Beautiful Boy(3)

"Defend yourself, Novah. Don't sit back and take his shit-again. He was  an asshole then, and it seems as though nothing has changed. Apparently,  he hasn't learned his lesson and still thinks what he did was okay. You  need to let him know no matter how many years come and go, no matter  what you do for a living, it doesn't take away the horrible thing he did  to you."

"It's pointless."

Shari reached for my laptop, but I shoved her hands aside. She balled  her fists in her lap and spoke through clenched teeth. "Then let me do  it. If you won't defend yourself, I will. Fifteen years ago, you let  your parents fight for you. You let the school fight for you. You never  did it yourself. You say you told him how you felt, but you never did.  You recited a rehearsed speech in front of a room of people. Now is your  chance to speak your mind. And if you won't, then I will."         

     



 

God, I love Shari. She was forever and always my biggest supporter, my  biggest cheerleader. Always in my corner ready to fight my battles. But I  couldn't allow her to take the bat for me this time. A thirty-year-old  woman should be able to say what's on her mind without her best friend  coming up with the words.

"Okay, fine. I'll respond, but I'm going to need another glass of wine first."

Shari was all over it, bringing the entire bottle back with her from the  kitchen. She topped off her glass and then handed me the rest. I drank  it straight from the bottle as I mulled over the words I would use. I  knew my response wouldn't be classy, it wouldn't be elegant, and it  certainly wouldn't be mature. Between the wine and Shari fueling my  anger, I had fifteen years' worth of words to use.

And then I began …



* * *



From: Novah Johnson

To: Nolan Richards

Subject: Re: Your profession …



Mr. Nolan Richards,

I wish I could say I've followed you and know what it is you do, but  I've got to admit, you or your life don't warrant even one second of my  time. Yes, I take pictures of people. And yes, some of the time they  aren't fully clothed-some are even in compromising positions. However,  what I do is not comparable to what you did to me. And here's the  difference.

I have their consent. I am hired to take their pictures. They approve  the ones they want, and then I discard the ones they don't. I don't tell  them things they want to hear in order to get them naked, and I  certainly don't touch them inappropriately. And as if I need to further  explain the difference for you, I don't spread their pictures around to  all my friends with the sole purpose of humiliating them.

It's clear you haven't grown up, nor do you realize the negative  implications of your actions. If you want to live in the past and beat a  dead horse, then by all means, beat it. But do so without dragging me  down-again.

You're more than welcome to go fuck yourself,

Novah Johnson



* * *



"Good for you!" Shari cheered beside me after I hit send. "How do you feel?"

I rested my head against the back of the couch and stared at the  ceiling. "Like I'm fifteen all over again and I just had my heart ripped  out of my chest. That kind of humiliation will never go away. Even when  I think I've conquered it and it no longer affects me, it comes  barreling back, takes hold of me, and then drags me down a dark hole."

"Oh-kay. I think you've had too much wine, Confucius." She leaned forward and took the bottle away.

"I'm being serious, Shari!" I sat up straight and stared irately at her.  Every ounce of fury came roaring back to life inside my chest. The only  problem was Shari didn't deserve it-Nolan did. Unfortunately, since  Nolan wasn't here, my best friend had to be the one to take the brunt of  it.

She backed off slightly, allowing room between us for my rage, and gave  me space to get it all out. We'd been through this a time or two in the  past, but not in years.

"I thought he liked me. I let him touch me because I thought he meant  what he said. But he didn't. He used me. And then he spread naked  pictures of me-the same pictures he took while giving me an orgasm-and  then the whole school saw it. My teachers. My principal. My fucking  parents. My dad, Shari."

The threat of tears burned the backs of my eyes. However, they weren't  caused by sadness or hurt feelings. They came with the anger, the  blinding rage. Fury lit me on fire and I had no control over my natural  reaction to it.

