Page 86 of She Used to Be Nice
Avery blinked. “Shocked.”
“Yeah. Shocked that Noah could do something like that.” Morgan leaned back on the couch and chewed pensively on her lip. Then she met Avery’s eye. “I don’t want you to think I don’t believe you. I do believe you. I just … I just can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t even tell myself.” Avery stared into the sunset. The trees stretched high into the sky and rustled with the sounds of birds and insects settling in for the night. “I mean, I thought it was my fault. I know we’re not supposed to think that. But I really did get too drunk and wear a slutty outfit to that party. And I was definitely giggly. It would’ve been easy for him to think I wanted to hook up. And then I failed to stop him once it started.”
Morgan reached for Avery’s hand. Avery knew what so many people still thought about rape victims: that it was their fault, that they put themselves in a compromising, vulnerable position, that they could’ve prevented it if they hadn’t acted inthisway orthatway. It’s the equivalent of someone leaving their wallet hanging out of their pocket and getting pickpocketed. It’s hard not to think that person should’ve safeguarded their stuff better. Avery knew women weren’t wallets, but society was just as quick to label them as objects, so really there was no difference.
“But you didn’t want to hook up,” Morgan said. “And him thinking you did is not on you. At all.”
Avery sighed, feeling all at once validated by her best friend and devastated that this really happened.
“I know,” she whispered.
Morgan buried her face in her hands and dragged her fingers across her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could’ve been there for you. I feel like I made it worse.”
“You didn’t make it worse. How could you have known? Noah’s done so much for your wedding. He helped you guys with the venue and got you your dream dog. And look at this house! Nobody, not even you, could’ve known he was a bad guy underneath everything. He fooled everyone.”
Morgan put her arm around Avery. “I love you. I hope you know that.”
Avery leaned into Morgan’s embrace. The sounds of laughter drifted from inside the house, through the open window. Avery peered inside. Noah and Blair sat on the couch in front of the fireplace with their feet perched on the ottoman, relaxed and happy like everything was fine. Avery shuddered as she watched him take a generous sip of his beer and plant a kiss on Blair’s cheek.
Morgan exhaled an irritated breath. “And I’m uninviting him from the wedding.”
Avery untangled herself from Morgan’s grip, squared her shoulders to look at her. “Morgan. You can’t.”
“Why? I can’t keep him around knowing what he did to you.”
“You’re the only person who cares what happened. Kicking him out would be more drama than it’s worth. This is why I didn’t want to say anything in the first place. I didn’t want it affecting the wedding.” Avery searched Morgan’s face. “Please don’t do it.”
Morgan sighed. “Avery—”
“Please,” Avery begged again. “Don’t.”
They sat in silence for a long time after that, until the sky was almost black and the porch lamps dinged on, flooding the couch with light.
25
AVERY DESPERATELY WANTED TOgo to bed, but Morgan, Charlie, and the rest of the wedding party were gathering on the porch in the back of the house. And although Morgan told Avery that she was welcome to go upstairs and call it a night, Avery didn’t want to leave Morgan hanging. Because as awful as tonight was, this was still her best friend’s bachelorette party, and Avery needed to do at least one good thing this weekend to make up for ruining everything else.
She opened the screen door to the wraparound back porch. The stars twinkled in the night sky, like sparkles spilled over a piece of black felt. Morgan and Charlie weren’t there, but Avery had heard their voices so she was sure they were somewhere. Noah was nowhere in sight either, but he, too, couldn’t have gone far. The prospect of him popping up made Avery tense with anticipation. Everyone would surely cheer when they saw him, showing him their support. Because he was the hero. To them, he deserved all the benefit of the doubt in the world. He was the founder of a start-up, a wealthy philanthropist, a dog lover. God, Averyhateddogs. How could anyone sympathize with someone who hated dogs? Avery was nobody’s idea of a victim. She binge drank, had lots of sex, could be kind of cold-hearted at times. Of course everyone doubted her story, like any court of public opinion would. A real court would be just as bad, if not worse.
She wondered about the Dave Moore case, about the lawyers who were collecting evidence to bring him to trial. What would happen if she took Noah to trial? Even if she’d had one of those rape kits, real DNA evidence that connected Noah to the crime—which she didn’t—she’d have to relive that night over and over again in excruciating detail, in front of lawyers, police officers, members of a jury.It was bad enough to have flashbacks when she wasn’t talking about it. In a trial, she’d have to recall every single thing, out loud, using her voice. What she could recall would trigger unspeakable panic, and what she couldn’t would be used against her. A jury wouldn’t even consider the fact that it was completely reasonable for someone’s memory to be fuzzy in the circumstances of that night: She’d been drunk and she was human, and humans, in general, have imperfect memories. And, as she’d learned while down a Wikipedia rabbit hole one night, the brain shuts off its ability to code memories during traumatic situations. It was a defense mechanism, a way to protect itself, so she would never have remembered everything anyway.
But none of that would matter. Deliberations would ensue, and Avery wouldn’t hold her breath for a positive outcome. She once read in aMetropolitanstory that out of every 1,000 rapes, 975 rapists serve no jail time. And that’s only referencing reported rapes. The majority go unreported, so the real number was much higher. The decision after deliberations, then, would be clear: Noah would receive no punishment, and it would be concluded that it was a messy drunken hookup between two horny college kids, as these things were. The jury would lament about how unfair it would be for Noah to suffer for the rest of his life because of one night, indifferent to the fact that Avery was already damned to that exact thing.
Avery looked around the spacious back porch. Emma and Parker were in the hot tub several yards away. Beside the hot tub, Viraj and Blair sat in two Adirondack chairs next to a boom box perched on top of a small table. Morgan still wasn’t out here. Neither was Charlie. Avery could have sworn she’d heard both of their voices, or else she would have stayed in bed upstairs.
Without making eye contact with anyone, she sat down on the love seat in the far corner away from all the activity, then brought her knees up to her chest and hugged her legs. She stared out onto the lake, at the rippled surface sparkling beneath the moonlight and the faint shadowy outline of the mighty mountains beyond. She tried to admire the scenery, but she knew Noah would come barging through the back door any minute and ruin her calm.
Morgan’s voice carried through the air again. Avery stood up, listened closer. It sounded like it was coming from the other side of the porch, the part that extended along the side of the house. She heard Charlie, too.
And then suddenly Noah rounded the corner, brushing past Avery. She startled. He yanked open the screen door that led inside the house and slammed it shut behind him. Blair jumped up from her seat to hurry after him.
Avery stuck her head around the corner from where Noah emerged. Morgan and Charlie were standing on the deck and facing each other, Charlie leaning against the railing and Morgan against the house. Both of them were looking down at the ground. The flood lights attached to the house illuminated the tops of their heads in bright white light, casting deep shadows on the valleys of their faces.
“What the hell was that?” Avery asked.
They jerked their heads up, meeting her eye.
