“I let her stay, listened to her talk, and sobered up. Carter came back the next day while I was in class, took all his shit, and moved out without a word. About a week later, I was at a different party, and that’s when things went to hell. She was there, and I was pissed at Carter. He wouldn’t even listen to me when I tried to explain what happened. In the end, it was my fault, so it didn’t matter.”
“That’s the party where the rape happened?” I know I really shouldn’t ask, but I want to know. The entire situation just sounds so freaking weird. How does Josh go from never breaking the bro-code to raping his BFF's girl? There’s something missing, a piece of the story Josh hasn’t told me yet.
His emerald gaze lifts, he exhales a rush of air, and nods once. His face is slack, his features totally drained of joy, pride, and self-worth. “Yeah, she found me and was still pissed at Carter. She wanted to show him he didn’t own her, but it wasn’t like that for me. I thought we’d still be able to fix this fucking mess if Carter would stop screaming and listen to me. But he didn’t. As the night progressed, she ended up in my arms. Before morning, she was in my bed. I forced her there.”
That doesn’t sound right. “Josh, how’d she go from wanting you to refusing you?”
He shrugs and runs a hand through his hair. “It’s a woman's prerogative to change her mind. I didn’t listen.”
“You said that already.”
Annoyed, he shakes his head and hisses at me. “Kerry, you weren’t there. It was fucking obvious, okay. She was crying, and I didn’t stop.”
“When? During? After?”
He’s mad now and on his feet. He paces two steps in front of me, whirls around and does it again. “It doesn’t matter!”
“You’re right. It doesn’t. She didn’t want you, and you did her anyway, right?”
“Yes,” he snaps at me, his body lined with tension.
“Doesn’t it bother you that it sounds so out of character for you? I mean, do you even remember getting her into bed? You’re such a sweet talker I can’t picture you needing to force her.”
He pauses and becomes silent. “I remember the stairs up to the bedrooms. She was laughing and leaning on me. I felt weird that night, like I was coming down with something. I don’t actually recall the deed. It’s fragmented, okay? I remember the stairs, the sheets, and then the horrified expression on her face the next morning. That high-pitched scream when she woke up, still tied to the headboard. Kerry, what the fuck did I do?”
The pain in his voice is real. He doesn’t remember, that much is obvious. He sits down hard and throws his head into his hands, clutching at his hair. The muscles in his neck are corded tight, and his voice sounds strangled. “I’ve never done anything like that before.”
“Where was Carter?”
He doesn’t look up. “I don’t know. At the dorm? He wasn’t around the next morning.”
“What happened next?”
He squints like the sun is in his eyes and shakes his head, frowning. “I don’t know. There were a few women still around who'd had hookups the night before. One heard the screams, came running in, and called campus police.”
“And Carter’s girlfriend? What’d she do?”
“Puked and then avoided me. The look on her face, the way she wouldn’t go near me after that killed me.”
I’m silent for a moment. Something about it sounds off. I can’t put my finger on what it is, but I realize Josh would rather be flambéed than recount this event for another second.
He stares at the wall and mutters, “How could I forget the entire thing? I wanted her for so long. She wanted me. I’d been the one saying no, refusing her—How could I do something like that?”
The color on his face drains as he stands there, rigid. He’s frozen in the past, trapped in a nightmare that never ends. I bet he sees her face every time he flirts, every time he closes his eyes, and the remorse flowing off of him is so thick I can feel it. It’s not some intangible sentiment. Josh feels it from head to toe, every single day.
My mouth is moving, letting the thought tumble out of my mind before I can stop it. “What if you didn’t rape her?”
“Kerry, I did it. I saw the look on her face and the bruises on her body where I held her down. I blocked it out. They said I was so pissed at Carter that I took it out on her.” He’s quiet for a moment and then adds, “I did it, so I confessed. I couldn’t leave her living her life thinking she was to blame. She wasn’t. It was me.” He walks over to the bar and pulls the vodka from the shelf, opening the cap. “I wish they had a different bottle. This brand reminds me of that night.”
I study the blue and gray letters on the label. “That’s the same brand they had at the study group, the kind that made me and Beth shitfaced in a blink. Come to think of it, that’s what goes in Emily’s tar cocktail, too.”
Josh turns slowly and looks at me, and then back at the open bottle in his hand. His lashes lower as he stares at it without saying a word.
Thinking back, I mentally picture the liquor at the house. “The bottle we opened at the house was sealed.”
“So were the bottles at the party.”
We both hesitate, but I know we’re thinking the same thing. Getting totally shitfaced, doing something completely out of character, the mental fog, the memory lapse—it all points to one thing.