Life and Other Complications Read online

  I kissed the girls goodnight and left their room, shutting the door and then leaning against it. But I kept seeing the shape of their little bodies under the covers and the fear of monsters in Gabby’s eyes.

  When I was Gabby’s age, and sitting in my bed in the dark, I didn’t watch my closet. My eyes were on the door to the hall, watching and dreading the moment when Rick would come into my room.

  Rick was the most terrifying thing in my life. But he was also the kindest.

  It would have been so much easier if I could have just labeled him a monster. But I couldn’t. Rick gave us a home and made Mama smile. He went with me to my first day of first grade. He met my teacher and took pictures with me at my desk. Just like a real daddy. In the daylight he called me his princess. In the dark, he called me a whore. I didn’t know what that meant. Just that it was bad.

  The same man who taught me to ride a bike, and celebrated every lost tooth, also locked my bedroom door and made me cry. But not always. Sometimes when he came into my room at night, he was gentle. Sometimes his touch felt almost good. Which just made it worse. It was more proof that there was something wrong with me. That I was dirty and bad. That I deserved the things he did to me.

  But tonight, I thought about Gabby. If someone hurt her, I would never blame her. But it was different with me. I never told Rick no. I did what he told me to do. It was my fault. The sex, the HIV, the lies. All of it.

  I made this mess. And now I have to be the one to deal with it.

  Thursday, June 23

  Today was my last deposition. The next step is the trial. But first I had to get through my interview with the attorneys for the defense.

  Rick told me what would happen if I ever told anyone about what happened between us. And today I had to say those words in front of a camera, for his people. They’re going to let him see it.

  Riding up in the elevator, I kept praying that time would slow down. But instead, the elevator seemed to speed up. The doors opened and there was Mr. Raleigh, waiting for me, like usual. But today, Ms. Snyder, my court appointed advocate, was standing beside him. She had never met me at the elevator before. I suspect she was trying to be comforting. But her presence had the opposite effect.

  “Hello, Alyson,” Mr. Raleigh said. “The defense team is set up in the conference room.”

  I couldn’t quite manage words, so I nodded.

  Ms. Snyder came up beside me. “Just stay calm and answer their questions truthfully.”

  But I wasn’t calm. And it wasn’t something I figured out how to achieve before we walked into the conference room.

  Rick’s lawyers introduced themselves as Ms. Stone and Mr. Barkley. They sat on the far side of the table. Ms. Snyder went to her usual corner. Mr. Raleigh took the chair beside me. The battle lines were drawn.

  Mr. Barkley turned on the camera. Ms. Stone was the one who asked me to state my name for the record. Then the preliminaries were over.

  Ms. Stone looked directly at me. “I have watched your earlier depositions, Miss Bennett. In them you allege that my client, Richard Wallace, sexually abused you. Is that correct?”

  I had to work to keep my voice calm. “I don’t allege.”

  “Mr. Wallace didn’t abuse you?”

  “No, he did. I mean alleged makes it sound like you don’t believe me.”

  “And why should we believe you?”

  “Because there was physical evidence. The DNA matched.”

  “There was a breech in the chain of possession, leading all of the physical evidence collected in the emergency room to be ruled inadmissible. Which means it can’t be mentioned in any trial.” Ms. Stone glanced at Mr. Raleigh sitting beside me. “The ADA should have told you that.”

  “I did,” Mr. Raleigh said.

  Ms. Stone’s eyes came back to me. “So I will return to my original question. Do you allege that Mr. Wallace abused you?”

  I hate the word allege, but I answered her question. “Yes.”

  “How many times?”

  I faltered. “I don’t know.”

  Ms. Stone raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know?”

  “It was almost every night, once it started.”

  “And when did it start?” Ms. Stone said.

  I don’t know the date. It was a few weeks after we moved into his house. June? July, maybe? I had to choose.

  “The July that I was six.”

  “And when did the abuse allegedly stop?”

  “December of the next year.”

  “So roughly seventeen months,” Miss Stone said.

  “Yes.”

  “Your mother was home during these assaults?”

  I tasted blood and realized that I had bitten into the inside of my lower lip. “Yes.”

  “Where did the alleged abuse take place?”

  “Most of it happened upstairs in my bedroom, when he was putting me to bed.”

  “And where was your mother?”

  I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “Downstairs. Doing dishes. Watching TV.”

  He spent hours putting me to bed. But she never commented.

  Ms. Stone’s expression was incredulous. “Your mother was watching television while her boyfriend assaulted you in an upstairs bedroom?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “That doesn’t seem likely, now does it?” Ms. Stone said.

  My voice was shaking. “I don’t know. I just know it’s true.”

  Ms. Stone’s face tightened. Her next questions came at me like bullets from an automatic weapon: sharp, fast and relentless. For hours she bombarded me, making me go over everything so many times I almost doubted myself.

  “So you allege that Mr. Wallace assaulted you nearly every night for seventeen months and not only did you not tell anyone, not a single adult noticed, not your mother who lived in the house with you or your teachers who were trained to look for signs of child abuse. Is that correct?”

