You and Everything After (22 page)

“Ty,” she sighs, coming back to me and placing both hands flat along the door panel, patting them down once for emphasis. “You are
especially
good at the mushy shit.”

Her hands slip from the window, and she backs away, giving me one wink.

“Call me, Kel. For anything. I mean it,” I say, and she holds up a hand to wave goodbye before pulling her arms in to hug her body. She doesn’t break stride, doesn’t pause at the door, doesn’t let any of it show in front of her family. She walks back inside to pretend everything’s fine for a few more hours, for today.

She’s so strong.

She’ll be okay.

I convince myself she’ll be okay.

Chapter 25

Cass

The news was spreading all over the campus news sites when we got back to school.

ASSOCIATE FACULTY MEMBER FILES LAWSUIT AGAINST SCHOOL FOR WRONGFUL TERMINATION

I read the story a thousand times. No mention of my name. No mention of his assault either. A few quotes from school administrators, talking points that only circle the story, but never really saying anything. The closest anyone gets to the truth is when one faculty member uses the word
accusations.
Yes, someone made an accusation—based on an assault. Student reporters don’t dig as deeply as they should. A little legwork would have turned up my police report. But they only worked off of the tip they received, probably from Cotterman’s lawyer. A bigger city, a bigger state—the more the media attention would be. It’s big enough for me as it is.

The plane ride here was just as quiet as the one going. And Paige didn’t try to fix things when we got to campus. She has a big formal to attend, the fruits of her planning. She’s distracting herself with that. And I’m glad.

In the meantime, I’ve come back to a lonely dorm room. Rowe left Nate and Ty’s parents’ house in the middle of the holiday. Her ex-boyfriend—the one who was barely living on life-support—died. Nate’s not talking about it at all, and he’s been completely closed off, spending most of his time at practice and alone with Ty. Ty told me it didn’t go well, that Rowe is extremely upset. I guess Nate knew about it before she did; somehow her parents told Nate first, asking him to keep it a secret until she was done with finals.

They meant well. That’s what everyone keeps saying.

They meant well.

Everyone means well—making decisions for you, taking things out of your control. But meaning well doesn’t mean it’s the right thing to do.

I text my friend again, hoping she’ll say she’s coming back, that she isn’t leaving me here alone. I need her. But she doesn’t write back. She’s gone dark. And with two weeks left including finals, I worry that I may never see her again.

“You skipped!” Ty says, busting through my door with a pizza on his lap. I skipped my workout session with him this afternoon, not really feeling the energy.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m feeling a little zapped today,” I say, not really sure if it’s my body, the stress, or my spirit. Maybe it’s all three.

“Hmmmm, okay, you get one pass. But the next time you lose a whole letter grade,” he says, flipping open the box and pulling a slice out on a napkin. The smell is glorious, and for the first time in days, I think I’m hungry.

“I didn’t realize I was getting a grade for my workouts with you,” I say, holding a slice to my mouth and blowing on it to cool.

“Baby, I’m always evaluating. Always,” he says, winking. Cocky son-of-a-bitch. I love that about him.

“Oh yeah, me too,” I say, handing him a napkin. He has a giant splotch of sauce on his chin. “That’s going to put you at a
C
, maybe even a
C
minus.”

“What, a little sauce? Damn, you grade hard,” he says, wiping his chin. “That’s fine though. I like extra credit.”

“I bet you do,” I tease.

Things quickly slid back to natural with Ty. He told me about his visit with Kelly, and I feel terrible about what she found out. I can’t imagine being a young mother, newly married, and having a husband cheat. I think if Ty could find a way to take out both Paul Cotterman and Jared with one shot, and make it look like an accident, he would.

The threat of the lawsuit is wearing on me. It’s there when I wake up in the morning, dangling above my head, threatening to ruin my reputation, yet again. I call my dad every afternoon for an update, and it’s always the same. We’re still talking with his lawyers, trying to find out what leverage he has.

Leverage.

I’ll tell you what kind of leverage he has. He’s a young faculty member, decent looking, and charming with his female students. And if he smells weakness in any form, he goes in after it, for his own pleasure. He uses leverage for evil. And I’d bust his nose again if given the chance.

The latest worry was that he was thinking of pressing charges against me. He has doctor’s reports on his fractured nose. Suing me for breaking his nose. What an ass!

