by Claire Raye
Everyone has been so supportive so far, but I know the doubters are coming, the deniers, the haters and ones who will try to punch holes in everything I say.
Telling the people I love, the people who love me, has given me this great sense that they’re meant to be in my life, that they’re as genuine as they seem. They haven’t proven me wrong yet, and I hope Adam is the same way.
“Okay, then I guess we should start packing, because I’m leaving tomorrow morning.” I’m not going to argue with Charlie. There’s no sense. I won’t win and I love that. “We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”
It’s just before six p.m. when we arrive in Tahoe, and I drop Charlie off. As I watch her walk up the driveway of her parents’ house, I feel older than twenty-one years. This past year has been the longest of my life and something tells me it’s not going to get easier anytime soon.
I cut the engine when I reach my parents’ house, grabbing my bag from the backseat when my phone chimes out.
Adam: I laid Rachel to rest yesterday.
His text nearly guts me. It’s raw and real and honest and I’m sure his heart is so broken. I want to be there with him, to hold him and take his pain away, despite all the bullshit that I’m dealing with. He needs me as much as I need him.
Me: She loved you and you love her. That will never change.
I wish I had something better to say, something to tell him that would end his pain. I wait for a few seconds, not wanting to go into my parents’ house should Adam text me back. But the phone stays quiet and it’s a sign that I can’t keep avoiding this.
They aren’t expecting me when I come in, the house looking exactly the same and there’s something so comforting about it.
“Mila,” my mom says, the sound of shock not hidden in her tone at all. She knows instantly that something isn’t right, I don’t even have to say it. “Everything okay?” she now asks, her voice shaky, her eyes wide.
My dad stands up from where he was sitting on the couch, and with both of them now looking at me, I say it. I say what has been trapped inside me for so long, and what I know might destroy them.
“Seven months ago, I was raped at a party by a guy I knew.”
The second the words leave my mouth, the tears start.
Chapter Thirty
Adam
The past twenty-four hours have been a blur. A blur and an endless number of meetings and conversations and phone calls that my brain is still struggling to process. I feel numb, as though I’ve completely switched off, just doing what I have to do in order to get through it all. It’s a survival mechanism, I know that. A way to ignore the pain and just get shit done without having to feel.
Except that I do feel things. One thing especially.
I miss Mila with every single fiber of my being. My body aches to hold her, to have her wrap her arms around me and tell me everything is going to be alright. I never thought I’d feel this way about anyone. I’ve never in my life experienced or felt a longing and a want as intensely as this.
But I do and I can’t change it or ignore it. Don’t want to.
“Adam,” my mum calls. “Louise is here.”
I exhale, dragging myself from the chair and walking inside, knowing that there is still more to be done. More I can’t avoid or put off.
“Hey,” she says, offering me a smile as I walk toward her. She pulls me into a hug, her arms tight around me. “You ready?”
“Yeah,” I lie, knowing I’ll never be ready for this, for any of it.
Louise pulls back, looks at me in a way that says she knows I’m lying but that’s okay because she gets it. “Come on,” she says, waving goodbye to my mum as she turns and walks out the front door.
I turn to Mum who’s looking at me with a look of sympathy and guilt. I know she wishes she could make this easier for me too, but we both know she can’t. This is just something I need to do.
Yesterday after the service at the cemetery, there’d been a gathering or wake or whatever you want to call it at Rachel’s parents’ house. And just like the service, it had been awkward as fuck, as an endless stream of people came to offer me their condolences as we all pretended to ignore that fact that all of this should have happened over a year ago.
When I’d finally escaped to the backyard with a beer, I’d found Louise sitting out there with one of her own. She’d smiled, tipping her head toward the chair beside her, before she turned back to the amazing view their house offered.
We’d sat in silence for ages, and I remember thinking it was the most comfortable I’d felt since I came back to Australia. Lou didn’t feel the need to ask me how I was or what I’d been doing for the past year because she got that I couldn’t explain any of it with words. That my leaving was the explanation for how I was.
Eventually it was me who’d broken the silence, telling her about Mila of all things. I’d talked for what felt like hours and the whole time, Lou had sat quietly beside me, nodding and occasionally smiling, but never judging or questioning any of it.
When I’d finally finished, she reached over and took my hand in hers, squeezing it once as she said, “I’m really happy for you, Adam.”
I nodded at her words, biting the inside of my cheek to stop the tears that were once again threatening. I felt like I hadn’t cried this much in years and I hated that I couldn’t seem to stop myself.
Eventually, we’d both been called back inside and as we stood, Lou met my gaze and smiled. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow and we can take care of the house.”
I’d been so surprised by her offer, that I hadn’t said anything and now here we both were, sitting in her car as we drove to the house I once shared with Rachel.
When we pull into the driveway and Lou shuts off the engine, neither of us moves. I can feel her watching me, but my eyes are on the small house Rach and I once shared, the house where we were starting a life and a family together.
