Rage to Live

by Shirley Anne Edwards

  “What did your parents do about him? They had to know he was in trouble.”

  She nodded. “Mom didn’t know how to deal with him, and Daddy… he told Byron to grow up and be a man. When I tried to talk to him, Byron would say really nasty and mean things to me.” Her voice cracked.

  “You thought if I forgave him for what he did to me, he would get better? After what he did, you can’t think I’d want to see him again and tell him a lie?” The idea of seeing his face made my head start pounding again.

  “I-I don’t know!” She pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Her fingers slipped as she tried to open them. Frustrated, she clenched her fist around the pack and held it to her forehead. “He was in a really bad place, and my parents and older brothers didn’t give a crap.” Her lips twisted in anger. “Sam and Elijah only worry about themselves, the selfish pricks.”

  “You’re the only one who cared about By—him.” I hated it was still too hard to say his name out loud.

  “Everyone abandoned him, even his closest friends.” She opened her purse and took out a tissue to blow her nose.

  “But not you.”

  “Not me.” She held her tissue to her nose as she gazed at me. “You think I should hate him for what he did to you… and to me.”

  “What did he do to you? He didn’t rape you.” I spoke with as much calm as I could muster.

  She flinched, but it didn’t bring me any joy. “My parents can hardly be in the same room with me. They refused to acknowledge my thing with you. They’re making me go to a specific type of therapy to ‘cure’ me. The reason I agreed is I’m afraid they’ll cut me off.”

  “They’re punishing you for Byron.”

  “Looks like it.” She dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “Byron was their favorite. He was the golden child, destined for great things. They blamed you for what he did to you and for making them throw away their hard-earned money to buy your silence.”

  Silence was a funny thing. It didn’t stop the turmoil we felt inside. It didn’t stop the suffering. So many had suffered in silence because of that night.

  “Do your parents blame you for your brother’s suicide?”

  She finally opened her cigarettes with shaking hands. She lit one, inspecting the burning tip. “No. Maybe eventually, but not now. The night before Thanksgiving, Byron and Daddy had a bad fight. They screamed and yelled, and Daddy slapped Byron across the face. It became physical between them. After Byron stormed up to his room, Mom cried, and Dad… he locked himself in his study. After Mom talked to Byron, he came to Thanksgiving dinner, but he wouldn’t eat. He left before dessert—to take a drive, he said. The last time I saw him was the next morning in one of Daddy’s cars, dead.”

  “You’re the one who found him.” No one, not even Larissa, deserved to find her brother that way.

  She nodded and took a deep puff of her cigarette. “I couldn’t stop screaming. Sam found me on my knees next to the car. While he called 9-1-1, Daddy ran out of the house, and he….” She exhaled and rested the side of her hand on her forehead. “He pulled Byron out of the car and held him while he rocked and cried. I’d never seen him cry before. It was horrible.” She hissed when the tip of her cigarette tapped the side of her hand. She cursed and then began to sob.

  I started to raise my arm to pull her into a hug, but when I realized what I was doing, I quickly lowered my arm. Those days of comforting and defending her were long gone. The compassion I’d once had for the person sitting next to me, now more of a stranger, was missing. Her tears didn’t move me to shed my own.

  I glanced over at Matilda, who was hugging herself for warmth and stomping her feet. She noticed Larissa crying and rolled her eyes. I mouthed “a few more minutes.” She gave me a stiff nod and pulled out her cell.

  “I won’t end up like him, no matter what,” Larissa announced, just loud enough for me to pay attention to her again.

  “In what way? Failing out of school, or….” I waved in the direction of his grave.

  “I can’t fail out of school because I never went, and as for the other….” She wiped her damp cheeks with the tips of her fingers, the nails a black color matching her coat. “I’d rather live. I’m afraid of dying. I don’t want it to come too soon.”

