by R. R. Banks
"Well, you should," Xavier says. "There's a lot to do there, and Anna loves it. She could show you around."
"That would be amazing!" Anna gushes as she runs into the room.
I open my arms out as she flings herself around my waist in a tight embrace, looking up at me.
"I don't know," I say.
I see Anna's face change, and she nods, her expression understanding but disappointed.
"She doesn't like to go out," she says. "Abigail won't go past the shop on the corner."
I look at Xavier regretfully. I want him to understand. It's not that I just don't want to bring Anna out. I would love nothing more than to be able to go on adventures with her. She told me so much about the city she grew up in, and I'm amazed by everything she describes with such vibrant detail and enthusiasm. The more she tells me about the experiences she's had with Xavier, the more I know just how much this little girl adores her father, and how special their relationship is. Over the last couple of months that I've been a part of their lives, I've seen both of them grow and change, and I've felt myself becoming rested and reassured by Xavier's presence. I want so much to be able to branch out more. I want to see the things Anna has told me about and discover new places and adventures together with her. But the thought of going out of the building is unnerving, and the concept of going beyond the surrounding block and anywhere too far from the security of the apartment, especially somewhere like Central Park, is out of the question.
He looks at me for a few seconds, and I get the impression Xavier is deep in thought. Finally, he nods.
"I'll be right back," he says. "Anna, make sure your homework is done."
Without another word, he leaves the apartment. I look at Anna, and she shrugs, then heads back toward her school room. Like many afternoons, she'll spend the next thirty minutes to an hour finishing up the assignments her tutors gave her that day. Then we'll have the rest of the afternoon and early evening, together. I have a few ideas for craft projects that we could do, and we're still working on the book she's writing about her baby doll. It's coming along quite impressively, and I look forward to her finishing it, so I can laminate the pages and bind it. She wants to put it on her bookshelf with the rest of her books and add it to the stories we read together when it rains.
Alone in the living room, I walk over to the couch and sit down. A book I was reading last night is still sitting on the table, and I pick it up, flipping to find the page I left off on. I can't get into the story, and I'm still on the same page when the front door opens and Xavier walks back in. He's carrying a small bag, and he brings it over to me. Sitting down on the couch beside me, he reaches into the bag and pulls out something. I watch as he opens the back of a small device and checks that there are batteries. Confirming there are, he puts them back in place and holds it out to me.
"What's that?" I ask.
"It's a panic button with GPS," he explains.
"Panic button?"
"It's so you'll feel more comfortable going out. I know you feel like he's always watching you, and you're worried about what might happen. I believe you're safe, but what really matters is how you feel. Carry this with you. If you are ever out and feel scared for any reason, press the button. As soon as you press that button, I will get an alert on my phone and I will be there. With this, you are never too far away from me."
He uses his hand to carefully wrap mine around the button now sitting in my palm, and I feel my heart swell. I've never felt so protected or taken care of. I know I'm safe, and suddenly the world feels open to me.
"Anna," I call toward the back of the apartment. "Finish your homework. We're going to Central Park."
I hear her cheer off in the distance, and I smile at Xavier.
"Thank you so much.”
********
June
I will always think of this spring as when I watched Anna and Xavier come to life. It's been more than a month since Xavier gave me my emergency button, and while I haven't had a reason to have to use it, thank goodness, just having it with me makes me feel so much safer. I don't want Anna to see it and ask me questions. She doesn't know anything about my past, and I'd rather keep it that way. I don't carry the button in my bag or on my keychain the way I'm sure other people do. Instead, I've taken to tucking it into my bra. I figure it can't get much closer to me than that, and even if I was to forget my bag or drop my keys, I could still get to the button.
Having the panic button has changed my life in so many ways recently – I've finally been able to explore the city. I feel like I'm actually living again. Every day, Anna and I go out and find something new and wonderful to do together. Often this means going to Central Park and exploring new corners and spaces. We've been to the zoo and played with the sweet little goats in the Children's Zoo. We visited the Alice in Wonderland statue, and I found out Anna has never heard the story. We immediately went to a bookshop on 18th Street and bought a copy of it so we can read it together. Her reading has grown even stronger over the last few months, and now she reads some of the pages to me. We’ve ridden the carousel and taken countless long walks through the gardens where I listen to her talk and tell me all the wondrous things that go through her innocent mind.
One of my favorite things we've done in the Park is boating. I've never felt particularly comfortable around water, but as soon as I saw the adorable rowboats available to rent at the landings, I knew we had to do it. I've learned so much about myself in the time I've been with Anna and Xavier, and I'm discovering I enjoy things I never would have expected. Who really knows how much I am capable of doing, or what I really like and don't like? I don't have anyone telling me who I am or what I should think anymore. When I saw the boats, I immediately knew it was something I had to try. I couldn't keep believing that water scared me because Trevor always used to say it did. I didn't feel nervous when I walked up to the edge of the water, or even remotely hesitant when I took my first step into the boat. I was excited, and Anna and I broke out onto the open water with a refreshing sense of discovery.