When my phone rings, I hold it and consider putting my dad off. I doubt he has anything new, and I don’t like having these conversations with him in front of Ty. But there’s also a part of me that’s holding on to hope that one of these times, one phone call, my dad will say it’s all over, that the case was dropped. That Paul is gone. That I get to play soccer without worry. That I get to be young, be in love, and just be me—just Cass. That was the plan all along.

I slide to answer, and hold my breath, ready to be debriefed on the
Cotterman issue.

“Hey dad,” I say, through a full mouth.

“Ah sorry, pumpkin. Did I call during dinner?” He’s been calling me pet names lately, trying to soften our relationship. My blowup at dinner the night before Thanksgiving did a real number on my parents. My mom must have cried apologies to me a dozen times. My dad deals with things differently, just changing his behavior. What it’s really going to take is time…and lots of it.

“No, it’s fine. It’s just pizza,” I say, taking a big gulp from the soda bottle to clear my mouth. “So, where are we at today?”

“Things are looking good,” he says. I almost spit out the sip I just took, shocked. Things haven’t looked good in a while, since I gave Cotterman a bloody nose, to be honest. Good was not what I was expecting.

“Good. Wow. Really?” I say, turning to Ty and smiling. He gives me a thumbs up.

“We made an amendment to the original settlement, and Paul accepted,” my dad says. His legalese is a little vague.

“An amendment…and he…
accepted?”
I ask, still not sure what this means.

“Yeah, we changed the terms of the settlement. Really, there was no way he could not accept, Cass. He would have been a fool not to,” my dad says. Something about the way he says it, his phrasing, makes me itchy. So I push for more.

“Did we…
pay
him? Is that how we’re making this all go away?” I ask, and the silence on the other end confirms it. “Dad…did you give him more money? The man who tried to…
ohhhh
…oh my god.”

The thought of it all makes me sick, and I feel dirtier than I ever have before.

“You hit him, Cass,” my dad says, like that’s the only fact on the table.

“Yes, because he wanted to sexually assault me!” I bite back, tossing the rest of my uneaten pizza in the trash.

My dad’s sigh comes through loud and clear, and it makes my head hurt. “Cass, the law isn’t black and white like that,” he says.

“Like what, like, you can’t hit someone in the temple and kick them in the face so they don’t violate you? Black and white like that?” I’m pacing in a circle, walking my pattern in front of Ty until he holds my waist to stop me. My eyes burn, my head hurts, my world is spinning. I don’t understand any of this.

“Cass, the details, they’re what you say and what Paul Cotterman says,” my dad begins to explain, and I cut him off.

“You mean I could be lying, and maybe I came onto him and brought this trouble on myself. Just like I did with Kyle. That’s what you mean, isn’t it Dad?”

“Cass, I didn’t say that. Don’t put words in my mouth,” he says, defending himself. He’s fucking defending himself.

“No, Dad. If I put words in your mouth, they could never be as hurtful as the thoughts you have about me.” I hang up before he can say another word, and I throw the phone on my bed.

I should be elated. This is what I wanted—the Cotterman issue put to bed. But somehow all I feel is worse. My phone buzzes from his call, and I silence it.

“I need to shower,” I say, unable to look at Ty. I feel embarrassed, and I think I’m going to cry. If I can just make it to the shower, I can do it under the powerful spray of the water, and it will be like it never happened.

“Go ahead,” Ty says. “I’ll wait here. As long as you need.”

I know he will. And even though I want to send him away, more of me
needs
him to stay, to wait…even though it could be hours.

Rowe left her small basket here, and I use it to carry my towel and pajamas, to have a place to set everything on the bench just outside of the shower stall. I see why Rowe likes to shower at night now; it’s quiet in here. The sense of being alone is both comforting and frightening. But when you feel like I do right now—ugly, angry—the dark is welcoming, like a blanket.

The water does it’s magic, washing away any sign of weakness to come from my eyes. The warmth pounds my back and my arms and my chest, working my muscles, the steam opening my lungs. After about thirty minutes, I almost feel right again.

And then my vision

                                       
slides

                                                   
to

                                                         
the

                                                                 
right.

Everything. Doubles.

My world slants, and I trail my body down the wall to sit under the water.

The water can’t erase this.

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

I wait for it to stop. It’s temporary. This has to be temporary.

Everything will fix itself. It has to.

You can’t pay off MS.

