Maybe I deserved it, but John had never screamed at me like that before. What an ass. A big, hot, panty-soaking, multiple-orgasm-inducing ass.
I knew he was out there somewhere waiting for me, most likely leaning against the wall by the door ready to pounce.
My plan was to let him get a stiff back while waiting and then kick him in his balls for good measure while making a run for it.
I don’t know how he expected me to react. Was there a manual out there that taught men that the way to get a woman out of your bathroom was to laugh at her and piss her off? After telling me what happened in the darkroom was a f*ck? Fat chance, buddy, there was no way I was coming out anytime soon after he said that to me.
That night when he seduced me his voice was so husky and unexpected I caved. He never had to say much to make me wet and I was caught off guard. The darkroom wasn’t my fault; at least that’s what I was telling myself.
I had never thought that my leaving would be such a big deal to him. A twinge of guilt hit me like a direct punch straight in the stomach.
I was relieved to be in the bathroom because I felt like I was about to vomit. I slowly slid to my knees, lifting the seat back up and hung my head inside.
When I left I knew he’d be upset. I knew he’d have a hard time but I figured when I didn’t reach out to him he’d end up moving on to someone else.
When he brought up our conversations of the future I was taken aback. I had never taken those conversations seriously. After all, we were in high school, and how often did you find the one to spend the rest of your life with in high school? Not only that but how can you take someone serious when they’re sticking French fries in their mouth to look like fangs and telling you they want to suck your blood?
When we would speak about forever it was always general stuff. But doesn’t everybody talk about that when they’re young and in love.
My cell phone buzzed. I took a peek at it, afraid of who I would see. When my fear was confirmed bile erupted from my stomach with a loud splash. My head hung for a while to make sure my stomach had stopped fighting.
What the hell did Brad want? Why did I have an urge to find out? All I could do was look into the surprisingly clean toilet for a guy and wonder. I didn’t care at this point if John heard me or not, I wasn’t able to control it.
“Hey, Faith, are you okay? Let me in!” John’s joking demeanor was gone now, replaced by concern. The door handle jiggled rapidly up and down a couple of times. Good, stupid bastard. Not really, but it would be a whole lot easier if he was one. A reminder beep came from inside my purse and more of the yellow-green acid ended up in the immaculate toilet, landing on my reflection, sending ripples out to the edge. What had my life become?
“Faith, this really isn’t funny. You have to let me in or I’ll just let myself in,” John said with the same kind of authority he gave to his patients.
If John had to pick the lock to get me out that would add to my humiliation for the night. Done fighting, I sighed. “Fine, give me a minute.”
I went over to the sink and started to rinse my mouth out with water, clinging to the sink with one hand. As I watched my pastier than normal reflection, I was thinking how everything turned in the matter of hours. One minute John’s flirting with me, trying to look up my dress, and the next I’m on the floor trying to hide from two guys.
“I have a brand-new toothbrush in the linen closet if you need one. Do you need some Sprite or ginger ale?”
“Thanks. No, I’m fine, really.” I meant it. I never understood how he could be furious with me one minute and then the very next calm and sweet.
Tomorrow was the day I met with the committee at work. That was probably the reason my stomach was so upset. I wish someone could go with me, but Grace was busy and there was nobody else I could ask.
Once I knew I was safe and alone in the bedroom, I crept out of the bathroom doing my version of the walk of shame, thinking of poor Mike.
I peeked my head out into the hall to make sure John wasn’t waiting and the coast was clear. It made me wonder how big this place was and how he could afford it on a firefighter's salary? I took a better look around now that the lights were on and felt a sense of calm. The entire main living space was painted a tawny brown color screaming guy. I would love to give it a splash of color with flowers.
Thinking I wasn’t speaking loud enough to be heard from that corner of the condo I said to myself, “How do you afford it here?”
Totally not expecting an answer I jumped when a sexy voice answered me. “My parents paid for it.” The somber tone made my stomach churn.
As I came back out to the living room, the entire place was transformed. All the candles had disappeared and the display that was on the floor was now out of sight except for the vase of flowers and the brown journal that sat on a side table near his balcony doors.
