by Noelle Adams
I took a few shuddering breaths, watching my hands twist in my lap, and I remembered how much Gideon had done for me, how completely he’d been there for me over the last several months, how little he’d ever asked in return.
It didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to even begin to shape the mass of pain inside me into words. I was absolutely sure they would rip me apart.
But I had to do it anyway. For Gideon.
“You know how you feel when something bad happens? When you humiliate yourself in front of people you want to impress or when you have a bad breakup? Every time you think about it afterwards, it kind of shudders through you. Not just the memory but all the feelings it conjures up.”
I wasn’t looking at his face, but I could tell he was listening carefully. “Yes.”
“You move on afterwards and think about it less and less. You make yourself push the thought away when it crosses your mind at first, because you don’t want to feel it all again, and then eventually the memory isn’t really dangerous to you. If you just humiliated yourself, it doesn’t take long. You might even laugh about it eventually. If you had a bad breakup, you might eventually be able to see that it was for the best. Even if not, it gets to the point where it doesn’t make you rage or cry.”
“Yes. I know what you mean.” I could tell he was trying to figure out where I was going with the circular explanation.
“Just imagine that what happened is so much worse than either of those two things and it doesn’t go away. It doesn’t go away. It’s always there in your mind, ready to rise up at the slightest provocation. And every time it appears, you don’t just remember. You feel it all again. It all happens to you again. Even in your sleep, it keeps happening to you.”
He reached over to cover my hands with one of his, and I had to fight not to pull my hands away. “I understand that, Diana. I really do. But I thought...”
When he trailed off I looked over at him questioningly.
“I thought, slowly, you were starting not to feel it all the time. Was I...was I wrong?” His expression was different, not controlled, like he was torn up by the idea that I wasn’t getting better like he’d believed.
“I can go longer now without feeling it. It is getting better. But every time I think about sex, every time the word is mentioned or I see a couple making out or the vague idea of it flashes through my mind, then I’m back there in that house. I’m back there.”
Gideon raised a hand to cover his mouth, rubbing his jaw as he gazed at me.
“Do you understand? Do you see why I just can’t ever have that part of my life again?”
He leaned forward. “I see why you think so. I see why you’re so scared. But don’t you think that you can get to the same kind of healing with that part of your life too? It will take longer, but look at how far you’ve come already.”
“I don’t think so. I can’t even begin. There’s no way I’m ever going to work through it. I just can’t have anything about sex in my life because it will throw me back there with those...those...”
“What happened to you wasn’t sex, Diana.” He reached over and cupped my face, holding it like he treasured it, although I couldn’t possibly understand why. “It wasn’t sex. The way we would be together wouldn’t be anything at all like what happened to you.”
I swallowed hard. “I know it wasn’t sex. I know you wouldn’t be anything like them. But it was still my body, being used that way. And I’m telling you the truth, Gideon. I just can’t.”
There was a long stretch of silence, and I thought he’d finally heard me. Heard that this was my answer, and I wasn’t going to be talked out of it. Maybe it was my imagination, but I sensed something get crushed in his face, in his posture.
It broke my heart, but I couldn’t stop it.
After a while, he took a raspy breath. “And you don’t think it’s worth just taking it day by day, to see if you could heal in ways you can’t imagine right now? I can be patient. As patient as you need. I promise I can.”
I swallowed hard and jerked my head away, since it was all so terrible—what I’d done to him. “No. Just no. I’m never going to do that to you.” I could hear him start to object, so I rushed on. “I’m not going to do it. Leave you hanging on that way. When I know—I already know—there’s no hope for you at the end of it. I’m never going to do that to you. If I’d realized what was happening earlier, I would have...”
I didn’t finish because I didn’t know if it was true. I’d like to believe I would have nipped things in the bud earlier so we wouldn’t have gotten all tangled up like this, but maybe I wouldn’t have done it.
I’d wanted Gideon in my life so badly that I’d been blind. I’d been selfish.
But I wasn’t going to be selfish again, not when he’d never been selfish with me.
“So what then? We’ll just be friends?” His voice was raw, and I hated the sounded of it because I’d done it to him.
My face contorted as I tried to say one last thing. The thing I’d realized last night I would have to say.
“No,” he exclaimed, evidently reading something in my expression. “No! I might have to accept that we can’t be anything more, but I’ll never accept you telling me we can’t even be friends. I’m not going to let you push me out of your life. I’m telling you right now that that is never going to happen.”
“That’s not what I was going to say.”
“Then what?”
“I feel like you might have been...been waiting for me and that, despite what we’ve just said, you still will. And it would be wrong of me to let that happen. So I think you need to...” The words caught in my throat, but I made myself say them, although I couldn’t look at him while I concluded, “I think you need to date other women.”
“What?” The one word was barely over a breath.
“I think the only way we can really move on from this is if you’ll starting dating other women. If you aren’t already, I mean.”
“Of course, I haven’t been dating other women, and I’m not about to start.”
