The gallery is beautiful, and I had no idea this was here. Of course, if I’d left my room more, or done anything besides study for the past two years, I might have known about this. Floating stairs lead us up to the main floor, and we are met with spectacular lighting that manages to highlight the artwork but also make the space pretty sexy and romantic, although I’m not sure it’s supposed to be. My interpretation could perhaps have something to do with my mood . . .
“There she is.” Esben points at Kerry, across the room, talking to someone. “I’m so excited. I’ve only seen one of the pieces she’s been working on, but she’s really, really good. This is the juniors’ and seniors’ stuff only. It’s a big piece of their grade for the semester.”
He catches Kerry’s attention and waves. She’s in stiletto heels and a tight red sheath dress that shows her beautiful figure and plenty of cleavage, and she’s got her hair pulled off her face. I would last two steps in those shoes, but she walks without the slightest wobble when she comes our way. “You came!” She throws out her arms and hugs me.
“Of course! Congratulations. This is a big night for you,” I say as I hug her back. “And you look stunning.”
Esben scowls. “You look barely clothed.”
Kerry laughs and kisses his cheek. “Overprotective much?”
“Don’t you have a scarf or something?” he asks with annoyance.
I loop my arm through his. “She does not need a scarf.”
“Come on. Walk around, and see what you think,” she says, beckoning us to follow her.
“I thought artists were supposed to wear, you know, big drapey shirts and billowy pants,” he mutters. “A little more hippie, a little less lingerie model.”
I laugh and whisper to him, “Your sister is a beautiful girl. You’ll have to get used to it.”
Kerry looks back. “Hey, is Jason coming? He said he might.”
Esben scowls again. “What do you mean, ‘Is Jason coming?’”
She whips away, calling, “Nothing!” over her shoulder.
Esben stops short. “Oh, I’m gonna kill him if—”
I drag him forward. “You’re going to do nothing of the sort. This is Kerry’s night, and you’re going to behave.”
“Fine. But just for tonight. Tomorrow, I’m going to kill him.” But he’s smiling now.
“Understood.”
Kerry walks us through the gallery, pointing out not only her work but that of her fellow students. She has a number of wonderful artworks, including a black-and-white series of sketches that I love, but I wander to an abstract painting she’s done that I particularly fall for. The colors are vibrant and cheery and smash across the canvas in wild wonder. I step in closer, entranced by the beauty, and I hear Kerry’s heels click as she walks to stand beside me.
“You like?”
“I really do, Kerry. You’re amazing. I can barely draw a stick figure, and you’ve got so many pieces here that have blown me away.”
“Well, thank you! That’s so sweet.” She leans in. “So, seriously, do you know if Jason is coming?”
I grin. “Are you two . . .”
She shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t know. We had so much fun at that birthday party, and he’s really a sweet guy. I think there might be something happening. I mean, you saw him in his princess dress? And the way he carried that little Cassie around on his shoulders half the time?”
“He was awesome with her, yeah.”
“I invited him. I thought maybe . . . I don’t know.” She crosses her arms and bites her lips. “He’s not going to show up.”
“He is going to show up.” I spin her around. “He already has.”
Jason is standing with Esben near an elaborate metal sculpture. It’s obvious that Esben is working very hard to keep him talking and not let him get away. Poor Jason is scanning the room, then looking back at his friend briefly, but his attention is not on Esben right now.
“You better go break that up,” I suggest. “Your brother is going to talk until he runs out of breath and passes out unless you intervene.”
“Well, that might not be a bad thing. All right. I can do this.” She throws back her shoulders in confidence. But then she doesn’t move.
“Kerry! Go get him! If I had that hot body and a red dress painted on, I’d be strutting all over the place. Go. Get. Him.”
She shakes her hands to relax. “Okay. I’m doing this. Why is there no alcohol at this gig? Ugh.”