“I know you said you didn’t want anything to drink but I want you to put something in your body. I don’t work tomorrow and I don’t want any of the other schmucks taking care of you if you end up dehydrated,” John said as he handed me a glass of clear liquid.
I could tell he felt miserable about the outburst from earlier. Should I tell him my getting sick wasn’t his fault? Screw him. He can suffer along with me.
I reached out and stroked one of the petals on the flowers I loved so much. Calla lilies used to be my favorite flower. They still were, but when I moved here I stopped buying them because they reminded me of a place I didn't want to remember. It hurt too much. A smile tried to form on my face with no success.
“Those are for you to take home. You didn’t get to take the first ones I bought with you. And that’s for you, too.” John’s eyes fell to a faded brown leather book. The book made me curious, wanting to sneak a look, but I felt shy so I held back.
“Oh.” I didn’t know what to say. He was so sad. A deep breath escaped me. “So, what do you want to know?”
A boulder appeared in my gut.
“Never mind,” John shook his head adamantly. “I don’t want to upset you anymore. It doesn’t matter.”
He wouldn’t make eye contact with me. We were at a stand-still on opposing sides of the kitchen counter.
“It does matter, John. I just didn’t want to face what I did to you. I’ve lived in a world pretending that no one was hurt by what I did and I realize that’s not true.” I moved away from the table, giving John my back. I could feel his eyes boring holes into me.
I plopped myself on the couch, letting my body go to Jell-O, resting my head back. “Ask me anything and I’ll tell you. I owe it to you.”
I kept my eyes closed because I couldn’t handle looking at his wounded expression anymore.
“Why?” he asked almost so quietly I didn’t hear him.
“Why did I leave?” This time I had to look because John wasn’t answering me.
When I met his dull hazel eyes he gave me a slight nod along with a frown that didn’t look at home on his face.
“It’s such a long story I don’t think you want to hear it tonight. This is a great couch by the way.” Maybe I could sidetrack him.
“I’ve waited seven years to hear it and I don’t want to wait another day. Even if it takes you until the sun comes up I want every last detail.” His eyes turned dark as he watched me from the kitchen. “I need to know why you left me.”
“John, I keep telling you, I didn’t leave you. I left because of my mother. I couldn’t live with her anymore.”
“So you left all of us because of her?”
I was well aware of who the “us” was and that was a wound I wasn’t sure I could tackle tonight with him. Actually, I was positive I couldn’t.
“They were supposed to come out here when they were ready,” I answered.
“What happened? Why didn’t they? There isn’t one single thing in your place that shows you have sisters. No pictures, nothing.”
He was wrong. There was something, only it was another one of my lonely secrets.
“That’s the one thing I will not talk to you about. Anything else, but I’m not talking about them tonight. I can’t,” I said quietly.
“Well, you have to tell me something, dammit!” John demanded. His fists clenched, turning his knuckles white while resting on the counter. I knew he was holding back. He didn’t scare me, though.
“Because your mom was on your ass about what to do, you leave? Guess what, Faith, that’s called being a kid with a parent who cares.”
“Are you telling me you didn’t know? You honestly had no idea what I was going through with her?” I asked astonished.
“There’s more?” That caught his attention. He pulled a beer from the fridge and he made his way over to me, walking like he was setting off snappers by a little bunny who was about to run.
“You weren’t sexually abused were you?” He came and sat gingerly next to me, resting his hand on top of mine. The pressure felt comforting, reassuring.
I didn’t chase his hold away because that contact was the only way I would be able to get through what I was about to tell him. He obviously needed to hear it. All these years he’d thought I left him.
“Before you freak out, no, I wasn’t sexually abused. You’re right, though, when you said my mom was on my ass about every little thing I did.” I cringed saying the word mom.
Taking a deep breath, and letting it out with a strangled sigh I asked, “Didn’t you ever wonder why I always had bruises?”
I took a glance in John’s direction out of the corner of my eye. He was trying to make sense of things and figure it out, but it wasn’t clicking.
