Page 41 of Shamed
My stomach churns and I feel sick just typing that out. I have to look away as I press send.
Campbell: Shut the fuck up, you asshole!
I hit the intended nerve, pissing him off enough to leave me alone tonight. The dude hates any jokes about his mom.
Pocketing my phone, I drop my head against the door.
Any time I’ve left the guys with the excuse of seeing a girl, it has really been to help my mom in some way.
I know she’d be embarrassed if they knew I had to occasionally lift her into and out of the shower. And besides her being extremely private, I’m highly protective of her. If they ever made a joke about it, I’d likely knock them the fuck out, and that would be the end of our friendship. I guess me and Campbell are similar in that way.
Once Mom’s finished in the shower, I help her out and then get her into bed, making sure she has everything she needs.
Since I’m not sleepy and have nothing else to do, I throw on a movie and settle in to watch it by myself.
*~*~*~*~*
By the time I peel my eyes open in the morning, the sun has already well and truly risen, making dust particles float through the air in the rays shining through my window.
With a scratch of my stomach, I step out of my bedroom and into the small living room. Mom sits in her favorite armchair by the window, her auburn hair shining in the sunlight. Her golden-brown eyes are lowered to her phone as I pass.
I’ve never looked like her—a fact I’ve hated for years now.
Where she’s reds and browns, I’m black-haired, with eyes so dark they might as well be black, just like my soul. And while her features are soft and friendly, mine are angular and hard.
I’m sure my mom can’t help but secretly resent what she sees when she looks at me.
Running a hand through my sleep-mussed hair, I head for the kitchen. “Do you want me to make you a fruit smoothie?” I start pulling bags of frozen fruit out of the freezer, getting everything ready. “Mom?”
When she still doesn’t respond, I poke my head around the corner. Her eyes are still lowered, but what I can see of her face is concerning. Mom’s features are tight, her skin paler than usual, and her fingers are clenching the phone in her hands.
I haven’t seen her look this way since her older sister visited for the last time years ago.
Everything changed for me after that visit, and I started to understand.
So what could possibly cause that same reaction?
“What’s wrong?” Walking over, I crouch in front of her, noticing it’s the community app she usually has open on her phone that has her attention. Since she doesn’t really get out, she likes reading it every day to stay in the loop about what’s happening here in Plainfield.
News and gossip travels faster than light in this town.
Looking up at me with intense brown eyes, she takes hold of my hand with her clammy one. “It’s your friend, Jacob . . .”
“What? What’s Jacob?”
“Maybe you should . . . I can’t.” Mom hands me her phone, and my mind buzzes with confusion, shoulders tensing with apprehension.
I scan the screen, feeling the blood drain from my face as I start reading. Jacob was found with Jennifer last night, and he has been arrested and taken into custody for sexual assault . . . forraping her.
What thefuck? This isn’t right.
My brain scrambles, searching for the lie, something to reveal that it’s untrue. I spend several minutes scanning everything, but the more I read the articles, comments, and opinions, the less clear it all becomes.
But this is Jacob. My friend.
I would have known he was like that, wouldn’t I?
Except . . . except maybe not. Maybe it’s my cruel fate.
