I finally stand up from the bed and begin to take off my pajamas. I pick out a reasonably professional outfit from my closet. I don’t spend too much time getting dressed, which I think Scott appreciates, as he gives me a relieved glance when I walk into the kitchen. He hands me a big cup of coffee with a lid on it. I sip it excitedly. He’s made it just the way I like.
Without saying anything to each other, we collect our things and head out of the door. With shaky hands, I turn to lock the door to our house. I to take a few breaths before I can actually get the key in the lock.
Scott puts his hand on the small of my back as we head down the stairs to his car. “You’ll be fine, baby. You know you’re number one in the class. They have to take you.”
I look at him as I climb into the passenger seat, giving him a nervous smile before he shuts the door. He’s right of course. I am number one in the class and I should get the pick of any internship I want. But, for some reason I feel uneasy about it. My stomach has been in knots every time I’ve thought about the internship for at least the past week. I decide I’m going to chalk it up to the other stressors that have occurred the past few days. Considering everything that’s been going on, having to endure hearing his name over and over every day, it’s no wonder I’m a mess. Right?
Scott pulls away from the curb outside of our house and drives recklessly down Massachusetts Avenue towards Harvard.
Chapter 2- The Internship
Tap, tap, tap, tap…
I feel a strong hand clamp down on my fist, stopping the constant tapping of my pencil. I looked over at Scott apologetically while the professor continues to drone on. I feel like we’ve been here for ten hours.
“Relax,” Scott mouths.
I take a deep breath, thankful when I finally hear the professor ending class and allowing us to go. “Ms. Ackhart,” he says, making me snap my head up towards the well-dressed teacher. “A word, please.”
Scott squeezes my hand one more time in support. I smile nervously and watch him walk down the stairs and out of the door, the last student to leave. I walk slowly down the stairs once I’ve collected all of my things. I stop in front of my professor who’s leaning against his desk. He gives me a warm smile. “You’ve been an exceptional student, Dylan. I hope you know that.”
“Thank you, Professor Benfield,” I say, barely choking the words out. I feel the panic rising in my.
“I was honored to be able to recommend you for this internship. I really pushed for you.” He smiles comfortingly and his eyes twinkle at me.
“Yes, sir,” I almost whisper. It kind of sounds like this might not be headed in a good direction.
“Well, I think you’re going to be a great addition to the Suffolk County office. Congratulations. You start Monday.”
I gasp, putting a hand up to my mouth. I find a smile spreading across my face, perhaps the first genuine smile I’ve had in a long time. “Are you serious? Oh wow, that’s so wonderful!”
He nods, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they offered you a job after graduation. Just keep performing like you’ve done here. They’d have to be a damn fool not to snatch you up.”
I feel a weight lifting off of my chest, a lot of my anxiety leaving my body. It makes me feel a bit light-headed. “Thank you again, Professor,” I say, walking slowly out the door of the classroom. I walk down the hall in a haze. I can’t believe I got the internship. I can’t believe I might end up where I’ve always wanted to be in life.
At this moment, it almost makes all of the terrible sacrifices I’ve made worth it.
Almost.
I feel the pressure slowly building in my chest as I think of Jeremy. No matter what happens in my life, it always comes back to him. I feel guilty because the first person I want to share my important news with is him. Not my Dad or even Scott. I think about what his reaction would be. If he would be proud.What he would say or do. I think, no I know, he’d be proud of me. At least the old Jeremy would. I don’t know what he would be like now that he’s back to partying, drugs, and alcohol. Since he’s quit performing and hasn’t been seen in public, I can only assume it’s much worse than it used to be.
I start humming America the Beautiful to distract myself from my train of thought.
When I finally walk out of the door and into the sunlight, I make my way down the sidewalk towards the parking lot. I try to focus on the fact that I actually got my dream internship. It feels amazing to accomplish something I’ve been dreaming about. I’m lucky, not many people are able to do that.
