Salvation

by Noelle Adams

  “Until now?”

  I shifted in my chair, since I knew exactly what she was asking. “He’s dating other women.”

  “I know that. But he was serious about you, wasn’t he?”

  “I don’t know. He was interested. I don’t know how serious he was.” I didn’t like that she’d used the past tense about Gideon’s feelings for me. However irrational, the past tense really upset me.

  “Last month, you were taking the whole thing pretty seriously if he was just casually interested in you.”

  I was starting to get emotional, but I tried to keep my voice calm. “Yeah. I took it seriously.”

  “And you still think he was wrong about wanting a romantic relationship with you?”

  I swallowed hard, hating the sound of that past tense again. “Yes. He was wrong about that.”

  “You really think you couldn’t love him?”

  “Yes, I could love him,” I snapped, trying to control a sudden surge of frustration. “I can’t have sex with him, though.”

  “Do you want to have sex with him?”

  I blinked. “I just said—”

  “You said you couldn’t have sex with him. I was wondering if you even wanted to have sex with him.”

  “I...I don’t know.”

  “Because if it’s something you want, then we can work on it. But maybe it’s not even something you want.”

  “I...I don’t know. I can’t want it.”

  “Does that mean you’re incapable of wanting it or that you do want it but don’t think you should?”

  “I shouldn’t want it. But I don’t really know if I’m capable of wanting it either. Any time I even test out that part of my mind, the demons go crazy. I just don’t think I can be that girl again.”

  “What girl?”

  “The girl who has that part of her life.”

  “Do you want to be that girl?”

  “I don’t know.” I sighed when I saw her looking at me with raised eyebrows. So I amended, “Of course I do. Of course, I want to be that girl again.”

  ***

  That evening, I went into the city to have dinner with a couple of my friends. I was determined not to fall into a downward spiral, so I didn’t want to brood by myself all weekend.

  I didn’t call Gideon, and he didn’t call me.

  My friends met at Julie’s, who lived near my old apartment. And near Gideon. But I didn’t let myself think about that fact.

  I tried to socialize as best I could and managed to stay a couple of hours at Julie’s—long enough for dinner and some gossip. The other girls were still going strong at nine o’clock, but I just couldn’t stand it anymore. I was anxious and upset and emotional, and I couldn’t seem to get it under control.

  I had to get away. Go home.

  So I made up an excuse of a headache and left, walking the couple of blocks to where I’d parked my car. I was terrified of the walk down the sidewalk alone at night, but it was better than working myself up into a breakdown by staying and pretending to be happy.

  I passed a club on the way to my car. It was really loud—the music blaring out from inside—and there were people hanging out in front of it, including groups of guys who, in the darkness, looked kind of rough to me.

  I was already nervous, and I crossed the street so I could walk past the club from the opposite sidewalk and then crossed again farther down to reach my car.

  I’d seen that club a zillion times when I used to live in the area, but it made chills of fear run up and down my spine now.

  I was so nervous I was panting with it as I caught sight of my car. I sped up to a power-walk so I could get to it more quickly.

  I whirled around with a gurgle when a voice called from behind me, “Diana! Diana!”

  I knew the voice though. It was Gideon. And there he was, approaching me from across the street. He wore khakis and a black dress shirt.

  He was with a pretty, little brunette who was smiling and clinging to his arm. She wore a little blue dress with thin straps, despite the fact that it was a cool-ish autumn evening.

  I tried to steady my breathing as he approached, so he wouldn’t know how nervous I’d been. He was frowning as he got close enough to speak in a normal voice. “What are you doing out here alone?”

  And, for some reason, the question was like a stab through my chest, that he clearly thought I was some delicate flower who couldn’t even make a three-block walk to her car at a time of the evening when there were plenty of people around. “I was at Julie’s,” I said, forcing a smile. “I’m just heading home.”

  He was still frowning as he studied my face, but I turned away from him and looked at his companion instead. “I’m Diana.”

  The girl grinned brightly. “I’m Maria. It’s nice to meet you. Have you known Gideon long?”

  I knew exactly what the question was intended to do. She was fishing for information about who I was and what my relationship was with Gideon.

  “We’ve been friends for a few months,” I said, forcing a friendly, casual tone. “What are you all up to this evening?” I shifted my eyes over to Gideon and then quickly back to Maria.

  He didn’t answer, but she said, “We went to dinner at Gallagher’s, and now we’re just...hanging out.”

  I knew that phrase for what it was. That after-dinner time on a date when you figure out whether you’re heading back to someone’s place for sex.

  I swallowed hard and forced back the sick feeling. I think I said something appropriate, but I have no idea what it was.

  The more I looked at Maria, the more I recognized her expression. She was happy. Excited. On the edge of thrilled. She had that I’m-on-a-date-with-a-fantastic-man-and-it’s-going-really-well look.

  I’d seen that look before. I might have even had it myself from time to time, in a previous life.