That afternoon was a revelation, and we've gone back to the water several times since. Sometimes we are voyaging to a new world, talking about the explorers and what it must have felt for them leaving home and everything they knew to find what could be waiting just beyond their imaginations. Sometimes we’re pirates, sailing on our dastardly expeditions across the ocean to find deserted islands and plunder their treasure. And sometimes we just float on the still, peaceful surface and look up at the sky to find shapes in the clouds, or bring some pillows and read books.
The biggest change for Anna, though, is how much her world has opened. Going out means she doesn't have to always stay in the apartment and only entertain herself with dolls and games. I signed her up for a ballet class, an art class, and a playgroup, and I've watched as the shell around her completely disappeared, and the gloomy loneliness lifted away. She went from a suspicious, introverted child to a bubbly, playful little girl enthralled by her new friends, and always looking for something else to learn or do. I know it makes Xavier nervous to know she's out in the world now. As worldly as I thought Anna was when she first began showing me around the city, I've learned that her father is extremely protective of her. He told me he has tutors for her rather than sending her to school because he wants a better education for her, and I believe that. But I also think a large part of the appeal is knowing she's safe at home, and that he can always check on her. The thought of her being away from him or anyone who usually takes care of her is intimidating to him, and he seems to be having a difficult time adjusting to her getting older and exploring new parts of life.
A few weeks ago, I decided it wasn't fair for just the two of us to be having all the fun. It’s so obvious how much the two of them love each other, and rely on each other, yet I so rarely see them spending time together beyond their nightly bedtime rituals, and the occasional afternoon he would come back to the apartment from the office to have lunch with her. We'
ve been gradually finding ways to have Xavier spend more time with us, and during our three-man explorations of the city, I feel like I've discovered a new side of him. When he's out of the apartment and away from the office, Xavier is fun and friendly. Even playful, in the right moment.
I find myself thinking about him more and more. When I'm with him, I crave being close to him, but it makes me nervous. I'm not used to feeling this way. It's been so long since I've had any sort of real romantic connection to another person and found happiness in that connection. It isn't just the new emotions building between us that unnerves me. It’s the flush I feel rushing up my neck and across my chest, and the tightening in my belly when I look at him, and the tingle across my skin every time he brushes against me. The desire I feel is strange and foreign. Looking back, I know I've never felt this for anyone. Even when our relationship was as close to good as it ever was, I didn't want Trevor to touch me. I always dreaded when he got that look in his eyes. I can't imagine deriving any sort of pleasure from a man's hands, yet I can't get the idea of being in Xavier's arms out of my mind.
I look over what I've just written and am tempted to scratch it all out, but I don't. Those are my thoughts and no one else will see them. Even if I ever have the opportunity to show the first half of the journal to anyone, I'll take these pages out to make sure they stay private. My phone rings and I glance at the time. It's the last day of Anna's final evaluations of the year, and it seems far too early for her to be calling me to tell me to come up.
"Hello?"
"Have you heard?"
It's Xavier's voice, and it throws me off.
"Have I heard what?" I ask as I close my journal and tuck it away on the shelf at the bottom of my nightstand.
"Evan hasn't called you?"
"No. Should he have? Is something wrong?"
I'm starting to feel nervous, but he sounds almost excited.
"No. Nothing's wrong. They got Trevor."
My heart jumps in my chest and everything in front of me blurs. I feel like there’s no way I just heard what I think I did.
"What?" I ask.
"The police arrested Trevor early this morning. He was on Evan's property, but he didn't make it up to the house. Your brother was smart enough to put security cameras all around the perimeter that linked directly to his phone. Trevor triggered one of the cameras and Evan called the police. By the time they got there, he had climbed up in an old deer stand and seemed to be waiting for something. But they say he didn't have any weapons with him, and they don't know why he was there. All that matters is that they were able to arrest him and bring him in. You’re safe –"
I don't know if Xavier says anything else because I'm running out of my apartment and toward the stairs at the end of the hallway. I climb up them almost impossibly fast, and soon I'm in the hallway leading to Xavier's apartment. He must have known I was coming because he's already standing outside his door as I run toward him. His arms open, and I jump into them, feeling my feet leaving the carpet. He gathers me up close to his chest, laughing as he spins me around. My arms tight around his neck, I bury my face close to his, not knowing how to feel or what to think beyond the incredible relief and happiness flooding my body.
Xavier's body is warm and hard against mine, and I feel it against every inch of my own and he gradually lowers me to my feet as I slide down him. Our eyes meet and I feel the energy buzzing between us. His hand strokes the side of my cheek, and I feel my heart pound even harder. I want to lean into it, but not with all of these emotions swirling around me. Stepping back from Xavier, I glance at the partially open door to his apartment, and then back at him.
"Is Anna finished with her evaluations yet?" I ask.
"Not yet. She has a few more to do."
"I want to celebrate," I say.
"Of course," Xavier says. "This is amazing. What did you have in mind?"
********
Xavier
"This isn't exactly what I was thinking," I mutter several hours later as I bounce along in the back of a wagon.
