Last Seen Leaving (22 page)

“There's no way to prove it.” She shook her head. “There were no witnesses, the guy slipped her something so she was unconscious when it happened, and by the time she came to see me all the bruises were gone. There was no evidence left.”

My jaw felt stiff, my eyes swimming. “He got her pregnant.”

Reiko blanched and her knees seemed to give out; back to the wall, she sank down, whispering, “
No…”

“She must have been scared shitless when she realized it.” I felt heat on my cheek as a tear slipped toward my chin. “She didn't know what to do, or who she could count on. And I think he found out. I think she confronted him, and he killed her to keep it a secret.” I got down so I was eye to eye with Reiko. “Even if you didn't see it happen, you can tell the cops what January said to you. Don't let him get away with it, Reiko. Tell me who did it.”

“I … I can't,” she said in a strange, anguished way. “She never said his name.”

It sounded like the truth, but I'd picked up on her brief hesitation. Quietly, I said, “You figured it out, though, didn't you? Or you suspect?” Stomach acid stinging in my mouth, I asked, “Was it her stepdad?”

Reiko looked back at me for a long time, her expression tortured but undecipherable. I waited her out, trying in vain to detect whether I'd hit the target. Finally, in a soft, rocky murmur, she promised, “I'll think about what you said.”

Then she stood up and slipped through the door into the theater, leaving me alone in the silence of the lobby.

 

NINETEEN

MY STOMACH BUMPED
and rolled like a barrel going over Niagara Falls as I took a city bus home, kids in costume streaking past on the sidewalks in the settling dusk. A ghost was swinging a pumpkin-shaped pail filled with colorfully wrapped candy, a diminutive witch with a pointy hat and a green face dragged an old broom along the ground in her wake, and two fairy princesses screamed and hugged each other when a plastic skull at the end of someone's walk lit up and started laughing when they got too close. It made my heart hurt, nostalgic for a time when cheap Halloween decorations were what girls feared most.

I dropped my head into my hands. January had been
raped
. The instances of her aloof and inexplicable behavior erupted across my memory like painful sores, their timing suddenly significant in retrospect. The weekend before the hayride, she'd just stopped showing up for work, giving no explanation … was that when it had happened? With growing unease, I recognized that that was just about the same time the distance between us first truly became apparent; and, as I counted backward, I gave a sudden start, my blood turning to cement as another realization dawned: The Saturday Kaz said January had called in sick to Old Mother Hubbard's was exactly twenty-four days before she'd vanished. In an instant, the bus dissolved into nothingness, replaced before me by a vision of twenty-five hatch marks carved emphatically into the rotting wall of the hayloft.

Twenty-five
. Was it possible? Barricaded in the isolation of her secret hideout, had she really
marked the days
she'd endured after her assault? Twenty-five days was almost four weeks.… Was that long enough for her to realize she might be pregnant? To become panicked enough to take a test and confirm the answer?

Long enough to learn the truth and begin spiraling?

She'd quit her job and then she'd dropped out of the play … each move a decision that Reiko had argued against. She'd probably told January it wasn't healthy to distance herself from other people, that she shouldn't allow her trauma to get the upper hand and take over her life; in response, January had lied and said she was doing it so she could spend more time with me. Reiko had probably been outraged because January was hurting and she believed that I was making demands, either oblivious of or apathetic to my girlfriend's horrific ordeal.

You were never around for January when she needed you.
It was starting to sound like Reiko had been right. It hurt like an open wound that January felt as if she couldn't tell me what had happened, as if she thought that maybe I would judge her or look at her differently; I wasn't a good boyfriend, but I'd
loved
her, and I would have stood by her no matter what. But the pain I felt, knowing that instead of asking for my support she'd lied and said I was selfish, was dwarfed by my shame; there had been signs, and I'd missed them because I was too busy using the rift in our relationship as a place to hide from the intimacy she'd wanted from me.

