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“Exactly what you’re saying, Mom. Now ask me what I want you to say.”
There’s a long silence on the other side of the line. “I know you think you love this girl—”
“I do love her.”
“But you can’t just throw away everything this family has worked for,” she continues. “I don’t know what it is about Chloe Girard that both of my boys have felt the need to sleep with her, but you’ll get over her, just like your brother did—”
“You didn’t just say that. Brandon didn’t sleep with Chloe, Mom. He raped her.”
“So she says.”
“So a lot of women say.” I pause, try to calm myself down. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find out about the others?”
“The others don’t matter. Their claims weren’t any more truthful than Chloe’s were. You, of all people, should know how these things happen.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means women look to rich men for handouts. If they don’t get them one way, they’ll get them another.”
“Really? Because I managed to make it this long without ever being accused of rape by anyone, let alone by eight women.”
“Then you should count yourself lucky.”
“And here I thought it was basic human decency on my part. Besides, I don’t think I’m the one who’s been lucky so far in this equation.”
“Frankly, Ethan, I don’t really care what you think right now. You’re letting yourself be led around by the nose by that woman and it needs to stop. You’ve gotten your revenge. You’ve made a huge mess for your brother and now it’s time to clean it up.”
“I’ve only just started, Mom. It gets way messier from here.”
“Why are you doing this?” She sounds as bewildered as she is frustrated and I can’t help but wonder what’s going through her head right now. And what’s been in her head all along? She wasn’t always like this—or at least, I don’t think she was. I remember when I was a kid and my father was still alive, she was a pretty decent person. Sure, a little more cold than most of the other women on the block, but still decent. Still capable of understanding rape as something more than an inconvenience that needs to be dealt with.
“The better question is why aren’t you doing this?” I finally ask. “Why isn’t someone doing this? Brandon is a monster. I’m willing to admit that I gave him too much, did too much for him. Why can’t you?”
“Your brother is a good man. He—”
“My brother is a spoiled, self-indulgent, conscienceless sociopath. He does what he wants, takes what he wants, and to hell with anyone else. He makes a mess everywhere he goes and you and I have been there his whole life cleaning up after him. I’m done making excuses for him and I’m done cleaning up his messes.”
“He’s your younger brother. He’s your responsibility—”
“Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think that’s what keeps me up at night? The idea that I am somehow responsible for the weak, pathetic excuse for a man that he’s become?”
“Your father would be so ashamed of you.”
“I don’t think I’m the one he’d be ashamed of in this conversation.”
“You think he’d accept you talking to me like this?”
“Maybe not. But he sure as hell wouldn’t accept me covering up for a rapist, so I’ll take the lesser of the two crimes.”
“That’s enough!” she snaps, her voice ringing with an authority I haven’t heard from her since I was a teenager. “You’re going to fix this, Ethan.”
“You’re damn right I am. But I’m not sure you and I share the same definition of what fixing this entails.”
“Let me rephrase myself, then, so there are no misunderstandings. You are going to fix the mess you just made for your brother, or I am. It’s your choice how it happens, but it will happen.”
“You’re welcome to try to go up against me on this.”
“Oh, I’ll do more than try. By the time I’m done, they’ll be ready to elect your brother president. But I guarantee, you won’t like the way I do it.”