“Faith, you lived and breathed soccer year round. Why would I be curious about bruises you got from a game?” His eyes told me he spoke the truth, shining with curiosity.
He never suspected anything. I knew he saw them, too. There was no way being as intimate as we were he didn’t see the bruises I carried with me on a regular basis. He would even make a point to be extra gentle with me. Maybe my lack of acknowledgment is what spurred his blind eye. It was easier to let people believe what they wanted than to tell the truth.
What he didn’t know is why I lived and breathed the sport. It got me away from her. It was the only way I could get my aggression out without outing the situation, which would make it worse in our house rather than better.
“Dinner wasn’t cooked well enough. The house wasn’t clean enough. The toilets weren’t sparkling enough. Yours are immaculate by the way.”
“Faith.”
He obviously wasn’t going to let me sidetrack him so I kept going.
“My shirts wouldn’t be folded to her standards. At first it was at random times. Not enough to make you think anything about it. Maybe she had a bad day, or was PMSing.
“Then the frequency of the nagging increased. I would try to ignore her, but she would follow me into every room I’d run to. Then along with the nagging came the name calling. Sometimes I’d get something thrown at my head. I was quite good at dodging by the end,” I said with a dull laugh.
I focused on the shadow of a lamp on the ceiling to keep from seeing John’s face. I knew what it would look like, pity. His hand became rigid over mine but didn’t leave, telling me I was probably right about his face.
“What about Joy and Hope?” John’s voice was vacant.
“She left them alone. She wanted me. Don’t ask me why, I never bothered to find out. I mean, does it really matter? Anyway, things got to the point where I was getting pegged with random objects several times a day. A glass ashtray to the head as a wake-up call, a can of hairspray to the middle of my back to work faster at folding her clothes. Oh, you’ll love this, a wire hanger because the toilet wasn’t clean enough. Guess what movie was her favorite?” I let out another dead laugh. If I didn’t I would cry.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Faith? I could have helped you.”
“No. No, you couldn’t have. Not early on at least.”
I wanted to keep talking because if I stopped the story would stop, and he needed to know the entire truth.
“I was broken. I took it because I thought that was what I needed to do. Then, one day I saw her start on Joy. When I cut in to stop her, her excuse was she thought it was me. Nice, huh? The woman beat the shit out of me everyday and gave f*cking birth to us and said she got confused.”
My lip curled with disgust. My mother wasn’t dead, but to me she might as well have been.
“After that I watched her. She was always taking some sort of pills. The day with Joy made me open my eyes to the fact that it could happen to them, too. I had never noticed until I had to start watching out for my sisters.
She would usually pass out late morning, wake up and start all over again. So one of the many times she was passed out I found the bottle she always reached for and saw it was Oxycontin. After watching her swallow pills all day I sent Joy and Hope out to buy groceries for dinner before she passed out again. I used that as my opportunity to confront her. If I attacked her she would shut me out, instead I pretended to be ignorant about what she was doing and asked her what she was taking? She denied taking anything, no big surprise. I had a feeling she would do that.”
“Did Joy and Hope have any idea? I mean if you figured it out, wouldn’t they?”
My eyes were still on the shadow and I was feeling hollow retelling the story. It wasn’t me that this happened to.
“No. I always kept them distracted so they never noticed her popping the pills. To them it appeared that she liked to drink water all the time. They never noticed the part where she took something when she drank.
“I would lie for her and tell them she was going through menopause or it was some hormone thing. Hope was too young and wrapped up in her teenage drama to know any better. You remember what it was like to be fifteen, when your twenty-year-old sister tells you something, you believe her. Joy trusted what I said. Why wouldn’t she? We did come from the same egg after all. If I lied to her, that was in a sense lying to myself. Now that I was forced to talk about it I guess I was lying to myself. I didn’t want to think that the problem was that bad.”
As the words came pouring out I was trying to admit things to myself I never had before.
“You didn’t have to leave. Why didn’t you go to your dad?”
“He was in denial, and still is if you ask me. They live together but don’t even talk. What’s the point of being married? But he can’t leave her. He says he loves her too much and she’s sick.”
