Chapter 26: April 1987

I spend a few days grieving, allowing Colin to hold and serenade me. On Wednesday, I take his advice and bury Daly's card in an Adidas Nizza shoebox I rarely open. By the following week, I have largely forgotten about it, mostly by throwing myself into schoolwork.

The following Friday, we’re eating a light dinner at the cafeteria, discussing baby names and parenting books, when I see Pete walking toward us.

I knock my shoulder against his. “Colin.”

“What’s up?” He follows my gaze, then places his hand on my jeans.

"Hey, Ra'Shelle," Pete says weakly. His anguished expression alarms me.

"Hey, Pete," I say, completely composed. "I thought you were in San Diego."

"Yeah, I was. I am. I arrived yesterday to help clean… I didn't see you at the funeral."

"I didn't go."

He rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah, I figured." He looks at Colin, then back at me. "Can we talk for a minute? Alone."

“Whatever you need to say, you can say in front of my husband.”

Pete’s eyes widen. “Husband?! When did that happen?”

“July.”

Pete clears his throat and gestures at the chair across from me. “May I?”

I nod, feeling Colin’s thumb gently rub my leg.

"My father asked me to help prepare your mom’s house for the next tenants. I asked if he’d contacted you to see if you wanted anything, but he just grunted. He called movers and a cleaning service, but he wanted to, you know, clean it up a little first."

"Trash anything illegal," I say, my eyes even with his.

"Yeah, sorry… I hadn't stepped in that house in nearly a decade. It looks so different. So–"

"Like a crack den?"

He sighs. "I was going to say disorganized." He rubs the back of his neck again and takes a deep breath. "You… you left in a hurry, huh?"

I raise my hand. "Pete, I'm not sure where you're going with this, but I don't want to hear it."

He nods and murmurs, "I think you do, Ra'Shelle."

I bite the inside of my bottom lip, trying to focus on Colin's gentle touch. I gesture. "Fine. Continue."

"I asked if you left in a hurry because you forgot to take something that I don't think you would have forgotten otherwise."

My mind races as I struggle to determine what I could have possibly left. When Daly escorted me home, I only had a few minutes to pack before he drove me to Peggy's house.

And my mother screamed at me the entire time.

What the fuck is wrong with you, Ra'Shelle? You never go to the pigs! You belong here with your mama. No one else will ever want you! No one else will ever give a shit about you! Do you hear me, Ra'Shelle? You’re dead as soon as you walk out that door! Dead! Do you hear me?

I clear my throat and try to keep my voice level. "What did you find, Pete?"

He swallows. "Pocket memo books. Three of them." He meets my eyes, then looks away. "I mean, they were well hidden. I found the pouch in the rip in the top corner of your mattress. I assumed it would be drugs… Imagine my surprise when I found notebooks."

Shit.

My pulse quickens, and my face burns. "Did your father see them?"

He shakes his head slowly.

"Can I have them back, please?"

"Yeah, of course." He opens his messenger bag and pulls a pouch from under a stack of papers. The golden cords are pulled tightly on the thin, faded blue fabric.

And then it happens.

A pen. A flashlight. Blood. Tears.

I take a deep breath as he holds it toward me, but I know I’ll vomit if I touch it.

Colin looks at me and then takes the pouch from Pete, who reluctantly releases it.

"Ra'Shelle,” Pete says softly, “I know I shouldn't have, but I looked at them. Every line is a name and a number, which I assume is a date. There’s more than fourteen hundred lines, Ra'Shelle."

I clench my jaw, then loosen it. "I know the contents, Pete."

He takes a deep breath. "'P. Lassio' is the first name in the first notebook and the last name in the third notebook, and it appears another 1,066 times."

I bite my lip and exhale slowly before looking at him. “And?”

“And G. Stiedbeck is in there almost 300 times. And there are nearly three dozen other names.”

I narrow my eyes. "Do you have a question?"

He shakes his head, then sighs. "Ra'Shelle, I don't know what to say."

"Then shut up," I command curtly. I stand and carry my tray to the trash can, forcing my hands to stay still, as the men follow me outside.

Pete sighs. "I deserve that."

It’s still light and breezy, the perfect night for drawing or a calm stroll.

Instead, I'm doing this.

I stop walking and turn around. "What, Pete? What?"

He puts his hands in his pockets. "After mom died, you know, I just… I was a kid, Ra'Shelle, and I mostly just stayed out of the way… I'm so sorry, Ra'Shelle. If I had just…"

My face is hot, and I remember all the fantasies I envisioned over the years in which I punched him in the jaw. Now that the moment is here, I don’t have the energy for it.

