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“You know it probably wasn’t her choice,” I say gently, sitting on the edge of the couch. “If anyone, you should blame your dad for manipulating her. If she was forced, that’s not fair to her, either.”
“She’s always fucking around with things she doesn’t understand, and this is no different,” he snaps back, his tone a sharp contrast with mine. “The only thing I can hope is that this takes some heat off Roxanne for being involved, but if I know the media, we will both just be thrown under the bus instead of just me.”
He sits down heavily on the couch next to me, holding his head in his hands. I’ve never felt worse in my entire life.
“You should talk to your sister directly and find out the truth,” I suggest, laying a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. “Maybe you're both victims here and you don't even know it. I’m sure your dad forced her to do it.”
Andries leans against the back of the sofa and closes his eyes. “Elise is never a victim, a manipulative bitch, yes, but a victim never. Even if Dad pressured her to do the speech, she played some part in all this, plain and simple.”
“But can you really live with yourself if you shut her out forever because of something your dad forced her into? Think about it, man.”
He hesitates for a moment, thinking. “She actually texted me right before you got here and asked me to meet her on campus this afternoon. Most likely to explain herself.”
“Do it!” I encourage, my tone more hopeful than I thought. “Don’t let your family be pulled apart because of your father’s selfishness.”
Andries contemplates it and finally exhales slowly. Making a firm decision seems to bolster him some. “Okay, fine, I’ll text her back later. It always helps to get to know her side of the story, but I’ve got no intention of forgiving her.”
Seeing a chance to guide my friend back down from the storm of emotions drowning him, I wrack my brain for any other topic that might help him relax. Andries takes a long sip of his cold water and plops back on the couch when he’s done, looking exhausted.
“So, uh, what are you studying in school right now?” I ask, trying to change topics, and he snorts.
“Don’t pretend like you care about that.”
“Come on,” I cajole him. “There’s always one weird class during a college semester.”
Andries thinks on it before grinning, the first real one I’ve seen since I walked in earlier. “Okay, well, did you know that Mary Shelley was involved with Lord Byron?”
I barely know who either of those people are, but if it helps get Andries back on solid ground to talk about them, I’m more than happy to listen.
“No way,” I say, playing along. “I’ve never heard that before. Is it true?” I have no idea if I sound convincing or not, but it’s worth a shot. Thankfully, Andries likes this subject enough to just run with it.
“Scholars think so, yes. Let me pull up this paper I read on the subject, and I’ll show you the passages of her diary in question.”
It sounds worse than watching paint dry, but with Elise running laps in my mind and Andries ready to murder me or her or both, it’s better than nothing. “Absolutely. Let’s hear it.”
As Andries passes me to go get his book, he grips my shoulder for just a second in an affectionate gesture. “Thanks for always coming when I call, Dan.”
He shouldn’t be thanking me, not with how I encouraged Elise, but what else can I do? “Anytime, man.”
12
Amsterdam, May 3, 2022
Elise
There isa celebratory air to the office today, and everyone seems lighter than air. Everyone except for me, of course, because I feel like absolute garbage.
Dad had called me at the crack of dawn, ecstatic that he had received a request for me to appear on the morning news and go over everything I revealed at the speech last night. A video of my speech at the shareholder meeting had gone viral, and public opinion was changing on the Karl Townsend case as fast as the crack of the whip.
Any other time, appearing on television would have been such fun, but not today, when it was just more talk about Andries and Patricia. I feel like I am digging my own grave, and no matter what anyone says, I can’t stop picking up shovels of dirt. The company won’t let me.
I’ve heard nothing from Andries, or Dan, for that matter, and their silences are almost worse than an outright angry accusation. I had planned on ignoring my brother, hoping thatthis will all blow over, but in a moment of weakness, I had decided to text him, asking him to meet me on campus during my lunch break. He’s got to know I didn’t have a choice and Dad kind of forced me to do the speech.
I remain at my desk, trying to focus on my tasks for the day, and set everything that happened to the wayside. When a notification with a new text message from my brother pops up on my screen, though, I can’t help but jump in excitement. I grab the phone immediately and check the new SMS.
Andries:Fine, let’s meet during your lunch break then.
Wanting some privacy, I have the company driver take me to campus during my break, closing the partition between the driver and where I’m sitting as soon as I get inside. Unable to stop myself, I scroll through hundreds of comments on the video of my interview, relieved that I at least look put together even if I’m falling apart on the inside.
