END OF A FRiENDSHiP
what happens when the grey areas of SA force us to choose sides—and live with it
NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK
I didn’t notice her pulling away at first.
I chalked it up to senior year stress. She was applying to law school. She was figuring out where her and her boyfriend where going to take their grad trip. She was passing the baton at the many clubs she ran.
Plus I saw her twice a week. In class. The one I begged her to take with me. And she was herself (I thought). We had laughs. We shared notes. She showed me memes. She kept me up to date with drama. Asked me about my parents.
Her texts were delayed though. Shorter. Sometimes I’d catch her looking at me with a puzzled expression. She would play it off. Once I ran into her at the library with her sorority sisters and I was left confused when she greeted me like a distant acquaintance.
For the third week in a row she declined to eat lunch with me after our Wednesday lecture. And I remarked on it. With a little levity.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were avoiding me.”
And that’s all it took. The domino that needed to be knocked over.
Her face turned down. She looked to the side. We were in the hallway. One that looked more like high school than college. Green lockers across the walls. You could smell the chalk. The academic pressure.
“Look, like. I don’t know how to... ay dios mio.” She fanned herself as she looked up. Anywhere but me.
I knew it was serious because I could tell she was trying to suppress the Brickell accent.
“Amelia, que te pasa?” I adjusted my backpack strap. Now my own breathing was getting shallow.
“Remember at the beginning of the semester, when you met Jordyn for the first time?”
Finally, eye contact. But her eyes were spilling over. Whatever she was about to say, she did not like its conclusion.
“Yea of course.”
Jordyn was her best friend. I had met Amelia during my junior year semester abroad. Then Jordyn was away for first semester of senior year. That’s why it took me so long to finally meet her.
“Well.”
She took a deep breath. The hallway had mostly cleared out by then, just a professor in a billowy dress shirt walking by.
The next moments come to me like the pieces of a broken mirror. I see them clearly, but in fragments. Sharp ones. Like the feeling in my throat when she told me what had been eating her up inside.
When Jordyn saw me in person, she recognized me. She recognized me as the friend of a man she claimed sexually assaulted her. She remembers me there the night it happened. I don’t remember her. It was a packed rooftop, dimly lit, and I made a brief appearance before heading to a bar with other friends.
She also remembers that weeks after it happened, she ran into the man on campus at the library. I was sitting next to him then, both of us studying for an upcoming midterm. By studying, we meant we were copying down notes on our forearms so we could pull the sleeves of our sweaters up when the TA wasn’t looking.
I vaguely remember this. I did not see her, but I remember my friend sighing and tapping me on the shoulder. He pointed out some girl walking away in the distance and said he didn’t understand why this girl was acting so strange towards him.
I said I had no idea what he was talking about. He looked at me and decided against explaining more. I was dreaming of getting this midterm done and feasting on some Upstein Chick-Fil-A, so I didn’t press. Back to running my blue ballpoint across my skin.
When Amelia ended her breathless explanation, she leaned in and hugged me. It caught me by surprise, and I slowly embraced her. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what the truth was.
I knew my friend Darius since freshman year, when we met in our mandatory writing seminar.
He needs no character witness, but still—I feel compelled to stand up, clear my throat and speak.
As the handsome eldest son of a wealthy Persian family, he could have been a dick. One of the many archetypal entitled rich kids at NYU. But he wasn’t spoiled. He was down to earth. He was kind. He was driven. He dated his high school sweetheart for into college for a couple years. He never thought twice about helping out a friend in need, whether with money or his connections or an ear.
This piece isn’t about him so you’ll have to take my telling. No time for showing.
I know.
I know that anyone can be a rapist. Even the most virtuous seeming person. But on my list of potential suspects, Darius was near the bottom.
“I just don’t get it. I don’t think Darius..” I treaded carefully as Amelia pulled away and wiped her tears. I was working out my confusion in the moment but I didn’t want her to feel like I was denying her claim.
“Well, Jordyn wouldn’t make shit up Levi.”
Amelia’s face returned to its natural fiery nature. Her attitude was what drew me to her in the first place. We had a real big sister, little brother dynamic. No one else was as good at reading me and eviscerating me as she was. She kept me humble. But right now I didn’t want to be in any kind of opposition to her. Not until I got my facts straight.
“I’m not saying that. I, I, of course no. No. But I just. Let me talk to Darius.”
“And what? You think he’s going to tell you?”
“I don’t know Amelia. I don’t fucking know. But I want to hear his side of it.” With that she pursed her lips, scrunched her eyes and nodded. She turned and walked off without a word.