"What if that had been you, Shari? It's humiliation to the hundredth  degree. Is it supposed to somehow magically disappear? As if it never  happened? Like I didn't spend four years in high school with the same  people who saw me … practically topless? No one had ever seen me naked  before, and suddenly, after a few pictures, I was deemed a slut. A  virgin turned into a fucking whore in a matter of minutes. So no, I  haven't had too much to drink. I'm pissed."

"Good for you! Where was this anger when you were replying to him?" She  shoved my laptop toward me so my hands rested on the keyboard. "It's not  too late; write him another email. Get it all out. Don't hold back.  You're pissed and you have every right to be. You have every right to be  heard. So do it … write him another one. And I better see at least seven  f-bombs … one for each picture."

I pulled the computer closer, hyped up, ready to pounce and spew my  hatred for the man into words. But before I could hit reply, another  email came through. And in an instant, the bubbling fury, the blinding  hatred, turned into a thundering heart and shaky hands. Nervous didn't  even begin to describe my emotion. My stomach coiled and I feared I'd  throw up, but I swallowed it down, opened the email, and braced for his  response.         

     



 



* * *



From: Nolan Richards

To: Novah Johnson

Subject: Re: Your profession …



Novah,

I had your consent. I asked if I could take your picture and you said  yes. I told you when it happened, and I'll say it again, I didn't spread  those pictures around. But you can believe what you want. I never told  you anything simply to get you naked. Why would I need to? I could've  gotten anyone naked, with very little persuasion. As for your comment  about me not growing up, I have. But you ruined my life and I have held  my tongue for long enough. The things you and your family accused me of  are not valid or easily forgotten. And I have to live with those things  every single day.

Nolan.



* * *



"Are you kidding me right now?" Shari read his words over my shoulder,  her heated breath hitting my skin and igniting a fire deep inside me.  "You were fifteen! He was eighteen! It's child pornography, no matter  which way you look at it."

I didn't even respond to her. Instead, I typed away as fast as I could,  letting the anger churn my thoughts into the words evolving on the  screen in front of me.



* * *



From: Novah Johnson

To: Nolan Richards

Subject: Re: Your profession …



Nolan,

The last thing I want to hear about is how I've ruined your life.  Nothing you have gone through even compares to what you put me through.  And I don't care what has followed you around every day. You don't have  to live with the memories of being exploited and ridiculed by everyone.  Your daddy saved your ass as far as I'm concerned. Most people would  have had charges brought against them for what you did. And no matter  how you play it in your fucked-up head, it was child porn. I was young  and you were legally an adult. Everything you did to me on your parents'  kitchen table was wrong. You should have known better, but instead, you  took advantage of me. You robbed me of a normal high school experience.  You robbed me of ever having true security. So don't you dare compare  what you've been through to what I have. I don't give two shits about  you and the pathetic life you've carved out for yourself. Or should I  say, what your daddy has handed to you? Since we both know you've always  had everything served up on a silver platter.

What I do for a living is art. Your audacity to try and turn my career  into something distasteful shows the true scope of your character. What I  do is classy and life changing. I can find the allure in anything,  because I've refused to let you steal that gift from me. Your actions  may have hurt me, they may have bruised me, but they did not break me.  Not then and not now. I have grown up. I am now an adult. And I am  living my life. It has been a decent life until I opened your email and  allowed you to suck me back into the vortex. But I won't let you do it  anymore. I refuse to let you take anything else from me.

I have nothing more to say to you.



* * *



I breathed a sigh of relief, becoming more at ease than I had been  fifteen minutes ago. But despite the weight lifted from my shoulders,  the need to cry grew stronger.

I had never allowed myself to shed a tear over what he did. Even when it  happened, I held all the tears in and never allowed myself to release  the emotion. I had to be strong. I had to fight. With everyone looking  at me, everyone talking about me, everyone seeing me, pointing fingers  at me when I walked down the halls at school, I had to fight-prove I  wasn't the person those pictures portrayed.