The Way We Rise

by Cassia Leo

  Pain is stronger and faster than you. It will outlast you. Running from pain is like running from a hungry lion in a maze with no exit. You can’t outrun the lion. You might be able to hide from it for a while, but eventually it will find you. Better to take your chances and face it. It might be the end of you, but at least you’ll die with dignity.

  What if that’s why Hallie took her own life? And why she didn’t want me to show her suicide note to anyone. She wanted to die with dignity.

  I head back to the hotel, but once I’m in the lobby, I turn in the opposite direction of the elevator, heading for the bar instead. The moment I sit down on the stool at the glossy mahogany bar, the thought of Hallie losing the battle against that lion comes back to me. Hallie’s suicide note was my lion. I hid from it for years. I drank those years away in complete denial, until I finally got the courage to stare down my lion. And the battle isn’t over yet. If I get shit-faced drunk right now, the way I want to, it will all have been for nothing.

  The bartender nods at me, waiting for my order.

  “Your best bourbon, neat.”

  He nods again and sets off toward the other end of the bar to grab a bottle of Wild Turkey Tradition, but my conscience won’t allow it.

  “Wait!” I call out and he turns around, his hand poised on the bottle. “Make it a club soda.”

  The guy doesn’t miss a beat as he removes his hand from the bottle of Wild Turkey and sets about fixing me a glass of plain old club soda on ice. He probably gets recovering drunks in here all the time pulling the same stunt on him. He’s seen it all. He doesn’t bother patronizing me with a slice of lime in my soda. He sets it down in front of me, and I give him my room number to charge it.

  But as I watch each bubble rise to the surface of the soda and burst, I can’t help but wonder if staying sober even matters anymore. How am I supposed to face the man who destroyed my sister when he brings Rory back to the hotel today? How am I supposed to keep myself from slamming his fucking face into a wall?

  How am I supposed to marry Rory if the thought of her father walking her down the aisle makes me sick?

  I down the glass of club soda and head up to the room to call my mom. She’s the only person in this world who has any clue what I’m feeling right now. Somehow, she was able to forgive James. I need to know how she did it.

  I sit down on a stool at the wet bar in our suite and dial my mom’s number. She picks up on the third ring, sounding somewhat out of breath.

  “Hugh, what’s wrong?” she asks, and I can tell she’s engaged in some kind of physical activity.

  “Nothing. Why do you sound out of breath?”

  The rustling stops and she takes a few breaths before she answers. “Sorry, honey, I’m on my morning wog.”

  “Your what?”

  “Wogging. It’s a cross between walking and jogging. Lisa and I go wogging every Saturday and Sunday morning and weekday evenings. How do you think I stay fit? Sitting on my butt, drinking Barley Legal?”

  I shake my head. “Call me back when you’re done wogging.”

  “I can talk. I’m wearing my Bluetooth.” I can practically hear her smiling at the mention of her Bluetooth, as if it makes her hip.

  “I’d rather wait until you’re alone. It’s… it’s about Hallie.”

  “Honey, Lisa and I hide nothing from each other. We can talk now.”

  I let out a sigh. “Do you remember when Hallie and Rory dressed up like CatDog for Halloween?”

  She hoots with laughter. “Yes, I remember that. I remember Hallie said, ‘I never realized how weird it is that CatDog has no butt. How does he fart?’”

  “Then she ripped one and she couldn’t stop laughing,” I reply, leaning back on my barstool. “And Rory’s face when she smelled it inside the costume… She was redder than a traffic light.”

  “Well, you’re the one who used to say Hallie’s stink bombs were lethal. Rory was probably red because the poor thing couldn’t breathe.”

  I laugh out loud and silently thank myself for calling my mom. She’s exactly the person I needed to talk to. As she chats with Lisa, I take a moment to compose myself, drawing in a deep breath as I prepare to steer the conversation in a different direction.

  “Mom, there’s something I need to ask you… about James.”

  The chatter on the other end stops. “What do you want to know?”