I didn’t get to talk to Darius until the following day, when he accepted my invitation to have dinner at the dining hall. I was rich in CAMPUS CASH and always had that end of semester scramble to treat everyone so the monopoly money wouldn’t go to waste. Some of my other wealthier friends wouldn’t set foot in the dining hall.
Meanwhile Darius was happily stacking pancakes, sushi and a hot dog onto his tray beside me. I did my best to keep the banter going in line, but I was shaking as I handed my ID to the worker to swipe.
We talked a little about our post grad plans.
I had some bullshit tech job lined up. Sales! A loading screen until my big adventure, starting a company with my best friend.
Darius had his destiny preordained. Take over one of his family’s smaller subsidiaries, work his way up to the big leagues. There was a sense of resignation in his voice. The boy loved neuroscience. But his clan was that of textiles. Like a good elder son, he put on a brave face and told me that he would do his duty and do it well.
Again. The mirror smashes. This time in smaller pieces. Jagged edges. Some resemble a knife. I think there’s blood on my hands this time from trying to pick them up and tape them together. It makes it harder to see clearly.
I just sort of rushed into it, telling him what Amelia had told me, my voice wavering. His face hardens. Then it softens with pleading eyes. Then it hardens again. He is silent.
“I. I feel so sorry that she took it that way. That’s not.” He looks down at his tray. I don’t know if he’s trying to replay the memory, edit the tape, or erase it.
He explains to me as such.
They were wasted.
Both of you?
Yes. Both. Me more than her. I threw up a little.
It took a lot to make him throw up, I remember that much.
And she’s talking to me the whole night about this guy that she wants to get back at. That did her dirty.
An ex?
I don’t know if they were boyfriend girlfriend. But yea some recent thing.
Okay.
And it was getting kind of weird. But she was hot. And you know I had just broken up with Samia two months before.
Sure.
So.
So…
The open bedroom in the apartment. Door closed. Lights off. He had brushed his teeth with his finger and someone’s toothpaste. She reached for his pants, fiddling with his belt. He kissed her on the neck. It was all over in a few minutes. They heard someone in the hallway. Jumping around putting their clothes on. She goes to the bathroom and he waits for her. They go upstairs back to the party together but she’s quiet. She goes over to her friends. He tries to catch her before she leaves but she just smiles at him and says she’ll see him around.
We’re talking in hushed whispers at this point, hunched over our trays.
I want to believe him. Nothing about this night sounds clean. Messy in the sort of ways that spill over for a long time. And I know about this.
I’ve been through this.
Him telling me. It brings it all rushing back.
ORLANDO, FLORIDA
This mirror is clean. Whole. Because this is my memory. It is clear. The mirror has some dust on it because I’ve kept it tucked away. But a quick wipe down and you don’t even see a single smudge.
I was 16. For 9 months I dated a girl I didn’t like too much, but who liked me very much. It was easy, it was distracting, it was wrong. The sort of thing you only do at 16.
I ended things with her after she kept pressuring me to have sex with her. I did not want to have sex with her. I knew it would only make our bond closer, when I wanted nothing more than to be free. She asked me why I wouldn’t fuck her. Was I gay? Was I not a man? Do you not love me?
No girl, I don’t love you.
I was still in love with my first girlfriend. I wanted to give her my virginity, not the second girl.
So finally, I mustered up the courage and respect to break it off.
Fast forward three months. Our mutual friends had planned a camping trip. 20+ of us. Standard teenage debauchery. Drinking, smoking, card games, people shy about their crushes. S’mores. Tents. Soccer at midnight under the moon. Central Florida in December, so the weather’s perfect. No mosquitos.
At 1am the group split up. Some were going to walk the two miles to the nearest McDonald’s. The rest were going to bed. My ex went to McDonald’s.
I found the nicest tent and crawled in. I was drunk, so sleep came easy.
I awoke to my ex and her McFlurry with fries breath crawling next to me.
What are you doing?
This is my tent. What the hell are you doing?
Your tent? What do you mean? All the guys put them together.
Yea. But I brought this one.
Oh. Oh sorry. I’ll get out.
No.
She snuggled up next to me. I kept my arms by my side, trying to channel a cadaver.
No, it’s alright. I’m tired.
She put her hand on my chest as I sat up.
She put her hand under the blanket.
I laughed and asked her what she was doing. She started kissing my ear, something she knew I loved. I asked her again what she was trying to do. She told me to be quiet.
I grabbed her hand and pulled it up.
She asked me why we broke up. I said I should have never dated her and I was sorry I did. That I led her on.
That I was still in love with [REDACTED].
Her face hardened at my cruelty. She said she knew that anyways. She had a crush on me the first time she saw us together. She wanted to steal me from her.
I didn’t know what to say to that. I again stirred to leave. She said could I just stay a little. I turned and she was crying. I felt horrible. I wanted to disappear. I took a deep breath and leaned back.