“My parents could have helped you,” John strangled out. “You didn’t have to go like that.”
He took a big swallow.
“I did. When I first caught on to what she was doing it took a few years to progress. She wasn’t pill popping all day immediately. She’d built up to it. I ignored her at the beginning because it was so minor I didn’t think it would interfere or affect anybody.
“On days that the beatings were at their worst I would lay in bed at night trying to figure out why. Then one night I realized when it all started.”
I couldn’t say the words. I was already having a hard enough time, but John understood what I was getting at.
I couldn’t get myself to look at him. It was too hard.
“Oh, the accident,” he said.
I kept talking, not wanting to get sidetracked for once. Now that I’d started, I needed to get out my reasons so he could understand.
“Then one day it all came to a head.”
“The day you left,” he said.
I looked into his eyes. He didn’t need me to say anything more.
“What happened? Tell me.” John let go of my hand and got up.
I thought he was going to go get another beer because he had downed the first one rather quickly. The hand that was holding mine was raking through his hair as he started pacing. I could see him struggling to control himself.
“I gave her an ultimatum that day.” The first time since I started the story my voice cracked. “I told her she either goes for help or I call the police to help her.”
My voice began to waver uncontrollably, holding back the tears that were fighting to flow out.
John was making me upset with his stalking. I felt helpless watching him this furious.
“She didn’t like that. I got clocked in the face, and while I had a hand to my nose to stop the bleeding she punched me the stomach.”
A taste of the bitter blood that seeped into my mouth during the beating ghosted back into my mouth, making me lick at my lips to get it to disappear.
“Wait!” John stopped dead, shooting a deadly stare in my direction. “So when you met me at the field that night your face was like that because of her, not a soccer game!” He raked his hand harder through his hair at the realization.
The pacing started up faster as if the speed controlled his anger. The angrier he got the faster he stalked. Once his gait got back to a normal he finally spoke.
“Oh my God, Faith, I don’t even know what to say.” He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at me. His mouth hung open in disbelief, his eyes were the size of silver dollars, so penetrating they made me feel I was a rare bug under a microscope.
“Nothing. You don’t have to say anything.” I didn’t want him to see me as one of his patients that he had to baby and take care of. “That wasn’t the thing that made me want to leave if you can believe it. I was able to handle all the abuse. It was what she said to me while I was curled up in the corner of our bathroom trying to get my nose to stop bleeding.”
I was back in the bathroom, curled up against the corner of the tub, blood smeared all across my face.
His eyes got smaller, sharper, like that would help him hear the words better.
“She told me that if I didn’t leave she would start beating Joy and Hope worse than what she did to me. I refused to live with that guilt. I couldn’t stay and watch her abuse them knowing it was my fault. I had to leave or they would be next.”
A lot of good that ended up doing, I thought.
“You believed someone with a drug problem?” John’s face was dumbstruck.
“Deep down, I didn’t, but the hope she was telling me the truth won out. Don’t think I haven’t lived with the tortured feelings everyday for what I did.”
“What was the reason you gave them for leaving?”
“I was relatively vague. I only told them I couldn’t live with her because we didn’t get along.”
“The same shit lie you told me. Don’t you think you should have told them? Maybe not Hope because she was younger, but what about Joy? Don’t you think she deserved to know? Then you wouldn’t have been alone.”
Now I wish I had done that, but I wasn’t going to admit that to him. I hadn’t even admitted it to the sister I no longer spoke to when she came out to confront me the very last time I set eyes on her. What is the saying? Hind sight is twenty-twenty? I had to learn the hard way.
“That’s why they didn’t move here with you, isn’t it? They found out the real reason.”
He went back to the refrigerator and got another beer. “Want a beer? I think you should have one, or a shot of tequila?”
“Sure.” I was drained and I didn’t want to think about anything even if it was as simple as having a beer or not. I certainly wasn’t going to get into my sisters with him tonight. I was both physically and emotionally drained. I wasn’t even sure I could pull my body off the couch but I had to. I had that meeting tomorrow.
