Elastic Heart (28 page)

Law wove in and out of the reporters. They chased the car, not caring if they hurt themselves in the process. Their bulbs flashed against the window, the bright lights like dying stars. When we finally pulled into The Bell Jar it felt like we’d been through a war.

“Did they follow us?” I asked Law as I stepped out of the door he’d opened for me. Law glanced down the street. It wasn’t empty, seeing as it was just about dinnertime, but there wasn’t a swarm of story-hungry reporters there either.

“I don’t think so.” Law’s voice was heavy as he shut the door behind me. Together we walked into The Bell Jar and we seated ourselves just like the first time we’d come. Unlike the first time, though, I wasn’t thinking of ways to leave. He had been a mystery then and I hadn’t trusted him.

There were still parts of Law that were a mystery to me, though, and maybe there always would be. Law was not the kind of person you got to know over dates and movies. Like diamond, Law was revealed through challenging circumstance. At first he appeared black and callous, but as you got to know him you saw what he truly was: sparkling, tough, and unbreakable. Law was one of a kind.

We both ordered the chicken and waffles (mine sans chicken), eating in silence for a bit. The day had spoken enough for the both of us. I reached for the water I’d ordered, a far cry from the whiskey I’d drunk to oblivion nearly a month before, and swished it around in my mouth, pondering. Not much time had passed, yet it felt like eons. It was nice to sit and have a meal with Law, just the two of us. It almost felt normal. So of course something had to interrupt.

“Breaking news as more information sheds light on the late Becca Riley’s allegations.” Law and I both set our forks down, our attention now held by the small TV set in the corner of the bar. A newswoman talked about Morris while information about him scrolled across the scene. It was a national news station, meaning Morris’s scandal was no longer local.

“Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist Matthew Jameson has just released a story,” the newswoman continued. “In it Jameson alleges that not only are Riley’s accusations true, but that the accusations of one Nami DeGrace are also true. If you’ll remember, we did a brief story about her. She was a volunteer on his campaign some months ago and accused Morris of sexual harassment.” I scoffed. I had accused him of
rape
, but that was a nice spin. I glared at the blonde, somber-looking newswoman, wishing I could reach into the TV and slap her. Did she not realize the people she reported on were actually real? Instead I swallowed the bile building up in my throat and listened as she went into more detail.

“Jameson goes on to detail some quite shocking things that, if they are true, will not just mean resignation for Senator Morris, but quite possibly jail time.” Appetite now lost, I stared transfixed as the news story unfolded. Law appeared just as hypnotized as me.

“The Morris campaign, still reeling from the pushback from their senior campaign manager’s suicide, has yet to comment on Jameson’s allegations. Do you have anything to comment, Allison?” The screen split in half and another woman appeared who had cropped blonde hair and a perfectly made up face. I immediately recognized her as one of the reporters who had lynched me. I remembered her calling me a slut and liar only months before.

“Thank you, Candace. It’s clear to see that Senator Morris’s career is over. What is more interesting, though, is whether or not this new information will bring about formal charges. I’ve heard talk on the hill that formal sanctions are in order, but we’re still not sure if he will do any hard time, as they say. One thing’s for certain, Candace: I wouldn’t want to be him right now.”

A ridiculous commercial about hot dogs came on, which made it easier to turn my mind away from the news that had just broken. Slowly Law and I turned our attentions back to each other.

“Wow…” I said at last.

“I told you Jameson was more than the snapshot you saw.” Law’s words weren’t tinged with any arrogance or smugness. If anything, he sounded remorseful. We both knew that by breaking the story, Jameson would face repercussions. Most likely, he would be ostracized from the community. He might even need to move.

“Yeah…” I took another breath. “I guess I just…” I tried to find the words, but I was totally without. “I just, I mean you hope for something to happen, and then it happens. I don’t know what to feel right now.”

Law reached across and held my hand. “You’re in shock.”

I nodded. “I’m in shock but I’m also…uncertain? I don’t know if that’s the right word. I feel like I should be more happy, you know? I should be ecstatic, but I just feel…numb.” Law squeezed my hand and I lifted my eyes to his, grateful for him and his comfort. No sooner had my mind eased than my phone started to buzz. I looked at it like it was a venomous snake. 

“What?” Law asked, removing his grip from mine.

“It’s my phone.” I picked it up, eyeing the unknown number. “It’s ringing.”

Law still didn’t understand. “And?”

“You, Tony, and Jameson are the only ones with this number.”

Law raised his brows, indicating his interest, but shrugged. “Maybe it’s a wrong number.”

“Maybe…” I let the phone ring itself out and then set it back down on the table. Our chicken and waffles were cold now. The night was growing longer and people were starting to leave, but I felt like Law and I were just getting started. Even though it was nearly ruined, I still wanted this night for us: a semi-normal dinner. Just as I was settling back into the booth, a notification appeared.

“What is it?” Law asked.

“A voicemail,” I replied, stupefied. I hadn’t had a voicemail in nearly a year. I picked it up and pressed play.

“Hey Nami, it’s Effie—” I hung up as soon as I heard my ex-best friend’s voice on the receiver. Law perked up, watching my reaction.

Before he could ask, I explained, “It was Effie, my old friend. She stopped talking to me when the media started covering me. All of my friends did…” I looked away. It still hurt thinking about how all of my “friends” couldn’t be arsed to listen to my side of the story, much less believe me.

What hurt the most, though, was Effie. I’d known Effie since the third grade. We’d witnessed each other’s first kisses; we’d held each other through our first breakups. She had been there when my parents died and had held my hand at the funeral.

