by Emma Scott
“It wasn’t just Hamlet you’d lose,” Marty said. “Her father threatened to have you arrested for statutory rape.”
The word hung in the air, ugly and vile. The blood drained from my face and I swallowed. “Okay,” I said slowly. “I should’ve expected that too. But even so—”
“Not even so. He vowed to use his position and power to destroy your reputation permanently. To label you a sex predator so no one in Hollywood would ever dream of hiring you. It wasn’t only Hamlet she was trying to protect. It was everything. You, the money your father owed, your future.”
“I never…I didn’t realize he hated me that much. Or her.”
“From what she told me, the night he caught you leaving his house was a nightmare. Beyond anything you can imagine. And I don’t say this to make you feel worse…”
“Fucking Christ, Marty. Too late.” I sagged against the desk.
“But I’m going to be honest with you. If you came back here with the idea of rehashing what happened three years ago with her, I’m going to kick your ass into next week. The girl has suffered enough. You didn’t know. She never told you, and you dealt with losing her the best you could. I get that. But I demand that you be careful with that girl’s heart.”
I clenched my jaw against the tears forming in my eyes. “I shut down,” I said. “It’s what I do. I just…”
“I know, son. You haven’t had it easy either.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know that too,” Marty said, bringing me back into his embrace. “And so is she.”
“I don’t know what comes next,” I said, pulling away and wiping my eyes against the crook of my arm. “You’re the director, Marty. Direct.”
“Her parents are throwing a party for us at the Renaissance in Braxton. Watch the play, and then come with.”
“Her parents?” I asked. I shook my head. “No. I need to see her alone.”
“It would be better, methinks, if you saw her in public place. She can decide for herself if she wants to talk alone, or remain with her friends. Her support. Fair?”
I hesitated and Martin gripped my shoulders.
“Don’t waste one more second,” Marty said. “Every second that goes by is another mile between you. The distance is long enough already.”
“Does she want to see me?” I asked, feeling as raw and exposed as I ever had in my life. The kind of naked emotion I’d turned into silence, to bury and protect myself.
“I don’t know,” Marty said. “But if I had to guess…” He held up his hands, his smile kind and full of hope. “I’d say it’s never too late.”
Marty had a cancellation from a ticket-holder in the front row. Me sitting there was out of the question, so Marty played a little musical chairs and got me a seat in the last row where Willow couldn’t see me.
The houselights dimmed. The murmured talk of five hundred people quieted. The lights came up onstage and I laid eyes on Willow for the first time in three years.
I sucked in a breath. She was so beautiful. Almost twenty-one years old now, she carried herself with the grace and dignity of someone much older. Someone who’d been through hell and back and was still standing.
Over the next two hours, she took her character from a naïve, hopeful young wife, to a woman ready to stand on her own in a society where being married and having children was the ultimate goal.
She was brilliant. Electrifying and subtle at the same time. But it was in the final scene that she mesmerized. She sat in a chair, her hands folded in her lap. Perfectly still and straight. The eye of the storm that was her husband. Len Hostetler as Helmer, circling around her in confusion and then panic.
“Playtime shall be over, and lesson-time shall begin,” Len said.
“Whose lessons? Mine, or the children's?”
They argued. Or rather, Len argued. Willow conveyed her lines with a quiet certainty. And dignity.
“I must stand quite alone,” Willow said, her face to the audience. She could’ve been talking to me. Or to her father. Or Justin Baker or Xavier. To all the men in her life who tried to make her into something she wasn’t.
“I am to understand myself and everything about me. It is for that reason that I cannot remain with you any longer.”
Len was every man who watched the woman in his life tell him she no longer needed him. The jilted boyfriend. The failed pick-up in a bar. The online rejection after an unsolicited proposition was shot down.
“You are out of your mind! I won't allow it! I forbid you!”
“It is no use forbidding me anything,” Willow said calmly “I will take with me what belongs to myself. I will take nothing from you, either now or later.”