  “I want to know what he said when he came to you all those years ago to confess. Like, his exact words.”

  “Oh, honey, I don’t remember his exact words.”

  I think of how she just recited Hallie’s words a moment ago from a Halloween that came years before, and I know she’s not being honest.

  “Mom, I need this. I’m…” I sit up straight on the stool. “I’m going to ask Rory to marry me, but I want to do it the right way. I want to ask her dad for his blessing.”

  “Hugh, you don’t have to do that. No one does that anymore. It’s a stupid tradition.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s a good tradition. Especially in this… this type of circumstance.”

  She sighs heavily. “Honey, you don’t need anyone’s blessing to be with the person you love. But if this is about more than getting her father’s blessing… If this is about giving him your forgiveness, then I can tell you what he said.”

  “Tell me,” I say, my voice coarse with emotion. “Tell me how you forgave him.”

  She’s silent for a moment, though I can hear the faint sounds of cars passing. “He came to me and confessed what he and Hallie had done. And I didn’t know if I wanted to kill him or if I myself wanted to die. Until he said something that made me realize… that there was no doubt in my mind that Hallie loved him.”

  “Mom, you told me about the messages and the stuff you found on the burner phone.”

  “No, I told you that when you came to me last month, but that was just more proof. There’s… There’s something I need to tell you.”

  “What is it?”

  “Hold on, Hugh.” She takes a moment to say good-bye to Lisa as they part ways, then I hear her padding up the steps and opening the front door. As the outdoor sounds fade away, she speaks again. “Hallie made me promise I’d never say anything to you. But ever since you came to me and confessed you’d been holding on to that note for her, I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you this.”

  The park is bustling with picture-perfect families and their dogs. They’re everywhere, except the tennis courts. Only one of the twelve courts is occupied by a couple of teenage girls engaged in a leisurely match. My dad and I take a seat on the bleachers farthest from the girls. Skippy sits at my feet, his chin resting on my knee.

  I scratch his head as I gaze into his chocolate-brown eyes. “How did you know to come here?” I ask my dad.

  “You’re the one who told me to come here. We can go somewhere else if you want. Are you hungry?”

  “No, Dad. How did you know to come here, to California? Did Mom talk to you?”

  He leans forward on the metal bench, resting his elbows on his knees. “Yes¸ your mother came to speak to me this morning. She told me you were in trouble.”

  “I’m not in trouble. Houston is here.”

  He nods. “I know, sweetheart. I was just hoping you’d let me take the reins on this one.”

  I let out a sharp puff of laughter. “Did you come here just to piss him off?”

  “What?” he says, turning his head to look at me. “Is that what you think this is about?”

  Skippy’s eyes begin to close as I continue petting him.

  I shake my head. “I don’t know what this is about. I feel like I don’t know anything anymore. No one is who they seem.”

  My dad lets out a long sigh. “Rory, I had a professor in law school, Professor Houseman. He taught First Amendment Constitutional Law and he was a big proponent of a journalist’s right to protect their sources. He would begin every lecture by asking us to write down a secret we knew about someone we love
d, without disclosing the person’s name, and dropping it into a box. At the end of the semester, he was going to read aloud some of those secrets and the names of the persons the secrets referred to.”

  I scrunched my eyebrows together in confusion. “I don’t get it. If there were no names, how would he know?”

  “He said that he had a fifty percent success rate in guessing who the secret was about and he would only read a few of them aloud. Participation in the exercise was mandatory.”

  “But… that’s a terrible exercise.”

  He smiles. “Exactly, but it sure kept everyone on their toes. We were all certain we were going to hear some juicy secrets come the end of the semester. But when the day came, Professor Houseman admitted that only a few students had actually written down secrets, and he was not going to read them aloud.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  My dad raises his eyebrows. “Neither did we, until Houseman explained it was an experiment to see who would sell out their friends’ and family’s secrets, while knowing there was a remote possibility those secrets could be revealed before the class. And in the end, less than a handful wanted to risk betraying their loved ones. He did it to make a point about freedom of the press. How laws that protect a journalist’s sources allow journalists to tell the secrets the American people need to hear.”

