The bluntness of his words—their truth—is not easy to hear. “Esben, you couldn’t have known. If you’d thought anything was amiss, you wouldn’t have left her. She was in a full house, with people all over the place. You were a kid,” I say again. “I know how much she means to you. I know you would do anything for her. This was not your fault.”
“I took her to that party! I took her to that party! If I hadn’t . . .” His entire body is shaking hard. “That’s the truth. It’s undeniable. If I hadn’t made her go to that party . . . but I didn’t know. Allison, I didn’t know that would happen! I would never have—”
“You didn’t let these two guys rape her. They did what they did because they felt entitled. Because they wanted control. Because they were aggressive and awful. Because they wanted to feel some screwed-up sense of manhood. Because . . . I don’t know. Because they had a million kinds of wrong running through them. You did not make them rapists. Kerry did not make them rapists. They were already sick, and Kerry got caught in their path.”
He pulls my hand, and I move closer to him. Esben holds eye contact as though I am keeping him from falling apart, and I am fully aware of how reliant he is on me in this moment. It’s another first for me. I’ve never been needed like this, but I can be strong for him.
“This was not your fault,” I say again, more firmly. “This is the sole fault of two messed-up boys. That’s it. Kerry also wanted you to understand something. She said that she is okay. She stressed that. I have the feeling that you don’t believe her, but she needs you to believe that she is as healed as possible after this. She has to know that and that you trust in her.”
“Okay.” His whisper reminds me of a small child. So innocent, so fragile, so dependent on what I’m telling him. “When she got to Andrews, she found a really good counselor here. Scott. He’s great. I’ve gone with her a bunch. He’s helped.”
“Good.”
“She’s done a lot of work.”
“Also good. And she has a brother who adores her.” I rub his arm.
He nods. “Yes.”
It hits me that Esben is also a survivor of this rape. We generally think about the effects on those who survive trauma—which, of course, we should—but we don’t always think about the effects on the indirect victims. It’s clear to me now that we should.
My phone has been blowing up with texts, which I’ve ignored, but Esben nudges me and even cracks a smile. “Better check those.”
They’re all from Kerry.
Are you with him? Is he okay? I assume he’s told you everything by now.
I want him to know that I’m happy. I really am.
I could not ask for a better brother. Never. He is my world. Tell him that, okay?
Allison, where are you? Please answer me. I’m freaking out. I don’t want Esben reliving this. It will always be a part of me, but it will not define me. It does not cage me. It DOES not.
Show him these messages, okay?
The painting? Yes, it’s violent. But it helps express what happened. It gives me power. A visual way for me to expel that night. It’s a positive thing.
I can’t stand for him to be holding on to this.
I give Esben my phone. “Read.”
Hesitantly, he goes through her texts. Then he types for a while on his own phone before tossing it on the couch. “I didn’t want you to see me like this. I’m sorry. I should go. I’m so tired.”
“No,” I say. “Don’t go. Stay here.”
His smile is so sweet and so full of emotional and physical exhaustion. “If you’d said that any other night . . .”
I set a hand on his chest. “Not like that. Just stay here. Stay with me. I don’t want you to be alone, and I don’t want to be without you. So stay.”
He looks at me for a long time, and his eyes grow wet again. “I’d really . . .” He struggles to speak. “I’d really like that.”
“Then let’s go to bed, okay?”
Without waiting for an answer, I pick up my phone and then help him walk to my room. Despondently, he sits on my bed, and I take off his shoes and socks. I push back the covers, then undo the top of his jeans. “Lie back.” He watches me as I pull the zipper and ease down his pants. This is arguably not how I thought I might first take off his pants, but he can’t sleep like this. I turn off the overhead light. Though it’s dark, it’s not pitch-black, and I know that he can see me as I get out of my dress and into a T-shirt.
“You really are so gorgeous,” he says.
“I think you’re a little drunk,” I say with a laugh. I slip under the comforter and rest my head on the pillow.
