Page 21 of One of Our Own

He pushed the ottoman away and stood. Jutted his hip out while he adjusted his backpack. “Are we done now? I’m super smelly, and I really need a shower.”

I stared at him, trying to reconcile his response with the kind, compassionate son I’d always known. The one I’d raised to respect women. To treat them with dignity, and as equals. “So, to be clear, you don’t know anything about what happened at the party or the video?”

“God, Mom, no, I already told you that,” he said, turning his back to me and heading up the stairs. He stopped right before he got to the top. “Please stop asking me about it, too. I’m over this conversation.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

It was another sleepless night as I tossed and turned in my bed. I spent all evening watching Hunter like he was a strange guest in my home. Shortly after our confrontation, I was cutting the pizza I’d just taken out of the oven when he came up behind me in the kitchen and changed the entire energy in the room. I felt him before he even got close to me. And not in a good way. The hairs on my neck bristled as he stood behind me.

“Raven and Talia are coming over in like ten minutes to give me their biology notes, since I missed class for that dentist appointment last week. That cool?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said in the weird high-pitched voice I’d been using ever since our conversation about Chloe. I held my breath. Clutched the knife to keep my hand from shaking. Gripped the pot holder with the other hand. I couldn’t turn around.Please go away,I thought.Just go away.

And then suddenly, he poked me in my ribs, and I jumped, banging my hip on the counter and dropping the knife on the floor. My body felt hot like I had a fever. His presence was making me sick.

“Oh my god, Mom.” He laughed. “I totally got you that time.” He gave me a teasing push and a big cheesy grin before grabbing a plate and piling it with pizza.

I was on edge the rest of the night. Every sound made me jump. How could he say those things about Chloe? There wasn’t an ounce of concern or compassion in his voice. And he’d just carried on as if it wasn’t a big deal. He laughed and fooled around with Raven and Talia like our conversation never even happened.

After his friends left, he hung out in the family room playing video games like it was just a regular Friday night. Most of the time, he did his thing, and I did mine. We were so comfortable coexisting we barely noticed each other. But not tonight.

I sat in my office listening and watching him while I pretended to work. I paid close attention to the way he talked in his headset to the people he was gaming with. Calling them trash. Telling them they sucked. Letting out squeals when he earned kills.

“Head shot, bitch!” He must’ve said it ten times. I cringed.

And I just kept cringing at the things coming out of his mouth. It was so shocking to all us moms when the kids started playing video games, especially first-person shooter games. The way they interacted and treated each other was horrible, but they all did it, so none of us thought to stop it. Maybe we should have. The violent video game behavior had become so commonplace over the years, I didn’t even notice it anymore, but tonight I did. Tonight, it scared me.

There had been real hate and disgust in his tone when he talked about Chloe, which seemed like it applied to all women. He didn’t say she deserved what happened to her, but he might as well have. It made me question everything about him, and all my fears rose to the surface. All this time that I’d been worried and concerned about him and what happened that night, I couldn’t really imagine he was in that room with Chloe.

My real fear at the start was that he knew what happened and said nothing. That he let those boys hurt her and didn’t do anythingto stop them. Or that Shai had been involved, and he was covering for his friend. Part of me thought that’s what their issue had been. Maybe she was the girl they were fighting over because Shai had been one of the boys to attack her. I’d never seen Shai show the slightest inkling of violence, but it was easier to consider being wrong about him than it was to consider being wrong about my own son.

What if he was in the room when it happened? What if he was one of the voices laughing and mocking her on the video? It was like I’d unconsciously blocked my brain from going there, but now, there was no going back. And as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I was terrified at the possibility my son was involved in assaulting an innocent girl.

I didn’t know what to do with the feelings. I’d never felt so powerless or disoriented in my own home. When he gave me a hug before he went up to his bedroom for the night, I actually flinched. It was just a second, but my body involuntarily reacted that way. What did it mean? My head swirled with so many questions. My emotions were just as confused.

By then, I was exhausted. This had to be a weird PTSD response. I’d been so stressed for the past week, and he was reminding me of his dad. That was all. Just because all that had been triggered didn’t mean there was truth to it. I knew enough about PTSD to know it wasn’t always grounded in fact. Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me. I was going to call my therapist in the morning. I hadn’t seen her in a few years, but I couldn’t stand looking at Hunter the way I was a second longer. When I’d shut my bedroom door tonight, I considered locking it. That’s when I knew I was being absurd.

Hunter was a good boy. He was. All of this was just stirring up old memories. I couldn’t bring my own experience into this moment with my son—it wasn’t fair to him.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand next to my bed and Irolled over to grab it. Another unknown number, but it had to be Chloe. I answered immediately.

This time was completely different. I knew exactly who she was. I knew what she looked like, and I could drive to her house if I needed to. All I had to do was look her up. And then it dawned on me that’s all anyone else had to do either. She was completely exposed to the world. And if my own son had such a terrible reaction to her, and he was supposed to be one of the good guys, then what had other responses been?

She was crying hysterically on the other end of the phone, just like she’d been the night she called the center. I said the same things:

FELICIA:I’m here. I’m on the line. You’re okay. You’re not alone.

CHLOE:He-he-he… He— [sobbing too hard to speak]

FELICIA:It’s okay. It’s okay. Just let it out.

CHLOE:[shrieking voice] They texted me tonight. They texted me!

FELICIA:Who?

CHLOE:They did! I don’t know which one, but I know it was them. One of them. I’ve been getting messages all day long. Texts and DMs. Do you know what people are saying to me? Saying to my family? The stuff they’re sending my sister? [sobbing hard in between words] Do you know how many people said I should just die? That I should kill myself? Do you have any idea? And then there’s my favorite: “You can’t rape the willing.”

FELICIA:Oh my god… I’m so sorry.

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