Let Me Be Your Truth

by Lynsey M. Stewart

  ‘Oh no. I'm not sure, Ruth. He's used to you, isn't he? It may be weird for him to start offloading on me. Plus…he hates me…and he likes to wind me up. I'm not sure it's going to end well.'

  I heard a small, breathy laugh. ‘I don't expect you to pick up where we left off in our last session, but I would be so grateful if you could explain what's happened and give him the option. If he says no, that's fine, but I feel bad for cancelling at such short notice. Even if you just offer him space to talk; it's better than nothing.'

  ‘I can do that.’ Bloody hell. ‘Don’t worry. I hope Ali gets things sorted.’

  ‘Thanks, sweetheart. Donna should be in at lunchtime. Hopefully I won't be too much longer after that.'

  After ringing Jamie, I made my way to the centre and started organising the art studio before getting the kitchen ready to serve an abundance of tea. It slowly started to fill up with people when Oli knocked on the worktop at the hatch.

  ‘Hi Kate, you’re not normally here at this time.’

  ‘No. Unfortunately, Ali's sprained her ankle and Ruth's had to take her to the hospital, so you've got me today.'

  I left Oli in the art room after setting up a canvas and some oil paints for him, and as I went back through to the kitchen, Danny was helping himself to coffee. He was wearing a black fitted T-shirt with a V-neck, which showed off the dark chest hairs that had been burned into my brain after the still life class a few weeks ago. His jeans were hanging off his backside loosely, and he had a frayed hole on his left knee. His backpack and motorcycle helmet were on the floor at his feet.

  ‘Hey,' I said, slightly more cheery than necessary. He looked at me as he took his first sip of coffee and smiled tightly. ‘Unfortunately, Ruth isn't here for your appointment, but she asked me to offer you a session instead. She didn't want to let you down—’

  ‘With you?' he replied with a satisfied smirk on his lips.

  ‘Yes, with me. How do you feel about that?’ He shrugged as he walked through to the seating area. I followed him. ‘As you’re walking away from me I get the impression you don't want a session, so I can just ask Ruth to contact you when she gets back.’

  ‘Depends on what kind of session.'

  ‘A mentoring session,’ I replied.

  ‘I don't need to offload my secrets onto you.’ He pulled out a chair and sat at one of the tables, legs spread, totally cocky.

  ‘I don't expect you to tell me any secrets, but I could offer help if you need it. Anything you need to talk through’

  ‘What can you do to help me? Use your social work training? OK. Give it a try. See if you can cure me,’ he said.

  ‘I'm just offering space to talk.' He saw this as a challenge; I could tell. When he started walking towards one of the counselling rooms, I took a deep breath ready for the battle to commence.

  ‘Come on then, princess.’ His favourite nickname for me. He obviously thought I lived in a castle and accepted cheques from Daddy every week. Who’s making assumptions now, Mr Benedichi? ‘What do you want to know?’ he said as he put his feet up on the small table in front of him. Sitting down in the opposite chair, I took a notepad and pen off the shelf.

  ‘I guess we could start with how your week has been.' He raised his eyebrow and laughed. ‘Or… maybe you have something specific that you want to talk about.'

  ‘Don’t you want to know what brings me here? What my demons are?’ He sipped his coffee and leant back in the chair, totally calm but full of bravado.

  ‘If you’re happy to talk to me about that—’

  ‘More than happy,’ he said, cutting me off. ‘I’m an addict. Drugs, alcohol. The lot. Or, should I say, was an addict. What do you think? Should I embrace the fact that I've been clean for two years, or should I admit that every day is still a fucking battle? Once an addict, always an addict; isn't that what they say?'

  ‘Well, first of all, it’s very commendable that you’ve been clean for two years.’

  ‘Thanks,’ he said flatly.

  ‘But I do believe that you’ll always need to take it a day at a time.’

  ‘Did you read that in one of your social work books this morning?’ he replied. ‘One hundred and one positive quotes to help a drug abuser. I’m still an addict, princess. I’ve just replaced my harder addictions with something else.’

  ‘Really? Do you mind me asking more about it?’ I had no idea where he was going with this, or how I was going to follow it up.

  ‘You’re the counsellor.’

  ‘What would you say you’re addicted to now?’ I asked quietly, bracing myself as he started to smirk.

  ‘I fuck.’

  Danny stared at me. Right at me. His gaze penetrated me, travelling down, stopping at my breasts, smiling as I crossed my arms to hide myself. There was often a similar look on his face like he couldn't decide if he wanted to tear me to pieces with a cutting put down or devour me with his mouth in one sitting, and, bloody hell, I didn't know what to do with that. I swallowed. I took a deep breath. I struggled to think about what I was going to say next.

  Come on; Think. Something witty. Something to show I’m not at all affected by his dirty mouth…

  ‘It’s common to replace one addiction with something else.’

  ‘Well researched,’ he replied sarcastically.

  ‘What do you want me to say, Danny?’

