Page 30 of The Way I Am Now
I make it to the bathroom, and as I empty my entire body, Dad keeps patting my back. “Get it out,” he’s saying, over and over. “Get it out. You’re gonna be fine.”
After I’m sure I’m finished, I sit on the floor with my back against the wall. The cold tiles feel good against my skin. I watch as my dad gets a washcloth from the cabinet and runs it under water from the sink. He wrings it out and then sits down next to me. He places the washcloth on the back of my neck.
“Stop, Dad.” I push his hands away.
“I’m only trying to help.”
I toss the washcloth up onto the counter because some part of me doesn’t reallywantto feel better. I won’t say that, though; that would only make him think there’s even more wrong with me than he already does.
He sighs, and because I don’t want any more lecturing, I open my mouth. The first thing that comes out is “Mom’s wrong about Eden.”
“All right?” he prompts. “I’m listening.”
“None of this is because of her. Okay, maybe it’s partially because of her, but not because of anything she did. She didn’t do anything to me. I just . . .”
“You what?” he asks, nudging me in the arm. “Tell me what’s going on then. Please.”
“She’s special. I really care about her.”
“But?”
“Don’t tell Mom about this, all right? I’m really not supposed to be talking about it.”
He holds both hands up in front of his chest and shakes his head. “You know I can’t promise until I know what it is.”
“She was raped.”
He clicks his tongue. “Jesus.”
“It happened before we were together. And I didn’t find out until after we broke up. A long time after we broke up. She just told me a few months ago and—”
“In December?” he asks.
I nod. “And I’ve just been so . . . I don’t know. I was the first person she ever told about what happened, and I didn’t know what to do or say.” I stop myself from saying,which is why I needed you. “I felt helpless. Hell, I still feel helpless.”
“I’m sorry,” Dad says.
“I guess I just wish I would’ve known earlier about what happened. I feel like I should’ve known, anyway, without her having to tell me. Like maybe I could’ve done something to help her. I don’t know, it’s like a million thoughts running through my head all at once. Like what if I did anything when we were together to make things worse for her? If I wasn’t paying attention or I pressured—”
“Do you mean sexually or . . . ?” For all his faults, he has always been easygoing about this kind of stuff, so I know his question is strictly for clarity—no judgment involved.
I nod. “Mostly, yeah. But other times too.”
“Come on, Josh. You’ve always been a stand-up guy. I’m sure you were a gentleman.”
“How can you be sure? I’m not. There were times I got really mad at her, lost my patience. But only because I didn’t understand what was going on. Now that I do, I’ve questioned a lot of what happened between us. Sometimes I wish I could do our whole relationship over. If I could do it differently, I would.”
“It’s never too late to try again. Right?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know, it’s probably better that we stay just friends. It feels too . . . complicated,” I land on, borrowing Hannah’s word from last night. “That is, until I see her, and then it feels like it would be so freaking easy. But now she’s with someone else, and anyway, there’s this age difference—”
“Oh.” He breathes the word, the subtlest interruption, and I can see the worry stitching across his forehead. “How much of a difference are we talking about here, Josh?”
“She’s seventeen. So, it’s not terrible, but it’s—it’s there. We were only two grades apart in school,” I try to explain. “Anyway, she’s about to graduate.”
“All right,” he says, seeming to relax a bit. “Go on, sorry.”
“I want to . . . ,” I begin. “I don’t know, I just can’t . . . I guess I thought . . .” But I’m not even sure what I’m trying to say, not sure what I want anymore, what I think. “I just thought I’d moved on,” I finally admit.