I see Scott through the windshield of his car, in the same spot we parked this morning. My heart warms when I see the worried expression on his face. He looks like he’s going to be sick, or like he’s trying to process what he’s going to do or say if it’s bad news. Having someone so involved in wanting to see me achieve my dreams makes me an even luckier woman.
As I get closer to the car, I see him look up at me. I give him a huge smile, trying to convey the good news before I’m able to climb into the car. I see a slow smile grow on his face. I open the car door, sliding into the passenger seat. He looks over at me, still smiling.
“You got it,” he states.
“I did!” I squeal. His broad arms wrap around me.
“That’s so great, baby. I’m not surprised in the least bit.” I roll my eyes. The expression he wore just a few seconds ago proved that he was, indeed, worried sick. I didn’t take offense to it. It’s a hard internship to get.
He releases me, holding me at arm’s length. He’s still smiling, but the happiness doesn’t touch his eyes. He still looks worried or something, as if he’s…unsure.
My smile fades and my brows furrow in concern. “Scott, what’s the matter?”
He shakes his head and lets go of me, turning the key. The car purrs to life and Scott begins to pull out of the parking space. “Nothing, sweetie.”
I give him a pointed look, even though he doesn’t turn to face me. “I know something’s wrong. Is everything okay?”
He glances at me, plastering a grin back on his face. “It’s no big deal. We’ll talk about it later.”
“Okay…” I say, turning the radio on. I know if it’s something really bad or really important, Scott won’t hide it from me. Maybe he got a bad grade or something. I hope something didn’t go wrong with his internship at the pharmaceutical company.
We drive the rest of the way home in silence, both in deep thought- me thinking about what could possibly be wrong and Scott probably trying to work out how he’s going to tell me without making me upset. That’s Scott, putting my needs and feelings in front of his own. That was something to adjust to when we started dating since I definitely wasn’t used to that kind of relationship. I roll my eyes.
When we finally pull up outside of our townhome, Scott parks the car and we both get out simultaneously. Scott grabs my hand when he reaches the sidewalk, leading me up the stairs. Inside, we throw our things down in the hallway. Correction, I place my things down in the hallway against the wall and he throws his things in the middle of the floor. “Scott,” I say, in a frustrated tone.
He snaps out of his trance for a moment. “Sorry, sorry…” he says, realizing his mistake and putting his things next to mine.
We begin to walk to the living room. “So, when are you starting?” Scott asks me. He turns to go into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator. I walk over to the couch and pick up the remote. I point it towards the TV as Scott pulls out a beer and shuts the door. He turns towards me.
“Monday, can you believe…”
“Don’t!” Scott cuts me off. I freeze instantly.
“What?” I say, staring at him as if he’s insane.
“Don’t turn the TV on, okay? Not right now…” he trails off.
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Right…well, I’m going to take a shower and then I’m going to call Theresa and my Dad. Can I do that?” I sarcastically ask. Whatever he has
going on in his head must really be messing with him.
He laughs, as if I’m being ridiculous. “Don’t be a smartass.”
I walk by him, kissing him on the cheek, and into the bathroom. I strip out of my work clothes and turn the water on to the shower, letting it warm up before jumping in. I’m so exhausted I can’t even stand in the shower. I sit down and let the water run over me, relaxing me. In fact, I often find myself sitting in the shower after an emotionally exhausting day.
At least I’ve passed one more milestone on the roadmap of my life, and maybe as more of them come and go, I’ll be able to start breathing easier without him.
I end up falling asleep in the shower, overwhelmed and tired from the stress I endured all week worrying over the internship. Usually on the rare occasions I’ve fallen asleep in the shower, Scott has come in and woken me up after twenty minutes or so. So I’m shocked when I walk into my bedroom and look at the clock, showing that an hour and a half has passed.
“Scott, what the hell?!” I yell.
“Sorry, babe,” he says, not needing further explanation. “I thought you needed the rest.”