  I heave a deep sigh. “I’m having a hard time seeing how this relates to my current situation.”

  “It has everything to do with you and Houston… and Hallie.”

  Hearing her name come out of his mouth makes my stomach burn. I cross my arms over my belly and lean forward.

  “Rory, if Hallie had left you that suicide note instead of Houston, would you have told him what Hallie had confessed to you, and only you?” He pauses to let these words sink in. “You don’t know, because just like Houston loved his sister, you loved your best friend, and you wouldn’t want to betray her. Even after she was gone. It’s human nature to protect your loved ones’ secrets.”

  “Why are you telling me this? I’ve already forgiven Houston for keeping the note from me.”

  He sits up straight and turns to face me. “Because I want you to forgive me… and Hallie.”

  Anger crashes inside me. “I’ve already forgiven Hallie.”

  I expect my exclusion of him in this statement to get some sort of reaction out of him, but he continues, undaunted by my remark.

  “Rory, there’s a reason Hallie did what she did.”

  “I don’t want to know her reasons. I don’t want to know anything about it.” I begin to get up, but he grabs my hand.

  “Rory, you need to hear this. Then you’ll understand why Hallie did what she did and why Houston did what he did, and why… why I never told you about any of this before today.”

  My empty stomach gurgles in protest. I should stop this conversation now. Whatever “secret” my father feels he needs to tell me now will most likely destroy any goodwill he accrued when he came to my rescue today.

  I draw in an extended breath of air that smells like fresh-cut grass and morning dew. This park reminds me a little of Wortman Park, where Hallie and I often went after class let out when we were in middle school. Hallie and I would head straight past the picnic tables to the park restroom, so Hallie could freshen up her makeup, which had inevitably worn off during the rainy school day. Then we’d do our homework under the picnic shelters and wait. Once in a while, guys from McMinnville High would come by and I’d be stuck talking to the awkward one who couldn’t stop stealing glances at my chest, while Hallie sneaked off to make out with one of his more experienced friends.

  It was hardly ever the same group of guys. Eventually, word spread around the high school about Hallie, and Houston decided to show up at the park. He found Hallie and Greg Lerner making out under the eaves of the restroom building. Houston got in one good punch before Greg and his friends took off running out of the park. Hallie was more pissed with Houston than I had ever seen her, but I fell even more in love with him that day. Not just because he had protected Hallie from her growing bad reputation, but because he had saved me from all those awkward conversations with creepy high school boys.

  I gaze out across the green and red rubberized tennis courts and let out a defeated sigh. “Hallie told us why she killed herself. In that note, she told us everything. Why should I believe whatever you’re about to tell me?”

  My father glances at me, then back to the empty tennis court, his lips pressed tightly together as if he’s trying not to cry. “Because,” he begins, his voice thick, “Hallie kept this a secret from everyone, even you and Houston. She wouldn’t have put it in that note. The only people who know are me and Ava.” He raises his head and turns to me. “Hallie was molested by a stranger when she was eleven years old.”

  My body begins to tremble and it takes me a moment to realize I’m not breathing. I let out a stale breath as tears roll down my cheeks.

  “How do you know this?”

  “She told me.”

  I shake my head. “Why would she tell you? Why didn’t she tell me?”

  “Rory, it has nothing to do with trust. It has everything to do with shame.”

  I close my eyes and cover my face as the tears come harder and faster. Because now I’m ashamed. I’m ashamed that Hallie didn’t feel she could talk to me about this. I’m ashamed that my father knew my best friend’s darkest secrets before I did. I ashamed that I never knew Hallie the way I thought I did.