There was a feeling of relief, of pleasure, that flickered through me at his brusque statement. And it just showed what a heartless bitch I really was, that part of me wanted to keep him tied to me, keep him mine, even though I could never give him what he needed.
I wasn’t going to be selfish anymore, though. I wasn’t going to indulge that flicker of feeling.
“But I really think you need to.”
“That’s my decision to make. You don’t get to make it for me.”
“But I get to make decisions too. And I just don’t see how we can keep being friends unless you start moving on.”
Some sort of tension simmered in the air for a few seconds. “I see,” he murmured, in a different tone. “This is some sort of ultimatum. You won’t be friends with me unless I date other women.”
I made a frustrated sound in my throat and rubbed my face. “I don’t know. Maybe it is an ultimatum. But I’m trying to do what’s best for you, and I don’t know what else to do. I feel like we’re trapped in this holding pattern, and something has to break it.”
“And this is what you think will break the holding pattern? For me to date all these hypothetical other women?” He sounded absolutely outraged.
“They’re not hypothetical! There are women all over the place who would be thrilled if you’d ask them out. I have friends who would be thrilled.” I hated the thought of that more than a faceless other woman, but I wasn’t going to hold anything back. “Gideon, have you seen yourself? Women would rob banks to go out with you. All you have to do is look around.”
He was shaking his head and staring at the floor, as if he couldn’t even wrap his mind around what was happening. “But I don’t want to go out with anyone else. I haven’t even thought about anyone else since...”
He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to.
“See? This is what’s happening to us. We’re in this holding pattern, and it�
�s not good for either one of us. I think if you’ll just start thinking in a different direction, you’ll find that you can move on and really be happy.” I could see an argument on his face, but I couldn’t let him put it into words. “We’ve got to break out of this, Gideon. We’ve got to. I feel like we’re both still trapped in that room, trapped by what happened to us there, and someone has to get us out. I’m not strong enough to do it. I’m so sorry, but I’m not. It has to be you.”
He sat for a minute without speaking. Then he lurched to his feet and paced around the room, staring out the window and then walking into the kitchen. And then back. When he’d worked through whatever internal struggle he was facing, he came back and sat down on the couch beside me.
He was holding himself rigidly under control, but I could see intense emotion shuddering under the surface. He spoke in a clipped tone that seemed to match his posture. “Okay. I’ll date other women. It’s not right, but I’ll do it if it’s the only way I can keep you in my life. But if you’re going to impose this on me because you think it’s good for me, then I get to do the same thing.”
I gasped and covered my hand with my mouth. “Gideon, you know I can’t—”
“I know. My terms have nothing to do with dating. It’s something you don’t want to do but I think you need to do anyway.”
“What?” I had absolutely no idea.
“Go back to work.”
I tightened my arms across my belly. I didn’t want to go back to work. The thought scared me the way a lot of things did—this one because working felt like normal life, my old life, the girl I used to be, the girl I couldn’t be anymore. Because of my dad’s resources, I’d been able to live for these months without earning income. I didn’t want to live on my dad forever, so I always assumed I’d eventually start to work again.
But I wasn’t ready to do so yet.
“You’re saying I have to...”
“You have to go back to work. If I’m going to date other women because you think it’s best for me, then you have to go back to work, because I think it’s best for you.”
I felt helpless and disoriented, since this wasn’t the way I’d expected the conversation to end. But I swallowed over my fear and nodded. I had to think about Gideon now, and I was willing to do a lot more to make sure he could move on, be healthy, be happy. “Okay. If you’ll start to date, I’ll talk to my boss. If there’s still a place for me, then I’ll start working again.”
“And, if there’s not, you’ll start looking for another job.”
I cleared my throat, not meeting his eyes. “Okay. It’s a deal.”
***
My boss was happy to have me back. I started working just part-time, and getting back into it wasn’t as bad as I’d feared. It made the days pass much quicker and gave me something else to occupy my mind. And after a few weeks, I actually started to enjoy some aspects of my job again.
It wasn’t like it was easy. It was hard to work in the city and be around so many other people, and walking down the sidewalks sometimes made my blood run cold. But, a month after I’d started, I had to admit that Gideon was right about it being a good thing to do.
One afternoon, I was working with a client who needed to furnish the waiting area of his law office. Since he worked with an older, traditional clientele, he’d come to us for furnishings, although he emphasized that he wanted “manly” antiques in a way that made me laugh.
He was in his thirties and was fairly attractive and had a great sense of humor. He seemed to be turning on the charm with me, but I figured it might just be his normal routine.
I walked with him to the door on his way out, but he lingered before he left. Then he said, “Okay. I’ve just got to say it.”
My lips parted in surprise. “Say what?”
“You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.”
I gulped, feeling confused and horribly uncomfortable and ashamed somehow. I dropped my eyes. “That’s crazy.”
“It isn’t crazy. They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.”
