by Blythe Stone
“Ben was my teacher,” I said candidly. “We were pretty close. While all this was happening I was in his Yearbook class and I was his TA for Health class. I’d taken him both years before. We grew close. Mostly though I went to his classes to unwind from my life. I’d have conversations with him that I actually liked and looked forward to. He interested me. Not many people did. Okay, maybe not any people since middle school. I was his friend. Stupid right? Meanwhile he was torturing the girl I would instantly grow to love...”
“That’s not stupid. You formed a bond with someone. You felt mutual respect and admiration. Blaming yourself for letting him get close to you is normal. Men like Ben can be kind, gentle, and empathetic.”
She finally wrote something. A very short something.
The word empathetic in relation to Ben really scratched at my eardrum. I felt like someone took a sharp needle and poked it right into my ear until it hit the membrane of my drum and then they were dotting it along the surface, forcing pressure and so much pain inside my brain.
No one empathetic could treat Avery like he did.
“Do you have nightmares or feel like you’re always on edge?”
I didn’t understand where these questions were coming from. She wasn’t asking things I would ask. At least, she wasn’t following the conversation the way I would. Maybe that was her technique. Maybe she tried to get me too many separate places instead of just one.
I calmed before answering.
“No,” I said. “I’m generally agitated inside but it’s not… It’s not fear. I just have a busy mind. I’ve always had one. I’m not scared of Ben. Is that what you’re asking? That dream upset me because it felt real. I could feel him letting me kill him, helping me kill him. It was like Avery got the nightmare and I got the gift. There’s a polarization there and it perturbs me.”
“The dissonance between how you and Avery have been affected perturbs you?”
“A lot of things perturb me,” I said, looking up at her.
I could kiss her for using that appropriate word: dissonance.
But that question wasn’t fair. “For a long time I had a hard time understanding why he’d treated us so night and day from one another. I wanted to know why he did that to her. After everything I couldn’t rest without knowing. Until I talked to him, that is. Which was idiotic, a fool's venture, a child’s game... He had a hearing and I went to the jail. My mother’s a judge, I assume you know that. She arranged for me to see him. Talking to Ben had always felt like talking to family. I asked him why. He said Avery and I were different. He said she wanted to hate herself.”
“You confronted Ben about what he did and how did it make you feel to hear that?”
“It hurt my heart… I knew he was right. At the time. It hurt my heart,” I didn’t like thinking about that. I kept looking at her but she wasn’t seeing me right. She wasn’t hearing me.
Vivianne made another scribble and looked up again. “How were you different?”
“What do you mean?” I asked. She could be asking a couple of things.
“In your eyes how are you and Avery different?” That was a different fucking question entirely.
“Ben didn’t lie about that,” I said. “Avery did want to hate herself. I think… I hope she’s over that now. Her life was dark. Her brother passed. Her mom fell into alcoholism, her father disappeared: military,” I established. “Ben snatched her up and played into her torture. But we’re different in a lot of ways. I never wanted to hate myself. I always found great worth in myself. My self was all I really had. Of course I had to love myself. I was my friend.”
“So, you would consider yourself a happy person in general?”
I started to laugh. Where the hell did she get that?!
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Definitely, not.” Now THAT was hilarious!
She wanted me to have quick answers for these things. It was just stupid.
“Tell me about that.” Her monotone after that sort of killed me.
“How am I supposed to tell you anything really in such a short time frame?” I scoffed. “Okay,” I said, shaking it off. I was just going to try. “Mostly, before Avery, I made myself happy. The things I loved were things I loved in secret and by myself. I found contentment on my own but life wasn’t really happy. Avery changed that. But I still hesitate to say I’m happy now. If I was happy now I wouldn’t fucking be in this room. No offense,” I hurried to correct.
“None taken. Don’t be afraid to say what you’re thinking and feeling. There’s no political correctness to worry about, no way you’ll offend me. We’re here to start a rapport. You’re right, we can’t get everything out in one session but we can talk and if you want to come back then we can continue.”
Political correctness? I had just laughed at her and said the word fuck… Before that I’d been telling her my dark life. What the hell was she talking about? Did she really think I was holding back?!
“Well, you’re a person,” I said, reminding her. There was a huge difference between being polite and holding back truths. “I’m not just going to start cursing at you and calling out your methods. That’d be rude. I’m just frustrated. I want things to be easy and they never are. I want to be able to just sit here and tell you everything today and that’s impossible.”
“I am a person and I appreciate your candor. However, the feelings you’re expressing are important. Do you feel frustrated with your situation and Avery’s a lot?”
“Yes,” I said. And wasn’t that obvious? I’d been saying that already! That was all I’d been saying!