  “It happened shortly before they moved to McMinnville, when they were still living in Salem,” he continues. “Ava and Darren had just divorced and Hallie went to a birthday party at one of the neighbors’ houses. When she was there, a man she didn’t recognize followed her into the bathroom. She told her mom a couple of days later, but since she didn’t know who the man was, the neighbors didn’t believe her and refused to cooperate. That’s when Ava decided to move to McMinnville.”

  My stomach is clenched so tight, I have to keep reminding myself to breathe. I can’t stop thinking about all the signs that were there, right in front of me, and I never saw them. Actually, I did see them, I just didn’t know what they meant.

  Hallie’s promiscuity and occasional bouts of self-loathing… Her affinity for older men… Her drinking when we started college… Her shame over the affair… I thought it all stemmed from daddy issues, due to her father’s virtual disappearance from her life. But it was so much more.

  “But… why didn’t she tell Houston?” I plead. “She told him about the affair. Why didn’t she tell him about that?”

  When I turn to my father, the sight of him brushing a tear off his cheek fills me with unfathomable sadness.

  “Because in her mind, the affair made her a bad friend. But the molestation, and her father’s abandonment, made her unworthy of love.” He turns his face away from me to wipe away more tears. “That’s why she never told you or Houston. She lived with an insurmountable fear of you two seeing her the way she saw herself.”

  I pull Skippy close to me and hug him, burying my face in the scruff of his neck. He smells a little like the dog food the hotel gave us, and suddenly I’m reminded of Houston, back at the hotel, completely oblivious to the bombshell my father just dropped on my heart. How is he going to take this? Does he already know?

  “You didn’t answer my question,” I say, sniffing loudly as I turn to face my father again. “Why did she tell you?”

  His face is dry now, but the regret etched into his face is unmistakable. “She loved me… And… in the short time I spent with her, I came to care for her very deeply.”

  “Did you love her?”

  He clenches his jaw and takes a breath before he looks me in the eye. “I did. Not the way I loved your mother, but yes, I loved her. I wanted her to be okay, which is why I ended the affair after she told me about the abuse. I knew our relationship would do more harm than good to her.” He lets out a sharp puff of air, as if a huge weight has been lifted from hi
s chest. “I’ve spent the past six years ashamed of the things I’ve done. The many ways I’ve hurt you, your mother, Hallie’s family… It wasn’t until your mother stepped into my office this morning and told me I deserve to be forgiven that I even fathomed that might be a possibility.” He reaches out and rests his hand on mine, and I stare at it. “Please look at me, Rory.”

  I swipe my other hand across my nose and look up.

  “Rory, I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you.” He uses his other hand to wipe a tear from my cheek. “My greatest regret is that I allowed my guilt to get in the way of my responsibilities as a father. You deserved more from me… You deserved the truth, from the very beginning.”

  He pulls me into him as he wraps his arms around me, rubbing my back as I cry on his shoulder.

  “All I ask is that you try to forgive me. I know it will take more than a trip to California to prove myself to you, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

  I nod because I couldn’t speak right now if I tried. He lets out a deep sigh of relief. But within seconds, Skippy begins to whine from being left out.

  I let out a congested chuckle as I pull away from my father and pull Skippy into a tight hug. “Is that better, Skip?”

  He responds by licking the salty tears off the bottom of my chin. I hold him tighter as I realize it’s time to go back to the hotel and tell Houston what I’ve learned. I don’t know what will hurt him more, knowing that Hallie was molested and she never told him, or that I’m ready to forgive my father.

  The moment I end the call with my mom, I stand from the barstool and hurl my phone across the hotel suite. The phone shatters against the creamy wallpaper, falling to the carpet in a dozen useless pieces. I instantly feel a pang of guilt when I think of my mom begging me not to do anything stupid. But the feeling only lasts an instant, immediately replaced by a rumbling anger so loud it drowns out every other emotion.

  A dark voice in the back of my mind begs to be heard over the roaring rage, whispering the same sentence over and over. Hallie deserved better.

  She deserved the kind of brother she could trust with her darkest secrets. She obviously didn’t feel she could trust me. Instead, she trusted him.