by Maggi Myers
“Pops, I have loved and trusted Ryan since I was fifteen years old. It could very well be the soundest decision I’ve ever made in my whole life. I’ve spent the years since Miami running from the past instead of dealing with it. I have a shiny new life with wonderful friends who have no idea who I am.” My breath hiccups when Les and Cyn come to mind. “I’ve hurt a lot of people I care about, pretending and keeping them at a careful distance. Ryan is the one person I don’t have to pretend with.”
“Have you told him about Drew?” Pops’ question hangs heavy in the air.
“No,” I confess, “I’m going to, but I couldn’t tell him on the day of Tommy’s funeral.” Pops gives me an uneasy look.
“Don’t wait to talk to him, baby girl. There will never be a good time for that conversation, you’ll wait forever on the perfect moment.” He sighs, placing his hand over mine, “I love you, Beth. If he makes you happy then I’m happy, too.” Pops’ words resonate in my mind as I thumb through the rest of the photo album. At the back of the album, there is a picture of Tommy, Ryan and me at the lake. Ryan has his arm around Tommy on one side and I have mine wrapped around him on the other side. By the look of us, I’d guess I was around eleven years old, making Ryan thirteen years old. Pops’ is right, there will never be the right time to tell him—I’ve just got to do it.
My phone chirps from inside my pocket. The display shows a text message from Cyn: Thinking of you. Miss you. <3 C&L
“Excuse me, Pops. There’s a phone call I need to make.” I stand, kissing his cheek and head out to the porch swing. Staring at the phone in my hand, I wonder where I should start. Just as there is no perfect time, there is no perfect conversational lead in. I flip through my contacts until I get to our home number, hoping both Cyn and Les will be home; I hold my breath while it’s ringing.
“Beth!” Cyn answers on the second ring and the sound of her voice already has me choked up. “Les, Beth’s on the phone.” That answers my question about whether I’ll catch them both.
“Can Les pick up the phone in the other room? I want to tell you about Tommy.” When Les picks up the other phone, I tell them about the night Tommy rescued me from Drew’s advances. They listen aptly as that story bleeds into the years that Drew abused me. When I am through, there is an awkward silence on the other line.
“Wow, babe. I can’t believe you went through something that awful and turned out so well adjusted,” Les’s remark makes me laugh.
“Says the girl who tells me daily to stop closing myself off.” I laugh.
“True story,” Cyn chimes in.
“Don’t laugh at me, you cows,” Les teases. “It just always seems like people who are victimized like that end up pretty messed up.”
“Are you surprised I’m not draped around a pole in panties?” I giggle.
“That’s so cliché,” Cyn adds.
“No, I’m not surprised. I’m in awe. Your strength is unreal.” Les’s voice thickens with emotion. I wish I was there to wrap an arm around her, like she’s done for me so many times.
“Leave it to Bradshaw to break the mold. B, you are amazing. Seriously. Consider my mind blown,” Cyn says.
“BOOM. There goes my mind too,” Les adds.
“I’m still me,” I insist. “Nothing’s changed.”
“Your past doesn’t change who you are, you idiot,” Cyn scolds. “Now, when are you coming home?”
“Well...” I trail off. “I’m not sure.” I’m greeted with a chorus of shrieks.
“Spill it,” Les shouts.
I’m overcome with a sudden case of shyness. I’m afraid they’re going to rain on my Ryan parade.
“Remember Ryan?” I mumble.
“Are you kidding?” Cyn’s voice peps up at his name.
“This is gonna be good,” Les snickers.
“Umm...” I giggle nervously. I have no idea where to even start.
“For the love of Pete,” Cyn complains. “Please tell me you got laid after all these years pining.”
“Cyn” I squeal.
“Oh yeah! She totally got laid,” she answers.
“And at a funeral,” Les playfully scoffs. “Beth, you saucy minx!”
“Shut up, both of you,” I laugh. “Seriously, I’ve loved him since I was fifteen. I don’t want to hear any grief.”
“Does he love you?” Cyn asks.
“Yes, he does and we’re going to take things a day at a time, so no interrogations, okay?” I plead.
