Chapter 65
CECILIA
I’m honest enough with myself to know I’m avoiding Gabriel, but I no longer ignore his calls and texts.
We fall into a pattern of sorts over the next two weeks.
We talk on the phone almost daily. He keeps it short and sweet. Casual check-ins and hellos. But I avoid him beyond that.
Sleeping with Gabriel again was a mistake. I know that, and I think he does, too. It’s why I haven’t allowed myself to go to him again.
There’ve been plenty of opportunities.
He invites me over or asks to come see me virtually every other day.
And every now and then, I catch sight of him outside my bedroom window, leaning against his motorcycle across the street.
He never lingers for long, but he always parks somewhere where he knows I can see him.
It’s his way of telling me he’s not giving up on me. That he’ll always be there.
It’s sweet, but despite his efforts and pleas for me not to push him away, it’s exactly what I do.
I don’t know how else to get around it.
If I allow myself to see him, I’ll sleep with him again. My willpower is only so strong and right now, Gabriel is the only person able to grant me even a molecule of solace.
But at what cost?
It doesn’t matter if I tell Gabriel I can’t be with him. That it’s only sex and nothing more. That’s what we agreed to, but what goes on between us doesn’t feel like just sex.
It never has.
I wish I could lie to myself a little longer and convince myself it’ll all be okay, but I don’t think I can.
Julio was right. It’s not fair to him.
And despite my anger, despite feeling betrayed, I won’t do that to Gabriel. I won’t use him.
So I brush his efforts off instead.
We’re still dealing with reporters and Dad is knee-deep in his attempts to salvage his re-election campaign. What happened with Austin doesn’t only affect my life. It affects my entire family. And I’m trying to be there for them as much as they’re trying to be there for me.
I’m back to therapy twice a week. For right now, at least.
I agreed to the increase mostly because it gave me another reason to tell Gabriel I was busy, but it’s been helping. Now that everything's out in the open and I don’t have any more secrets to hide, things are … not easier, per se.
But they’re different. In a good way.
I don’t know how else to describe it. Some of the weight’s been lifted off my chest, I suppose.
Austin is being released from the hospital tomorrow afternoon, and Mr. Ayala has assured me he’ll be taken into custody immediately.
Parker and Gregory were released on bail last week.
No surprise there. But I have a restraining order against them in place and Mr. Ayala assures me I’m safe.
If either of them violate the restraining order, they’ll go back to jail until their trials, and he’s confident neither man will risk it when they’re facing less severe charges than Austin is.
He prepared me for the possibility of one or both of them being offered a plea deal, and I think I’ve finally come to terms with that.
Austin won’t be given the same opportunity. His charges are more severe. Attempted murder. Assault. He won’t be offered bail, and he’s looking at a long time behind bars. A serious relief.
All three men have also been expelled from PacNorth and kicked out of Zeta Pi. Regardless of what happens in court, they don’t have a future at PacNorth, and I won’t have to see them again.
Not on campus, at least.
“Cecilia,” my mother calls from downstairs. “Are you hungry?”
“I’m fine,” I call back, not bothering to look up from my book.
My teachers were able to accommodate my request to transition to online only and the reading load has been intense, but I’m grateful for the distraction and even more grateful that I didn’t have to drop out completely.
I wouldn’t have minded so much before, but with the swim team, I’m not willing to give my spot up.
I missed practice that first week after the assault, but I’ve been there every day since.
It’s the one place where I feel a little bit normal.
Mom is back to hovering again, the way she did after my suicide attempt. If I thought it was bad before, it’s nothing like this.
She barely leaves the house, and when she does, it’s only ever if my dad happens to be home.
He’s taken to working more from his home office, likely at her request. They know everything that’s happened now and I guess I thought it would help, and in some ways, it did.
But it’s also made them worry more. If Mr. Ayala delivers bad news, like when he told me Parker and Gregory made bail, my parents started watching me like I was a ticking time bomb.
I wish I could reassure them I’m going to be okay. That I’m not going to do anything reckless. But my words hold little weight when they’ve seen me lose myself before.
Sometimes when Mom thinks she’s alone, I find her crying in her room or sniffling in the kitchen. She’s having a hard time digesting everything that’s happened, and she and Dad both keep apologizing as if what Austin did to me could possibly be their fault.
I’ve tried to tell them it isn’t. That I don’t blame them at all.
But Mom insists a mother is supposed to know when something is amiss.
She blames herself for not realizing there was more to my suicide attempt.
For assuming I was overwhelmed with college or merely depressed.
I don’t know how to make her pain go away.
“Are you sure?” she tries again. “I can make some lasagna. Your favorite.”
“I’m not hungry,” I assure her. “But thank you.”
I can hear her sigh all the way from the living room. She’s trying, and I’m grateful for that.
But sometimes, I just need to be alone.