We’d only bought it a month or so before she died, had barely even begun to start making it our own. But as I sit here now, I can see it looks exactly the same as the day I left it.
“You okay?” Louise asks me, breaking the silence.
I nod, even though I’m not as I undo my seat belt. “Yeah, let’s just get this done.”
The second I step inside, I’m hit with a tidal wave of nostalgia that crashes over me, suffocating me as I stand in the entryway and try to take it all in. Nothing has fucking changed, not a single thing as I’m confronted with a barrage of memories from my past. Like I’ve stepped back in time, to another life, another reality.
Photos of the two of us sit on shelves, our things resting on the bench or beside a chair, everything as it once was. Nothing in here suggests that this life as I know and remember it, is over.
Except it is.
“It’s like a time warp,” Lou says quietly, standing beside me.
My eyes move to the pictures, to photos of me and Rach over the years. Happier times and images I haven’t looked at in over a year. After I deleted all my social media, I also filed all the photos I had of her and of us into a folder on my phone. A folder that stayed hidden and unopened because the pain of looking at those memories was too much to bear.
Now though, they sit right in front of me, reminding me of what I once had and of everything I lost. Everything I buried when I ran away.
“Come on,” Lou says, a hand on my back. “Let’s get this done.”
Packing up the house takes us all day, which seems far too short considering it’s an entire life. I give all of Rachel’s things to her family, keeping only the photos of us and the engagement ring I’d given her. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with it. Selling it seems cold and wrong, but I know in my bones that I can never and will never give it to anyone else.
“Just hang on it for now,” Louise says, folding it into my palm. “You’ll know what to do with it eventually.”
I nod, not sure I believe her, but kn
owing there aren’t any other options anyway.
I donate all of the furniture to charity, arranging for a truck to come and collect it all in the coming days, and the house I decide to put on the market. I had thought about renting it out, but it seems like too big a commitment when I’m not planning on staying in the country.
Plus, I’m not sure I want to keep it, not now.
It’s late by the time we are finally done and when Lou drops me back at my parents’ house, I invite her in, knowing that food and a lot of drinks is the least I can do to thank her for everything she did for me.
“When are you planning to head back to the US?” Lou asks as we walk inside.
I drop the box of things I’ve brought back with me by the front door, pushing it against the wall while I try to decide what I’m supposed to do with it. One box is all that I have left of our life together now. It feels so insignificant and small and my guilt at having reduced us and what we had to a single box is painful and raw.
“Soon,” I reply as she follows me down to the kitchen.
Mum is standing at the stove, Dad beside her chopping vegetables and they both turn as we walk in, watching as I grab a couple of beers from the fridge.
“I can help with the house if you want,” she says, accepting the drink I offer her. “Do the home opens and whatever.”
“Thanks,” I say, twisting the cap off the bottle. “But the olds are happy to do that. I’ll let you know when it sells though, once the mortgage is squared away and I pay them back, I’ll send half of what’s left to you—”
“No,” both Lou and my dad reply at the same time.
I pause, my beer halfway to my mouth as I look at them both. “What?”
Lou glances at my dad, nodding once before she says, “I don’t want any money, none of us do.”
“Yep, ditto,” Dad echoes.
“But, I—”
“No,” Dad says again, shaking his head. “Take it and start your new life, Adam, it’s what you deserve.”
I’m too tired to argue at this point.
Two days later, I’m heading to the airport to get on a plane back to the States. It’s a bittersweet feeling, knowing I am once again leaving my family and friends, especially now, after everything they’ve done for me. Mum and Dad are understanding and supportive though, much more than I deserve and this time, instead of walking away without so much as a goodbye, I’m begging them to come and visit.
“And you should come back occasionally too,” Mum says, her hand on my cheek. “Bring Mila with you so we can meet her.”
“I will, I promise,” I tell them, meaning it. “I guess I might see you soon,” I say, turning to Josh.
He grins at me, pulling me into a hug as he murmurs, “You never know, bro.”
I can’t help but laugh as I say, “Oh I’m pretty sure I will.”
I haven’t spoken to Mila, but I have left her voicemails and sent her text messages, letting her know I’ll be back soon. By the time I’m boarding, I still haven’t heard from her and there’s a tiny seed of worry that plants itself in my gut, growing with every hour I spend in the air, unable to contact her.
When I finally land in LA and there’s still no response, I text Charlie.
Me: hey, I’m back in LA. I haven’t heard from Mila, is she ok?
Charlie: we’re in Tahoe…you should come up here if you can.
Her message scares the shit out of me and when I get back to our apartment and find their place empty and Mila’s car gone, I do the only thing that makes any sense; I take a shower, I pack some clean clothes and I drive to Tahoe.
As soon as I’m on the freeway, I call Charlie, desperate to find out what the fuck is going on.
“Hey, Adam,” she says, answering on the second ring. “You okay?”
“No,” I reply, my hands clenched tight on the wheel. “What the hell is going on? Why are you guys in Tahoe?”