“We just want you to be happy, that’s all,” Les reassures. “So, is he a hottie? Send me a picture!” Les purrs into the phone. For a second, possessiveness over Ryan flares at the thought of my gorgeous friend near him but as much as I trust Les, I also trust Ryan’s feelings for me.
“Mmm…I bet he is, corn-fed Iowa boy and all,” Cyn coos. “So, tell us everything! Does he have a big…”
“Cyn!” I shriek. Cyn and Les cackle on the on the other line.
“What? You’re the pervert, I was going to say ‘heart.’ Does he have a big heart?” She snickers.
“He’s gorgeous, smart, funny.” I smile as Ryan’s truck pulls into the driveway. “Hey girlies, speak of the devil, he just pulled up. Call you back later.” I hang up the phone with loud protests still coming through the earpiece. The smile on my face drops the second Ryan steps out of the car, holding an envelope in his hand. From the look on his face, I know exactly what it is.
Chapter 43
Ryan’s face is a mixture of rage and fear. I can’t imagine what my face suggests but I am petrified. He stalks toward me, his eyes never leaving mine and leveling me with their intensity. My lips tremble as I struggle not to cry when Ryan holds out Tommy’s letter.
“Who is Drew, Beth?” Ryan’s voice is deceptively soft as his whole body radiates suppressed anger. “And before you accuse me of stealing your letter, I have been at the memorial to help pack up the things that people left for Tommy. I didn’t even know it was from you until I was half done.” His temper flashes, but he quickly reins it in when he sees my tears.
“Ry,” my voice quivers as his eyes lock with mine. Any hint of affection is gone from his eyes, replaced with fury. “Let’s go for a drive, and I’ll tell you about Drew, all right?” He stomps down the stairs with long strides, making me scurry to keep up with him. We climb into the truck and anxiety flares up my spine when he won’t look at me. My hands shake so badly, I struggle with my seatbelt. “Maybe we should go back to the park. It was so easy to talk there.”
“Easy?” Ryan shoots me a mocking look and goes back to staring straight ahead. When he pulls out the driveway and heads toward Legion Park, my only thought is—I can’t lose him.
Ryan parks in the same spot we did the other day and strides toward our tree without giving me a second glance. I have no choice but to dash after him. Tears already leak down my face as I beg him to slow down.
“Ryan, please wait,” I whimper, “let me explain.” He turns on me so quickly I bounce off his chest.
“Explain what, Beth? Explain who the fuck Drew is? He sounds awfully important in your confessional to Tommy. Are you in love with him?” Ryan’s face contorts in pain when I laugh.
“No, Ryan.” I am afraid but resolute when I catch his gaze and hold it. “I am not in love with Drew. Drew was the person Tommy beat the crap out of when he tried to molest me in our living room in Miami.” Ryan’s mouth hangs open, as he is struck stupid with my revelation. “Kristy and Drew were my parents’ best friends and Drew had a penchant for young girls.” Ryan’s face turns green as he sinks to his knees in the grass; although I want to console him, if I don’t keep going I’ll lose my nerve before I can purge the last of it. “He sexually abused me from the time I was five until I was twelve and they moved away.” With the words out of my mouth, my chest shakes as I start to hyperventilate. Ryan’s arms are around me in a second.
“Breathe, Beth. Slow. Come on, breathe with me, baby.”
I pace myself against hi
s steady breathing, drawing air deep into my lungs. I slip my arms around his back and nestle my head against his chest.
“I thought Drew was someone back in Charlotte, I thought you were...Jesus, I feel like an asshole.”
“Ry, please believe me. I was going to tell you when you came back to the house anyway. I never intended to keep this from you,” I plead.
“Is that what you’ve been running from all this time?” He strokes my hair, “Why, Beth? When you know how much your family loves you. Why? We could’ve helped you.”
“Tommy knew everything, so do Gran and Pops. My folks know to a point, but they couldn’t handle all of it,” I spill.
“Do I know everything, Beth? Do you trust me with all of it?” I can’t control the way my body tenses with his question.
“Of course I trust you,” I answer, taking a step away from him.