Ty

I plan on answering her phone the next time it rings. I planned it the moment she said she was leaving to shower. It’s impulsive. I’m good when I’m impulsive. It’s never failed me.

I don’t even let the ring finish when I press on the call to answer. And I know her father is shocked as hell when he hears a man’s voice answer “Hello, Mr. Owens.”

“Oh, I…I’m sorry. I…this is Cassidy’s phone, right? Who…who is this?”

“It’s Tyson, sir. I’m sorry this is how I’m meeting you. I really prefer to make an in-person first impression. This feels rude, so I do apologize,” I say, letting my accent come out thick. The Southern thing—it’s helpful when you’re trying to work an angle, trying to make a point. For some reason, people let you talk just a little bit longer when you say things with a Louisiana accent.

“Tyson. While it’s nice to finally speak with you, if you don’t mind, I’d really like to talk to Cassidy,” he says. He’s a lawyer. My impulsivity might not work as well as I thought.

“I know, sir. She left. She was…upset. I’m waiting for her,” I say, leaving it vague. I want to see if he worries.

“Is she all right? It’s late there. Where did she go?”

This is the response I want.

“She’s fine. She just went to the women’s showers. She needed some time alone,” I say, suddenly aware that it’s late, and I’m with his daughter in her room. Ah well, fuck it. Let him think what he wants. “I was actually hoping…maybe you and I could talk? Cass, she’s confided in me, about everything. And I was here…when you called the last time.”

There’s a long silence on the phone. Her father—he isn’t as bad as she thinks he is. He’s human. And I think he’s trying to do the right thing. He’s just stuck and doesn’t know how. And Cass is so hurt that she can’t unbury herself.

“I’m sorry, Tyson. I don’t know if I’m comfortable talking about this private matter, with you. I hope you understand,” he says.

“Of course,” I say. “Just…if I may…I know we haven’t met, and I’m not sure how much Cass has told you about me.”

“Very little,” he says, curtly. Ouch. That was…not nice. I shake it off, because, well, I’m used to being insulted.

“Okay, well, I’m sure she has her reasons,” I say. I know Cass wants to introduce me, on her own terms. And I know her sister beat her to it. So I don’t fault Cass for this at all. “I’ve been a paraplegic for a little more than six years.”

He doesn’t interrupt. I thought my words out while I was waiting for his call, and I knew I would share this and share it quickly. It’s hard for people to stop you when you lead with this line. It’s a perk of my circumstance. I’ve earned temporary patience. And I use it to my advantage.

“Stupid cliff-diving accident; dumbest thing I’ve ever done. Ruined my life. Or it could have. I thought it did for a while. But I had people in my life
who
saw me for everything
but
my disability, for everything beyond that stupid decision. They saw my potential. And they preached to me, pounded it into my head, day after day, hour after hour, until yeah…I saw my potential too. I’m getting my MBA. I’m sure Paige didn’t mention that. I graduated magna cum laude for undergrad, on a scholarship. School…it’s so easy for me, it isn’t even funny. I don’t have to study, because things just make sense to me. My brain is strong. My body is strong. I haven’t run into something that I
can’t
find a way to do. And you know why?”

I give him a second to answer, but he doesn’t. It’s okay—he hears me. I’m sure he hears me.

“Because when I needed people the most, my parents, my brother, my friends—they stood up. They were present. They didn’t go for
easy
. My mom, she could have thrown medicine at me. I was a teenager, and she could have forced me to take drugs to help me cope with depression, to find courage, to sleep, to not feel the never-ending firing pain from my damaged nerves. I was afraid of what drugs would mean. I didn’t want to take them. So she found another way. She led me through the hard way, and she didn’t stop until I came out the other side.”

“I train others with disabilities. I’m not sure if Paige mentioned this either. I train them because I like to see what happens when someone believes in themself. That’s how I got to know your daughter. I trained her. I trained her right into believing in herself. And you know what happened? She started to want things again. She started to dream.

“My god, Mr. Owens. Your daughter—when she’s running, pushing herself…when she’s in her sport, competing—she’s fearsome. I have never seen anything or anyone like her. And I love her. I haven’t even told her yet, but I do. I love her for everything she is, and I love her for how much she makes me believe in the possible. She’s defiance, in all of its glory. And I don’t really care that it isn’t my place to tell you this, but if you’re too focused on taking the easy route to stop, just for a second, and watch her…and see her
as she is?
I’m not so sure you deserve to be the one she runs to in the first place.”