Jason’s face immediately lights up when he sees her. When she reaches the pair, I’m amused to see that Esben gives absolutely no indication that he’s going to leave them alone together, so I go over and insist that I’m starving and that we should hit the appetizer table in the other room. Begrudgingly, he agrees.
“Are you really hungry?” he asks as he hands me a plate.
“Starving. And I love these little . . .” I reach for a pair of mini tongs. “Well, whatever these are. Puffs of some sort. I might eat them all.”
I stack my plate with them until they threaten to topple over, and Esben starts laughing.
“Okay, fine. I get it. We’ll stay here and eat puffs and leave my sister alone.”
“Oh! Wait.” I set the plate on the end of the table and retrieve my phone, tasting one of these appetizers as I open my camera. “I should be taking pictures of this, right? Isn’t that a thing? Posting food pics?”
Esben is trying to control his laughter. “Well, sure. If you want. I mean, we are in a beautiful gallery full of a million potential shots, but if you want to post greasy puffs, that’s cool.”
“Oh. You do have a point.” I drop my hand. “Or I could take a picture of you. You’re much better looking than a puff.”
“I’m crazy flattered.”
“You should be. The puffs are filled with Brie, and they’re delicious.” I put my arm around his neck and stand close. “You, however, still taste better.” I kiss him quickly, then step back and make him pose for at least twenty pictures.
Then we spend a silly amount of time taking selfies, and he shows me how to post pictures and tag him on my new accounts. I also text some pictures to Steffi and proudly tell her that I am no longer a social-media virgin.
She texts back almost immediately. That’s not the type of virginity I was hoping you’d lose next, but still cool.
We wander around the gallery a bit more, and I pull Kerry aside so that I can get an update on Jason.
“He asked to take me out to dinner this week. For Italian! That’s a good sign. Romantic, right?”
“Definitely romantic.”
“Hey, where’d Esben go?” she asks.
“I’m not sure.”
We walk through the room and then check the other one. Then Kerry stops and stares into a small room off to one side we hadn’t gone into. Her face falls. “Damn.”
“What is it?” I ask. I step closer and see Esben looking at another painting.
It’s a very large canvas that takes up at least a quarter of the wall, but I can’t see it well from this angle. Kerry walks very slowly to her brother, and I start to follow and then decide to hang back at the entryway. Something is happening here, but I don’t know what.
He turns to her, and there is nothing but distress coming from him. He looks so terribly sad. “Kerry . . .”
She stops next to him and faces the painting. “This isn’t part of the show. This room is supposed to be closed off. I didn’t mean for you to see this.”
He puts one hand in his pocket and runs the other through his hair, undeniably agitated, shaking his head, seemingly at a loss. He turns to his sister. “Kerry,” he says again. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t say that. Please, don’t.”
With what I can only see as deep tenderness, Esben embraces his sister, holding her close and rubbing her back. “I am. I’m so sorry.”
I back away, feeling as though I’m witnessing something private. To distract myself, I head back to the main gallery, where I
take pictures and post a few online; I even manage to successfully tag Kerry in the ones of her art. This does keep me busy, but it certainly does not make me forget that I have never seen Esben look so unhappy. This is beyond the upset of anything online that drives him to act. This is personal. For twenty minutes, I busy myself.
Then I feel Kerry’s hand on my shoulder. She is calm but serious. “Hey.”
“Are you all right?” I am very concerned about both her and Esben now.
“I am. But there’s a painting I didn’t realize would be hanging in that room. I should have checked. It’s something that I did for myself, and I never meant for him to see it.” She touches her hair and tries to smile. “I’d like Esben to talk to you. It’s my story to tell in many ways, but I’d like him to tell you, because it’s also very much his story.”
“Okay, but . . . if this is private, if it’s just between you two—”
“I want you to know. You’ll understand Esben more, and . . . you’re my friend, too, Allison, and I want you to hear this. But I’d like Esben to tell you. That will help him. You may need to push, but it’s important to me. Can you do that?”
