Page 48 of Love is Angry

Maybe I will work up the courage to go downstairs. Maybe I can fake this. Maybe after this last tear falls, after I’ve sobbed into my pillow just one more time, I’ll be able to pretend.

Taking a few more minutes in bed to smother my tears, I become aware of the hole persisting in the pit of my stomach. I should eat. Hunger tests my limits. I would like to eat. It smells like blueberry pancakes and honey-glazed bacon. Eggs sunny side up and toast. It’s my favorite breakfast bundle. But the mere thought of food right now, even the stuff I like…it just makes me feel nauseated.

Half an hour later, however, I do manage to put one foot in front of the other. I shower, forcing myself to look slightly more decent. Downstairs, Dad is waiting at the head of the oakwoodtable. He smiles upon seeing me which only makes me feel worse. Of course, the morning-after pill is still messing with my hormones.

“How are you feeling?” Dad asks.

I already want to go back up to my room and hide in there, wait until the end of the world comes around and burns everything and everybody down. My blood boils. I am angry and helpless. All the fucking time.

“Okay,” I reply, my voice barely a whisper.

He puts a couple of pancakes and several strips of bacon on my plate. They look delicious. They smell even better. I should eat. I really should eat. Finally, after staring at the food in front of me for half an eternity, I dig into one of the pancakes. Yesterday, I only managed to keep some toast and tea down. Maybe I’ll manage to keep something more complex down today.

The pancake tastes amazing. There’s an explosion of flavors in my mouth. But it is quickly corrupted by bile. It’s happening again, and I cannot worry my father any more than I already have. He needs a break. I have to keep him as far away from Julian and the Echeveria name as possible. I succeed in finishing one pancake. Maybe I can do a second, too. Wishful thinking, it appears, as Dad, bless his heart, decides to unwittingly bring the whole world crashing down over my head.

“You start tutoring sessions again today, right?” he asks.

A second later, I check the printed calendar on the wall, chewing on a piece of bacon. He’s right. I’ve got two sessions today. One at three, and the other at six. The first session is… “Oh, shit,” I murmur, bacon stuck in my throat. “Rhue Echeveria.”

“Say what, honey?”

“Nothing, I just…” I pause. Shake my head.

If I cancel, it’ll look bad. Well, it’s bad either way, but this might be my chance to maybe explain what happened. He saw us. I have to explain. We have to keep this a secret, otherwise Julian—tears burst into my eyes, and I can no longer be around my father. Not like this.

“Dad, I have to go.”

Before he can object, I’m already back in my room. I need to get out of here. I can’t breathe anymore. This house is tiny. The walls are closing in. But I can’t move. Stuck in the corner I’ve backed myself in, I sob uncontrollably, gasping and struggling to breathe while the pressure of the world bears down and crushes me.

The Echeveria mansion feels cold.It looks… unwelcoming. It’s as if the house itself knows what happened. Its harmony has been spoiled. It was my fault. I never should have come back for that fucking bag. I should have let Rhue mention it. Had I stayed home that day, this wouldn’t have to happen, now.

I am queasy, and despite the pepper spray in my pocket, I am terrified.

Only a sliver of comfort finds me as I notice Julian’s car isn’t here. Roxanne is home, though. I catch a glimpse of her in one of the first-floor windows. What are the odds that I will get through this without puking my guts out? What are the chances that I don’t make an even bigger mess out of things?

One of the maids spots me just as I reach the bottom of the main steps. She opens the front door and motions for me to come in.

“Welcome, Miss Willis,” she says, smiling broadly. “Welcome back!”

“It’s good to see you again, Marie,” I say, carefully checking her expression for signs. There’s nothing there, but it doesn’t bring the comfort I’d hoped it would.

These past few days, I’ve been googling the shit out of Julian Echeveria. I’ve read the news articles, the profiles, the rumors and gossip, too. They all have seeds of truth in them, especially the allegations of sexual assault. Clearly, I wasn’t his first slip-up. What’s worse is, I fear I won’t be his last, either. Again, I have to fight the nausea.

“Rhue is in the study. He’s waiting for you,” Marie says. She doesn’t mean it like I hear it, the poor woman. She’s got nothing to do with this.

Bracing myself, I give her a thankful nod and make my way in.

Once I reach the study door, I am compelled to stop for a moment and carefully rethink my options. Every part of me aches in shame, riddled with fury I fear I may never be able to get over. My whole life has changed. My dignity and sense of self obliterated. I can die now, however, or I can keep living, one way or another. I can let Julian’s offense define me, or I can learn from that moment and eventually find my way back to the surface.

It might take a month or a year or a decade, but I will get there. I have to.

Rhue, however…Rhue is an enigma right now. I don’t think anything is possible between us. Anything that might have been died that day, when Julian violated me. Merely thinking of Rhue brings his father back with a vengeance.

I take a deep breath. Whatever happens, it must happen. Time will keep flowing, with or without me. I open the study door and go in. For a moment, it seems like the universe was concentrated inside this room. The smell of old books. The faint odor of Cuban cigars and whiskey. An odor that reminds me ofJulian. And Rhue. He sits behind the mahogany desk, watching me with an implacable face.

Why do I feel so guilty?

I walk over to the desk, bag on my shoulder. Shaking like a leaf, I try to figure out what he must be thinking. Wearing a black shirt and jeans, he looks more like his father than ever before. I wonder if it’s on purpose, or if it’s just my mangled mind that’s interpreting the sight of him as such. I am terrified, truth be told. I am terrified because I know where this is going. Where this will end.

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