  And I hated her. I hated Maria, even though she was nothing but sweet and friendly. I hated that she got to be with Gideon when I would never have him that way. I hated that she could wear such a sexy, little dress when I always had to wear long sleeves. I hated that she was still clinging to his arm, as if she was claiming ownership of him. I hated how he was standing next to her instead of next to me. I hated it so much it felt like my hands were shaking, and I had to clutch them around the strap of my purse.

  I hated that she was that girl—the one I could never be again.

  Gideon hadn’t said much, and I could feel his eyes searching my face. So I had to hide it. It was so important that I hide my reaction from him. He’d been having a good time with Maria. She might have been who he was with yesterday evening. And, no matter how much it ripped up my heart, I wasn’t going to stand in the way of this for him.

  I grinned so widely it felt like my face would crack. “There’s a great cupcake place a couple of blocks down that way. You should check it out.”

  He’d brought me a cupcake once. When things were different.

  “Ooh, that sounds good. Can we do that?” Maria gazed up at Gideon beseechingly.

  I felt my stomach churn, so knew I had to get away. “I better get going, since I have a long drive. I hope you all have a great evening and enjoy the cupcakes.”

  Then I pointed myself toward my car and clicked the lock open. I stumbled as I tried to get in, and I felt sobs tightening in my throat as I closed the door and locked it.

  I watched as they walked down the block. Their backs were to me now, but I could clearly see how Maria kept gazing up at Gideon, in a way that was probably alluring. And, as I watched, Gideon put his hand on her back to guide her out of the way of an oncoming couple on the sidewalk.

  His hand didn’t linger there, but still. They looked like a couple. They should be a couple.

  Gideon and I could never be a couple.

  I sat in the car shaking for a long time. I didn’t turn it on. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to drive if I did.

  I kept sitting there, thinking about how Gideon deserved someone like Maria and not
someone like me.

  Because someone like me couldn’t ever be intimate with him. Or anyone. Couldn’t ever let anyone touch her. Ever again.

  And something strange happened then. It was kind of like the night when I took all the pills. Or all the times I’d battered myself on the elliptical.

  It was like something foreign, alien, overtook my body, making decisions for me. And the part of me that could think clearly was only watching it happen from a distance.

  I wanted to be normal. I wanted to do normal things like wear revealing clothes, be close to a man, let a man touch me. I needed to be that person, despite everything.

  I never made a conscious decision, but I was getting out of the car. I was wearing a thin cashmere cardigan, but I took the cardigan off, so I just had a black tank top on with my jeans.

  I took out my ID and some money, slid it in my pocket, and then locked my purse in the trunk. I know I did that, although I can’t actually remember doing it.

  I’m not even sure how I got there, but I ended up in that club.

  The loud, pulsing, crowded, chaotic club.

  I was too out of it to be nervous. I was too out of it to be anything.

  There was only this. The throbbing in my ears, my head, my toes. The music might as well have been blaring opera. It had exactly the same effect, hammering my mind until I couldn’t think at all.

  I could just do. And I was doing it. I was being the person I wanted to be. The girl who could do normal things.

  Like go up to the bar and let a stranger buy her a drink.

  Like go with him to the dance floor and dance, surrounded by people, by faceless bodies who were moving in the way she wanted to move.

  Like let the stranger put his hands on her, even though it made bile rise in her throat.

  Like gyrating her hips in time with his and pressing even closer to him, since that was having fun, being wild, being free.

  Like running her hands up and down him until it was obvious to him what she wanted.

  Like letting him whisper a suggestion in her ear and then agreeing to it.

  Then this girl, who couldn’t be me, walked with the guy to the back of the club and out a door into the alley behind it.

  The little part of my mind that could still function was watching with horror, with disgust, with mortified shame, at what this body was doing. But that weak, little part of my mind couldn’t stop it.

  The girl let the stranger push her up against the wall, trapping her with his body. Her head and lungs were burning so much she couldn’t breathe anymore, but it didn’t matter. She was doing this. Doing everything she thought she couldn’t do. Letting this man put his mouth all over her neck, stick his hand down her top, slide his fingers under the waistband of her jeans.

  She was doing it, and nothing about it felt good. Everything about it hurt and horrified and sickened her. But she wasn’t going to stop because this was all that was left for her.

  He was rubbing his groin against her, grunting like an animal, and starting to unzip her jeans when a voice broke into the fog.

  “Get away from her!” The voice was loud, authoritative.

  The guy jerked in surprise and looked back over his shoulder. “Get the fuck out of here.”

  “I said get away from her. Take your hands off her. Right now.” The voice was closer, angrier, louder, brutally intimidating.

  The guy backed away, revealing the angry speaker was Gideon.

  And that was it. The girl became me.

  I almost gagged as I kept feeling this guy’s hands and body all over mine. I made a gurgling sound and covered my mouth with my hand.

  “Who the hell are you?” the guy said, looking angry and like he might be ready for a fight.

  Gideon pulled out his credentials and gave the guy an icy cold look.

  The guy blinked. “Hey, I wasn’t doing anything. She wanted it. She came on to me. I’m telling you, man, she wanted it.”

  For the first time, Gideon slid his eyes over to me. I knew what he saw. A pitiful, disgusting, shameful failure. “No, she didn’t.”

