Page 53 of Spiteful Lies

It’s easier with Charlotte. We share that bond because of Howland. But then I realize that Justin and I also share an unwanted bond—we’ve both been sexually abused by older men.

We weave down the hallway filled with boxes and wood. He glances at me. “Kids are shipping the stuff home to make more space for next semester.” He pauses. “They have enough testimony to charge Ted. He will go to trial after the new year.”

I nod, thinking the timing makes sense, but Justin’s studio is packed when we enter it. I pull my hand out of his and stare at all the new artwork on the walls. Every inch of space is covered, so the walls are obliterated with art. The imagery ranges from realistic landscapes of the iron fence and studies for oil portraits to acrylic abstract sketches on torn scraps of paper. I stop in front of a drawing of a bird in dark strokes and lean in close. The wing of the lifeless bird is bent and broken, and the way its head is bent is chilling. It’s disturbing but beautiful in the multiple lines Justin drew to render it. Open-mouthed, I take a step back.

“I didn’t know you were this talented. Is that pencil?”

He nods. “It’s crosshatching. I found the bird dead along the iron fence. Sometimes they misjudge the width between the bars, or maybe the distance. It was on the ground with a broken neck.”

My stomach stirs. “So, you’re into death.”

His gaze holds me still. “No, I’m into transformations.”

I look down at the floor at the tips of my boots, realizing that I’ve tracked snow in on my feet, and a puddle is forming on the floor. I rush to grab a roll of brown paper towels sitting on the platform to wipe it up.

Justin leans over me, trying to stop me as I scrub at the floor.

“Astrid, it’s okay,” he says, “You should see the stuff that falls and stays on this floor. It will never be clean.”

“I don’t want to get anything wet,” I tell him, scrubbing at the dirty wood. “What if something gets ruined?”

“Like us?” he whispers.

My hand stops in mid-motion as I look up. His words chill me as I stare at a drawing at eye level. It’s abstracted, but I can tell whose face it is. It’s mine. His hand touches my shoulder, but this time I don’t shrink away. I leave the dirty paper on the floor as I stand to face him.

“We’re not spoiled.” I take a breath. “That would’ve sounded more convincing if my voice hadn’t cracked.”

Justin gradually pulls me into his arms. His hands rest lightly on my back as if he’s anticipating me pulling away. I let him pull me closer.

“You’re not trembling,” he says.

“Did I tremble?” I reply, matching his steady gaze.

He nods. “At first you did. Astrid, I’m sorry for what my father did to you. I had no idea it was so awful. What he’s done to all those women. I feel ashamed to even look at you.”

“You shouldn’t,” I tell him earnestly, “You did nothing wrong.”

“Someone in my family ought to be ashamed, and I am.” He looks desperately into my eyes. “If I could take it all back, I would, but all I can do is apologize. I’m not that man. I was an asshole when we met, but I know better now. I’ll never be like him.”

I look down at the small space between us. “You have your own pain.”

Justin lets me go. “I don’t talk about it enough, and maybe I should’ve. Ted didn’t want to hear about it. No one did. That sort of thing isn’t supposed to happen to men.”

“That’s bullshit!” I almost shout. “It can happen to anyone, unfortunately.”

“What you’re going through,” Justin whispers as if to soothe me, “What Charlotte testified to, and the backlash you’re experiencing from Howland. I’ll never experience it because no one wants to discuss it.”

I reach for his hand, and it’s ice-cold. I hold it firmly in mine, slowly warming his skin. “You can tell me. I’ll listen. You know I’ll listen.”

Justin smiles, and I don’t see Ted Leister looking back. I only see Justin, and I will make it stay that way. I’m in love again with him. Maybe it’s because of our experience, but I hope it’s not that dark. We both know the secrets in each other’s hearts, and we can trust each other with them.

He tugs me tightly into his arms. “I love you, Astrid. Before, you were only a muse, but this is love.”

I feel his breath on my lips before I feel the kiss. I savor the touch of his warm skin on mine, and that tingle starts. I can’t imagine not kissing Justin, but I pull back. I have to ask.

“Remember that day when you held my hand, and I told you I had to choose, and then you asked why? What did you mean?”

He smiles broadly and kisses my cheek again. “I’m glad you’re thinking about sex again when I kiss you.”

---