Esben rolls into me, and I move my arm under him so that he’s on his side, resting his head on my chest. “Yes. But tequila doesn’t make me lie. It just lets the truth come out. And you are beautiful. Everything about you.” He wraps an arm over my stomach and secures our closeness. “I hate that you know this. I hate that I’m a mess. I hate that Kerry was hurt so badly. I hate all of it.”
“I know you do. But secrets will pull you under and drown you. You taught me that. We are beyond secrets. Way past them. You do not have to be infallible, Esben. You’re allowed to be human and to have hurt and worry and . . . pain. And sharing those with me? It makes you stronger, in my eyes. That’s how you’ve made me feel.” I try to soothe him with my words, with my touch. When I run my hand over his shoulder and up and down his arm, I can feel him relax against me, so I don’t stop.
He is indeed drunk, because as he begins to drift into the dark of the night, he says, “I love you, Allison. It happened when I wasn’t looking for it, when I didn’t know I needed it. But I fell in love with you so quickly and so smoothly. So without question.” He shifts closer against me. “Don’t say anything. I just wanted you to know.”
Esben drifts off immediately, and I lie in the quiet, with his body glued to mine. I’m so floored by what he’s said, and I wouldn’t know how to respond if he were awake, but I keep him against me and soak in the feeling of this indescribable boy who has his body wrapped over mine.
When he is solidly asleep, I stretch for my phone and call Kerry.
“Hey,” she says.
“Hey,” I whisper back.
“He’s okay?”
“Esben is asleep, and, yes, he’s going to be fine. It was just a rough night because he loves you so much. But he understands what you need him to.”
“Thank you. That makes me feel so much better.”
“Thank you for trusting me.” I pause. “Telling you that I’m sorry you went through this isn’t enough. I don’t know what to say except to let you know how much I care about you. I don’t have many friends, but you’re one of them, Kerry, and I’m proud of you for surviving with so much strength. And if you ever want to talk . . .”
“I’d like that, Allison. I don’t keep this a secret, but I don’t talk to everyone about it, obviously. But you’re so great, and it means a lot that you didn’t run from this screaming. I threw a lot at you tonight, unexpectedly, and you handled it with grace.” She exhales loudly. “And now you understand why he does what he does, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I reply. It hurts to say what I do. “He wants to undo what he thinks he did. He wants to prove that the world is more than just brutal. To prove that there is good.”
“Exactly,” she says. “He’s a warrior.”
“He is,” I agree. “And he’s going to win this battle.” I run my hand through his hair while he sleeps against me.
“Absolutely. But, still, you’ll watch over him for me, yes? He only lets me get so close. It’s why I wanted him to tell you about this. At this point, he has more healing to do than me. So, watch over him.”
“Always,” I assure her. “Always.”
CHAPTER 20
BREAKFAST BLEND
When I wake the next morning, Esben is still curled over me, asleep. Despite the circumstances of how he ended up here, I can’t help but admit how wonderful it feels to ha
ve him here. Lightly, so as not to wake him, I rub his back. I cannot believe that I have this handsome, dynamic, interesting, funny, caring boy in my arms right now. Three months ago, I would have totally rejected the idea that I could be as happy as I am today.
It’s way before my alarm will go off, but I can’t get back to sleep. I’m not crazy about extricating myself from Esben, but nature calls. And, more strongly, coffee calls. Simon sent me back to school after Thanksgiving with a pound of a breakfast blend, and I’m craving a cup. And after the tequila shots my boyfriend downed, he’ll probably be even more in need of coffee than me. While I’m sorry that he’s probably going to wake with a hangover, I do rather love the impending opportunity to take care of him and make him feel better. There’s a novelty in this that swells me. Gently, I touch my lips to the top of his head and then ease my body out from his hold. I slip on my robe before tiptoeing out of the room and quietly shutting the door.
While a pot of strong coffee is brewing and sending off steam and an awakening aroma, I check my phone.