I wanted to cringe and cry and run away at the same time, but he wasn’t being offensive or nasty. He was flirting quite assertively, but he was doing it well. I should have been pleased and flattered. I didn’t want to offend him, so I mumbled, “Thank you.”
“Is there any way you’d want to go out with me some time?” He was grinning when I darted a quick look up to his face.
I made myself deal with this and not have a breakdown over something so trivial. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
“Ah.” He sounded disappointed, but still good-humored. “I guess it was too much to hope that you’d be unattached.”
I wasn’t attached, but it was a good excuse and one that wouldn’t be awkward for either one of us. So I managed to smile at him and say, “Sorry.”
“It’s always my luck.”
He left after a friendly farewell, and I watched him go down the street. He seemed like a nice enough guy, and I was almost pleased with myself for managing to handle the situation okay.
He hadn’t left knowing I was damaged. He’d just treated me like any other woman, and it was almost a relief.
Not that I would ever go out with him, of course, but I was glad I hadn’t totally freaked out.
Automatically, I went to my purse and pulled out my phone. I started to call Gideon to tell him—because the incident meant something to me and I wanted to share it—but then I stopped myself and put my phone away.
It would be awkward, talking to Gideon about this random guy asking me out. And he didn’t need to be bugged by me in the middle of the day anyway.
Plus, he hadn’t called me all week. We’d talked, but only briefly—when I’d called him.
He’d been dating other women for the last month. He didn’t give me a lot of details, but I always asked—just to make sure it was happening and to remind myself of how our relationship had to be now. So far, I didn’t think he’d gone out with any woman more than once, but he’d had a date at least once a week.
He came over every Friday still, but that was the only time during the week I saw him anymore.
As I’d expected, we were drifting apart. He was always kind and considerate and sometimes funny when he came over, but we never touched anymore and I could feel that he was holding something back.
It was good. It was the way it had to be. And it hurt me to see him drifting slowly away, but I knew it was for the best. Sometimes I cried at night because I missed him so much, but no one else had to know that.
As if in affirmation of my thoughts, my phone chirped just then with a text. I checked it, and it was Gideon.
I can’t come over tonight. Sorry. Something else came up. Have a good evening.
I stared at the phone, trying to process the fact that he wasn’t going to spend tonight—a Friday evening—with me.
Maybe it was work, but he probably would have just said so. That meant he had a date.
Very likely, he was going to spend the evening with a gorgeous, vibrant woman who responded to his kisses, who would passionately go to bed with him, who could do all kinds of things to him that he’d been deprived of for the last several months.
The thought upset me so much that I was afraid I might be physically ill. But I made myself push it back. Gideon deserved to have all of that, and I just couldn’t give it to him.
I tapped out a quick reply, just so I could erase his text from my phone. No problem. Enjoy your evening.
He didn’t call after work. It felt so wrong that he hadn’t called all week. It felt even worse than the knowledge that he wanted to spend Friday evening with a woman other than me, and that felt absolutely horrible.
When I got home, I got on the elliptical trainer and did it for an hour and a half. I didn’t tear myself up the way I used to, but I still felt like a failure. Ashamed. Dirty even after the shower I took.
And like I was too upset to even cry about it.
Gideon didn’t call at a
ll, and I couldn’t go to sleep until very late. When I did, the nightmares came.
***
“Tell me about Gideon,” Dr. Jones said, in her normal light, professional tone. It was nine o’clock on a Saturday morning—the following morning—but she looked as composed and pulled-together as always.
My shoulders stiffened. “What about him?”
“Just tell me about him. You just said you went back to the elliptical because you were upset about his not coming over last night, so I wanted to hear a little more about him.”
“I’ve talked about him before.”
“But you’ve never told me what he’s like. What kind of a man is he? What’s his background?”
I frowned. I’d talked enough about Gideon for the last few months that she should know what he was like by now. But it was a safe enough question that there wasn’t any point in refusing to answer it. “He’s from Nebraska. He calls his family “meat-and-potatoes” type people. He’s really close to his parents—a lot closer than I ever was to mine. I don’t think he really understands why my dad and I don’t have a better relationship. He’s never said so, but I think he blames my dad for it.”
“What does he blame him for?”
“For working all the time. For not making more of an effort with me. It’s nothing he’s ever said. It’s just his expression whenever I talk about my dad. And I think he’s angry with him about that business deal that...that got me targeted.”
“Does he always think in black-and-white terms that way?”
I thought about this for a minute. “Yeah. I think so. Right is right, and wrong is wrong, and people should do right. He is kind of that way. But he isn’t narrow and judgmental about it. He holds himself to higher standards than he holds other people. His dad was a sheriff, and I think Gideon knew all his life that he would go into law-enforcement too. He majored in Criminal Justice in college and did all kinds of internships so he could get into the FBI. I think he’s always been really focused on his career.”
“To the exclusion of other things?”
“I don’t know. I mean, he’s never been married. He’s never talked about having a serious girlfriend before. I’m sure he dated a lot, but I don’t think he was ever serious about anyone.”