“This is how you would neglect your most sacred duties to your husband and your children?”
“I have other duties just as sacred.”
“That you have not! What duties could those be?”
“Duties to myself.”
I sank in my chair, my hand pressed to my lips. The pain of losing her, once so sharp, mellowed and transformed as I watched her. As I listened to her.
It was so easy to blame her for what happened. For not standing up for us when I was willing to risk everything. But the truth was she’d stood up for me, and I had let her fall. She’d been trying to protect me and I couldn’t convince her I didn’t need protection. That I would’ve gladly suffered the slings and arrows her father threw at me.
What I hadn’t taken into account was that she could not.
I’d only added my weight to the tremendous pressure she carried. The fact she hadn’t been crushed was a testament to her bravery and strength. Sitting there, watching her perform, I felt a fierce pride I didn’t deserve. I had nothing to do with her success or talent or courage. She owned every bit of it herself.
The only thing left for me to do was throw myself at her feet and beg forgiveness.
Willow
The applause during curtain call was tremendous. It bowled me over and I clutched Len and Lorraine’s hands tight as we bowed. The strange tension I’d felt before the show pulled at the air, crackling and ominous. As I stepped out of Nora and back into Willow, I scanned the audience, looked over and around and through the sea of clapping faces.
Who are you looking for?
A pull on my hands made me find a smile as the cast took another bow.
Afterward, I changed into a black satin dress for the cast party in Braxton. Martin was jumpy as hell as we all grabbed our things to head out.
“You go on ahead,” he said. “I have to wait for Brenda.”
“Marty, what’s going on? Did my parents tell you about the surprise?”
“What surprise?”
“I don’t know. Something they wanted to give us at the party. Maybe it has to do with the theater plans?”
Marty shrugged. “Haven’t heard a word.” He kissed my forehead. “Go. I’ll be along shortly.”
In the lobby, Angie, Bonnie, Yolanda and Benny stood together. My parents milled nearby, on the fringe of the group. After some congratulatory hugs and awkward chitchat and confusion, it was decided I’d drive up to Braxton with Angie and Bonnie. Yolanda and Ben were going to head home.
On the drive to Braxton, Bonnie put on her Therapist Face.
“Are you sure you want to go through with this? It’s a nice gesture, but you’re under no obligation to attend.”
“I know,” I said from the backseat. “But I feel like if they’re going to be in my life, they’re going to be in my life. Otherwise, I should just cut them out, right? And that doesn’t feel right either. It might take a while, but I think trying to have a relationship is better than nothing.”
“So long as it’s not toxic as all hell,” Angie said from the front seat. She looked pretty in a 50’s style dress that flared at her waist. Bonnie was elegant in a coral-colored pantsuit.
“I think a party in a public place is a good start,” I said. “Less chance of a scene. My mother can’t stand a sce
ne.”
We arrived at the Renaissance Hotel and were directed to a ballroom that was large by Braxton standards, but small by Regina-Holloway standards.
Still, I was touched at my parents’ efforts. They obviously spared no expense with an open bar, a small dance floor and a live pianist who played themes from different Broadway shows. The tables held elegant centerpieces of white roses with sprays of baby’s breath. Candles flickered in crystal cups.
“This is the nicest cast party I’ve ever been to,” Len Hostetler said, doing a drive-by hello on the way to the bar. He kissed my cheek. “Tell your folks I said grazie.”
Angie, Bonnie, and I took a table in the rapidly filling room. I frowned at all the faces I didn’t recognize—far more people than HCT cast and crew. Most were older, in fact, and dressed to the nines as if this were some kind of awards gala.
Or a Wexx convention, I thought with a tiny stirring of something unpleasant in my gut.
Angie did her best Seinfeld impression. “Who are…these people?”
“Good question.”