“I feel frustrated that it’s hard to communicate,” I said. “I feel frustrated that often I trigger her. I feel frustrated that I don’t know what will help sometimes or what will hinder. I feel selfish A LOT. I feel like no matter what I do I manage to fuck things up.”
“How do you trigger her?”
“Even that’s more complicated than I can answer,” I laughed bitterly. I think I was actually mad at Vivianne. It seemed like maybe she wasn’t hearing me. Regardless, I talked on.
“In a lot of ways I feel like Avery pushes me to trigger her. She brings things up and I know I shouldn’t talk about them. I know, that if I do talk, something will happen and I’ll say something wrong and she’ll be overwhelmed. But I love her and I do want to talk about everything. So, I’ll talk about the things she wants to talk about. That will trigger her. And sometimes I trigger her on accident. I had this ex… A couple of times my ex triggered her, just by existing. There are things I can foresee and things I cannot.” I pinched the bridge of my nose with my thumb and finger as I shut my eyes tight and thought of the truth. “Sometimes I just want to be so silent. But I don’t want to completely disappear.”
That last thing I said wasn’t just about Avery. That was about my whole life.
It was starting to get to me now. All of it.
“You feel like you’re constantly having to make a choice on which way to go and either of those ways is going to hurt Avery. That’s why it’s so hard to be so close to someone who is going through this kind of trauma. That’s how it can pull you in until you start to experience it yourself. Especially, in this case as you were close to Ben yourself.”
Vivianne leaned forward a little and uncrossed her legs.
“You’re doing your best to care for Avery and to help her. To keep doing that you need to take care of yourself as well. Take time and make sure you rest. Do you and Avery have a good support system that you can rely on?”
“I… I don’t know what you mean by support system?” Avery was my support system.
All Vivianne’s words swept over me. I wanted them in writing. I wanted to be able to read them every time I felt a little insane. It would be nice to have impartial facts.
My brain rushed to try and hold onto her words and keep them but she had said them so fast and they were so true and so real to me that I felt them instantly dissolving inside my mind with everything else
, warm comforting sugar, quickly melting away.
“People you can rely on and confide in. Parents or friends that you can talk to. It often helps trauma victims to do normal things like dinners with family or even walking in the park. It could be good to encourage her to do those things. It's also important for you to have time and space sometimes to do things you enjoy without as much worry plaguing you.”
“I think it’s hard for us to feel supported by our support systems,” I said. “We are each other’s support systems basically. But we’ve been trying to do things with our families and to trust in them. I’m usually a very independent person. I’m used to being alone and doing things alone. It’s hard to do that with Avery. I’ve been trying to but it’s hard. I’m scared of leaving her. I love being with her and I’m scared of leaving her.”
“Of course. You just want her to be safe. Is there anyone she socializes with or visits that you feel okay leaving her with?”
“Not really,” I sighed. “Maybe Holland but Holland doesn’t live here… And it’s not like a trust thing. It’s just, I know those people don’t understand her. It’s not that I can’t trust her. I can’t trust them. Yesterday she went to practice early and one of her friends accidentally triggered her and they called me all freaked out and then I had to rush to school and try to find Avery because they didn’t know where she went and it was a big mess, not the best way to wake up.”
“And what happened when you got to school?”
“I couldn't find her. I had to find her. You have to understand,” I paused to look over at her. “My fear, for the most part, I know it’s not irrational. I’ve found Avery near death before. When she gets like that she can hurt herself on accident. These sort of things are dire because of my knowledge and experience with that. When I got to the school yesterday I checked all the places I thought she would be. I found her in a classroom. She seemed shaken. I held her a while and calmed myself. I felt relief. She was okay. There was no blood. She hadn't done anything crazy. Then I didn't know what to do but she told me to do what I want which was laughable. She’d been waiting for me in my classroom. Waiting for me to come to school and find her.”
“How many times had this happened?”
“What?” I’d never stopped to count before. Things stood out, the big things. I’d triggered her a lot, if that’s what Vivianne meant… “Since I met Avery it seemed I’d become an important part of her life. I might’ve made it so by instantly treating her like this thing I must care for and protect. I followed Ben the first day I met her. I had this compulsion. I followed him to her house. I could tell something was going on. I was worried for her. Alone, she had anger. Alone, he seemed amused. I witnessed them separately, connected the dots. But Avery’s been in and out of danger from him and from herself through the course of our entire relationship. Are you asking how many times I’ve found her damaged?”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Before we were intimate she called me once to come see her at some lake. When I got there she was nearly unconscious, blue lips, blue toes. I had to drive her home and fix her. The next day when I woke up she wasn’t there. She’s often terrified me like that.”
