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“He’s just looking out for you,” Waylon adds. “He loves you.”
Asa’s never told me he loves me, and though I see it in his eyes, he’s never said the words. Neither have I, but I went through something pretty damn tragic and he was there to help me through it. I love him. There’s no escaping that. Without a shred of doubt, I’m completely in love with Asa. But still, I’ve never said the words either. There just seems to be too much that goes with it.
I love you, but I’m fucked up.
I love you, but you don’t have time for me.
I love you, but you won’t report the rape.
It’s the truth. Asa hates that I still haven’t reported the rape.
Why haven’t I? I still haven’t come to terms with it.
“Waylon?”
“Yeah?” He glances over at me, his hands buried in his pockets and the whites of his eyes shining brightly under the street lights. I look at his skin, dark as the night, and then I wonder how he deals with it. He’s African American, gay, plays football, and secretly in love with their tight end. All of that doesn’t really matter, but then again, it does. He has a lot going for him with his future and announcing to the world he’s gay, well, that’s not something he’s willing to do. I can’t say I blame him. Most know. He’s not obvious about it, but he hasn’t been seen with a girl, ever, so a lot of people just assume. Waylon always says it’s none of their business.
His story? He’s a junior this year, and freshman year he was raped at a party off campus. I haven’t talked to him much about it, but now I’m curious. “Did you report it to the police?”
He holds me captive with his stare for several seconds until his gaze slides over my shoulder to the passing halls. “I did….” And then his words hang there.
“And?”
His jaw tightens. “It’s still sitting on a shelf with the Seattle Police Department waiting to be tested.”
We keep walking, our steps intentionally slowing down. “Really? They didn’t do anything about it?”
He runs his hand over his face, sighing. “I mean, yeah, they took the test when I went into the ER, but three years later, nothing. Every time I call, they say they’re working on it. Out of every thousand instances of rape, it’s something like only thirteen get referred to a prosecutor and only seven lead to a felony conviction.” Waylon shrugs one shoulder. “Those aren’t great statistics so I don’t exactly have my hopes up that anything will come of it.”
He’s right, nothing may become of it, and I think in some ways, I haven’t reported it yet because of that. I’m also not sure I’m ready to deal with it if I know who it is. Right now, I can pretend they have no face.
Waylon stops walking and looks over at me. “Barrette?”
My eyes lift to his.
“I’m not going to tell you to do something you don’t want to, but I can understand why it bothers Asa so much.”
“Why?”
“Because he watched you go through something horrendous and he wants justice. It’s only natural, and until you report it, there will never be justice.”
Again, he’s right, but I’m still not sure I’m ready. Or if I ever will be.
I have a habit of staring at nothing. It’s calming to get lost in thought, only now, it’s not. It’s like I’m nervously waiting for something bad to happen. On the edge and unattached to everything around me. I’m sitting at my window, smoking weed I got from Roman, staring out it at nothing in particular as smoke drifts through the small crack. I don’t usually smoke, but I recently found how calming it can be for me. It certainly helps when I can’t sleep at night because I’m afraid of the nightmares.
My phone dings beside me and I notice a missed call and a text from Asa. It’s not often that I see Asa during the normal hours of the day. As the starting quarterback for the Washington Huskies, to say his day is busy in the fall is an understatement.
Asa: Dinner?
I stare at the text for a few minutes. We haven’t been to dinner since freshman year. Then I remember a comment he made the other morning when he was leaving my dorm room that I needed to eat more.
Me: Trying to make me fat?
Asa: I like something to grab.
Me: Sure. Where?
Asa: Well I like to grab your ass. You know that.