Page 6 of As the Rain Falls
Nathan’s lawyer checks his notes again, trying to find another angle to reach his goal. He needs to undermine my contribution to this case.
“Ms. Rivera, how would you describe your relationship with your brother?”
Now, this is a topic we haven’t approached yet.
Mr. Lin was very intentional about brushing it off so the opposition would mention it first. It’s important to let them think they’re winning—that’s how you build momentum.
I part my lips, feeling some of the jury members lean closer to hear what I have to say.
“Nathaniel and I?” I echo, feigning surprise.
For the first time since I walked into the room, I let my eyes wander towards where my brother is sitting. He’s been doing a great job at keeping himself quiet, but then again, us Riveras are very good at playing our parts.
Nathaniel looks weak. Beckett truly did a number on him. My toes curl inside my boots, nails scratching the cotton fabric of my fluffy socks. The irony is, his body is the one to end up broken when my brother spent a lifetime trying to do the very same thing to mine.
“Nathaniel and I…”
My voice trails off, emotion surfacing as the memories I’ve worked so hard to suppress come back to haunt me once again.
He is pressing apologies to the crook of my neck, lips warm but chapped, breath stinking of beer and rotten eggs as he drags them through my sunburnt skin.
I remember that night perfectly now.
I was freshly thirteen and foolish.I thought my brother would change someday.I desperately wanted to be so good.
I was the kind of child who listened when adults spoke for better or for worse. I listened when I only ate three chicken wings dipped in barbecue sauce with melted cheese and not four, so my stomach wouldn’t hurt. I listened to my mother and my father when I let my feet soak in Le Port’s crystal-clear ocean water until my toes got all pale and wrinkly, but never deep enough so the current wouldn’t take me.
But most importantly, I listened tohim.
When Nathaniel told me to stay quiet, I didn’t dare to speak a single word.
There had been a party two days prior at the beach, the kind of celebration our parents had been invited to months before, which meant that there was a lot of anticipation involved. Those parties were important; they made us high society.
I was told to behave, above all.
Behave and be good.
My rosacea often got triggered by the most random reason then—the weather, stress, exercise, what I ate that day—and Mom spent at least half an hour prepping me before we left home. She painted dots of sunscreen and hydrating lotion over my cheeks and nose, hoping my condition wouldn’t flare up. It all got washed away by the ocean after a swim.
The point is, I couldn’t be touched that night.My face was burning, my neck was itchy, and I could barely stand to wear anything but light pajama pants and a tank top. I thought…
His weight was a weight that I couldn’t fight off easily. I thought that he would go away, but I felt his hands first, fingers brushing against my flesh. I felt them around my hips, and I felt the way the sheets moved between us as his body laid on top of mine. I even felt the texture of his skin and tasted the sweatdripping down his chin like closing my mouth around a spoonful of salt.
The dog outside began to bark like it usually did before the lights of the street went off. I didn’t know if the neighbors were home. Lucia’s window was closed, and her lights were turned off. That usually meant she wasn’t home.
In the darkness, I started to panic.My panic made him pause for a second before he kept going.
Realization dawned on me of what was about to happen and the unavoidable aspect of it. Despair usually kicks in bursts of energy, like when you’re at the beach and under the waves, trying to swim so hard and so fast to reach the surface. It’s precisely what happened to me as I watched him lay on top of me.
Two thoughts came to me.
First, I was alone.
Our parents were not coming back for another hour or so at the very least. The after party was dragging longer than I thought it would. And I could scream for help, sure, but no one but the neighbors would hear me. And again, maybe they weren’t home too. I was physically alone, and I could not change that by being good, or working hard, or giving the right answer.
Second, I was going to be alone for the whole experience too. If I had to push him off, I’d do it alone. If I had to survive, I’d do it alone. If I was to stay put and endure, I’d do it alone too. I’d suffer the pain, the loss, the quiet. Loneliness always haslayers; it’s never just one thing. But you never really know it, at least not until you’re faced with a situation that makes you aware of how not a single soul in the entire world is going to hold your hand through the night.
“Nathaniel?”
