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3. Sunshine

Audrey dressed me in clean clothes, changed my sheets, and made sure I was comfortable. She reassured me it wasn’t my fault, that I was going to be okay. Strangely, I believed her. I couldn’t even convince myself that I would be okay in the long run, but some girl I had only met three times now could almost immediately make everything better.

I realized I wasn’t wearing a hat and I felt even more self conscious. Any girl I’d known in my life up until that point would have taken one look at my disturbed, naked state and ran. Why didn’t she?

She had helped me into flannel pajama pants and a tee shirt, told me to lie down and try to relax. She sat at the foot of my bed, trying to untangle the tight bun she had knotted her hair into for work, I imagined. She looked at me worriedly until I spoke.
“Shouldn’t you be at work or something?” She smiled faintly.
“Do you want me to leave?” I felt my eyes expand. That was the last thing I wanted to happen. She knew my secret, but more so, I felt like I needed her there. Like my composure would disintegrate again if she were to leave.
“No,” I said, almost shouted.
“I’m worried about you, so I think I’ll stay here for a while.” I sighed. I knew she was going to ask countless questions, questions that I might not have been ready to answer at that moment.

She leaned forward and looked at me sternly. I could not meet her intense gaze.
“Who did this to you?” she asked calmly, yet I could hear a tone of worry behind her self-control. I continued to look away.
“Patrick,” she sounded sad now, something I would hate in the coming years. I would become familiar with her happy and kind personality, so much that whenever she would be sad, I immediately take the blame and try to make it better.

Audrey was the sunshine finally showing through the yearlong rainstorm known to me as Pete.

“Patrick?” She repeated. She was being unbelievably patient with me.
“The…the bassist.” I was unable to say his name. Her mouth fell open in disbelief. For a brief moment, I worried she might think I was lying.
“Pete?” she clearly didn’t believe it. I looked down, ashamed. She scooted closer to me and took my hand.
“I...I’m sorry…” My eyes burned with the want to cry, last night was flashing behind my eyelids like a bad horror flick. I grasped at words and phrases in my mind, but none of them reached my lips.
“Why?” was all that came out. The ends of her eyebrows turned up in concern, causing ripples in the smooth skin on her forehead.
“I really don’t know,” she paused for a moment, deep in thought. “How long has this been going on?” I counted backwards in months.
“About a year.” She nodded, still thinking.
“When does he usually attack you like this?” I bit the inside of my mouth until it bled.
“When I…misbehave.” I said, choosing my words carefully. This is what he told me every time before he…raped me. The word “rape” was unfamiliar on my lips, but Audrey would soon convince me that this is what he does to me. It was a shameful thing for a man to admit he was raped, particularly by another man. A man you had previously considered one of your best friends.

Every time this happened, he would remind me that I “made a mistake” and this was my “punishment”. Drugged, this was what I initially remembered the morning after.

“Oh, Patrick,” she whispered softly as she put her arms around me. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I murmured. I didn’t mean to sound insensitive, but I was still in shock. She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t be talking to me. I was putting her in danger already; what if Pete showed up? I couldn’t, wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her. I promised myself that.


I called Audrey on Saturday asking if she would like to come over again. I told her there was a show that night, and maybe she would like to spend some time together afterwards. Thankfully, she said yes. I was certain Pete didn’t know what she looked like, she would just look like any other fan to him.

It was the first week in September, and unseasonably cold. Andy refused to run the heat, saying it saved gas or something stupid like that, so I shivered all the way to the show. Pete said he was spending the night at his girlfriend’s place, so I was safe for once. I wanted to smile the whole time we were getting ready, but I didn’t want Pete to suspect anything.

It was a strange feeling, playing my first show in a long time. Especially when I knew I wasn’t going home to another nightmare. Not this time, at least. We played old songs, but we mostly played the newer things. And never anything Joe, Andy, or myself had wrote. Pete’s the star, the showcase talent of our band. We’re just riding his coat tails, for all he cares.

The bright lights prevented me from seeing her at first, but as soon as I adjusted, I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. She was wearing a red and black striped sweater that exposed one shoulder, dark jeans, and her hair was in a loose pony tail. I no longer could hold my smile back. She was beautiful.

Pete announced that the show was over (many fans groaned or booed), but that I would play a special acoustic song to hold them over “until next time.” He then flashed his trademark “Hollywood Smile” and left the stage. I put down my Gibson and an acoustic was thrust into my hands from someone offstage. I strummed to make sure it was in tune, and walked up to the microphone. I spoke only to Audrey; this was for her.

“I was originally going to just play one of our original songs acoustic,” I glanced at Pete, he was busy on his cell phone, no interest in what I was saying whatsoever. “But there’s someone out there that needs to hear this.” I backed away and played a few simple chords before singing:
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray. You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.”

I looked out and saw her smiling. I never wanted that smile to go away.