She was more than my best friend. She was my sister.

And then she was gone from my life. All it took was a rumor blown way out of proportion. I went to her a day after the rape. I gathered all my strength to tell her I had been raped and that Morris had forced himself on me. At first she was the same old Effie. She held me as I cried. She promised we would make the police believe my story.

Then two days later the news started running my story. They painted me as a liar. They pulled every bit of information they could about my past and twisted it into a believable fiction. I called Effie for support, but she didn’t answer. I kept calling and calling until she finally picked up and said, “Look, Nami, I can’t keep supporting your delusions. Get help.” She hung up and that was the last I heard of her. I didn’t believe it at first. I couldn’t. How can you believe that your best friend, your
sister
, just abandons you after over a decade?

I knew I should have moved on. I’d moved on from everything else. I’d thrown yogurt in her face! Still. It’s one thing to move beyond the noxious, black tar that’s got you sinking, and another to give up hope in the sister that used to keep you tethered.

Law reached over and rubbed my back, helping me finish the story. I smiled gratefully at him and said, “I don’t know why she’s calling me now.”

“She probably saw the news,” Law offered.

“So?” I said into my hands, forcing my tears back inside.

“So the news isn’t painting you as a liar any more,” Law continued. “Effie probably saw the news.” I looked from Law to my phone and back to Law. I summoned all my strength to press play and finish the voicemail.

“…I saw the news and I would really like to talk to you. Please call me back. My number is the same.” I stared at the phone, unsure what to feel.

I felt Law’s gaze on me, but he didn’t say anything until I looked up to him. “What do you want to do?”

I didn’t know what I wanted to do. Part of me really wanted to reach out. I’d been so lonely and I missed Effie. I missed our stupid fights. I missed our girl talks. I missed riding in the car and singing along to songs. I missed sleepovers. I missed shopping. I missed eating ice cream together and watching dumb TV shows.

I missed her.

But I missed the Effie that was my sister, and the Effie that called me wasn’t her any more. The Effie that called me had abandoned me.

I exhaled, pushing away the leftover waffles on my plate. “Right now I just want to go home.”

“I’ll take you back right now.” Law signaled for the check.

“I mean…” I bit my nail and looked away, hoping I wasn’t being too forward. “I want to go home with you.”

I lay in bed with Law, staring out the window at the Salt Lake City skyline.

We’d made love.

Now he held me.

I turned on the TV, even though he’d told me not to; call it a morbid fascination or a need to know. Slowly, I slipped out of his sleepy embrace.

Hours later and the news still hadn’t stopped reporting on the same thing: me.

For once, though, they weren’t picking me apart. They weren’t tearing into me like leftover nachos. My picture (an old but at least somewhat flattering one) was raised in the corner; I was somber and serious looking. It was unlike the months before, where they’d seemed to use any shot they could to plaster me as a harlot. The picture they had now was almost regal looking.

It was odd to be on the other side. To watch the vultures pick at someone else. The picture of Morris on the screen was of an unflattering angle. His chin looked weak, his eyes beady, and contempt seemed to radiate from his pores. I wondered if the world would see the Morris that had haunted me for nearly a year.

There was no new news to report. The reporters merely rehashed the day’s earlier developments. Their assessments floated in and out of my ears as I trained my gaze on Morris. I locked onto his small blue gaze and thought of his family. I wondered what he was telling his wife and children. I wondered what his constituents were thinking. I almost let myself get sucked back in, but then Law groaned in his sleep. He reached a hand out, tugging at my waist. The action jerked me out of my spiraling thoughts.

I wasn’t sure what the next months held for us. I wasn’t even sure what the next few days held for us. Now that the world knew the truth, it was an entirely different battlefront.

I felt sorry for the world. I was sorry they had to know the truth. I knew what that truth did to a person. I’d experienced it firsthand. It was a truth so ugly it could change a person’s very soul. Lucky for me, Law had come along. He’d agreed to share his soul. Because of him, my soul had never truly blackened. It had grayed, it had withered a bit, but because of Law, it had stayed intact.

I cuddled closer to Law, stealing a bit more of his warmth.

I wasn’t poetic enough to call Law my angel. I wasn’t a damsel needing saving. I was in distress, but Law didn’t wear shining armor. He hadn’t rescued me from perdition. Law had seen me in Hell and had helped me build the map out. Law was my compass.

In the end, I wasn’t sure of the future, but I could be sure of one thing: whatever happened, I could handle it.

ONE YEAR LATER

“Today is his sentencing.”

“I know.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go?”

“You’re asking me this
now?
” I was suspended from the ceiling, my body tied up in intricate knots. Law had bought and moved into a downtown loft. The view was spectacular, especially from my position. I was above it all, above the lights that twinkled like stardust, above the people that lived and lied in the lights, I was above it. Hung from the ropes, I felt power.

“I want to be sure.” Law trailed his hands along the knots and I could feel the sensation vibrating against my skin. I shivered, goose bumps forming.

From the rope to Law’s deep voice, I felt everything with intense awareness. The knots pressed against my naked skin, their hard packs reminding me of Law. The knots reminded me of his cock: smooth, yet hard and roped, literally.

I’d been suspended for only a few minutes, but it wasn’t the first time Law and I had engaged. He’d had plans for me, as he’d said months before, and he had followed through. Law had waited until I was at peace before suspending me. We did rope play, we did bondage, but he never suspended me until I had fully let Morris go.

Good thing, too, because when you’re up like that, with the rope pressing into your skin, completely helpless, you have nowhere to go but your mind. All that’s left is sensation. Had I attempted it too soon I would have broken. Instead I soared.