Something releases in my chest. Small but real. I believe her.
"Can we go somewhere to talk?"
I think about it. Perhaps it is better if we do. "The reflection lake." I reply
"Really, that's a thing?"
I smile and just lead her through the gardens to what is actually a pond. I agree the name it’s a bit pretentious.
I sit on the grass and pull my knees up to my chest. Charlie sits beside me. The water is still and grey-green and quiet.
"William told me. What happened at the party. About what they did." She picks at a blade of grass near her knee. "I swear I didn't know anything."
"I believe you," I say.
She's quiet for a moment.
"I think the whole reason for this mess is that we've all been keeping secrets. I never told William I was the one driving. He didn't tell you what they did." She looks at the water. "A clusterfuck of secrets." Then back to me. "And you never told me why you took the blame that night. After all, at that time we hadn't been friends for a while."
I look at the water.
I don’t want to go back to that night. But I feel that I need to. I need to expurgate all that ugliness from my system once and for all.
I take a deep breath.
"My father used to beat me."
From the corner of my eye I see Charlie flinch. William must not have told her that.
“Sometimes it got pretty bad and I couldn’t leave the house for a while. To go to school. To go and meet with friends” And I can see her realize that that was the reason I cancelled so many times on her, until she got fed up and gave up on me completely.
“I’m so sorry, I had no idea,” she says.
I try to placate her guilt “It’s ok. You had no way to know.”
The water is very still. A slight movement near the reeds on the far side, barely visible. "My father started spreading the rumor that I was difficult. A wild one. That I would drink and do drugs. As a justification for why I kept missing school."
I close my eyes.
And then I'm back in that night.
The beating had been especially brutal. I remember the floor. The particular quality of the silence afterward. I remember lying there thinking that one of these days he would go too far. That he would kill me. That it had already gotten close.
"The night of the accident he beat me up pretty bad. To the point that I felt I had to leave the house. So I took one of the cars and just left. I had no plan. I just wanted to escape." I stop.
The damp grass is cold under my palm. "And it was fate that I found you there. When I saw your panic I thought I could take the blame. I had bruises. I had a reputation. My father was wealthy and influential enough that he could pay my way out of it."
Charlie finishes for me, quietly: "So you suggested that we pretend my boyfriend was driving your car and you were driving my car."
"Yes."
We sit in silence for a while. The truth settles around us. Heavy and definitive.
Then Charlie repeats, "A clusterfucker of secrets. You were committed for two years instead of getting the help you needed."
I look around.
The east wing. The path between the main building and the gardens. The beds along the south wall where I learned to read soil. The smell of rosemary crossing the morning air.