Or maybe there’s another reason that I simply say, “If you had just what?”

“Come on, Ra'Shelle. You and I both know that he–'' He takes another breath. “Mom dying messed him up, Ra'Shelle. I’m not excusing anything; I’m just telling you that it messed him up, and we both paid for it.”

He sighs quickly. “I never wanted to be popular, Ra'Shelle. I never cared about being class president, or a star athlete, or any of that high school nonsense. I just did all of those things to stay away, stay gone, because when I was home…” He shakes his head. “We both paid for it, Ra'Shelle, and I wasn’t paying enough attention.”

I rub my face. "Is he going to contact me?"

He looks into my eyes. "No.”

"He's not going to do something sick like send me one of my stuffed animals or call me and demand I pick up my stuff? He's not going to show up at the dorm with a box of childhood mementos or ask for the rent she owes him?"

"No. When I mentioned your name, his reaction… I'd bet good money that you never see or hear from him again."

"Are you going to tell anyone about the names?"

He raises his hands against his shoulders. "God no! I don't want anything to do with that. What good would that do anyone, especially you?"

I roll my eyes. "Because you care so much about my well-being.”

He sighs. "Believe what you want, I guess.”

He rubs the back of his neck again, and I see the faded woven bracelet tied around his wrist. He catches me staring at the last-minute birthday present created by a girl barely old enough to braid, and we lock eyes.

I want to ask him why he kept it and why he’s wearing it now. I want to ask him if it’s sentimental or a carefully targeted mind game. I want to ask him about his thought process when he tied it, knowing he was planning to see me.

I want to ask a lot of things, and his eyes tell me he’s waiting for my questions.

But I can’t ask any of them.

There’s a long silence, and eventually, I sigh. "How's the job?"

"Fine. Pays well.” He slips his hands back into his pockets. “If you ever need anything, Ra'Shelle, look me up. I'll do what I can."

"I don't want your pity, Pete, and I don't need your help. Let's just go back to our agreement from two years ago. Forget me. Forget this. It’s a nightmare to bury, a haze to lift. Erase it from your mind."

"I hope you can too."

I sigh. "Thank you for returning the pads."

"I hope things work out for you, Ra'Shelle."

"They'll work out for both of us."

He smiles slightly. "Never see you, Ra'Shelle."

"Never see you, Pete.”

Colin, still holding the pouch, says nothing as he follows me back to the dorm.

I wait until we’re a few paces away. "Well, that could have gone worse."

I take his hand, and his fingers tightly wrap around mine. "You okay, Colin?"

"I should be asking you that."

"You're welcome to read the pads,” I say. “I don't care. When you're done, though, will you throw them into the container of crap we never use? One day, when we own a house with a fireplace, I'll use them as kindling, and it'll be cathartic."

"Ra'Shelle?"

"Yeah, babe." I walk into King Hall, realizing that I’m leading him, rather than walking beside him.

"Fourteen hundred?"

"C'mon, Colin. You knew it was bad. It’s thirty-four names in total.” I sigh as I unlock the door. “Lassio and Gabriel were both sadists, Colin, and I was their outlet."

"Why did you keep a list?"

I shrug. "Sometimes I entertained revenge fantasies, as if the notebooks would be enough evidence, or I'd track them down later and cross off their names. It was the only thing I could control; I couldn't tell anyone, but at least I could write it down."

He follows me into the suite. "Why are you not more upset about this?"

"He returned them,” I say. “He gave me his word that he won’t use them against me and that his father isn't going to contact me. This is really the best outcome, given the situation." I throw the keys on the desk and sink into the couch.

Colin opens a storage container and places the pouch on the bottom, under stacks of gift boxes, wrapping paper, and other assorted items. The lid clicks as he pushes it firmly.

"You're not going to read them?" I ask.

"No."

He walks into the kitchen and takes a bottle of juice from the refrigerator.

I lean against the armrest. "Are you okay?"

He sits on the couch, staring at me. "I don't know."

I cock my head. "It's not like you to be this… sad?"

"I just didn't realize that there were so many."

"You know most of the stories by now. All those times I said 'whore out' you were thinking… like, twenty times?"

He’s quiet for a moment. "No. I expected dozens, maybe hundreds, but…” He lets his voice trail off.

"Colin, she was a gambling crack addict that had to constantly choose between her bills, debts, and drugs."

"But that many men?"

I contemplate his words. "Colin, I never said they were all men."

He nearly chokes on his juice. "What?"

