“Stop, please stop I can’t, baby. I can’t
hear you talking like this. It was rape, dear god it was rape. You
didn’t deserve any of it and if I ever encounter your father I’m
going to make him pay for telling you any of that. This is your
body and even if you begged for sex, if it hurt you and you told
him to stop it, dick hard and about to come, he should have
stopped. Pain isn’t apart of sex unless you want it to be. It’s
your body, you say what happens to it, every time. I don’t ever
want to hear you talk like that again, do you understand me? It
wasn’t your fault, he was a rapist. Say it, say it Abby.”
“It wasn’t my fault he was rapist.” I
whisper, he seems so sure, so adamant.
“Louder, say it again.”
“It wasn’t my fault, he was a rapist.” Then
the tears start all over again and he pulls me to him and rocks me
again. Patiently, he waits for me to cry out. It’s late and I’m
exhausted. I’m not surprised when my eyes close and I sink into
him. Jack picks me up and carries me to my bedroom. He lays me down
on the bed and studies me. I look up at him with only the faintest
apprehension. Pulling the covers over me, he kisses me on the
cheek. He turns off the light and he’s gone.
I’m sipping coffee, my hair still wet and
dripping while I’m trying to get into gear but I’m still moving
slow. Even though it was almost ten thirty, I haven’t been awake
for long. I had been out of bed only around ten minutes, spending
most of the time in bed, my mind twisting and turning over last
night. How was it that one night changed everything I had believed
in for so long? Deep down I had believed I’d gotten what I deserved
that night. That since I asked for sex, that everything that came
afterward was what I asked for. In the years since, I had attempted
therapy once but hadn’t even been able to scratch the surface of
what had happened that night. I’d been sent home with a
prescription for an anti-anxiety medication and a promise to come
back and try again but I hadn’t. A scar helps you remember not to
touch the fire and that’s how I thought, in the very few times I
allowed myself to remember it all.
I think that was the main appeal of posting
the pictures on the website. It was anonymous. I was untouchable
through the internet. So when Jack had managed to affect me through
his words and his own pictures it was enthralling. Yet, when he’d
appeared in front of me I had been scared and also, I can admit it
now, I felt reanimated after being frozen for so long. When the
calls started I knew where we were going to go. Jack had sought me
out once before, I know now, I’d been waiting for him all over
again.
Would he still want to become involved with
someone like me? I knew now the truth of Jack’s words, I hadn’t
asked nor did I deserve what happened to me. But knowing that was
just the beginning of overcoming that night. Jack’s touch had been
gentle, his words soothing, all those things told me he wasn’t
someone who would ever harm me as I had been that night. I think I
had always known that on some level, from the things he had
written, I never feared him. I had feared the sometimes
overwhelming need for him that welled up inside me.
My stomach grumbles to remind me that I had
yet to eat and I open the refrigerator without enthusiasm. The
doorbell rings and my stomach drops, it was him, without a doubt I
know it’s Jack. I look down at my black silky camisole that made it
clear I was without a bra and that my nipples are hard at the
thought of Jack. I have on long silky pajama pants I like to lounge
around in. A little devil in the pit of my stomach bypasses the
robe in the bedroom and I simply put down my cup as I answer the
door. His response is everything I hoped it would be, his eyes
slide down my body, lingering on my breasts before they go back to
my face.
“Good morning, how did you sleep?” His voice
is low, with a hint of gravel, sounding as if he just woke up.
“Good, thank you. For everything, I—”
He shakes his head, “Don’t Abby, it was
something someone should have told you long ago. I don’t deserve
thanks. Have you eaten yet?”
“No, actually I was just trying to figure out
breakfast.”
“Good, go get dressed. We’ll get brunch.” I
nod, no hesitation. He looks so good, jeans again and this time a
thermal knit shirt in gray.
“Come on in. Give me a few minutes. Have a
seat and there’s coffee if you want some in the kitchen.” Closing
the door to my bedroom, I lean against the door and close my eyes.
I’m fighting back tears of relief, he did still want me. Last night
hadn’t been a man trying to calm down a hysterical woman. He was
here in the bright of day and he wanted to be with me.
