Page 125 of Summer People
“You all watched for months as my character fought a battle that many people face in real life. Depression. Drugs. The lossof the will to live. The truth is, I didn’t even have to act in those scenes.”
I meet Brad’s gaze, and he lights up like he thinks I’m going to admit that I had a drug problem like the producers alleged.
More determined than ever, I look away from him. “I had been fighting a similar battle for years. An internal one. But it had nothing to do with drugs. I battled with myself because I felt dirty within my own body because of the way someone else touched me.” I look back at him. “Because of the wayBrad Feddertouched me.”
The auditorium room breaks out in a collective whoosh of air.
Brad jumps up, his hands balled into fists. “This is bullshit!”
Security starts down the aisle because, fortunately, the Emmys take their ceremonies seriously, and a rowdy member of the audience won’t get to stay.
“Sit down, Brad. You never listened when I said no, but you are going to listen to this.”
Music plays, signaling that my time is up. Or maybe it’s a way to gloss over what’s going on. To silence me. But I won’t be silenced any longer.
“I was eight the first time he touched me.Eight.”
Murmurs break out throughout the audience, and Brad shuffles toward the end of his row, but he’s stopped when several people refuse to move out of his way.
“He was sixteen,” I continue. “Many of you might wonder why, if he’d molested me, I auditioned for a show. You may wonder how I could have worked with him for years without speaking up. The answer is complicated. I was a child, and his family was my family. I was scared I’d lose more people I cared about.”
I look at Sutton and smile. “But I’m not scared anymore.”
“This is bullshit!” Brad yells as an older gentleman holds him in place. The woman on his other side stands with her arms folded, her face a hard mask of fury. “She’s making things up,” he rattles on. “It’s been twenty years”
“Eighteen, actually,” I muse. “And funny thing,” I say, though this is absolutely the least funny topic I’ve ever discussed. “But in the State of Rhode Island, a victim of sexual assault has twenty years to press charges. And while we may be in California now, Brad’s family had a house on Block Island.”
I stare him straight in the eye and force myself to breathe, to hold tight to my strength.
“I have my own family now. I’m not scared of you anymore. You have no power over me.”
When the clapping starts, it’s just a single person. Immediately, I search for the source. Sutton is standing, clapping as loudly as she can. Fisher’s holding her shoulder, his face full of emotion.
The woman beside them stands and joins in. And like a stadium of fans does at a sporting event, they stand, creating a wave, until my peers are all on their feet, applauding. The music is still playing and Brad is still screaming, but it’s all drowned out by the cheering of the crowd. This is it. The sound of me taking back my truth.
I’m finally stepping out of the shadows and into the sun.
But I don’t want to be here anymore. So I rush off the stage, award in hand, and when I return to my seat, Fisher and Sutton are there to greet me. Fisher pulls me to his chest, and without having to ask, guides us out.
“You realize you’re going to be on the cover of every gossip rag and celebrity magazine now, right?” I grin at him as we step out of the theater.
With an arm draped around my shoulders, he kisses my forehead. “We’re in this with you, Libby. It’s the three of usfrom here on out. So what do you say? You ready to go home, Princess?”
I squeeze my eyes shut and let the words that once irritated me wash over me. They hit different now.
“Yes,” I say as an overwhelming sense of peace settles within my bones. “Take me home.”
epilogue
Fisher
I hitreturn and sit back, smiling as I survey all five screens. I don’t know what I get more joy out of: hacking through somebody else’s firewall or building an unbreakable one.
My focus drifts to the framed photo of Libby and Sutton on opening night ofWicked.
The real joy comes from the two of them. The rest is just icing on the cake. Libby is two months into her run as Glinda, and she loves every minute of it. She’s finally giving her understudy a chance to perform so she can have a few days off.
She might have to be back for the matinee on Sunday, but she won’t get any complaints from me. I’ll take what I can get.