"C'mon. You know women can be rapists and sadists too. It was mostly men, but not all of them… Sometimes regulars brought their wives, girlfriends, or friends. Once there was a couple whose foster daughter had recently returned to her biological family; I don’t know how or why, but Lassio just stood there while the woman sat on my bed, hugged me, and cried for half an hour. That’s all she wanted, and then they left, and I never saw them again. They’re in the notebooks too.”

He swallows. "The first name in those pads is Lassio, right?"

I nod.

"What's the first date?"

I take a deep breath. He’s never asked me for specifics, and I’ve never volunteered dates. I briefly consider being evasive, but I know he wants a direct answer. "February 29, 1976.”

He stands and pulls back the curtain. With the sun perched slightly above the horizon, oranges, pinks, and purples swirl in the sky. "Can we take a walk?"

"Sure, babe."

He grabs my hand as soon as we’re outside, and we walk close to one another in complete silence. I smile as we cross the street, and he orders two scoops: one butter pecan, one strawberry.

He takes the cones and hands me the strawberry.

I lick my ice cream as Colin grips my hand again. We walk silently to the quad and sit on the ground next to the fountain. He rests his head on my shoulder. "Remember when we used to just sit and draw?"

"We still do that."

He shakes his head. "One of us is usually in the library. When was the last time we just sat in bed and drew?"

I chortle. "Last week."

He almost smiles. "Fine, but you know what I mean."

"You want to recreate that moment of us sitting here and drawing after eating ice cream on a hot day. I understand… I guess things were simpler back then."

He wraps his arm around me. "Well, I don't know about that."

I raise my eyebrows. "No?"

"I always knew that you were complex." He winks.

I laugh and knock my shoulder against his. "Yes, you did… We were sitting right here when I told you I had a shitty childhood, and you told me you had one too."

"And we were sitting right here when I gave you that ring," he adds.

"Mmm. The resized bands look good too." I stretch my legs, my Converse high tops scraping along the ground. I lean back, so that my head is lying against the fountain and I stare at the dusky sky.

"That ice cream is going to fall onto your face," he says.

"No, I'm talented. I can do it."

He smiles. "This will not end well for you."

He finishes his ice cream, then pushes himself off the ground. He lifts his high-top Reeboks and lies down, mirroring my position."

"Demonstrating your strength?"

"I still like showing off for you,” he says. “Now, let's see you eat that ice cream without dropping it on your face."

I tilt my head up and lick the scoop. "See?"

"Cheater."

I smile. "Fine." I lean back and place the cone close to my mouth. The ice cream slips off the cone and falls on my nose. I sit up, and it falls onto my chest, then the ground.

"That's my girl!"

I quickly wipe my chest with the napkin from the cone. "Congratulations, you were right. Now I'm all sticky."

He leans over and kisses my nose. "Let's go back to the suite, and you can take a shower."

I crumple the napkin. "Don't worry about it. Let's just look at the sky while I eat my nearly empty cone… This is our version of going ‘up on the roof,’ don’t you think?”

He rolls back over, interlocking his fingers behind his head, and quietly begins to sing, "Right smack dab in the middle of town, I've found a paradise that's trouble proof.”

I rub his arm. "Feel better?"

He takes a deep breath. "I guess."

I sigh. "It's different for me, Colin. It's four... almost five years ago now. I almost never wake up from the nightmares. I've learned to avoid most of my triggers. You've helped me stay in the present and look toward the future."

I place my hand on his forearm. "I think about it, and some days are worse than others for sure, but… I think it's harder for you now."

He doesn’t move. "We're about to have birthdays and be old enough to drink. You're starting a job. Then we'll celebrate our first anniversary. In August, we’ll become parents… It just struck me a couple of weeks ago that we're actually adults now. We're not a couple of kids barely out of high school and drawing with a dream."

"You just realized this?" I tease, raising my eyebrows.

He’s still serious, staring at the dusky sky. "Do you think about your dreams for our kid?"

"Of course."

"I think about teaching them to stand up for themselves and others. I think about teaching them to create boundaries and respect the boundaries of others."

He sighs and looks at me.

"What, Colin?" I ask, placing my hand on his forehead.

"I can't… I can’t move past how many people failed you. I mean, abused, sterilized, living a nightmare. Where were the adults?"

I smile and pat his arm. "You're going to be a great dad."

"Think so?"

"Absolutely."

"You're going to be an awesome mom."

I grin. "Oh, I know."

He smiles, stands, and extends his hands. "I love your confidence."

I chuckle. "Oh, I know."

He rolls his eyes, stands behind me, and wraps his arms around me. "Killin’ me, Shelley."

"You love it."

He groans and begins walking with his arms still around me. "I’ll never be able to articulate how much I love you. You’re my favorite person in the whole world."

I hold onto his arms with both hands. "I know that, too."