After the last six months the underwear is
easy. My bra is a hot pink sheer in the cups but edged all around
in lace. The panties are a matching set, sheer covering for my
pussy and lace at the edge. Now, with palms sweating, it’s the
clothes that are harder. Flicking through my hangers, nothing seems
right. I pull out and put back item after item. Then I see it, a
turquoise sundress with straps that grazes my knees. It’s thin but
although the lines of my bra could be discerned the color isn’t.
I’d picked it out and only worn it the one day Claire and I were
out shopping and the sun was a killer that day.
I pick out flat sandals and am relieved I’d
touched up my pedicure a few nights ago. I go through to my
bathroom and blow dry until my hair has lost most of the slight
wave. I apply my light powder that soaks up oil and pick out a
light pink lipstick. A bit of perfume behind my ears, at my wrists
and then between my breasts and I’m done.
I have no idea when I step out of the bedroom
and smile at Jack, I’m glowing. I don’t hear his intake of breath
that slams into his lungs. All I know is his smile is wide and open
and I can feel it down to my toes. He’s leaning against the front
door, his hands in his pockets. Pushing away from the door, he
comes toward me. I go still at the look of intent on his lean
beautiful face. A hand brushes my hair away from my face.
“You’re so beautiful you make me ache, baby.
I had wondered if maybe you didn’t want to meet me because you were
hiding because you didn’t think you were pretty. Instead I find you
more beautiful than any fantasy I have ever had of you.” He leans
down and kisses me lightly, his mouth closed on my lips. It doesn’t
matter the kiss is light, my lips tingle and my body starts to hum
for him. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”
I can’t help it, I blush. His eyes make it
very clear it isn’t food he’s hungry for. I’m looking for my purse
and keys, careful to keep my eyes off of him. I don’t want him to
see I’m just as hungry for him. He waits patiently as I lock up and
his arm goes up around me, steering me ahead toward the elevator.
Heat builds from his touch, or maybe it’s the heat of him that’s
starting the fire low at the core of me. I want to moan from the
loss of his touch when he opens the door to a shiny black Charger
and pushes me gently inside.
Fighting for control of my body and doing my
best to hide it, I ask about his car. “These must be great cars if
you wanted to buy one to drive away from work.”
“Yeah, after spending all day in one it felt
like a come down when I drove my pick up. When it died last year, I
didn’t even have to think about it.”
He names a restaurant that is supposed to be
an Austin favorite right on Lamar that had moved to a larger
location and served breakfast as well as dinner. I’ve been and
don’t see the appeal of the place though and hadn’t enjoyed any of
the few times I had eaten there. My favorite breakfast out is
biscuits and gravy and it’s awful there. He agrees with relief and
asks if I’ve tried a certain diner and I’ve never even heard of it.
He smiles and promises me the best serving of biscuits and gravy in
the city.
He starts the car and the pulsing beat of a
rap song comes on and he quickly turns it off and turns on the
radio.
“Hey, I like him, put it back on.”
“You like rap?” He doesn’t hide his
surprise.
“Yeah, I was rebelling at first and then I
really started to like it.” I list off my favorite rappers. “Okay,
basically except for him, because you know he’s a rap god, all west
side.”
“Considering he was sponsored by a west coast
pioneer I’d say he’s still west side. I have to admit, I haven’t
met many women who were into rap.”
“That’s kind of sad really, except for the
often blatant denigration and support of violence against women,
it’s not bad.”
He laughs, “Not all rappers.”
“Most rappers on at least one or two songs on
their cds which is why I also like blues because even though they
talk about their women doing them wrong they just can’t help but
love them, no matter what.”
“You came to the right city for blues.”
“Oh yeah, I know and it’s been fun to check
out some of the clubs.”
“You out and about in clubs at night, tell me
you weren’t alone.” He pleads.
“Of course not, I’m not stupid, I’ve gone out
with Claire from work. I think I mentioned her to you. There was
this guy from work we used to go too but I thought he was gay.