  She had always been so fearless, or so I’d thought, even when we’d been together in secret. She had been the one to start things between us, taking a big chance that if we were found out it would end badly. And it did, in so many ways. If I’d wanted to be mean and hateful, I could have said she was pathetic with her boo-hooing, making it all about her. But she was just having a pity party because I was there. Underneath it all, she was still the same Larissa, down to her brand-name purse and expensive boots.

  “What are your plans moving forward? It sounds like your parents are making them for you.”

  She snorted and rubbed out her cigarette. “Mom is inconsolable and barely moves from her bed. Daddy is taking charge, like always. He wants us, Sam and Elijah included, to visit our grandparents, his parents, for Christmas. We’re leaving for Switzerland tomorrow.”

  “Out of the country, huh?” We did have one small thing left in common. Both our parents ran away from situations when it got tough.

  “Grandma Audrey recommended it, and Daddy agreed. He does anything she wants.” A sour note filtered through her tone.

  “Maybe it will be good for your family to get away.” Underwood had been home for both of us for so long. Now it was tainted. I wondered if Larissa would ever come back. But if she did, it would be as a visitor, like me. There was nothing left for us here.

  “Why did you come here? To make sure Byron is dead so he can’t hurt you?” she asked, without any bitterness.

  “When Matilda told me he died, I had to come. It was a spur-of-the-moment type of thing.”

  “Does it help, being here and speaking to me?” Her voice cracked, letting her neediness seep through.

  Again, my hand twitched to touch her, to lend comfort. I tucked it under my leg and sat on it. “I’m not sure if it helped. Right now I’m still trying to figure things out.”

  “But you’ve figured out some things about yourself. You’ve changed.” Surprise and respect lined her tone.

  “We’ve all changed.” I faced her fully. “Even you.”

  Her lips twisted, and the lines on her forehead thickened. “I’m more tragic. Sounds romantic, right?”

  I choked down a laugh. Nothing about any of this was romantic. It was a complete travesty.

  “We’re growing up,” I offered.

  “Sooner than we both wanted.” She rubbed her hands on her jeans and lowered her gaze to her lap. “There’s something you should know about the suicide letter Byron wrote. He… he said he was sorry for what he… for raping you and the pain he caused.”

  “He did?” My throat clogged.

  She gave me a shaky nod. “If he was still alive and wrote you a letter of apology, would you have accepted it?”

  “He was going to write me?”

  “The last time we talked before… he said he wanted to. The guilt drove him crazy.” Tears fell from her eyes and wet her cheeks.

  I wanted to continue hating him, but it felt empty. All the rage and anger, the fear and doubt, had stalled. How could I hate him now that he was gone, a soon-to-be distant memory that I refused to give power to?

  “I forgive him,” I blurted out, shifting so my arm brushed Larissa’s. “I forgive Byron.”

  She hunched over her knees with her face in her arms. Her “thank you” came out muffled.

  Chapter TWENTY

  “YOU SHOULD spend the night at my house. My parents won’t mind.” Matilda sat down in the chair across from me.

  I lay on the couch with a blanket, trying to hold back shivers. I couldn’t say if it was shock or because of my cold. It might have been both.

  “You don’t want to leave me alone.” I blew my nose for what had to be the tenth time in five minutes.

  “
You had an emotional-wringer type of day. You wouldn’t let me fend for myself if I were in your shoes.” She tucked her feet under her and lowered her head onto her arm.

  “We should both take naps and then decide our next step,” I said around a yawn.

  She gave me a droopy-eyed stare. “The cold zapped all my energy.” She let out a loud yawn. “Your talk with Larissa must have exhausted you.”

  “Not really. It didn’t shake me up. Maybe it’s a sign I’m healing.” I made air quotes around the word.

  “You’re not going to see her again.”

  “No, I’m not. If we cross paths again, it will be by accident.” I tucked the blanket under my chin. There wasn’t any reason to hide my face from Matilda. “She has a long road ahead of her.”

