I KNOW WHAT EVERYONE THOUGHT about me when I hung out with Mark. That I was his charity case, the stray dog taken in by the Good Samaritan. Turns out, it’s that way even when he’s not around. Except I’m not stray anymore. I’m the exact opposite. Caged.
Don’t bother asking me if I did it. I told the truth, what happened between Tabby and me. If you didn’t believe it then, you never will. Not after she went up there and fucking lied in front of everyone. I hated that girl, then I loved her, and now I hate her all over again, and I don’t even know what was real for her.
I know what she told me. I guess that’s what I’m stuck holding on to for the rest of my goddamn life.
Just take my advice—don’t talk to her, don’t listen to her, don’t even look at her for too long. That’s what did me in. No fucking comment on everything else.
Hello America: Anne Leon Interviews Tabitha Cousins
Tuesday, January 5, 2021
The camera loves her. It hits her black hair, raven-shiny, zooms in on her face, because it’s a face so easy to get close to. She wouldn’t be this famous, nowhere near this known, if she wasn’t pretty to back it up. Girls get wronged every day of their lives, but sometimes pretty girls get to make it right.
Today she’s on Hello America, talking about her book. The movie. Her life, since That Day in the Woods. She’s sitting down with Anne Leon. Rumor has it, she’d been offered sit-down interviews with just about every television news station in America, but she specifically wanted Hello America, wanted Anne. Rumor has it they paid six figures for her.
“Sometimes it feels like it happened last night,” she says, staring straight into the camera. “I wake up sweating, thinking I’m still out there, lost in the woods, trying to find my way out. Sometimes I still wear his sweatshirt, because it’s all I have left of him.” Even her tears, when they fall onto her cheeks, are pretty.
“You’ve become a role model for a lot of girls,” Anne says. “About being strong in the face of adversity. The storm you weathered last year—that wasn’t easy. How did this affect your relationships with family and friends?”
Tabby sighs, a quick little intake of air. “It really let me know who my real friends are, and who really cares. And those people will be in my life forever.” She cocks her head at the camera. “You know, sometimes you find out people are lying to you, and the only thing you can do is cut them from your life, and realize you’re better off without them.”
“Wise words,” says Anne. “Especially when so many girls feel the need to be people pleasers. Tabitha, we’ve already talked about your book and what it means to you. Now there’s going to be a movie based on your life. Instead of retreating, you’ve really put yourself out there. Do you think there’s a reason why?”
“Oh, absolutely.” Her hands rest in her lap, unmoving. She knows exactly what she’s going to say. “They expected me to retreat. But stories like mine need to be told. I lost months of my life being accused of something I didn’t do. I missed my senior year, because I couldn’t go back after the trial, with everyone talking about me. I missed having a prom. I know they seem like silly little things, but they’re the moments that make up a life. Putting myself and my story out there are ways of getting that life back.”
Anne smiles sagely. She knows millions of people are watching this show. She knows this interview is headlining every website. “Tabitha, we’ve talked a lot about forgiveness, and about learning to move on. To leave it all behind, to quote your book. You said something so memorable in that searing first chapter. ‘When all eyes are on you, there’s nowhere else to look but in. I saw a girl there, young and scared. She’s not there anymore, but I am.’ What do you have to say to the people who didn’t believe you? All the people who had a role in changing your life and perception of yourself?”
Tabby smiles at Anne, then stares directly at the screen, to the millions of viewers in America and beyond, at the legions of people who either believed her or didn’t. It takes a minute before she speaks. Maybe she doesn’t know what to say. Or maybe she has been waiting to address them all this time.
“I’d tell them not to believe everything they hear,” she says, her voice measured. “I’d tell them I’m just a girl, just like some of them.” The corners of her mouth turn up, her signature smirk. “And I’d say that unless they were me, they’ll never possibly know the whole story.”