Turns out he wasn’t and I messed that up big time. It isn’t often
though, about half the time it was enjoyable and others it was so
loud and packed I hated it and just wanted to go home and put on a
cd instead.”
“So you aren’t much for going out?”
“Not really, no. I like to go to the movies
and dinner sometimes but I’m pretty much a home body.”
“Is that because you felt like you had to be
to protect yourself?”
I can’t help but stiffen at his reference to
that night and for once I really think about the changes in me
since that night. “Actually, that’s just who I am. I’ve always been
a reader, I have a flat screen television my mom got me for my
birthday but I don’t have cable so I’ve never even turned it on.
I’d rather be home reading than out in a crowded place where I
can’t hear myself think. Even when I was in college I would rather
stay in than go to a party. I went to a few places in Seattle to
see music but most of it is indie rock and I’m not into that.
Really, I’m a bookstore, coffee hang out kind of home body. I like
the quiet really, not all the noise.”
“Good to know.”
We drive through downtown and then we’re
under I-35, I’m wondering where in the world we are going. Then I
see the sign, right next to the sign of a chain hotel.
“Don’t look so scared. Best hole in the wall
diner you’ll ever eat.”
Although he opens the car door again for me,
he doesn’t touch me as we walk toward the door of the restaurant
and I can’t help but be a little sad at the loss of his touch.
There are a few people waiting outside as we
go inside. An elfin hipster with pink hair and multiple piercings
in not just her ear but on her face is sullenly ringing up a frat
boy. Rolling her eyes as the frat boy leaves it’s surprising to see
the change in her when she sees Jack.
“Hey, Sergeant Morgan, haven’t seen you in a
little while. Who knew you looked so good out of uniform. How many
today?” She smiles widely as she flirts with Jack
Jack chuckles down at her, “Just two.”
“Booth or table matter?”
Jack looks to me and I shrug. “Doesn’t
matter.”
“Okay, then we have a table in the back for
you. This way.”
“Hey,” A portly man in cowboy boots and a
plaid shirt straining to stay on, speaks up. “I’ve been waiting
twenty minutes.”
The hipster shrugs, “Yeah, so what. He’s APD
and comes when we call and takes care of assholes like you when you
get too drunk and get into pissing contests when someone calls you
on it. So shut the hell up and you’ll wait until I tell you to. Or
you can leave, because I don’t give a shit.” With that the hipster
shows us to a table and drops menus in front of us. “Dara will be
right with you guys. You are one lucky bitch.” The girl’s sigh
seems heartfelt as she pats my shoulder and leaves.
I take her words in stride, my chest had
squeezed uncomfortably at her obvious flirting but since Jack
hadn’t taken it seriously, I can understand the girl’s pain.
Watching, I’m surprised to see the petulant cowboy still waiting
and acting as if his phone was the most fascinating thing he’d ever
seen.
“Wow, the food must be really good for that
guy to not even talk back, he’s three of her.”
Jack laughs. “It’s very good, I’ve never had
anything here I didn’t like. Shannon is something else though. I’ve
never seen anybody talk back to her.”
“She seems to like you.” I tease him and he
shakes his head.
“No way, she’s a baby and I don’t doubt even
though I have more years on her she’d teach me things that would
make my head explode.”
“Really? You seemed pretty knowledgeable to
me.” I dare to taunt him.
His eyes darken, “No worries, Abby, I know
plenty to keep you satisfied.”
Our waitress arrives, saving me from my
stupidity. She’s another hipster, her jeans so tight I can’t help
but wonder how she could breathe let alone walk. She wore a plain
white men’s tank undershirt with librarian glasses and short black
hair below a knitted cap.
“Sergeant Morgan, it’s nice of you to visit
just because you like us. What can I get for you two today?”
He looks to me and I order the biscuits and
gravy and an orange juice. He orders a Denver omelette, orange
juice and coffee. The waitress promises our drinks in a few minutes
and is gone.
“So, how long have you been a cop?”
“Since right out of college, eight years now,
since I was working almost full time it took a while to
graduate.”
“I forget, how old are you?”
“Thirty two, just a few months ago. You know
you never told me how old you are.”