  “And what about your road?”

  Another yawn stopped me from smiling. “It’s still in progress.”

  The doorbell rang, making us both sit up. The flashing red-and-blue lights shining through the curtains of the front windows gave me a good indication of who was visiting.

  “No sleepover at my place tonight.” Matilda grimaced.

  “I should answer the door before they break it down.” I kept the blanket around me while I greeted the police.

  THE CAR ride back to Albee was mostly silent. Three hours of watching the snowy scenery go by and listening to soft rock, with a mix of sports updates because Uncle Abe drove.

  He didn’t pay much attention to me other than looking relieved at the police station. Aunt Eloise’s eyes were bloodshot, and her face was drawn and pale. I’d made her cry by disappearing. I hated myself for it.

  I was so glad when we drove down their street and parked in the driveway. Uncle Abe shut off the car but just sat there. Finally he exhaled loudly. “Home sweet home.” He glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “But not home sweet home for you, right? My house is just a forced waiting period for you until you can get the hell out of here.”

  “Abe.” Aunt Eloise touched his arm.

  He slowly moved away from her, shaking his head. He opened the door as he focused on me. “You made your aunt cry, and your cousins, and me, into nervous wrecks. You owe us all big apologies for the stunt you pulled.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, feeling so small.

  “Not good enough,” he grumbled, and after placing a kiss on Aunt Eloise’s forehead, he left the car, slamming the door shut. He stomped up the steps and stormed inside the house.

  “Are you angry at me like Uncle Abe is?” I asked Aunt Eloise, rubbing the inside of my wrist.

  “Not like him. I felt my share of every single emotion possible while you were gone. Abe is still reacting more because it brought back some memories he wanted to forget.”

  “Memories of what?” A reminder I wasn’t the only one who was haunted by them.

  “The day before our wedding, I left without telling anyone, not even your father. Abe thought I was rethinking about marrying him. I almost did.” Her remorse was loud and clear.

  “You did something like I did yesterday.”

  She nodded. “I had to confront my past one last time before I built a future with Abe. He found me before all my doubts took over.”

  “This involved what happened to you when you were younger.”

  She sent me a look over her shoulder, the sadness etched on her face. The grooves around her mouth deepened. “Yes.” She didn’t explain further and got out of the car.

  I did the same and caught her arm. “I did the same thing, reacting and not thinking about the consequences of my actions and how they affected everyone around me.” I tightened my hold on her arm. “I wasn’t running away. I returned home because I found out the man who raped me committed suicide. I visited his grave.”

  She drew me into a hug. I went willingly, wrapping my arms around her. Behind her, Jo and Beau stared at us through the front window. Uncle Abe stood behind his children with his hands on their shoulders.

  “Let’s talk more about it inside. I’ll make us some hot chocolate.”

  Hot chocolate, the answer for everything. I smiled at Aunt Eloise’s patience and understanding. But before I accepted, I had to do something important first.

  “I better call my dad before he calls me and starts yelling.” I tucked my hair behind my ears.

  “You should. It will help him understand your motives.” She kissed my forehead like Uncle Abe had done to her.

  “Uncle Abe deserves a better explanation also,” I said, walking toward the house that no longer felt strange.

  It felt like home.

  Chapter TWENTY-ONE

  “YOU’RE GOING tonight with Mom?” Jo joined me on the porch swing, visibly shivering.

  “She asked, and I said I would. I owe it to her after scaring her and everyone else yesterday.” Even though I was wearing my coat, I also had a wool blanket. Jo didn’t even have a coat. “If you’re staying out here, you should get your coat.”

  “Only a few minutes. But I wouldn’t mind sharing your blanket.” She jutted out her lower lip.

  I lifted the blanket, and she joined me under it. I didn’t mind how she snuggled my side.

  “Why do you like sitting outside in the freezing cold? You never wait for Arielle inside the house,” she teased, even though there was some criticism to her tone.