I nod, confused, and hug her. She squeezes me back harder than I expected, and even though she remains calm, she does take a number of long, intense breaths.
“I am okay, Allison. I really am,” she says in my ear. “Please know that, and please get him to see that. So, make him talk to you. Promise me that you will.”
My stomach drops, and I know something is very wrong. I pull back to look at her directly. “I promise.”
“Now, I am going to enjoy the rest of my night.” She puts on a real smile. “Is hunky Jason still here?”
I point to the front of the room, where Jason is awkwardly buttoning and unbuttoning his blazer. “I don’t think he’s leaving any time soon.”
“God, he’s so hot,” she says.
“And tall,” I point out.
“Way tall. I find that so sexy.” She giggles and heads toward him. A few feet away, she looks back, more solemn again. “Hey, Allison? Thank you.”
My heart hurts when I go to Esben. He’s still in front of the painting, and I stand next to him.
I catch my breath when I take in what’s in front of me. It’s another abstract, but unlike the other Kerry produced, this one screams its colors, its anger. Harsh brushstrokes rip across the canvas, jagged edges create a border that unsettles me, and everything about her work is fueled by rage. Slowly, I let my eyes travel to the card underneath.
TITLE: SHATTER ME
ARTIST: KERRY BAYLOR
Esben has not moved. His voice trembles when he finally speaks, and I can barely hear him. “Can we go? I want to go.”
“Of course.” But he stays where he is.
I take his hand. “Esben, look at me.”
Slowly, slowly, he does. His eyes are sad. So tremendously sad.
“I’ve got you,” I tell him. “I’ve got you. Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 19
RELIVING
I lead him out the back door, and he walks with me numbly. The wind is bitter tonight, and I pull his coat closed, because he doesn’t seem to notice the cold. When we get back to my room, I sit him on the couch.
“Do you want a drink?” I ask.
He’s slumped over, looking at the floor. “No.”
“Okay.”
Esben shakes off his coat and tosses it on the floor. “Actually, yes.”
After some rummaging, I pour him a shot of what’s left from Steffi’s visit, and he waves away my offer of lime and salt and shoots the tequila straight. I sit next to him and wait. He takes two more shots and then leans forward and rubs his face.
“I spoke with Kerry,” I offer gently.
He nods from behind his hands.
“She’d like you to tell me about the painting.”
“No. I can’t.” His voice is level and sure. He’s not messing around here. “I don’t want you to hear this, Allison.”
“You’ve heard all of my stories. All of my pain. Let me hold some of yours.” I am overtaken by how I am only now considering that Esben’s past may include anything but love and ease. It’s only tonight that I realize that no one gets through life unscathed. Not even Esben. I was blinded by what I saw as his untainted life, his unfailing positivity. But even the best and the strongest are penetrable.
“I don’t want you to hear this because I screwed up, okay? I screwed up so bad. So unforgivably.” The break in his voice is gutting.
“I can’t imagine that’s true.”
“It is.” He clearly sees this as an indisputable truth—and he leaves little room for argument.
“I understand that this is impossibly difficult, but it would mean a lot to Kerry.” Sobriety would probably be a smart idea, but I take the tequila and swig a shot straight from the bottle. “She was very clear about that.”
He says nothing for the next few minutes, then takes another shot from the bottle before sitting back.
“When I was a junior in high school and Kerry was a sophomore, I dragged her to a party at some kid’s house. His parents were away, so everyone was hyped up about it, and it was this big, drunken scenario. Kerry didn’t really want to go, but I’d told my parents that we were going to a movie, and I convinced her to come. The girl I was dating, Jenny, was going to be there, and I wanted to see her someplace without parents around. So, we go to this party, and Kerry was clinging to me, because she didn’t really know anyone there. And I didn’t care that she was my sister who I’d thrown into a new and shitty situation.” He sighs. “All I could think about was hooking up with Jenny. So, I called over a couple of seniors that I barely knew. I thought Kerry would be into talking to older guys, and they were good-looking and popular and all that. And she did seem to like them. They all got to talking and laughing, and she even . . . she even told me how cute one of them was. I saw her flirt. She seemed happy and into it. So I pawned her off on them. Because,” he states assuredly, “I was selfish and dumb and thoughtless. Reckless. Later that night, Jenny and I found an empty room so we could fool around. I left Kerry alone with people I hardly knew. With booze everywhere and drunken idiots, in some stranger’s house. Really goddamn smart, right? I did what no brother should ever do.”