It finally occurred to me, though, that there might have been more behind her attempt at seduction that night in the barn than just a simple ruse to disguise the baby's paternity. Maybe she really did want me to be her “first.” Rape was violence, not sex, and after what had been done to her, maybe she wanted to be with someone who cared. Another sharp pang shot through me. The fact was, I would never know.

By the time I got home, I was heartsick and restless. I didn't feel like I could tell my parents what I'd learned; the thought of saying the words out loud again filled me with dread, and in any event, I had no evidence to back it up. It was a conversation I wouldn't have been sure how to initiate under ordinary circumstances, let alone the current ones, where it seemed like even the simplest interactions were awkward and laden with subtext. My mom rambled for a long time about how she and my dad had joined PFLAG that afternoon, and then they proceeded to have a conversation for my benefit about Annette at my dad's office, whose daughter was a lesbian. They even started recommending gay-themed movies they'd read about and thought I might enjoy. As touched as I was by the effort they were making, the whole experience was mortifying, and I fled to my room as soon as I could to drown my embarrassment, grief, and related emotions in several mind-numbing hours of Xbox.

I'd been supposed to go to Madison Reinbeck's Halloween party with Micah and Tiana, but I wasn't exactly in a partying mood—and I wasn't sure they wanted me to go with them anymore. I texted Micah several times after dinner with no response, and then finally tried Ti. A while later, she wrote back, telling me that the two of them were already at Madison's house.
Sorry for the mix-up!
Right.

Even though I'd no longer wanted to go, even though I had anticipated Micah not wanting to see me that night, I felt miserable knowing they'd gone without even bothering to tell me they wouldn't be picking me up after all. A week ago, Micah and I had been skating together and getting high, wondering where January was; now I was sitting on the floor of my bedroom, staring at a paused game of
BioShock
, feeling lonelier than I'd ever been in my life.

Knowing I had to either do something or risk being sucked through a metaphorical air lock into an oxygen-free wasteland of bad juju, I grabbed my phone and called the only person left.

A half hour later, my phone buzzed, and my feet barely touched the floor as I raced down the stairs and out the front door, calling a hasty good-bye to my bewildered parents with a promise to return before my midnight curfew. The black Lexus was purring at the curb like a contented panther, and when I yanked open the passenger door, I was greeting with the scent of sandalwood and soft leather. The combination made me embarrassingly weak in the knees.

“Hey,” Kaz said with his crooked smile as I buckled myself in. He was wearing his peacoat again, his hair constructed into that perfect crown of soft, messy spikes, and his stunning hazel eyes were filled with curiosity. “Where are we going?”

“I don't know,” I said, flushed and a little flustered. I was looking at his lips, thinking again about the kiss in the hayloft, and I suddenly felt so electrified I was afraid the air would start crackling around me. “Downtown, I guess. Maybe coffee?”

“Okay.” Kaz sounded mildly amused, as if he could tell that a caffeine fix wasn't at all what I had in mind. “Coffee it is.” He put the Lexus in drive and pulled away from the curb, turning when we reached Plymouth Road and heading for the center of the city. “I have to admit I was surprised when you called. I know I gave you my number and all, but I kinda thought you were really pissed at me.”

“I … I mean, I wasn't
pissed
, exactly—”

“Yes you were,” he corrected me, but in an understanding way. “I was really pushy and presumptuous. I didn't have the right to say the things I said. For the record, I'm sorry again. And I'm really glad you called.” He shot me another cockeyed smile, glancing at me across that perfect Grecian nose. “Why
did
you call, by the way? I mean, it's a Friday night—Halloween, even. How come you're not going to some huge party somewhere?”

I squirmed a little as we coasted to a stop at a red light, feeling my neck get warm. For some reason, I'd thought it would be easier to tell Kaz than either my parents or Micah, but the same nerves were spiraling through my limbs again. “I—I told my parents that I'm gay.”

“Wait … what?”

“I told everyone, actually. Well, I told one person, and
he
told everyone, but—” I was cut off when Kaz lunged across the center console and dragged me into a tight embrace. I was enveloped by the scent of laundry detergent, hair product, and rich cologne, and heat spread through the pit of my stomach. Even through his coat he felt warm, and for the first time I put my arms around a cute boy without having to act guarded or nonchalant about it.

