Despite the interaction with Aubin having drained a lot of my energy, I somehow muster up the courage to answer my phone when Mom calls later that evening.
I'm curled up on the sofa next to Manal, with Josie on her other side. Manal's been really good with me these last few days and I'm so grateful. Josie's been a little on the cooler side, not quite always making such an effort with me, but I'm not really sure that I can find it in myself to blame her.
The incident with Professor Ruiz last week has definitely gotten to her, so seeing me so messed up by the fact that my childhood friend has committed sexual assault probably isn't easy for her. Particularly the part when I was confused about who was right or wrong.
The guilt that it took me so long to decide that I believed Josh's story has been eating me alive all weekend, since I realised that Mason was lying to me. Shouldn't that have been my gut reaction?
Shame and disgust with myself crawl all over me, tug me down a path I don't want to be on.
I know that Mom believes Mason, thinks he's as innocent as a baby, so I wince when I see the caller ID, but I know I've been putting it off for long enough.
So, I excuse myself and pad to my bedroom, hoping that this phone call won't absolutely ruin me, or my perception of my mother.
"Hi, Mom," I greet her when I shut the door and move to collapse onto my bed, hoping that the soft duvet will bring me at least some comfort.
"Why have you been ignoring my calls?" she asks, agitated. "Zebulun said you had spoken to him."
I take a deep breath, trying really hard to calm the rapid pace of my heart. My head is such a complicated, foggy mess and I can't fathom how to begin explaining why Zeb, the only one who was there for me other than Mason when our parents divorced, is the one I want to talk to, rather than her.
I'm not sure I understand it, understand myself right now, so what hope do I have of getting her to see my side of things?
"I've just been pretty busy," I try lamely, aware that there's no way that'll cut it.
To my surprise, that doesn't seem to rile her up much. If anything, she turns really sympathetic. "Oh, sweetie, it must be so hard on you right now, being there for Mason. How is he doing?"
I don't know what to do. My hand not clutching the phone is shaking as I debate the merits of telling Mom how I'm feeling, versus the backlash I'm going to face. Whose side will she pick? Who does she think is right here?
Zeb told me he'd very deliberately steered clear of expressing any opinion on the whole matter to her, because he felt like it wasn't much to do with him. He wants to be there for me, but he doesn't want to barge in and say lots of things to Mom about it.
But I know that if I avoid it too, it'll only get harder later on down the line to explain why I actually believed the accusers over him. "I, uh, I don't really know how Mason's doing," I reply timidly. "We haven't spoken in a few days."
There's a long pause as Mom digests the words that have spilled out of my mouth. Regret suddenly floods my system as I think of the consequences of my confession. Mom will tell Mason's mom, for sure.
But maybe Mason's already told his Mom that I didn't believe him. Maybe that's why Mom's been phoning me so much.
"Why not? I thought you said you were going to be there for him."
It's hard to figure out Mom's tone of voice, but I'm pretty sure she's not particularly impressed with me, but what am I supposed to do?
I clear my throat awkwardly, wishing I didn't have to do this. My stomach is all knotted, my heart is beating far too fast for what should be normal. Staring up at the ceiling, I take the plunge. "I, um. I'm not so sure that Mason's innocent."
The silence this time around is near deadly. I'm sure that somewhere, the world is shaking, foundations are crumbling, something is moving, because I feel seasick, tossed in a storm that I didn't ever see coming.
"I'm not following, Judah, sweetie. Mason's saying he's innocent. Why wouldn't you believe him?" Mom asks, sounding a little upset. "Sandra says that he's innocent."
But of course, Sandra, Mason's mom, is going to claim that her golden boy would never do something like that. She doesn't see things, I imagine, just like I didn't. She's got no idea that one of Mason's primary lines of defence was that he doesn't need to sexually assault anyone because many girls just throw themselves at him. Even if she did see, I'm certain that she'd turn a blind eye. She's always doted on him, probably beyond what was good for him.