“Esben . . .” I want to take him in my arms, but I stay where I am. I think it’s taking all he has to be able to speak these words, and I want to respect his space.
“Later, when I was ready to go home, I went looking for her. I searched the entire house, and I couldn’t find her. So, I asked around and searched again. The only reason I finally found her is because I heard her crying. She’d shut herself in a closet in one of the bedrooms. When I got to her, she was on the floor.” When he finally looks at me, his eyes are red, and his words are broken and full of pain when he forces them out.
“It took me all of two seconds to see how terrified she was. My sister could hardly breathe because of her fear and her panic. I had to help her stand. How awful is that? But I did. She couldn’t move. Then? The minute I got her into the light, I could see . . . I could see blood. She had on pale pants, and there was no hiding it.” He inhales sharply and reaches for my hand. “Christ, Allison, in the half hour that I’d left her alone, she’d been assaulted by both of them. They each . . . took a . . . turn.” Esben’s grip on my hand tightens. “Is that the right word? I don’t know. Turn. It’s so disgusting. Shows how little they thought about her. Like she didn’t even matter. Like she meant nothing. Like she wasn’t a human being. Like she wasn’t my sister, the most vibrant, perfect, trusting girl in the world. One held her down and covered her mouth, while the other—” He can’t say the words, and I don’t blame him.
“Dear God.” Kerry, I think. Not Kerry. Not anybody.
“Even then, even as young as I was, and as little as I could really comprehend what’d gone on, I knew how wrong it was. I’m not sure I knew enough to think ‘rape,’ though. How goddam stupid is
that? I was just so terrified, and . . . I didn’t want what happened to be real, so I think I blocked it out to a degree. All I wanted was to make it not true.”
“Of course you did.”
“As much as I wanted to beat the living hell out of these guys, I had to get her out of there immediately. I carried her to the car in my arms. I’m sure people thought I was just taking my dumb, drunk sister home . . . I wanted to take her to the hospital, to the police. Somewhere. But she wouldn’t let me. The idea started uncontrollable crying, and she made me promise not to. She made me promise not to tell anyone. Not our parents, not the cops, nobody. My agreeing was the only thing that stopped her from losing it. So, I parked the car a mile from home, and I held her until just before our curfew, when we knew our parents would be in bed and we could get in unseen. She took a shower, and I threw her clothes in a trash bag.”
He rubs his eyes. “I sat next to her bed all night, but I don’t think she slept. The next week, I sent one of them to the emergency room. Broken cheekbone. I got suspended for five days, and I’m probably lucky that he didn’t file charges. First and only time I’ve been in a fight. The other guy kept far away from Kerry and me after that. She and I didn’t talk about what happened. Not for over a year. We were young, and I was too stupid to know that I should have taken her to the hospital right away. I was scared. I didn’t know what to do. Oh God, Allison, I didn’t know what to do, and so I did everything wrong.”
There is such desperation and apology in his face, and I want nothing more than to take those away. To give him peace. But I know that I cannot do that. I cannot fix this. I can only be here.
“You were, what, sixteen? Basically a kid. Of course you didn’t know what to do. You must have been overwhelmed and frightened to your core. I don’t think anyone is prepared for what to do in that kind of crisis. Both of you were traumatized.”
“I should have done better,” he says forcefully before taking a long drink. “I love her. That was my baby sister. While I was fooling around with a girl for the first time, she was in the room next to me, being sexually assaulted.”