I look over at Anna, who's happily sitting in the straw and running her fingers over the pale gold pieces with the expected delight of a child who's never been on a hayride. Abigail laughs as she holds her arm protectively around Anna, keeping her as still as possible over the bumpy terrain.
"This is exactly what I was thinking," she says.
"Of course, it is. You're the one who chose it. Why in the hell would you want to celebrate like this?"
The wagon hits a particularly deep rut in the dirt trail, and we bounce heavily. I grab onto the side of the wagon and glare over at Abigail again.
"I like the city," she says. "I've really enjoyed living there and the lifestyle it’s afforded me. But I miss being out in the fresh air and the open space. I’ve been waiting a couple of years to do this again. When I was little, there were fields of corn close by my house. I used to go out there all the time when I didn't want to be in the house anymore. I would run out into the fields and pretend like nothing else in the entire world mattered. During the spring and early summer though, the corn wasn't as high, and it wasn't enough to keep me hidden. I still liked sitting out in the field, but I would go further from the house. Eventually, I discovered I wasn't on our property anymore and had wandered into a strawberry field. I was still young enough that it seemed like a wonderland. The day I found it, there was no one else in the field and I just stood there looking out over the rows and rows of bright green leaves. It took a few seconds before I really noticed the strawberries. When I did, though, it was like discovering jewels. They were everywhere, and they were so beautiful. Sometimes I would take a book and go sit at the very back of the fields and snack on the berries while I read. It never occurred to me that there was a farmer somewhere who owned the field and had a purpose for the berries. I don't know if they ever noticed. If they did, they never said anything to me. I only got the chance to pick berries a few times since then, and I've wanted to bring Anna. I know it's not the most glamorous of outings," she teases, "but I'm sure you'll survive."
With that, the entire outing changes, my perception shifts, and I commit myself to seeing it through her eyes. When Abigail turns and looks out over the field, I see peace and contentment settle around her in a way I haven’t before. I know she's feeling a sense of happiness and relief right now that she probably can’t put into words. In the back of my mind, I know this won't last forever. The police have him now, but they can't keep Trevor indefinitely. They’ll either release him without charges or begin the steps toward a trial I know could be hard on Abigail. For now, I don't want her to have to think about that. I just want to keep that beautiful smile on her face and make sure she feels at ease.
Finally, the hayride stops at the edge of the expansive field. I hang back and watch Abigail take Anna's hand to guide her into the rows of plants. Abigail changed into a flowing white floral sundress before we left, and as she makes her way through the rows of vibrant green and rich red, it looks like she's stepped into a painting of another time. Anna grips the little basket we were given when we first arrived at the farm, and soon she's eagerly plucking berries from beneath the leaves. Abigail leans down and picks a berry. When she stands, she brings it to her mouth and takes a bite. My cock twitches as her beautiful lush lips close over the berry and her eyes flutter as she indulges in the taste. When she opens her eyes again, she looks over at me.
"Is it good?" I ask.
"Delicious," she says. "You should try one."
Her voice is sweet and sultry, and I wonder if she realizes how sexy she is.
"Which one should I choose?" I ask.
"The darker the berry is, the sweeter it is," she says. "But be careful, because if they're too dark, they're overripe. Look for the ones turned toward the sun. They're the best."
She takes a few more steps down the row, then dips down again to reach into a cluster of leaves. When she stands, she's cradling a large berry in her hand, and she holds it
out toward me. I accept it and take a bite. The strawberry is unexpectedly warm, and the juice flows out of it freely, filling my mouth with the sweet taste of summer. I look up and see Anna running gleefully down a row. She stops suddenly, seeming to remember she is supposed to pick the berries, not just admire them and crouches down to put a handful in her basket. Abigail follows behind her, and I step up beside her. The three of us walk along in silence, occasionally dipping down to pick up a berry. Some go into our baskets to be brought back to the apartment with us, but far more end up in our mouths. Abigail takes a lingering bite of another berry, and I fight the urge to kiss her and taste the sweet juice on her lips. Instead, I let my hand fall between us and catch hers, holding it for a few steps before climbing over a row of plants and chasing after my daughter, who giggles and runs away.
********
As Abigail and I cut all of the berries into pieces, Anna tries to be patient. She was enthusiastically helpful as Abigail helped her pour cups of sugar over the pieces and toss them together. Some of that eagerness faded when Abigail told her the berries would have to sit for the next few hours before we could continue, but my daughter was determined to turn the baskets full of berries we had picked into as many things as possible – starting with jars of jam. By the time the berries were coming to a boil in the huge pot settled on the stove, though, Anna had fallen asleep on the living room couch. Her mouth is stained pink with juice and there is dirt under her fingernails, but the hours spent out in the sun tromping through the field has left her exhausted and content.
I rest a light blanket over her and return to the kitchen. Abigail stands in front of the stove, slowly stirring the molten red concoction.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" I ask.
She shakes her head.
"Not really," she says. "They just need to boil, I'll add the lemon juice, then they have to boil more before they go into the jars."