“Then why are you backing away? What are you holding back?” He looks at me with pained eyes.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” I stare at my feet and wrap my arms around my stomach, trying to hold it together.
“I want everything, Beth. All of it. I love you, and I want to share your burden. You don’t have to carry this one alone anymore.” He reaches for me and I wince. His face falls along with the arm he extended.
“No, you don’t. You don’t know what you are saying.” I whisper. My body shakes so violently, my knees buckle and I hit the ground.
“I know I love you, damn it,” he kneels in front of me, “that means I want you, Beth, all of you, not just the fucking pieces you want me to see.” His temper is back but it’s no match for mine.
“What, Ryan? What exactly do you want to know? Well, let’s see, there was that time when I was five that he told me I was beautiful when I accidentally flashed my underwear. Or the time when I was nine and he showed me that if I rubbed myself just right, I could make myself come. Only to be rivaled by the time he showed me how to rub him the right way to make him come.” Ryan runs his hand through his hair, pulling it like he wants the pain. “Or do want to hear about when I was twelve, and he told me how much he loved me right before he raped me? Don’t shy away now, Ryan. This is what you wanted, right? Do you know he tried to tell me that it was consensual because he made me have an orgasm? Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to have your body betray you like that?” I am shouting at this point, and tears are dripping down both of our faces. Ryan’s shoulders shake as he sobs; I am ashamed. It’s so ingrained to push people away. I scoot forward until our knees are touching and pull his head into my lap. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Ryan lifts his red-rimmed eyes to mine and stares at me in disbelief. “Don’t ever be sorry, Beth. I’m not. The way I hurt right now has nothing on what you’ve been through. No wonder Tommy kicked his ass, he should have killed that motherfucker.” I shudder at the déjà vu.
“He wanted to. He told me that he had dreams of killing Drew and always woke up wishing he had. It scared him that he felt that way.”
“You’re amazing, do you know that?” It’s my turn to look disbelieving at Ryan’s statement. “You’re so damn strong it blows me away, but you’re never carrying this alone again. Okay?” I look at him, incredulous. “Beth? Talk to me.”
Images of Ryan pouring over the letter I wrote Tommy flash in mind, inciting my anger.
Okay?
No. Not okay.
The wind picks up my hair and fans it across my face, hiding me from him. Betrayal rips through my chest as I stand and walk away. There are no words for how painful Ryan’s duplicity hits me. I’m furious. I’m mortified. I’m heartbroken that he would read my letter in the first place. To read it and then jump to the most morally reprehensible conclusion is devastating.
“Beth, stop.” Ryan runs in front of me and puts a hand out to stop me. I refuse to look at him and move to sidestep him. As soon as I move, he blocks me and when I try the other direction he blocks me again. In a rage of fury, I plant my hands against his chest to shove him out of my way. He grips my forearms, trapping me, “Damn it, Beth, stop.” I rip my arms free and beat his chest with closed fists.
“You fucking Judas.” I yell, “How could you read it? What gave you the right? Did it even occur to you to ask me first, you asshole?” Ryan grabs my flailing arms, trying to pull me to his chest, “Let me go,” I wail.
“I can’t,” his voice is thick with misery.
“Why? You clearly don’t think very much of me if you think I could sleep with you while I was with someone else. And Drew? What the hell, Ryan? There was nothing about that letter that even remotely suggested that he was my boyfriend.” I pant.
Ryan drops his hands as his chin hits his chest. The adrenaline coursing through my veins triggers my brain into action. Fight or flight? I turn away from Ryan and take off running.
Chapter 44
The cold air chaps my cheeks as I dip and dodge between houses and back alleys to reach Gran and Pops. I don’t dare run the five blocks along the sidewalk, knowing that Ryan is in hot pursuit. When I ran from the park, it took all my willpower to keep going when he yelled for me, begging me to stop. Tears sting against my reddened skin when the house comes into view. My legs burn as they hit the pavement in the final sprint across the street. Tires screech around the corner from the bottom of the hill. Without slowing, I glance to see Ryan’s truck eating up the pavement toward Gran and Pops’. I take the front steps two at a time and slam the front door closed behind me.