There’s a text from Steffi that came in the middle of the night. Yo, social-media user! Nice pics. You look beautiful, and Esben gets sexier every minute. I mean that in a nonlascivious manner. Mostly.
I smile and start to text back, but the phone rings in my hands.
“Steff, what are you doing up? It’s three thirty in the morning there!”
“I don’t know. Can’t sleep. Saw your text bubbles and decided to call.”
“How is erotic Esben?”
“Oh my God, Steff!” I cover my mouth to muffle my giggling. “You are not to start calling him that!”
She gasps. “You’re whispering! You’re whispering! He’s there, isn’t he? Naked and strapping and passed out in your bed from the hours of hot sex!” She is way too joyful about this idea.
“He is not naked!” I go into the Jenga/inflatable-unicorn room but still keep my voice down. “But he is here.”
“Because he stayed the night?”
“Yes, but not like that. We just slept in the same bed, that’s all.”
“Ugh, so there were clothes on and stuff?”
“Well, yes.”
“That’s disappointing,” she says with exaggerated distress. “But at least it’s progress.”
“Goodness, I’m so sorry you’re so sad about this.”
“Did you just say ‘goodness’?”
“Apparently. I don’t know why.”
“How quaint of you. Perhaps I shall start exclaiming ‘Goodness!’ from now on. It has an old-fashioned ring to it. There’s no reason to get a bee in your bonnet, missy! Egad and fiddlesticks and dang it all! God save the queen!”
“God save the queen? Really? How does that fit in here?”
“I think it’s a nice substitution for swearing. I’m going to start using it, like, all the time, so get ready.”
“Stop it, or you’re going to make me laugh too loudly and wake erotic Esben!”
“Well, it is morning, so then we’d have to call him erec—”
“Enough!” It is very hard to suppress my laughter, so she has got to knock this off. “Listen, we have to make plans for Christmas. Simon asked what dates you want to fly in and out.” Ever since I’ve lived with Simon, he’s made sure that I get to see Steffi over the holidays. Even when she was with Joan and Cal, the couple who basically kicked her out when she turned eighteen, Simon drove me the hour it took to reach her on Christmas Day. For the past few years, he’s flown her into Boston for two weeks, and she’s spent Christmas and New Year’s with us.
“Oh. Listen . . . about that,” she says more seriously now.
“What? What do you mean ‘about that’? I don’t like the sound of this.”
“Okay, please don’t get mad, but . . . I’m going on a cruise!” she says excitedly.
“You’re going on a what? What are you talking about?”
“A bunch of the people I hang out with here are doing a three-week cruise, and one of the girls had to drop out. She’s selling me her spot for dirt cheap, and I can’t pass it up. I’m heading to Hawaii! And . . . and . . . other places! I don’t even know the itinerary, but it’s a cruise! To top things off, I have a major crush on one of the guys who’s going. His body is enough to make me burst into flames.”
This is not making any sense whatsoever. “So you’re not coming to Boston at all? Oh.”
“Don’t be sad. You hate Christmas anyway, and if you saw this guy, you’d probably dump Esben and go on a cruise with him, too.”
“If you say so.”
She pauses. “There will be other trips.”
“Spring break, maybe?”
“Sure! And definitely this summer, okay?”
“Okay. This trip does sound like it could be really fun, but you have to promise to send me a million pictures. Especially of this hot guy.”
“Deal!”
I’m happy for her, really, but I can’t help being a little bummed out that we won’t be together over the holidays. “I’ll have Simon mail your presents to you.”
“No, no. He really doesn’t need to get me anything.”
“Of course he does. He loves spoiling you.”
“Seriously, it’s not necessary.”
I laugh. “If you think for two seconds that Simon will not be shipping out large boxes to you, then you are forgetting who he is.”
“Ha! Well, that’s true.”
“I’ll miss you,” I say. “But raid the buffets for me.”