I shake my head as I grab some clothes from the dresser. I have a feeling this has more to do with his messed up state than my need to rest. I need to get to the bottom of what’s going on with him. He’s killing the buzz I’m riding, and I need a buzz right now. It’s nice to feel like there’s a possibility that everything can feel normal again.
Just having that thought, I know I’m making strides. I might have the occasional panic attacks now and then, and I think about him way more than appropriate, but I no longer feel like my happiness depends on him. Little by little, I let go of the need I had developed for him. That’s comforting. Comforting…and sad. It isn’t easy to close a chapter of your life, especially when it may have been the best chapter in your life and you don’t know if you’ll ever experience anything quite as life changing and amazing as that again.
I sigh, walking out of my room fully clothed, on a mission to demand some answers from my mysterious boyfriend. When I walk out of the hallway, I see Scott intensely focused on his computer. He’s leaning on his right hand, his massive finger covering his lips. His brows are furrowed in concern. I see his eyes move back and forth over the screen, as if he’s reading.
“Hi,” I say.
“Mmm,” he grunts.
I roll my eyes. I guess he’ll be a while. It must not be that important if he’s waiting all this time to tell me. He’s lucky I’ve changed so much in the last year, thanks to therapy. There’d be no way I’d be able to keep my cool if this was going on before then.
I pick up the phone, dialing my Dad’s familiar number. When my Dad picks up the phone he gives me a wary greeting, as if he’s nervous to hear what I have to say. When I tell him I got the internship he’s thrilled but still seems cautious. He keeps asking me if I’m okay and how I’m feeling. I continually reassure him that I’m fine. We talk for a little about the internship and when I’m going to start. Then he tells me that, if I needed to talk to him about anything, I can call him day or night. His statement strikes me as odd, but I tell him I know he’s always there when I need him. We talk for a few more moments before saying our goodbyes. Definitely the weirdest phone call with my Dad ever.
I call Theresa almost immediately after I’m off the phone with Dad, seeing that Scott is still intently fixated on whatever it is he’s doing. She also seems guarded with me. It’s as if she’s feeling me out almost, or being careful with what she says. She seems relieved when I switch the conversation over to her and her corporate internship. Then she switches and endlessly drones on about her husband, Sean’s, job in his new law firm. After about an hour, I tell her I’m tired and have to go. She sighs and tells me to “take it easy” and “remember, everything will be okay.”
What the hell?
I mumble out something and hang the phone up, turning my attention now to Scott. “Everyone is in on something that obviously I’m not. There’s a goddamned conspiracy happening and I want to know what’s going on,” I say, staring daggers at him. He finally looks up from his damn computer. Seeing my expression, I can see defeat flash across his face. He sighs, his shoulders falling as if he’s been holding them up in silent anxiety.
“Come here, baby,” he says, motioning towards the dining room chair next to him. I give him an apprehensive look as I walk over and sit in the seat. This does not look good.
“What?” I say quietly as my anxiety raises.
“You remember what you told me a few days ago about wanting to know if...if anything bad…” he says, struggling to get the words out.
I go instantly stiff. My whole body tenses, my eyes shoot wide open. Oh my God, I can’t believe my mind didn’t go to him before. In every other aspect of my life my mind drifts consistently to him, but I didn’t even think the weirdness of everyone today could be connected to him.
I try to keep my breathing even, but I can tell by Scott’s face that he knows I may lose it at any minute. He keeps his face calm, his eyes loving. “Yes, I remember,” I choke out.
“Well, he’s been in the news the last couple of days, as you’ve seen…”
“Scott,” I say, cutting him off. “Please…Please don’t tell me if he’s getting married. Or seeing someone. Or if…” I swallow, “or if he’s having a baby or something. That’s not the stuff I want to know.”
“I wouldn’t tell you that,” he says, calmly. “That’s not what you asked me to tell you. This is something I think you should hear from me here and not out in public or from some newscaster.”