My parents approached us. Twin expressions of apprehension. My mother was elegant, if a little overdressed in a silver sparkly floor-length gown. Dad wore a dark suit with a ruby red tie that matched my mother’s lipstick. Mom’s face was pale and her eyes darted around as if she were trying to avoid someone.
“Mom and Dad, this is Angie and Bonnie McKenzie. Angie is pre-med at Stanford University and Bonnie is a therapist.” I looked my father in the eye. “My therapist, actually.”
Mom winced at that, and my father’s lips pressed into a thin line before he managed a smile.
“Regina and Daniel Holloway,” Dad said. “Thank you for coming.”
Bonnie and Angie nodded and murmured something polite but no one offered any hands to shake.
“Do you like the party, darling?” Mom said, kissing my cheek. “You deserve it. You were incredible tonight.”
“Magnificent,” Dad said. “I’m very proud of you.”
“Thanks,” I said. I wanted to give more, feel more for them but I couldn’t. This party was exactly how everyone described: a nice gesture. Kind. Generous. But not enough to fill the gaping hole my parents had put in my life.
All at once, I understood the strange tension I’d felt in the theater, both before and after the show. It was Isaac. Or rather, it was the absence of Isaac. He wasn’t onstage with me or in the audience watching. He wasn’t here to look beautifully handsome in a tuxedo. To dance with me, hold me close and whisper never doubt in my ear.
Dad cleared his throat. Everyone was looking at me.
Quickly, I put a smile on my face. “It really is lovely.”
“Well, the party is only one part of this evening’s festivities.” My father glanced around, but apparently didn’t see what he was looking for and turned back. “It’s early yet. Enjoy yourself, sweetheart.”
Angie leaned in to me after he’d left. “What was that all about?”
“I have no idea. He’s been hinting at some sort of a surprise.” I glanced around. “Where’s Marty? I thought he was right behind us.”
“I’m going to the ladies’ room to powder my nose,” Bonnie said. “Angie, will you get me a glass of white wine please?”
Angie gave a little salute. “If they don’t card my ass. Willow?”
“Diet Coke with lime? I’ll guard our table.”
“Please.” Angie dumped her purse on the chair beside me and walked away. A split-second later, my throat constricted when I tried to call her back. To scream for her to come back.
My parents were approaching the table again. My father wearing a satisfied smile, my mother looking straight at me, her face perfectly blank as they walked over Ross and Melinda Wilkinson.
Beside them was Xavier.
The temperature in the room dropped a hundred degrees. I broke out in gooseflesh as the blood drained from my entire body, leaving me weak and cold.
He wore a dark suit with a gray tie. His black hair was slicked back and glinted in the muted lighting of the ballroom. His large, dark eyes raked me up and down, a faint smile curling his lips. He was handsome in the way a vampire was handsome. Dangerous and sexy, but no less a monster that would suck the life out of you and leave you in a state of half-dead, half-alive.
Until he comes to finish you off.
I stared without breathing. An icy boulder sitting on my chest.
“Willow, my dear,” my father said more confidently, as if we were standing on firmer ground. “You remember the Wilkinsons? Ross, Melinda and their son, Xavier?” He beamed proudly. “Xavier just finished his degree at Amherst and is set to pursue a career in politics.”
“Good to see you again, Willow,” Xavier said in his smooth, low voice. I only stared, and in the silence, his smile tilted a little with annoyance.
My mother’s gaze darted between us, her mouth slightly ajar.
My legs shook as I rose to my feet, still unable to tear my eyes from Xavier. If I blinked or looked away, he’d pounce and tear me to shreds.
“What are you doing here?” I managed through chattering teeth.
My father cleared his throat. “It’s part of the surprise I wanted to share with you tonight. Is Martin Ford here? No? Well, you can share the news with him when he arrives.”
“Daniel,” my mother said in a strangled tone. “May I have a word?”