“That's incredible, Flynn!” he gushed, his cheek pressed against mine. If I was expecting some kind of “toldja so,” it wasn't forthcoming. “That's huge! I'm so proud of you—no, wait, scratch that. ‘Proud' sounds kind of condescending, doesn't it?” His arms loosened their hold just a little, then tightened again determinedly. “No, actually, you know what? Fuck it. I
am
proud of you, because it takes a lot of guts to come out. Like, a
lot
. Good for you.”

“The light is green,” I said, my throat compressed against his shoulder.

Kaz let me go and started driving again, his mood buoyant, verging on giddy, and the excitement in his tone was infectious as he said, “Okay, coffee is on me. If I was old enough to buy alcohol, or if I had a fake ID, I'd get us some champagne or something, but you'll have to settle for coffee. Tell me how it happened.”

“It was kind of unplanned, actually,” I admitted. I gave him an edited recap of the Big Moment, not ready yet to relinquish his warm attention by mentioning the purpose of the cops' visit, and concluded with the hair-raising tale of my Gay-Friendly Dinner From Hell. “My dad said something about
Glee
, and then something about us all going to a Pride march in Chicago as a family thing this summer, and then I went hysterically deaf and blind and had to excuse myself.”

Kaz laughed. “That's hilarious—they sound really cool.”

“I don't think you understand,” I said seriously. “They mean it about this Pride march. You know how kids are supposed to be embarrassed about getting driven to the mall by their parents? This is going to be like that, only ten times worse. It'll be like taking your grandmother to the prom. With drag queens.”

“I think you're lucky,” he replied, but I noticed a bit of the spark had left his voice. “Where are your other friends, by the way? I thought you said you told everybody.”

“I did,” I answered uncomfortably. “Not everybody was as humiliatingly supportive as my parents. My best friend isn't … he's not exactly talking to me right now.”

“I'm sorry.” Kaz was quiet as Plymouth became Broadway and Broadway became Beakes. “Listen, no matter what, you made the right choice. I think your friend will come around, but even if he doesn't, you're so much better off living honestly than pretending to be someone you're not just to fit in.” The blinker made a soft clicking sound as Kaz navigated a left turn onto Main Street, gliding under lampposts and past Victorian-era homes that had been converted into offices. “I know it's easier to say that than to go through it—trust me—but you'll never be happy if you have to spend the rest of your life lying to people. And if he can't accept you for who you are, then he's not really your friend to begin with. Besides, there's always a little bit of pain when you grow.”

As platitudes went, these were very nice, but they didn't make me feel any better about possibly losing Micah forever. He wasn't a homophobe. There were two guys in the drama club who were already out and proud, and Micah had never said a bad word about either of them—his problem wasn't with gay people, but with
me
, and I couldn't console myself by saying I was better off without him in my life, because I didn't believe that was true. Maybe someday in the future I'd be able to look back and think in lame clichés about how lucky I was to have been cut off like a gangrenous finger by my best friend of thirteen years, but that day was not today.

“I don't think I'm ready to be that optimistic about it just yet.”

“I get it. But don't be discouraged, okay?” Kaz refused to let me wallow in my depression. “I went through it, too, and look at me now!”

He flashed me a cocky grin that positively dazzled under passing streetlights, and I laughed in spite of myself. “Top of the world?”

“Top of the world,” he agreed. “Believe me, Flynn—someday you are going to look back and realize that this was the best decision you ever made.” I felt my blood start humming when he looked over at me, his arresting jade-and-copper eyes warm and soft. “Just think about all the things you don't have to be afraid to do anymore.”

“Such as?”

“Such as finally saying out loud what guys you think are hot,” he answered mischievously. For a moment, I was sure he was giving me an opening to say,
You, duh
, so he could pull the car over and we could make out, but then he commanded, “Sexiest male celebrities: Go!”