  “I like this porch swing too much. If I ever own a house, I’m getting one with a porch and a swing.” I drew an arm around Jo’s shoulders to help her share more of my body heat.

  She huddled in closer. “Tris and Paul should be here soon.”

  “Arielle is staying for dinner. She’s coming with us tonight.”

  “I’m coming too.”

  Another witness for tonight. But the more familiar faces, the better for me.

  “Are you glad he’s dead?” Jo dropped her head onto my shoulder, finding my hand underneath the blanket.

  “I wanted him dead for so long. After Byron raped me, I thought of so many ways I could kill him. But now that he’s gone, I don’t know how to feel.”

  “His name was Byron?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Like the poet. He died young too.”

  “Both were self-centered pricks,” I said in good humor, making her laugh.

  She lifted her head and lost her smile. “It’s wrong to laugh, because of what happened.”

  “Because he killed himself or because of what he did to me?” Laughing was inappropriate, but I was tired of crying.

  “Both. It’s so tragic and sad. He took the easy way out. He doesn’t have to live with what he did to you. But you still do.”

  I shifted her hand over the scar on the inside of my wrist. “The easy way out isn’t so easy. There’s fear and terror, the type that will make you pee your pants while you’re about to end your life. Your heart feels like it’s going to explode because it’s beating so fast you could puke it up. You shake and sweat like you have a fever. You feel all alone, knowing if you take this step, that’s it. There’s no going back. You’re done forever. The despair and hate take over, and you not only blame yourself but everyone around you. It’s the most horrible feeling ever.” I curled my hand around hers, covering my wrist as if it could erase my biggest mistake. “He probable felt all those things and more.”

  She pulled away as though she would stand up, but she kept her hand still. “I never thought about that, but… I still feel he took the easy way out. He doesn’t have to live with the consequences of what he did to you. He almost ruined your life.” Her voice cracked.

  I moved my arm to encircle her shoulders. “The key word here is ‘almost.’ He didn’t ruin my life. I’m still here, and he isn’t. He destroyed his own life more than he did mine. Now he’s just a bad memory.” A memory that would always stay in the back of mind, ready to rise up at any moment to smack me down. I wouldn’t let it.

  “Will you mention his suicide tonight?” she asked in a careful tone.

  A familiar car drove up to the front of th
e house and parked. My stomach did the little flip it always did when I saw Arielle.

  I didn’t answer Jo, because I didn’t know what I would say tonight. She didn’t press me. She sat with my arm around her as Arielle got out of the car and walked up the front steps.

  “Hey, you two. Waiting for me?” She smiled at Jo and then studied me, her smile fading.

  Jo moved out from under my arm and stood. “Before I become a Popsicle, I’m going inside.” She wrapped her arms around her waist. “I’ll tell my mom you’re here.” She bent down and engulfed me in a hug. Then she released me and went inside the house.

  “Want to go inside also?” I asked Arielle.

  She took off her gloves and her scarf. “If you don’t want to go in yet, I’ll stay out here with you, but you have to share your blanket with me.”

  I was all for sharing my body heat with her. I opened the blanket, and Arielle sat next to me. She put her arm around my waist. I drew the blanket around us, almost high enough to cover our heads.

  “I’m glad you came to dinner. I wasn’t sure you would.” I shivered, not from the cold but from Arielle’s hand as she lightly rubbed my side.

  “Thanks for inviting me. I was worried I wouldn’t hear from you for a while, considering what happened yesterday.”

  “I don’t want to keep any secrets from you.” I pressed my cheek to her shoulder. “That’s why I left you a message to call me, saying it was important. It worked, because you called me back in less than five minutes.” I relaxed into her, thinking back to our phone conversation. We had talked for hours.

  “You went through some heavy stuff. I wish I could have been there for you.” She cupped my chin. “Why didn’t you wake me up and tell me what you planned on doing? I would have come with you, no questions asked.”