“And I will miss you terribly while I’m pigging out at the dessert bar. Now, tell me how things are going with Esben.”
I lie back on the bed and smile. “Good, Steffi. Really, really good.”
“Yeah? Tell me everything. We haven’t talked in a week, so I want all the dirt.”
I gush for twenty minutes until her yawning tells me that she’s finally exhausted enough to sleep. “I think you should get to bed, sweets. You sound totally wiped.”
“Okay. But, Allison? I’m so happy for you. You deserve a great guy like Esben, and, goodness, he’s just as lucky to have you.”
“Thanks, Steffi.” I can’t help sighing contentedly. “I miss you so much, even with your new, idiotic expression, and I miss seeing you every day, so we at least need to talk more, okay? It used to be every day, and now it’s once a week or so.”
“Okay, we’ll work on it. We’ve both got a ton going on, but that doesn’t mean we’re not as close as ever.”
“I know. It’s just . . . I’ve never had . . . I’ve never had an Esben before. I just want to make sure that you know I’m still here for you.”
“Always. You are my bestie,” she says. “I don’t forget that for a second.”
After we hang up, I finally pour my cup of coffee and peek in on Esben. God, asleep he looks even more like a damn angel.
I check the time and then call Simon.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” he answers, all chipper. “You enjoying the coffee I got you?”
I slurp loudly into the phone. “Right now, in fact.”
“So I hear. Excellent! What’s going on?”
I explain about Steffi’s cruise.
“I see. Well, Steffi has always been one to seize the day, so let’s be happy for her that she’s taking this wild adventure. I know it will be strange not to have her with us, but we’ll make do.”
I clear my throat. “I was thinking that this year, we could . . . you know . . . do more Christmas stuff.”
He pauses, and I know he’s trying not to sound too excited. “Really?”
“Yeah. Like, we should get a tree and hang stockings.”
“Lights? Wreaths? Extra presents? Ninety kinds of garish cookies?”
The idea makes me anxious, but it’s time for me to get over my holiday phobia. I am not a kid without security anymore. I am not. “I think it would be nice.”
“I think it would be nice, too.”
I’m quite sure that Simon is jump
ing up and down right now, but I appreciate his effort to remain calm in the face of this exciting news.
“And how is young Esben?” he asks.
“He’s good.” Then I stop for a second. “But he just had a tough night. He’s a little sad.” I run a finger over the rim of my coffee cup.
“I’m sure he’s glad to have you for support.”
“I hope so. I think so . . . I’m not used to seeing him unhappy.” I fidget with the sash on my robe. “I care about him so much.”
“I know you do, and, from what you tell me, it’s obvious he cares about you just as much. Allison, it’s all right to be sad sometimes. Even though he’s generally upbeat, he can still have low points, too. It means he’s human.”
“You’re right.” I drop the sash. “Thank you.”
“Tell him that I said nice job on that last video. The one with the sketch pads.”
Esben spent the day after Thanksgiving in downtown Boston, fighting Black Friday crowds, handing people sketch pads and asking them to write or draw whatever makes them happy. The video compilation of people holding up words and pictures is yet another beautiful piece of his, complete with music, lots of smiles, and a few tears. Surprisingly, few people responded by drawing anything material, despite being in the midst of all that shopping chaos and greed.
“It was really nice, wasn’t it?”
“I’m on Twitter, you know,” Simon admits a bit shyly. “I didn’t know if I should follow you or not.”
I laugh. “But I gather you follow Esben? Of course you should follow me. You’re my father.”
There is a long silence, and I think both of us are slightly taken aback. While I may refer to Simon as my adoptive father when I speak about him to other people, I have never directly addressed him as my father.
“Yes, I am,” he finally says softly. “I am. So, I’ll follow you as soon as we hang up. And I’ll be sure to tweet reminders about calling home, eating your veggies, and getting plenty of rest.”
“Esben taught me how to block people,” I inform him with a giggle, “so you’d better be careful.”
“I will behave! I will behave!”