Page 102 of The Fool
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Mom asks the obvious.
“Beatrice, we could have gone to the principal, had this sorted out, and held these horrible, vile sons of bitches to account!” Dad snaps with frustration.
“It didn’t start out this badly,” I try to explain, “and I thought it didn’t bother me; I actually took pride in the fact that I could brush it all off. Dean said to ignore it, that it was just girls being mean. I felt silly and dramatic, so I pretended it didn’t bother me as much as it did. It built up gradually over the years. By the time I realized it was as bad as it was, I already felt isolated, and part of me…part of me started to believe them.”
“Believe them?! Bea, one bitch says you once cornered her in the bathroom and started stripping and playing with yourself. Another one says you had chlamydia when you were only thirteen years old. And then a guy, who I’d happily like to dismember, claims you had let him and his friends have ‘every hole, in every position.’ What the fuck, Bea?!” Ben cries in outrage, and I realize I’m already crying.
“It’s hard to explain,” I tell him truthfully and with Nate now wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “But that’s how I felt all the same.”
“Why did you keep looking, Bea? Why didn’t you just switch it all off? And why did you keep records of it?” Dad asks with curiosity.
“To begin with, I thought I’d rather know,” I explain, “I’d rather know why they were whispering about me, why I was being pointed at, so I could prepare myself. But then it became ‘addictive’, for want of a better word. Sonia, my therapist, told me that it was ‘age-appropriate’, that it’s natural for teenagers to seek out whatever acceptance they can find, be it in real life or online. Unfortunately, after what happened between Dean and Emma, I felt more alone than ever.”
I look at Emma, who physically curls into herself, trying to look small and inconspicuous. I can see how much guilt she feels, and how much she is also hurting, and it’s not pleasant to watch.
“Emma, I promise I’m not saying any of this to get at you. I know how bad you feel, and I’ve learned to forgive you after everything because life’s too short. It’s one of the many reasons why I don’t want to ever bring this up again. I want us to move forward.”
“How can you possibly forgive me, Bea?” she cries, and just as I used to when we were kids, I rush over to hold onto her shuddering body. It feels nostalgic, like all the times she used to crawl into bed with me when there was a storm outside. “I will never forgive myself for what I did to you.”
“I can only offer you mine, Emma,” I tell her with soothing strokes of her hair. “You must learn to find your own forgiveness.”
“I swear I didn’t know you were pregnant, Bea,” she whispers as she looks up at me, and I realize everyone is now looking at me to elaborate on the next part of my sad story.
“Dean and I were always careful, but I suppose accidents happen,” I murmur with shame. “I can’t have been too far gone. When I finally plucked up the courage to tell him, I walked in to see…”
“Oh, God,” Emma whimpers, covering her face with her hands while she shudders against me.
“What I didn’t realize was Dean had found the test, freaked out, and orchestrated the whole betrayal to try and get out of his responsibilities. Told me that if he couldn’t have me, he would have Emma instead.”
“I’m gonna kill him!” Dad shocks us all by getting to his feet in outrage, his normal calm persona gone within an instant.
“Charlie, please, sit down!” Mom snaps, chastising him like a little boy. “Let Bea finish, this is hard enough for her as it is, and we did agree to listen before doing or saying anything.”
“Can’t believe I let him in this house or gave him my blessing…”
He trails off while I brace myself to admit what happened with Evan, a married man.
“He made up shit about me to keep everyone on his side, meaning our mutual friends, such as they were, and Emma.”
“I should never have believed him, Bea, I shall forever regret it,” Emma rushes out, but I simply smile and take a breath to go on.
“Things became significantly worse after that. On the day of Nate’s party, I came home to find you both kissing, as if me and him had never been anything. I was going out of my mind with worry, being pregnant and all, so I took Ben’s car and drove. I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew I was getting away from it all…or so I thought. I stopped at a convenience store, saw some kids from Nate’s school, and heard he was having a party. All you needed was a bottle of booze and you’d be in. It seemed like the perfect getaway from it all, so I grabbed three bottles of vodka, and some packets of painkillers for the morning after, and made my way over. I was already slurring my words and wobbling all over the place when I got there. I remember talking to some guy in a suit, his appearance seemed surreal, like a dream. He was nice, charming, and comforting. He took me to a room upstairs, and I let him. But then he started kissing me and it felt wrong. I thought I was fighting him off, but I couldn’t tell you for certain. I became exhausted from fighting him, so I passed out. When I eventually came to, he was on top of me…pushing inside of me…releasing himself inside of me.”
“Oh, Bea,” my mother whimpers at the same time as Nate comes over to wrap his arms around me.
“After he was finished, he told me he was married and had to get home to his family. I remember feeling so sick, so ashamed, that I ran from that room, half-dressed and with tears streaming down my face. Of course, kids from our school were there and took to messaging straight away. After that, the beeping of notifications coming through became deafening. I drove, knowing that I shouldn’t have, I was way over the limit and feeling completely irrational, but at this point, I no longer cared. The gas got low so I pulled over to the nearest, sleaziest motel I could find, for I knew I didn’t deserve anything better and rented a room. The beeping continued and I ended up reading all of it, all of the hateful words, all of the rumors, all of the sleaze, to the point where I became dizzy with it. I couldn’t even focus for the fog of all the words, the bad memories, and the desperation I felt. But then someone posted something, a simple instruction, something that could end it all. It simply said, ‘Bea Summers, you should just kill yourself.’”
My mother falls against my father while Ben jumps up to begin pacing around angrily. He’s heard all this before, but it still riles him up.
“It felt like such a relief, to have someone make a decision for me, to have a way out of everything. I’m ashamed to say the fact that I was pregnant was no longer a part of my muddled thoughts. After a few hours of drinking vodka and taking painkillers, I felt almost out of it - death would soon come to take me away. So, I decided to phone Ben to say goodbye, to wish him well in life, and to let everyone know I was ok with dying because I’d finally be free.”
“Why didn’t you call us, Ben?” Dad asks, though he doesn’t sound angry this time, he sounds more curious than anything else.
“Bea’s phone call was very disjointed, so I knew she’d done something stupid. When I asked her what she’d done, she broke down into floods of tears, begging me not to call anyone. She’d only tell me where she was if I swore not to tell you or Emma. I called the emergency services, and tried your phone once or twice, but I guess you guys were asleep. When Bea eventually came around, and the doctor explained about the baby, she told me everything. Mom, she trusted me to bear all. After what she’d tried to do to herself, I felt like I couldn’t risk losing that trust. I had to be her everything, even if meant keeping things from the rest of you.”
He sighs sadly, looking suddenly exhausted. The guilt’s hitting all of us hard, none more so than me.
Mom says nothing, just stares at him with an unreadable expression; she could easily lose her temper or take him into her arms like she did when he was a small boy.