“Gran?” I pant. “Pops?” I sag in relief when no one answers. My breath hiccups with my cries as I crawl up the stairs to my room. When I reach the top landing, I hear the front door.
“Beth?” Ryan shouts.
“Go away, Ryan.” I attempt to sound stern, but I sound as dejected as I feel. Turning the corner, I head into my bedroom and close the door. I flatten my back against the wall and let my sobs consume me as I slide down the magnolia wallpaper and cradle my head against my knees.
“Beth, please,” Ryan’s stricken voice floats through the door. When I don’t answer, he cracks the door. I can hear him shuffle into the room, but I don’t lift my head. Whether it’s exhaustion or avoidance, I just can’t look at him, it hurts too much. He thought Drew was my lover. Bile rises in my throat, threatening to upend my stomach. I read my letter over and over in my mind, trying to find the words that suggested anything but contempt and loathing for Drew. Maybe I can’t see it. Perhaps the damage is so deep-seeded that something obvious enough to hurt Ryan would be undetectable to me.
No. I’m not that damaged.
In this moment, I hate Ryan for making me doubt myself but the gnawing ache in my chest disagrees. I’m hurt and I’m angry because I love him. I bared it all, the ugliest parts of my past, and he ripped out my heart at the first hint of misunderstanding. Worse than that, he was so consumed with his own rage that he failed to see how reading something so deeply private would affect me. I guess it was just easier to believe I was a whore. It’s true, what they say, the people we love the most hurt us the most. Humiliation swallows me whole as tears show my weakness, shaking my shoulders. All I want to do is walk away with my dignity intact, but I’m trapped between loving Ryan and fearing what loving him will do to me.
“I need you to hear me, please,” Ryan begs,” when Rob and I went to the memorial, we packed everything into boxes and took it back to The Cantwells. We sorted through everything to make sure the things worth saving could go into a memory box. I went through several notes before I got to yours and when I started reading, it didn’t connect. You didn’t even sign your name, you signed it ‘B.’ I read it again and realized the little girl named ‘B’ was you. I was confused. I was a total prick. Yell at me. Hit me. Something. Just don’t shut me out. Please, Beth. Please.”
I try to block out his pleas and explanations because anger is easier than hurt. What he is saying makes sense and while I can understand why he was upset, it’s hard to grasp just how quic
kly he had me spiraling to the bottom. There I stood circling the drain, ignoring his betrayal to make sure he felt better. The people pleaser in me is relentless, even during the most tumultuous times. I don’t want to live my life constantly worried whether the next argument will destroy me. I lift my head high enough to rest my chin on my knees. Ryan is on his knees in front of me looking pitiful. His hair is a disheveled mess from him yanking at it. His eyebrows are stitched together above murky green eyes that slay me with their suffering. I can’t articulate what is searing my soul; he’d never understand.
“The first time I saw you, I mean really saw you was in the foyer at Gran and Pops’.” His eyes lock with mine as he continues, “I was so pissed off because Tommy was considering postponing our trip to the lake. When I saw you leaning against the wall, I thought you were just being nosy until I got a good look at your face. You were fourteen years old and you looked like you were a war veteran. Your face was pale and your eyes were empty, the only sign of life was this crinkle on the top of your nose.” He brushes the bridge of my nose with his knuckle. “It was the only marker that you were still inside that shell and it was there because you were worried about Gran, Pops and Tommy. I never felt so small than I did in that moment, until now. I did what I always did when I wasn’t sure what to do, I teased you. When you turned those eyes on me, you bowled me over. That broken little girl I saw knocked me on my ass with one look. You were fierce and determined not to let me best you. Hook, line and sinker, Beth. In that moment, I was already yours.” He pauses to see if I’ll say something, when I retain my silence, he continues, “You slammed the door in my face and I swear, I stood there like a moron with my jaw on the floor.” He smiles at the memory, and despite myself, I feel the corner of my lips twitch. “I didn’t know what to do, I only knew that I wanted to be the one you turned to. When I found you in the cherry tree talking to yourself, all I wanted was to climb up that tree to be near you.”