I swallow thickly, feeling my eyes well up. "I think he's lying."
Why do I have to prove myself to my own mother?
Mom makes a noise that sounds pretty disbelieving. "Why would you think that?"
"I asked him," I return simply. "I asked him and I think he lied straight to my face."
I don't think I'll ever forget the crushing feeling when I noticed his tells, when I realised that he's everything I always promised he wasn't.
Honestly. At this rate, it feels like I'll be eighty-five and still shaking from it.
She takes a deep breath, considering my words. "Judah, sweetie. I know that you're a feminist, that you're bound to believe a sexual assault accuser over the accused, most of the time. I get that, but isn't it a bit different when it's your best friend? Do you really think he's capable of something like that? Sweet, kind Mason who's always had your back?"
Bile rises in my throat because suddenly, she sounds delusional, desperate to cling to an image she's been seeing for so long. I'm certain that those are the kind of words that I've always spoken about it, that I've always attempted to cram down other people's throats when they've expressed negative opinions of him.
Why is it only now that I'm seeing just how fake, how forced it all sounds? Why did I never notice the tremor in my Mom's voice, in my own voice, as I tried to persuade not only other people but myself of things like that, because the alternative is too terrifying to face?
The darkness swirls around in my head and I suddenly wonder if I'm going to succumb. If it's going to sweep me away, drown me, before I can even start to protest.
The reality that I've probably not wanted to deal with for a long time now stares me straight in the face and I wonder just how many people Mason has managed to manipulate over the years. How many people he's damaged.
"I think he's capable of many things, Mom," I whisper quietly, hoping she hears the tremble in my voice, that she understands how much it hurts me to turn away now. "And I think that maybe, he's capable of this, too."
Mom sucks in a sharp breath. "I don't understand, Judah. I honestly don't. You've always been so fiercely protective of him, you've always insisted that he's the best person on the planet other than your brother, that you'd do anything for him. I honestly don't see how you've suddenly managed to have such a change of heart."
True to form, she's asking me all the questions that I've been asking myself lately. How is it that I'm suddenly seeing it all now, that after all this time, I'm actually not believing him anymore? What is it that changed?
It's hard to pinpoint. I know that Josie's experience with her professor shook me and the fear that she wouldn't be believed gripped me hard. Realising what people who accuse others of sexual assault actually face when bringing it to light was pretty hard.
Maybe it's that. Or maybe, just maybe, I've subconsciously known for a long time that he's not everything I've always wanted him to be. Maybe I've actually been doubting him for a long time, but I haven't wanted to admit it to anyone, including myself.
I think that's pretty likely. Thinking back to a lot of our recent times hanging out together, I realise that there have been so many times I've felt uncomfortable. So often I've hated what he's said, the way he's criticised other people, especially girls.
So many times, my stomach has rolled and I've physically cringed at what he's been doing.
How have I been so blind?
"I think it's been coming for a long time," I explain softly. "I think I've been seeing for a couple of years that he's not exactly perfect."
If I sit and think about it, I realise that he's changed a lot since coming to college. I don't think he was always like this and maybe that's been part of the problem. The influence of the Greek life has maybe corrupted him, or maybe it's been there all along, but just a little more subtly than it is now. Maybe I've also grown up a bit and started to think with my own brain more, started to realise what is appropriate and what is not.
"Well, of course he's not perfect," Mom replies, voice gentle despite the fact I still actually feel like she's having a go at me. "Nobody is, Judah, but that doesn't mean they'd do something like this, you know?"
I blow out a breath, frustration beginning to bubble. Why is she patronising me, sounding like she doesn't believe anything I'm saying at all? "No, but that doesn't mean that they wouldn't."
"So, have you spoken to Mason about it, then?" she asks.
My lips flatten into a grim line. "Like I said, I asked him if he did it and I thought he was lying to me," I reply flatly, hating this so much.