  I knew how bad this sounded. But I also knew the truth. “Yes.”

  Ms. Stone flipped a page in her notes. “Do you have a boyfriend, Miss Bennett?”

  “What?”

  Ms. Stone looked up from her notes. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

  “Yes.”

  “What is his name?”

  “I don’t understand what this has to do with anything.”

  “You don’t need to understand,” Ms. Stone said. “Just answer the question. What is your boyfriend’s name?”

  “Luke Harrison.”

  “And how long have you known Mr. Harrison?”

  “Um, nine years.”

  “Would you describe your relationship as close?”

  I shifted in my chair. “Yes.”

  “Do you love Mr. Harrison?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you trust him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you talk to him about personal things?”

  “Yes.”

  I didn’t know where she was going until she said, “Have you told him about the alleged abuse?”

  And my whole chest froze.

  “Miss Bennett. Have you told your boyfriend about the alleged abuse?”

  “No,” I whispered.

  Ms. Stone leaned forward in her chair. “You haven’t told him about such a traumatic event in your life. Why is that?”

  Because I lied about how I got HIV.

  But I couldn’t say that. If they knew I lied about that, why should anyone believe me about this?

  I was bracing myself for her to press the point. But she didn’t.

  “You and your mother were in a car accident. How old were you when that happened?”

  “Seven. Almost eight.”

  It was three weeks before my birthday.

  “And did you suffer any head trauma during that accident?” Ms. Stone said.

  “I had a bad headache afterwards.”

  “And during your time in the emergency room, what other injuries did they find?” Ms. Stone said.

&nb
sp; “A deep cut on my arm, from the broken glass.”

  “And what else?”

  I looked up at the ceiling tiles. “Sexual trauma.”

  It was what Dr. Daniels called it when she told my mother.

  I was still groggy when Mama came through the swinging doors. She had a white bandage taped to her forehead. But she seemed all right, just worried about me.

  Dr. Daniels had pulled her aside and spoken in a low voice. “Miss Bennett, your daughter has suffered severe sexual trauma.”

  “Th-that isn’t possible.”

  “The evidence doesn’t leave any room for doubt,” Dr. Daniels said. “I have already contacted the police.”

  All of the color drained out of Mama’s face. “I didn’t know.”

  Dr. Daniels didn’t comment.

  Mama came over to me. She was shaky and pale, but she smiled at me. “I have to go home and get a bag for us. And then I’ll be right back.”

  “Mama, don’t go.”

  She squeezed my hand. “I’ll be right back.”

  Ms. Stone’s voice attacked me in the present. “So the evidence of sexual abuse was found after you suffered a head injury in the accident. Is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you lose consciousness from this head injury?” Ms. Stone said.

  “I guess so.”

  She nodded. “Did you suffer memory loss?”

  “Just for part of the accident,” I said.

  I was telling her the truth, but Ms. Stone’s face made it obvious that she didn’t believe me.

  “You don’t actually remember who abused you, isn’t that correct, Miss Bennet?”

  “No. I remember.”

  “The police pressured you, and you named the first person you could think of, Richard Wallace.”

  “No.”

  Ms. Stone looked like a wolf circling her prey. “You haven’t told your boyfriend that Mr. Wallace abused you, because he never did. Isn’t that right?”

  “No.”

  I looked to Mr. Raleigh to help me. But he just sat there as Ms. Stone’s voice attacked me.

  “You made up the accusations. Isn’t that true, Miss Bennett?”

  “No. Why would I go through all of this if it didn’t happen?”

  “Mr. Wallace is a wealthy man. You could be planning to sue him.”

  “I don’t want his money. I want him to go to jail. You know what he did to me, and what he did to that other girl. How can you sit there and defend him?”

  “I’m just doing my job, Miss Bennett.”

  I was out of my chair, my hands gripping the table. “He’ll do it again. You know that. He gets off on hurting little girls.”

  I was done. Ms. Snyder was on her feet, but I didn’t go near her.

  I pulled the door open as Mr. Raleigh said, “Miss Bennett—”

  But Ms. Stone’s voice cut him off. “Let her go. We got what we needed.”

  I froze in the doorway. We got what we needed.

  I had helped them.

  Dear Olivia,

  I saw Rick’s lawyers today. It went badly.

  When I left them, all I wanted to do was run away. I wanted to go somewhere where no one knows me. Somewhere where I wouldn’t have to ever see Rick or step into a witness stand or tell my friends the truth.

  I thought about Alaska. No one would think to look for me there. And I’m used to the cold. I told myself that Luke and Caroline would have each other. And eventually they would stop thinking about me. They would be fine.

  But if I run, I would be abandoning you.

  Without my testimony, they would need yours. They would make you face Rick and say those horrible words out loud.

  I remember how terrifying that thought was as a little girl.

  I can’t leave you to face that alone.

  I have to testify.

  Which means I have to face my friends and tell them what I’ve done.

  -Aly

  Saturday, June 25

  I started with Caroline. I knew I’d want to back out. So I sent her a message that said, I need to tell you something in person.