  “I’m telling you—”

  “Walk away,” Gideon interrupted, his voice so cutting I would have flinched to be the target of it. “Walk away right now.”

  The guy walked away, with somewhat undignified haste.

  When he was out of sight and I was alone with Gideon, I just kind of collapsed. I slid down the wall and onto the ground. It was an alley, so you can imagine it was a rather unpleasant place to sit, but it was exactly the kind of place I belonged.

  Then, to make it worse, I started to process what almost happened, what I’d almost done to myself. I could feel that guy’s hands and body all over me again, and my stomach heaved for real.

  I threw up on the ground, next to where I was sitting, sweating and sobbing as I finally finished.

  “Oh, fuck, baby,” Gideon murmured, pulling me up to my feet. “Let me get you out of here.”

  I couldn’t hold myself up with my legs, so I had to slump against him. I buried my face in his shirt and clung to him. I knew I shouldn’t. It was wrong. I was dirty and smelly and my face was covered in vomit, tears, and snot, and his shirt was clean and smelled delicious, just like him. But I would have fallen otherwise, and he kept his arm around me, so I couldn’t have pulled away, even if I’d had the strength.

  “It’s okay,” he was murmuring. “It’s going to be okay.”

  It wasn’t going to be okay. There was no okay after this. I’d thought I was doing better. He’d thought I was doing better. Everyone thought I was doing better.

  But I just couldn’t get better.

  “Can you walk?” he asked. “I want to get you out of here, and then I’ll drive you home.”

  It took a few tries before my legs worked, but I managed to get them to move. I could tell Gideon was about to pick me up to carry me, and I couldn’t let him do that. We didn’t go back in the club. We walked around the building and back to the main street. We’d turned the first corner when I realized something I should have remembered earlier.

  “Wait,” I gasped, leaning against him. His arm was still around me. “Maria! Where is she? What about your date?”

  “I sent her home in a cab.”

  “What? No. You shouldn’t have done that. Go call her now and say you’re sorry.”

  “I’m not sorry. Try to walk some more.”

  “But Gideon—”

  “But nothing. I told you to walk.”

  I walked, mostly because he was making me. We got to my car, and I climbed in the passenger seat, hurriedly pulling my sweater on since I felt so exposed. He got my purse out of trunk and then got in the driver’s seat.

  When he turned the wrong way, I blinked. “Where are you going?”

  “It’s too far to your house. You need to clean up and get to bed. I’ll take you to my place.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. I’d never been to his apartment, but I was intensely relieved that our drive would be five minutes instead of fifty. I felt a flutter of concern, but I wasn’t in a fit state to think through what it meant.

  “How did you find me?” I mumbled, my eyes closed as I leaned back against the headrest.

  “I saw your car was still there when we walked by again. I got Julie’s number and called to see if you’d gone back to her place, and she said you hadn’t. I knew you were upset, so I just took a guess and started to look.”

  “You should have stayed on your date. It looked like it was going well.”

  “It wasn’t.”

  “Why not? She seemed nice.”

  He’d already made it to his building, and he pulled the car into a visitor spot. He turned his head to look at me as he said, “She is nice. But she isn’t you.”

  And that almost made me cry again, since everything seemed to be falling apart.

  He helped me out of the car, and then we rode the elevator up to his apartment. The place was simple and comfortable and a little
sloppy, but it felt like him, so I liked it.

  “Do you want to take a shower?” he asked, handing me a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

  I nodded as I took a swallow. “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

  He ignored the thanks and put his hand on my back to lead me to the bathroom. He picked up a few things and found me a clean towel. “I can give you a t-shirt or something to sleep in.”

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  So finally he’d gotten me what I needed and I turned on the shower and got in. I stayed in there for a while and would have stayed longer except I was so wiped out I could barely stand up.

  His t-shirt was so big it hung down over my thighs. I would have liked some bottoms, but he wouldn’t have anything that would stay on me, except maybe boxers and that would be weird. I used some of his toothpaste with my finger and figured that would have to do.

  He was in the bedroom and appeared to be making the bed. He looked up at me as I entered, and I tugged the t-shirt farther down over my thighs. His face softened in that way it had.

  “You should get to bed,” he said at last. “We can talk in the morning.”

  I nodded and climbed in, putting my water on the nightstand. “I’m sorry about everything.”

  “We’ll talk in the morning.” He turned off the lamp, darkening the room except the light from the hallway.

  I laid my head on the pillow. He left the room, but he left the door opened. I heard him moving around, and then I heard the shower come on. I could hardly blame him for needing one, since he’d been covered with all my grossness.

  I was exhausted but couldn’t sleep, so I was still awake when he came back in the room. I could see his silhouette clearly, and it looked like he had on pajama pants and nothing else. “Sorry,” he said, opening a dresser drawer. “I’m just grabbing a shirt.”

  “Where are you going to sleep?”

  “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  “Oh. You can sleep in here with me if you want.”

  He didn’t answer, and I knew he was surprised.

  “Just to sleep, I mean. I don’t want you to have to sleep on the couch.”

  “I don’t mind. I want you to be comfortable.”