She hit me on the arm. I said what the fuck. She said I was an asshole. I felt like one so I stayed silent.
She asked what was wrong with her. I said nothing, nothing at all. She was a great girl. I was just not the right guy. She said she liked me a lot. Even after what I did.
I told her I liked her too, as a friend. She asked me why I wasn’t back with [REDACTED]. I said she didn’t want to talk to me ever again. Especially after I “moved on” so quickly after that breakup.
She nodded. I sat there and teared up myself. I really wanted to be with [REDACTED].
She kissed my ear slowly. I felt goosebumps. I said her name.
She shushed me and then reached down and started petting me. It felt good but bad. It felt bad but good.
She was a gorgeous girl and with a great body. I tried to focus on that. I couldn’t help getting hard.
She kissed me on the lips and I came to. I told her to stop. That I didn’t want to do this. She stroked me and said it didn’t seem that way. It did feel good. I told her no but didn’t put up a fight.
She took her top off and moved closer to me, kissing me as she stroked me. I wanted to push her off but I also wanted to cum. I wanted to cum a lot at that time in my life, and she happened to be the one closest to making it happen.
So I let it happen.
And when I came, in my sweatpants, I felt disgusting.
It was dark so I could barely make out her face but I’m glad I couldn’t. I think I would have seen evil. Not hers, my own.
I told her I had to go. She hissed that I couldn’t just leave her. That I got what I wanted and now didn’t want anything to do with her. I said I didn’t want that. I wanted to sleep.
She let an exasperated cry and put her top back on.
I shimmied out of the tent and crawled into a buddy’s, rolling him over and then laying there awake for hours, my shame and confusion wet in my pants.
When we awoke the next morning, she did not look at me. She did not look at anyone. She ate her breakfast with her knees up on her chair, staring straight ahead as she popped blueberries in her mouth, looking out at the lake.
People looked at us. I was quiet too. Everyone was, in quiet sunlight of a DAY AFTER. We were all defrosting together. Some of us wanted to stay frozen.
Later that night, my friend Yulissa called me.
Have you seen Twitter?
No, why?
You’re getting subtweeted heavyyy
I raced to check my feed. Sure enough, two of her friends.
men are fucking disgusting
i can’t believe someone would treat my little bae like that
we’re gonna make sure you pay oomf
What happened between you two last night?
Nothing, I’ll explain later. I gotta call Kennedy right now.
I was trying not to vomit.
Kennedy was the queen of our social circle. She was deep in the inner machinations of the gossip machine. She kept it running.
I called her. She seemed like she was waiting by the phone. Her voice was even. It made me feel better, as I felt my own world closing in on me. My stomach had this hollow feeling.
She explained that my ex had recently started hooking up with this one boy.
Apparently someone had spotted the tension between us two at the campsite and had reported back to him. He got jealous and accused her of cheating on him. She said that I raped her.
She said that I raped her.
She said that I raped her.
I felt the back of my brain bubble like a freshly popped can of soda.
He told her to tell the school and call the cops. She said didn’t want to, she just wanted to move on. He wanted to beat my ass.
We were both like 120 pounds soaking wet, but I had zero desire to make my super bantamweight debut. Even if our high school was where Never Back Down was filmed.
I told her my side. She listened patiently. She told me she believed me.
In retrospect I don’t know if she believed me because she believed me, believed me because she didn’t like my ex, or believed me because later I found out she had a crush on me for most of high school.
Either way she was the only light of that day, that week. I missed the next two days with a simulated fever my parents bought. I didn’t eat much all week. I didn’t sleep much all week. I wanted to cut my dick off. I wanted to punch her in the face. All I did was cry into my pillow. None of it made any sense. I told no one else.
But I knew what I knew. I knew my truth. The truth.
After a week it blew over when the boy my ex was into was spotted making out with another girl at a party.
She moved on.
I moved on, with a steady undercurrent of paranoia that took a couple years to shake off.
Amelia moved on.
We remained polite for the last couple of months of class together. At graduation she tried to dodge me but when our parents recognized each other, we were forced to interact. She looked around, hoping Jordyn wouldn’t catch her with the enemy. Our parents forced us to take a picture. Neither one of us had a real smile on our face. I texted her once during the summer to catch up. No response.
Darius moved on.
I spotted him around campus a few times and we flicked eyebrows at each other. At graduation we hugged and back slapped. His eyes flickered with something. What do you think of me? Do you believe me? We had all bottled up the fallout and there was danger in revisiting it. He was headed to London the next day. I never saw him again.
All those memories we were weaving together.
Imploded, with the introduction of a single nuclear one.
I don’t know what really happened. I just know what happened after.