I don't want to replay that moment in my head more than I have to. It already spins around on a loop for most of the day, far more frequently than I would ever wish.
The way his eyes widened fractionally as he saw the realisation dawn on my face, the horror that he hadn't been able to conceal his lie to me in the way he desperately wanted to. It's burned into my head, branded in my brain and I hate it.
"I think you need to talk to him a bit more," she tries.
My stomach rolls at the thought of seeing him right now. My breathing becomes a bit choppier and I shake my head frantically. The desire to have any more of this conversation with her falls completely flat and I find myself wanting to hear about anything other than Mason. "Listen, Mom, tell me about you. How are the kids?"
She accepts my change of subject, but I can tell that it bothers her. We stumble through a couple of minutes of chat about her, the new puppy that she's put down a deposit for, but eventually, she swings the conversation back around to the last thing I want to talk to her about. "Like I said, sweetie, I think you need to talk to Mason. He's been through a lot with you, he's supported you through many things, you know?"
But what if he doesn't deserve my support this time around? He was there for me in the aftermath of Mom and Dad's separation, but that wasn't my fault. This disaster is entirely of his own doing and being sympathetic towards him in any way might just kill me.
Is he really that good of a manipulator that he's got my own mother believing him over me? Shouldn't she be on my side, not his?
I groan, because I just can't handle this anymore. "Mom, I have to go. I'll talk to you soon, okay?"
Hardly giving her any time to reply, I end the call and toss my phone onto the bed next to me, exhaustion slamming against me like a truck.
This whole situation is ridiculous and it makes me want to cry, so badly.
Eventually, I dig deep and head back to the living area, because I need to talk to someone.
Both the girls glance up from where they're watching TV and frown at my probably dishevelled appearance. I flop down on the sofa next to Manal again and groan.
"What did your Mom say?" Manal asks me, eyes tender.
I scrunch my nose up. "She doesn't believe me. Thinks the sun shines out his ass."
I've not really caught the girls up on my thought processes, on where I'm at, and it actually occurs to me they might think I'm on Mason's side. I didn't want to talk after I saw Mason on Friday and I've not really wanted to talk about it at all, so I haven't.
Noticing Josie's cautious and confused expression, I realise that I'm probably right about my assumption. "She was asking how Mason was and when I told her that I don't know, because we haven't spoken in a few days, she was confused and upset with me."
Clearly catching on to my line of thinking, Josie takes a deep breath. "Why haven't you spoke to Mason?"
I hold her gaze, willing her to believe me. "Because I think he's lying. I think he's guilty."
Some of the tension in her shoulders drops, as though she was genuinely expecting me to say something else, but it's short-lived.
The admission makes tears well in my eyes and suddenly I'm sobbing, my body wracking ferociously with each wail. Every time I utter the words, they hurt me. Every time I realise that I've had it wrong, it fills me with such deep despair, such hopelessness, that I struggle to breathe.
It's suffocating, this sadness, this guilt, this regret. It makes thinking, seeing, feeling anything else so goddamn difficult. The ache in my chest refuses to ease and my heart feels like it's constantly in overdrive, thrashing against my ribcage.
Thankfully, I don't seem to need to explain this to the girls. They appear to just get that I'm so lost, so lonely, so confused and wrap me in their eternal, unwavering love.
Josie comes around my other side and the two of them hug me tight, one from each side.
Neither of them tries to shove any of their opinions on me, or attempt to utter any words that might make me feel better.
They just sit with me, in the darkness, in the silence, crying a little too.
And when the tears eventually subside, Josie and Manal don't move, don't go anywhere, don't leave me all alone.
If anything, they hold me tighter, promising to be here for the long haul.
And for a moment, no matter how brief, the sun seems to shine on me once more.
---
Blame writingbyhan for the lack of update yesterday, she didn't bully me x
Also, I know it's moving a little slow as Judah deals with this, but I think it's important to do it justice.
Hopefully I'll actually update on time next week❤