“Okay…” I whisper. I feel the familiar pressure on my chest, tightening as every second goes by. My breathing is becoming more labored.
“At one of his latest parties,” Scott begins slowly and cautiously, “they found a girl lying dead on the floor in his living room.”
“Oh,” I breathe, relaxing a little bit. “Oh, that’s terrible. What happened to her? He must feel awful.” I feel bad for feeling relieved, but to me it’s not the worst news I could have heard about him.
“Well, it looks like…it appears that she was given a hot dose of heroin. And she was possibly raped. She was 17.”
“Oh God, so sad,” I say. But I can tell from Scott’s expression, that’s not really what he needed to tell me. “What?” I urge him. “Just spit it out.”
“Well, they think…”
I hold my breath, preparing for the blow.
“They think Jeremy murdered her.”
Chapter 3- Suspect
I remember when I was in the tenth grade, we had a foreign exchange student from Russia spend a semester in our school. We all tried to be nice to him, include him and talk to him. But he didn’t speak English very well, and the English he did speak was hidden behind such a thick Russian accent that it took us forever to decipher what he was saying. That’s exactly how I felt right then. I understood the words Scott said, but I couldn’t process them.
“Okay,” my therapist says, staring over her glasses at me. “And then what happened?”
“Well, I just kind of went into a weird fog. I didn’t cry. I didn’t react. I just did the dishes like nothing was wrong and went to bed.”
“And why do you think that happened?” she continues, writing notes on her notepad. Therapy is so exhausting. I appreciate Dr. Sprintz taking time for me on a Saturday for this emergency meeting, but I don’t want questions. I want answers. I don’t know why it happened. Aren’t you the professional? You tell me!
“I don’t know. I think maybe my mind didn’t want to process it. Like I was in denial?” I said as a question.
She nods. “Do you think you’re facing reality now?”
“No,” I admit. “I still don’t feel anything. It’s like I’m numb.”
“Have you considered what this will mean for your internship?”
“Yes,” I answer, honestly. “But I don’t think it will affect it very much. I’m just
an intern so I’ll most likely be helping with paperwork for lesser cases.” I will admit, even if not out loud, that part of me is hoping I might be able to overhear some information. The other part of me is terrified that continually hearing about him will chip through the psychological block in my head, throwing me into the complete nervous breakdown I’m sure is brewing underneath of it.
“Well, how do you think you’ll handle it if he’s convicted?” she asks me casually.
I feel the undercurrent of panic rise through my core and up into my throat. “That won’t happen.”
“How do you know?”
The feeling increases. “Because, he’s just a suspect right now. They’re only questioning him. Just because it was at his house…”
“He seems to be the number one suspect,” she says, again peering at me above the frame of her glasses.
I begin to shake, the sensation in my stomach and throat becoming unbearable. My breathing increases, my pulse racing. “He wouldn’t kill someone. He’s a good man. How could you say he’d do something like that?” I’m furious, directing my anger, perhaps unfairly, at my doctor. I glare at her.
The doctor waits a moment while I steady my breathing. “It’s something you have to consider, Dylan. It’s better to think about all possibilities and your reaction to them first so that you’re not caught off guard.”
“Well, it’s not a possibility,” I say, indicating that I consider the conversation over. I’m being stubborn and I know that, but I can’t handle thinking about Jeremy being guilty.
Dr. Sprintz has successfully, however, planted the seed in my head. I think about her question all night and all of Sunday. As much as I want to pretend that I know Jeremy too well to entertain the idea that he may have done this, I know in my heart that I’m fooling myself. I don’t know Jeremy very well at all. That’s not to say I don’t love him- the Jeremy that was with me for that year in my life was, and will always be, the love of my life. But, as I noted before, I don’t know almost anything about the Jeremy he is now. Maybe the Jeremy that he has chosen to hide from me is capable of such a crime.
Trials (Rock Bottom) Page 2
