Page 93 of The Way I Used to Be
“No! I said no. I don’t know why she mentioned me. I don’t know anything.” I mean to shout it, to be firm and strong, but it just comes out in a piercing whimper.
She holds me in her poker-face stare. I cannot read her at all. She stands up, walks across my room. I think she’s leaving, but she closes the door so it’s only open a crack. “Eden,” she says softly. “I’m going to ask you something and I need you to be very honest in your response.” She lowers her voice and stands there like a mountain I will never be able to move. “Eden, has Kevin ever abused or assaulted you in any way, sexual or otherwise?”
I always promised myself that if only someone would ask, if someone would only ask the right question, I would tell the truth. And now it’s here. It could be over in one syllable. I open my mouth. I want to say it. Yes. Yes. I try to make a sound. Yes. Say it! But my mouth is so dry, I can’t.
I take a breath and I choke. I choke on the word. I’m actually choking. I stand up out of my chair as if that will help anything. I start pacing the room, losing my air quickly. I’m coughing so hard she has to race out of my bedroom to get me a glass of water. I’m still coughing when she gets back. I sip the water, but I choke even more, spewing it all over the carpet. My throat feels raw.
“Can you breathe, Eden?” she asks loudly.
I nod my head yes even though I really can’t. I can’t breathe. It’s like there’s something stuck in my throat. I cough and cough, but it doesn’t do anything. I clutch at my neck. There’s something there, I can feel it. Can taste it. Something lodged in my throat, something familiar, something dry like cotton, something like... like the end of that stupid damn nightgown that went directly into the garbage the next morning.
By then Vanessa and Conner have stormed in.
“Oh my God!” Vanessa screams.
“Do something!” Conner yells at no one in particular.
The room shrinks. I shrink. And now I’m back there. I see myself over their shoulders, lying in my bed and he’s on top of her again. I’m watching him shove the nightgown into her mouth and nobody does a fucking thing. She tries to hit him once, twice, but he has her arms down again and... and he...
Vanessa: “Edy, drink the water!”
Detective: “All right, everyone calm down, let’s just give her a little space now. She’s fine. You’re fine, honey, you’re fine.”
But I’m not fine. She’s not fine.
He’s doing it, hurting her, again and again and again and nobody even turns to look! I try to point, want to scream: Behind you, look, damn it, notice something for once... it’s right there, what you need to know, right there, happening... still....
“EDEN EDY EDY EDEN EDY EDY,” they scream at me all at once. I try to scream back. But nothing. Their voices fade into the background. White noise. Only one sound pierces through the veil of static:No one will ever believe you no one will ever believe you no one will ever believe you.
Be over. Be over. I thought it was over. It was supposed to be over.
Underwater voices and blurry words surface: “Better... Okay... Edy... Eden... She’s all right, look.”
My eyes open. I’m staring at the ceiling. I’m on the floor. There’s Vanessa on one side, the detective on the other. I feel like Dorothy, waking up from the strangest dream, except to an even stranger reality. Caelin and Conner are behind them, leaning over me.
“What happened?” I ask, my voice scratchy.
“You fainted!” Vanessa screeches, tears threatening to overflow the shores of her eyes.
“Oh God,” I moan, trying to sit up.
“Take it easy, now. Slowly.” Detective Dodgson puts a hand on my back.
“Sorry. That’s never happened before. God, I feel so stupid.” I try to laugh at myself. It sounds fake as hell, though.
“Well,” the detective says, standing up, “I do still have some more questions for you, Eden, but for now why don’t you just get some rest. If you do happen to think of anything, please don’t hesitate to call. I’ll leave my card right here for you.” She pulls a business card out of some invisible compartment of her jacket and sets it down on the corner of my desk, tapping it twice with her index finger.
I SIT AT MYdesk and stare at the card for a long time. After Vanessa force-fed me about a gallon of orange juice and endless saltines, I was allowed back in my room unsupervised. I trace my finger over the embossed letters that spell out: Detective Dorian Dodgson. I take my phone out.
I scroll down and find the number in my outgoing calls.
“Hello? Hello?”
I hang up. I call back.
“Hello... are you there?”
I hang up. I redial.