I sat up. When I felt ready I pushed off the couch, only to land back on the soft buttery leather that was calling my name like a brick to a mattress.
“Spend the night. I won’t try anything. I told you that was my version of a handshake. It won’t happen again until you really want it to.” He was attempting a joke to break the heaviness that hung in the air.
“You keep using that analogy. Do you give everyone handshakes like that? I bet George wouldn’t like it very much,” I grinned at the thought of what the sergeant would do.
“No, but I bet Luke would with you,” John teased, but I could see the uneasiness he felt in thinking of Luke with me.
“Ugh, that guy creeps me out,” I shivered thinking about him. That got a laugh out of John, replacing the rest of the caustic thoughts in the air.
“For the record, you’re the only girl I give that kind of handshake to, and I have to say I’m a little hurt you don’t remember why I say that.”
His laugh was a husky chuckle down in his chest. God, he was setting my blood to boil without even trying.
I raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m supposed to remember a conversation about handshakes? Am I missing something?”
John handed me a shot, which I downed with a single flip of my neck without a second thought, followed by a beer chaser to top it off. The burn of the hard liquor was exactly what I needed.
“Don’t you remember the conversation we had the night you left, after we made love? I wanted you to stay because I didn’t get to say hi to you. Then you told me if that was how I said hi you would hate to see my good-bye. I told you it was more like a handshake. Until four days ago I always wished I had been able to show you the way I would’ve said good-bye.”
His eyes were serious. I could tell he was waiting for the conversation to click in my head.
Once he started telling me I did remember, but I chose to ignore it. I must have blocked it out. Instead of admitting I remembered I said, “I can’t stay. I really have to get home I have a meeting with the hospital administration tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“That’s a story for another day, preferably in another seven years. I can’t handle these kinds of talks with you, they’re too draining. It will take me that long to build up enough energy to tell you.”
There was no way I could handle baring the truth about Brad to him tonight. The text popped into my head and I could feel bile rising again. I swallowed a few times to chase the feeling away. John was going to have to be satisfied with what I gave him.
“So, now, do you see how it had nothing to do with you?” I asked quietly.
John came back to the couch and flopped down next to me, our shoulders touching as he relaxed back.
“I just don’t get why you had to abandon me. I would have come out here with you. I would have left everything back home for you.”
The sparkle in his eyes was gone. All I could see was the confusion and sorrow I’d caused him before ducking his head to the floor.
I turned onto my side to face him, bending a leg in front of myself. It inadvertently rubbed against his thigh in the process, sending tiny shocks through my body.
I wanted to feel the light shadow that had formed on his cheek from the day. First, I decided to stroke out the crease in his forehead. When he worried the creases that formed were so deep, just like his feelings. My sensitive knight, always wanting to protect me. I made my way down to my initial goal, stroking the scruff as I turned his head to meet my eyes.
John slid down on the couch resting his head on my lap, staring up at me with soft green pools. My hand instinctively went to his hair. His eyes fluttered closed at the first touch.
“I had to make a clean break. I figured you’d find your true love,” I whispered.
As I delicately ran my nails against his scalp, I spoke again. “I also didn’t want to separate you from your family.”
John sat up, leaving my hand void of soft comfort.
“Yeah, well you see how that turned out,” he said sharply. “At least I wouldn’t have been alone while I had to deal with that loss. Were you that blind? Faith, you’re that woman. I’ve never felt like this about anyone. Not even a remote chance of it.”
“I know you cared for me and you loved me, but I thought you’d get over me. You never told me all this.”
I tugged on his sleeve wishing him back where he had been but he refused.
His eyes were dark again, showing off more of the brown. His deep voice was raw when he spoke again. “It was a big deal, a very big deal.”
He didn’t reach for me like I wished he would, leaving me with such a loss I wanted to scream. He only sat there, eyeing me.
His gaze was too intense, going back and forth from my eyes to my mouth, causing me to squirm. The wetness that was forming between my legs was out of control.
He licked his lips as he stared at my mouth making me want to do that for him. I had to turn away before I did something I would regret.