  She clearly knew this was serious, because she wrote back: I’ll meet you in the cupola.

  The cupola is a small glassed in room at the top of the hotel. When we were kids it was where we would sit and talk when we didn’t want anyone to hear. The two times in my life that I’ve seen Caroline cry have both been in the cupola.

  I spent the trip to the hotel trying to calm my nerves. But it didn’t work. And before I was ready, I was running down the long tree-lined driveway to the Ballentine. I entered the hotel through a side door and started up the stairs, my steps growing slower with each floor I passed. But I still reached the fourth floor too soon. I opened one last door and slowly started my way up the steep staircase that leads to the small room at the very top of the hotel.

  When I got to the top of the stairs, Caroline was already there, staring out at the mountains. Her whole body was tight. And for one horrible second, I thought she already knew. But reason pushed in to tell me that wasn’t likely. Not yet. Chances were, she was upset about something else.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked her.

  She didn’t look at me. “My father.”

  “What did he do now?”

  “He had a son,” she said. “With some woman in New York.”

  I walked closer. “You have a brother?”

  Caroline finally turned to look at me. “I’ve had a brother, for three years. But my father didn’t tell me until now.”

  I stared at her in disbelief.

  “Exactly. He didn’t tell me because he didn’t want his new wife to find out he had cheated on her and use it against him in the divorce. But they signed the settlement yesterday, so he calls me today to tell me, oh, by the way, you have a sibling you knew nothing about.”

  Her face was tight and pale. “He is a lying, cheating bastard who doesn’t care about anyone but himself.”

  I didn’t know what to do but hug her. At first, she was stiff in my arms. But after a few seconds, she hugged me back. Caroline held onto me like she was drowning.

  It was a long time before she pulled back and wiped her eyes. “But you aren’t here about my disgusting father. What was it you wanted to talk about?”

  “It can wait.”

  “No, tell me. I need to think about something else.”

  This was not the kind of distraction she needed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  Caroline’s face was still hard, but her voice was tired. “I can’t deal with anyone else keeping secrets right now. Just tell me, Aly.”

  There were alarm bells going off in my head. I couldn’t think of a worse time to tell her. But she already knew I had something important to say, and if I didn’t, she was going to get upset and this was going to be even more of a mess.

  So I told her the truth. “I lied.”

  The pain on Caroline’s face faded into confusion and anger. “You lied about what?”

  My throat was closing up. This was a bad time.

  “You lied about what?” Caroline’s voice was getting sharper.

  “About how I got HIV.”

  “You didn’t get HIV from your birth mother?”

  I shook my head.

  “Then why did you say that?” Caroline said.

  “I don’t know. It-it just came out. And then you and Luke started passing on the story.”

  “Because we thought it was the truth.”

  “I know. But once you started telling people, I didn’t know how to undo it.”

  Caroline’s voice was rising. “You tell the truth.”

  “I’ve tried.”

  “Not very hard!” she screamed at me. “It’s been a decade.”

  Caroline pulled back, breathing hard. “Do you even have HIV?”

  I swallowed. “Yes.”

  Caroline met my eyes. “See, I don’t know if that’s true. Because you just told me you’re a l
iar.”

  I’ve pictured this moment so many times, and I thought I knew what it would feel like. But I was wrong. It was so much worse than anything I had imagined. She was looking at me like I disgusted her.

  “Get out,” Caroline said.

  I turned and stumbled down flights of stairs until I was out of the building and running across the back lawn. I didn’t even know where I was going until I came in sight of the tool shed that Caroline’s mom had let us turn into a clubhouse. I wrenched the door open and went inside. With the door shut, the only light in the room was what could filter through the layers of grime that had built up on the windows. The result was dim. But I was glad. I didn’t want to see the cheerful pictures I had painted on these walls. It was all a lie. Just illusions to cover up the ugliness.

  I sank down in the corner of that filthy floor, wrapping my arms around my bent knees, just trying to hold myself together.

  It was hours later when I heard the door of the shed open and Luke’s voice said, “Aly?”

  I brushed my hands across my face, trying to wipe it clean of emotions. “Over here.”

  Luke came through the door. He saw me, but for once he didn’t smile. He looked more concerned than happy.

  “I called,” he said. “But you didn’t answer.”

  I looked around, but there was no sign of my phone. “I must have left it at the Millers’.”

  Luke nodded. “I talked to Caroline. She said you had a fight.”

  My heart seized up in my chest. “Did she tell you what it was about?”

  “No, just that you were upset when you left.”

  After Mama and Caroline, I felt physically sick even thinking about saying the words. But I knew I needed to tell him. I was running out of time. “I have to tell you something.”

  Luke sat down next to me on the dirty floor. “Okay.”

  I took a breath and worked to form the words. I could hear them in my head, but when I opened my mouth there was no sound.

  We sat there in silence for minutes before Luke said, “Maybe it would help if I tell you something first.”

  I knew it wouldn’t. But I figured it would buy me a little time, so I nodded.

  “I got subpoenaed yesterday,” Luke said. “For a case against some guy named Richard Wallace.”

  I couldn’t breathe.