating. I have no ties to him in that way, other than when I’m really sad, he’s there for me. He can’t go his entire life just being there for me. Surely he has needs and desires, and it doesn’t involve the girl he saved.
We’re walking back to the dorms, and I slip off the sidewalk and into the street where I lay down between the center lines.
“Do you think of dying, Asa?”
He looks back and sees I’m not behind him. “Come on, Barrette, get up.” He jogs over and reaches down, grabbing my hand. “Don’t mess around.”
I don’t move. Instead, I stay in the street, letting the rain hit my face as I look up at the sky. “Just lay here with me,” I say, looking over at him.
“No.” He turns away and walks to the sidewalk. “Get out of the street.”
Asa doesn’t like to think of that night. When I talk about dying, it reminds him of it. I can feel his body tense from where I lay on the street.
“Why is everything with you so planned?” I get up and walk the five steps it takes to reach him on the curb. He stares down at me as I speak, searching my eyes for the answer to my crazy ways. “Don’t you ever just want to live right now?”
“I am living right now.” He turns again and starts walking back to the dorms. “If anyone is living for right now, it’s me and you.”
I think I know what he means by that. We’re stuck in this weird transition of needing to move on and being unable to make the steps to do so. Our steps crunch the falling leaves, the cool fall night slaps at my face with a spray of mist. I like the rain. I’ll even get up in the middle of the night to go walk in it just so I can feel the water on my skin.
It’s refreshing.
It’s calming.
It’s also a reminder. That’s one of the only things I remember from that night. The rain. I think about that night all the time. And why Asa was there. I also think about why up until that night, I hadn’t heard from him in four years. “Can I ask you something?”
Asa nods and darts his eyes to mine. We’re walking side by side, our shoulders touching every so often. “Anything.”
Part of me doesn’t want to ask this, but I know I need to. “When you left to live with your mom, why didn’t you ever call me?”
His jaw flexes and works back and forth. He draws in a breath, his chest expanding with the motion. And then he lets the breath out, his words filling the space between us. “I was afraid if I did, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from coming back to you, and I knew my mom needed me.”
I think about everything his mom went through and it makes me sad to know she died after fighting the cancer for so long only to die regardless of what the doctors did for her. “I’m glad you were there for her.”
Another breath, then a nod. “Me too.”
We return to my dorm. Asa walks me up to my room. I glance up at him. “Thanks for dinner.”
He searches my face and then stares at my lips. He swallows, blinks, and then finds my eyes. “I’ll gladly buy you dinner every night if I know you’re eating.” Running his hand through his hair, he leans into the wall beside the door and then drops his eyes to the floor. “I worry about you.”