Charlie exhales down the line and I immediately know that whatever it is, it isn’t good. My mind goes back to the secrets Mila carries, the secrets she struggles to tell me, even though my mind has already connected the dots.
“I came up for some stuff,” she says vaguely. “And Mila, well she came up for…” She trails off as though she isn’t sure how to explain it.
“Is she okay?” I ask, panic rising in me.
Charlie exhales again. “She is, yes, but she’s also not, if that makes any sense.”
“No it fucking doesn’t,” I snap, frustrated. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Where are you?” Charlie asks, ignoring my question.
I glance at the GPS. “About five hours from Tahoe.”
“You’re driving up?” she asks, as if I wouldn’t be after the message she sent me.
“Yeah,” I say, scrubbing a hand down my face as I reach for the coffee I grabbed when I stopped to fill up the car with petrol. “Of course, I am, how could I not?”
“Good,” Charlie says. “That’s good, I’m glad.”
“Charlie, what the hell is going on?” I ask, pressing my foot a little harder on the gas, anxious to get to Mila.
I hear rustling before Charlie says, “Look, it’s not my place to say, but Mila had to come up here to take care of some things. I know she wants to see you, desperately, and I know she’ll explain everything when you get here.”
“Okay,” I say warily, not liking the sound of any of this.
“She’s alright, Adam, really,” Charlie says, as though sensing my rising panic. “I’ll text you her parents’ address, okay? That’s where she is.”
I drive straight up there, only stopping for petrol and to piss. By the time I’m pulling into her parents’ drive, I’ve been awake for a good twenty-four hours. I’m exhausted and pissed off and worried as fuck. Leaving my bag in the car, I slam the door and walk up to their front door, my shaking hand knocking harder than I intend to.
“Adam?” Mila says, a surprised look on her face when the door swings open and she sees me standing on the other side of it. “What? How—”
“Baby,” I whisper, reaching for her and pulling her to me in a tight embrace. I bury my face in her neck, inhaling deeply as my eyes close and I savor the feeling of finally having her in my arms again. “Please tell me you’re okay?”
I feel Mila’s fingers on my back, digging into me, pressing me closer as she pushes up on her toes, her lips against my neck. “I’m okay,” she breathes against me. “But there are some things I need to tell you.”
Chapter Thirty- One
Mila
My heart is racing so fast that there’s no way Adam can’t feel it slamming between us and even though I’m terrified of what’s to come, I have never wanted to see him so much. I hold onto him, unable to let go, my arms wrapped around him so tightly that I begin to wonder if he thinks I’m crazy. But he doesn’t let go either and we stand suspended in this infinite embrace that corrects everything that was missing between us over the last couple of weeks.
We both need it.
We need each other.
I didn’t think I’d be standing in my childhood home about to tell Adam my deepest secret. Honestly, I even toyed with the idea of never coming back to Tahoe at all after what happened. Being here brings back every single memory of that night, the fear and regret, the guilt and anger, the shame and doubt, all of it flooding back, but knowing if I’m going to move on, I need to be here to start that process.
That evening was a blur, almost like my body no longer belonged to me, that I went into auto pilot, telling myself how to survive. The most mundane details stand out.
I told myself how to leave.
“Walk to the door.”
“Turn the doorknob.”
“Go down the stairs.”
“Walk home.”
And I repeated this until I walked up outside my dorm, my hand on the door. But just before I could bring myself to walk inside, I stopped. This is whe
re the line between reality and fiction blend. I knew I had been raped, but I second guessed every single thought, every action from the moment I walked into that party.
Would people call me a liar? Would I be accused of seeking attention? Would people recall how I willingly went upstairs with him?
And instead of going into my dorm, I walked to the hospital. It’s a decision that I used to regret, but now as I stand here, determined to put a voice to what happened to me, I have the proof. It’s proof I never thought I would need, but I’m so glad that in that hazy, confused, disaster of a moment, I found a small bit of clarity.
I’m shaking in Adam’s arms, my body trembling despite the weight of his arms around me and he pulls me closer. We’re lost in this moment of reconnection, not caring in the least that we’re standing in the entryway to my parents’ house, their eyes watching us and wondering just what is happening.
Obviously, they know what happened to me, but they don’t know Adam is battling his own demons, that he just returned from laying his fiancée to rest and he’s about to be hit with my story.
I can’t possibly know how he will respond and something about being home and having Charlie nearby makes this easier. There’s a comfort in the people, in the house, in being home and I hope Adam will be part of that too.
My parents don’t come over, they don’t bother to intrude on what they know is going to be incredibly difficult. Instead, I hear the garage door open and then I hear the car start.
They’ve left us alone in the house, and despite the seriousness of what’s about to happen, I can’t help but giggle a little.
They’ve just left me alone in the house with a boy. Something that has never knowingly happened, and it suddenly feels like I’ve hit adult status.
“Are you really giggling right now?” Adam asks, pulling back from me, his face serious but also playful, knowing I don’t do serious very well.
