Shut Out (Bayard Hockey #1)(66)

Elisha gasps. Mom and Dad blink at me. Mom’s face falls. “Why not?” Her forehead creases. “Are you having trouble with your classes? You’re not failing again, are you?”

The only time in my life I ever failed courses was last year, but Mom makes it sound like I do it all the time. She knows that the college entrance courses I did in high school were hard for me, especially math and physics, and how frustrated I got, but I never failed.

“The reason I failed last year was because of what happened with Brendan.”

“I know you were upset about that, honey, but you still should have buckled down and—”

“He raped me.”

Oh dear God. Did I really just say that?

My eyes fly open wide and I stare at my parents. Their mouths drop open, and silence expands painfully around us as the noise of the restaurant recedes.

Whoa. That wasn’t part of my plan.

I pick up my coffee cup with trembling hands and take a sip. The hot liquid sloshes onto my lip, scalding me.

“Brendan raped you, Skylar?” Elisha asks softly, almost disbelievingly, from beside me.

“What the hell?” Dad’s face is red and his mouth tightens.

“Dave.” Mom reaches out and lays a hand on his rigid forearm.

Our casual lunch has become tense and painful.

“I shouldn’t have blurted that out.” I stare down at my coffee. “I’m sorry. I just…last year when I failed those two courses, it wasn’t only because Brendan committed suicide. It was a lot more than that. You make it sound like I didn’t try hard enough, but…I was dealing with a lot of stuff.”

Elisha squeezes my hand. “Skylar. Are you okay?”

I blink rapidly a few times. “I’m kind of…not.” I glance at her. “I went for counseling. I’m dealing with it. But never mind. We don’t have to talk about it.”

“Why are you giving up on med school?” Elisha persists. “Are you dropping out of school?”

“No!” I pull in a long breath and let it out. “No, not at all. I’ve been trying to figure out what I want to do with my life. I’m not enjoying most of my courses. Jacob…” Ah shit.

“Who’s Jacob?” Elisha asks.

“A guy I’ve been…seeing.”

She gives a delighted laugh. “Hey! Why didn’t you say something sooner? I was talking about Tony all weekend, and you didn’t say a word.”

I can’t explain why, so I shrug. “It’s not that serious. Anyway, he made me realize how much I enjoy delivering training as part of my volunteer work, and that teaching would be a good career choice for me.”

“Skylar, changing your major is a big decision,” Mom says. “You shouldn’t do something rash just because your courses are hard.”

She’d rather talk about that than the rape. Rape is not an easy thing to discuss. I get that. But it burns a little.

I tip my head to one side as I meet her eyes. “It’s not that they’re hard, Mom. I’m used to working hard. It’s because being a doctor isn’t what I really want to do with my life. It’s what Elisha wants to do. I wanted you to be as proud of me as you are of her.”

Mom’s forehead creases and Elisha makes a soft sound of dismay beside me.

“Skylar,” Mom says. “Of course we’re proud of you.”

I bow my head. Her words don’t really sound all full of pride. But I nod.

I tell them about my meeting with my faculty advisor and how supportive she is of my choices. “It’s only my sophomore year. There’s time for me to make this change. Lots of people don’t figure out exactly what they want to do right away.”

“Why the hell are we talking about this?” Dad asks, his lips and jaw tight. “You just told us…Christ.” He stops and presses his lips together.

Oh man, I’ve really screwed this up. My stomach clenches. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

“Jesus! You don’t apologize for something like that!” He takes a deep breath. “Let’s talk about this at home.”

The waitress arrives with a big tray with our lunches on it. I’ve lost my appetite, but I spoon up some of the beer-and-cheese soup, and play with my salad. Nobody else is eating much either.

We finish our lunches with some stilted conversation and drive home. The snow that fell a couple days ago is melting, the sky a painful clear blue, water dripping from tree branches, the streets slushy.

Once we’re in the house, there’s an excruciating, uncomfortable silence. So I jump in. “I know how hard it is to talk about something like rape.” I bite my lip. “I’ve only told…two people about this, ever.” Jacob is one of them. “I probably should have told more people after it happened, but it was…painful.”

Dad closes his eyes and his hands clench into fists, and when I look over at Mom, tears are running down her face. I know other survivors who’ve never told their families what happened to them. This was one of my fears—that my family would be so upset. And that would upset me all over again. And I wasn’t sure if I could handle that.

We move into the family room. I have no intention of sharing too many details, but I tell them briefly what happened, and all my confused and guilty feelings afterward. This is disturbing and confusing to them, with Brendan’s suicide having happened so soon after it occurred, and it’s hard for me too, emotion welling up inside me.