Chapter one ofMy Dark Vanessa, the debut novel from Kate Elizabeth Russell.
Excerpted with permission from the bookMy Dark Vanessa,to be published by William Morrow on March 10.
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What kind of monster could do that to a child?
Theres no need to try so hard.
He created this mess.
Its his problem, not mine.
I call the town car to drive a family to the jetport.
Ill take care of it, I say.
The man grins, gives me a wink.
Youre the best, Vanessa.
Even as I read, three dots flashsomeone is typing a comment right this second.
I laugh as I answer, relieved hes alive, that hes calling.
He exhales a heavy sigh.
I guess you saw.
Yeah, I say.
I dont ask questions, but he launches into an explanation anyway.
He says the school is opening an investigation and hes bracing himself for the worst.
He assumes theyll force him to resign.
He doubts hell make it through the school year, maybe not even to Christmas break.
Hearing his voice is such a shock that I struggle to keep up with what he says.
But they already investigated back when she was your student, I say.
Everyones getting interviewed all over again.
If they decided you didnt do anything wrong back then, why would they change their minds now?
Paid any attention to the news lately?
Were living in a different time.
No matter their background, the accused go through the same steps.
First, they deny everything.
Then the final step: they go silent and disappear.
Its been surreal to watch it play out day after day, these men falling so easily.
It should be ok, I say.
Everything she wrote is a lie.
On the phone, Strane sucks in a breath, air whistling through his teeth.
I dont know if she is lying, at least not technically.
But you barely touched her.
In that post, she says you assaulted her.
Assault, he scoffs.
Its a meaningless legal term.
I stare out the window at the farmers market: the milling crowd, the swarming seagulls.
You know, she messaged me last week.
A beat of silence.
She wanted to see if Id come forward, too.
Probably figured shed be more believable if she roped me into it.
Right, he says.
I thought she was bluffing.
Didnt think shed have the nerve.
I lean forward, press my forehead against the window.
Itll be ok. You know where I stand.
And with that, he breathes out.
I can imagine the smile of relief on his face, the creases in the corners of his eyes.
Thats all I need to hear, he says.
This is so inspiring.
Im in awe of your strength.
Keep speaking your truth, Taylor.
Thats how I described the difference back thenperfect.
I was the first student who put the thought in his head.
There was something about me that made it worth the risk.
I had an allure that drew him in.
It wasnt about how young I was, not for him.
Above everything else, he loved my mind.
No one had ever understood that dark part of him until I came along.
He checked my face after I said this to double-check I was jokingof course I was.
I wasnt made for them.
I loved Stranes middle-aged caution, his slow courtship.
All of that happened before we even kissed.
He was careful with me.
He tried so hard to be good.
In my apartment, I still dont look at my phone.
But in the dark, something shifts within me as I feel the bedsheets slide across my legs.
He answers halfway through the first ring, as though expecting me to call.
I know its late.
I balk then, unsure how to ask for what I want.
Its been so long since we last did this.
Out in the kitchen, the refrigerator hums and the faucet drips.
He owes me this, for my silence, my loyalty.
Ill be quick, I say.
Just a few minutes.
You were teenage and erotic and so alive, it scared the hell out of me.
I turn onto my stomach and shove a pillow between my legs.
I tell him to give me a memory, something I can slip into.
Hes quiet as he flips through the scenes.
In the office behind the classroom, he says.
It was the dead of winter.
You, laid out on the sofa, your skin all goose bumps.
I was kissing you, going down on you.
He lets out a soft laugh.
Thats what you used to call it.
Those funny phrases youd come up with.
I dont remember, not exactly.
So many of my memories from back then are shadowy, incomplete.
I need him to fill in the gaps, though sometimes the girl he describes sounds like a stranger.
It was hard for you to keep quiet, he says.
You used to bite your mouth shut.
My god, Vanessa, your lip, he says.Youre bleeding.
I shake my head and dig my fingers into the cushions.
Its fine, keep going.
Just get it over with.
You were so insatiable, Strane says.
That firm little body.
Yes, yes, yes.
Ive been seeing Ruby for eight months, ever since my dad died.
I love her wooden-heeled clogs, the clack-clack-clack they make as she walks across her office.
Im worried my mother is depressed and dont know how to broach the subject.
Together, Ruby and I come up with a plan.
We go through scenarios, the likely ways Mom will respond if I suggest she might need help.
you’re able to handle talking about hard stuff.
Close with my mother?
I dont argue but dont agree.
Sometimes I marvel at how easily I deceive people, doing it without even trying.
Glancing up, she catches my furious scroll and asks if theres any breaking news.
Let me guess, she says, another abuser exposed.
I look up from my phone, my limbs cold.
Its just so endless, isnt it?
She gives a sad smile.
Who would have guessed that guy was abusive?
Ruby asks, sarcastic.
His movies are all the evidence we need.
These men hide in plain sight.
Only because we let them, I say.
We all turn a blind eye.
Its thrilling to talk like this, to creep so close to the edge.
Did they have no self-respect?
Well, you cant blame the women, Ruby says.
I dont argue, just hand her my check.
At home I get stoned and fall asleep on the couch with all the lights on.
Just thinking of you.
Staring at the screen, I venture to gauge what she knows.
She easily could have seen it.
I minimize the text and bring up Facebook: 2.3k shares, 7.9k likes.
Last night, Taylor posted a public status update:
BELIEVE WOMEN.