“These big trigger events, do you feel like you experience them with her, feeling what she's feeling and so on or are you solely in the role of caretaker?”
“I can’t not be present when things are happening,” I said. “Mostly I assume the role…” Other times, I’m definitely scared, and affected, experiencing pain second hand… “The hotel room,” I mumbled. “Seeing how scared she was, having it register, what had happened. Ben on the floor, his pants down. The terror in her eyes as she fought her way passed me, almost pushing me down. It took me a moment. Everything changed that day…”
I could feel the glassiness of this moment. Right now I was like glass. I was trying to be so transparent, any smear or blur on my surface could corrupt my purpose here and thus the outcome of all this thought and time.
“There are times when I can taste her pain and it causes me pain. For the most part I want to help so I swallow things down. But mostly I know I can never experience the same anguish she feels and that’s both a comfort and a burden. I think that’s what you’re asking about... I’m not sure. But yes, it does help me to be taking care of her, to be doing something. When I got to that lake I was so confused that first day. I didn’t have time to think much about what was happening or why she was there. Of course I felt sadness at the situation and strangeness and then guilt… Once I knew she was okay, mostly I felt happy that I’d been the one she’d sent her S.o.S. to. It made me feel sick to find happiness in such a dark thing. And in the morning she was gone and somehow it felt a worthy punishment for my deep-down excitement. In a lot of ways I’ve imposed myself on her, become the only person she can trust. It’s a dangerous thing. A thing I would never want to abuse. I wonder sometimes if she really knows me at all though. If any of me matters... Is it really me she loves? Or is it this person who fetched her from the lake. This person who reported her rapist to the school board and to her dad. This person who watches her every move. This shadow who rescues her and is always somehow there in times of extreme darkness when no other light is around to shine through.”
I instantly committed myself to Avery… Instantly devoted myself… I became this sort of savior.
That wasn’t right.
All the while I insisted she saved herself.
I didn’t want her to see me the way I’d been.
It’s too easy to love the person who’s devoted to you.
It’s like children with parents. Even in the worst parent/child relationships the child always ends up conflicted about not just unconditionally loving someone who brought them into being and provided for them at any time in any way.
Guilt could be so complex and devotion could be such a powerful drug, outlasting all the others.
From the moment we met I’d put her under my influence...
I hated to think of these things. These things confused me. I had to ask myself why. Why was I perfect for her? Why wasn’t I normal? Why did I always put myself aside? What was I doing?
I wanted to be everything for her. I wanted to become her whole world.
What does that say… About me? Was I really that insecure that she could never just like me back? Did I need to find someone exactly like her? Someone who would see me the way she does, as heroic? As perfect?
I didn’t like these nasty questions. These questions made me feel sick.
I felt manipulative. Even if I did put myself aside. It was manipulative, what I’d done.
There were too many things I wanted to talk about in here. And we hadn’t even gotten into the sex.
I held my stomach for a moment to try and feel calm.
“I love getting to be the one to love her,” I said, my fragility finally coming to a head. “Sometimes I’m terrified, like when she disappears and I can’t really pull her out of that horror-scape in her mind. Thinking I might lose her to those memories of him, that is a genuine fear. It’s hard to feel balanced after everything, hard to put stock in happiness when we definitely momentarily have it. It always feels so brief and like a cruel trick. Only sometimes can I let myself forget and live a life where I’m not leery. Normally, when we have really good times, I’m secretly waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the axe to fall, but I’m also addicted to that feeling of being loved by her and loving her back. I’m addicted to the knowledge that I have her and she has me. I’ve never felt this loved in all my life,” I confessed. “More importantly, I've never wanted a love so much. Not from any other person. Not even from my parents.”
I hated to think of what she really thought of me now. I’d laid out a lot.
“Sometimes we get so wrapped up in a situation that we fail to see the before and after or even the larger picture of where we are in our lives. It could be that you’ve been focusing so much on the minutiae within your struggles that you’ve bee
n overanalyzing. You have a good grasp of things in general but if you do take a step back once in awhile it might help you retain your own health and happiness as well as allow you to be there for Avery. “
She offered a small smile before looking back down at the few notes she had taken. “I think this is a good place to end.” She looked up, closing the notebook. “Did you want to make another appointment now?”
“Yes,” I said. “I want to try this and see what it does.” So far it did nothing really. It wasn’t helpful. It was a distraction, I guess. It might be harmful? I dunno…
“This is a process, Olivia. Unfortunately, it might take us some time to get through everything, but I know how frustrating it can be. Patience is hard. You can do it.”
“Did I say I was impatient? I said I was ready to try.”
“Yes, you did and that openness is what will help make it go a little faster.”
In a lot of ways the things she said felt almost condescending.