“In a moment, dear.” He put his hands behind his back, the way he did when giving speeches to stockholders. “Willow, I was telling Mr. Wilkinson about your endeavors with the Harmony Community Theater. I had my secretary investigate the particulars of the building and its financial standing. I’m pleased to say the Wilkinsons—by way of the Wexx Foundation for Charitable Works—have agreed to invest in the project. We’ll ensure the entire block is preserved and maintained, and we’ll establish Martin Ford as the creative director for time in perpetuity.”
My vision clouded gray. I didn’t think the ballroom could be any colder. Xavier looked angry and nervous now. Hands jammed in his pockets and rocking back and forth on his heels.
The Wilkinsons are going to be part owners of the Harmony Community Theater.
I thought I was going to be sick.
“Willow?” my father asked. “Are you all right? I thought this would be joyous news.”
“She looks a little pale, Mr. Holloway,” Xavier said, stepping forward. “She’s probably so happy it’s overwhelming. Come dance with me. We need to catch up.”
“What a wonderful idea,” Mrs. Wilkinson said.
“No,” Mom whispered.
Xavier closed his hand around my arm. I nearly screamed. I told myself to scream. But all my nerves were dizzy and numb now. The shock of his presence and its shadowy memories closed around me were like a drug in my drink. I couldn’t speak. I could hardly move, as Xavier pulled me onto the dance floor, I thought I heard my mom calling after me. Her voice tiny through a roaring blizzard, far away and unreachable.
The piano played “What I Did For Love” from A Chorus Line and Xavier drew me toward his body.
“Don’t touch me,” I whispered, holding myself stiff. “I’ll scream…”
“Scream?” His outward face to the crowd pleasant and unruffled, but his eyes confused. “Willow, what’s going on? The way you were looking at me is making me think there’s been a misunderstanding about the last time we talked.”
“A misunderstanding?” I managed. “Talked? We…we didn’t…talk.”
“Is that what you’re upset about? That I didn’t call you again after the party?”
I sucked in a breath. The disconnect from reality was so staggering I could hardly comprehend it.
He turned me in a slow circle, and my body recoiled. Gagged. My skin crawled. Xavier in the flesh, walking around, wearing an expensive suit, smiling and talking and living. Graduating college and planning a future. No night terrors. No sleeping on the floor instead of a bed, no marking his skin with black ink to show
where ‘normal life’ used to be.
It repelled me down to my bones.
I sucked in a breath and the drugged, hazy shock drained out.
“Take your fucking hands off of me,” I seethed.
His hand on mine tightened immediately. The other, at my waist, pulled tighter.
“I think there’s a misunderstanding about what happened that night and I think we should talk it out,” Xavier said, still smiling brightly for anyone watching. “I’m open to it. If you’d stop being so dramatic.”
“You raped me.”
He froze, blinked rapidly, then gave his head a small shake. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me, you fucking sadistic asshole. After everyone left, you put something in my drink and you took me up to my room. I don’t remember every last detail, but here’s what I do remember. You were eating peanuts. They were on your breath when you tried to kiss me. To this day the smell of peanut butter makes me gag. I had bruises on my throat where you choked me. Was it one or both hands? Did you need the other hand to subdue me?”
“Willow, this is crazy—”
“I remember you lying on top of me, crushing me. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. I thought I was going to die. It was my first time. Did you know that? Did you see the blood in the morning? Did you even stay that long? I doubt it or you would’ve covered your tracks. The evidence was everywhere. On my bed and my clothes. Lucky for you, I felt so degraded and humiliated and violated that I got rid of all of it.”
Xavier’s eyes darkened like a snake getting ready to strike. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I gave you something to drink because you were nervous as hell. I was trying to get you to relax.” He leaned closer. “You drank a lot that night and don’t think no one knows it.”
“I didn’t drink that much.”
“Does it matter? You were dancing all up on me, grinding your ass. Everyone saw it. Who’s to say you weren’t the same in bed? Nervous for your first time and drinking to take the edge off.”
My face paled and my throat threatened to close. “You’re disgusting.”