  ‘Nothing,' he said. ‘I don't want you to say anything.' He sat forward. ‘I don't need this. Don't try to analyse me through whatever social work bullshit you learned at university. Keep our conversations to art and we'll be just fine.'

  ‘Do you want to continue with the session?’ I asked as he crossed his ankles on the table.

  ‘I’d love to,’ he replied, monotone.

  ‘I don’t want you to see me as the enemy.’

  ‘I don't. I see you as many other things,' he smiled before something changed in his eyes. He sat forward, and I started to consider how intimidating he could be. ‘I suppose you thought I'd immediately open an old wound and bleed it all out to you. Tell you how shit my childhood was? How it's completely fucked up my life?'

  ‘I’m here to listen and offer support if that’s what you’d like to talk about.’

  ‘What the fuck would you know? The diamonds in your ears would have kept my family fed for a year,’ he spat.

  ‘You don't know anything about my life. You've taken one look and made a judgment. Something you said I did to you when we first met. You know, Danny, we may have more in common than you think.' He laughed a drawn-out laugh and shook his head. ‘If you'd just give me a chance.'

  ‘I don't give people like you a chance. Why should I? Social workers did fuck all for me. I didn't need help from people like you. I raised myself. My parents didn't give a shit. My dad fucked off and my mum killed herself with drugs. I wasn't enough for her. She preferred the bastard that supplied her with drugs and fucked her till she felt pretty again.' He was looking for a reaction. Inside, I wanted to tell him my parents were the same, but it felt entirely insignificant to say that to him because I had been rescued. I had been loved. Danny hadn't. No wonder his eyes often radiated anger so intense I could feel the tension falling from him at the tips of my fingers.

  But there was something else. His anger hid sorrow. His anger hid the pain.

  ‘So, tell me now. I want to hear about you. Tell me your lovely back-story. How many ponies did you have as a child? How many summers did you spend in Florida?’ Twelve. But he didn't need to know that. He smirked and sat back in the chair. ‘Don't tell me we have things in common. We have fuck all in common. Go back to your big house, take your parents’ cheques to top up your shit wages, and carry on with your naive let's all save the addicts through paint classes. I'm sure it will help whatever fragile self-esteem issues you may have or whatever other reason you come here every fucking week for.' He banged his coffee cup down and went for the door. ‘Tell Ruth I won't come here again if she offloads me onto you.' I jumped as he slammed the do
or shut, leaving me breathless and incensed.

  I chewed on my thumbnail as his voice rang through my head. What right did he have to speak to me like that? I stopped overthinking and charged for the door, working purely on adrenaline and anger.

  ‘Hey! Get back in here, now!' I shouted. He stopped dead, his back to me. His only movement was to put his hands in his pockets. ‘Don't walk away from me. I deserve better than that.' He dropped his head. ‘You wouldn't treat Ruth like that, so why me?' He still didn't move or attempt to turn around. ‘Take a break, whatever you need, but I expect you back in that room in five minutes.' A couple of people were sitting near the kitchen, their mouths wide open, trying to look anywhere but at me. I understood their confusion. I had never raised my voice to anyone, let alone someone I should consider a client. He was awakening something in me. I felt exhilaration coursing through my body, reaching places it hadn't touched before.

  ‘I’m impressed,’ he said. ‘You appear to have finally found some balls.’

  ‘I have a vagina! I don’t need balls, thank you very much!’ I ignored the sniggers as I tried to gain my composure. Danny strode forward and pushed the door to the kitchen with both hands. It swung violently as he disappeared inside.

  I was sitting in the same chair as before but my legs were now bouncing up and down and my fingers were tapping on my lap. The clock continued to tick. I shouldn’t have done that. Two minutes passed. Three. That was so unprofessional. I smoothed my skirt and licked my finger, wiping it across the scratch on the point of my heels. Distraction. He’s going to hate me. Another two minutes. But it felt uplifting, finally uplifting. Jesus, minutes are slow when you’re counting them down. Five minutes. This was ridiculous. He wasn’t coming back. How long should I wait? How embarrassing would this be for me when I stepped out of this room?

  Knock, knock, knock.

  The door opened and Ruth poked her head through. Her arm followed, holding a mug of tea. ‘Thought you might need this.'

  ‘Thanks. How’s Ali?’ I smiled, covering up my disappointment that Danny hadn’t returned as I took the steaming mug from her.

  ‘She’ll live.’

  ‘Do you know what happened?' I asked. She nodded. ‘Mr Temperamental isn't coming back, is he?' Ruth sighed before sitting down in the chair opposite me. ‘I shouldn't have done that. I should have just let him go,' I said.

  ‘From what I’ve heard, you had every right to react that way. Stop doubting yourself.’

  ‘I shouted at him.’

  ‘He deserved it,’ she replied.

  ‘I’m not so sure.’ I hated the pattern of second guessing myself. ‘I said something about having a vagina; no balls necessary.’

  Ruth laughed. ‘That’s my girl.’

  ‘He frustrates me.’

  ‘Danny is a hard nut to crack. I think I’ve told you before that it’s taken me a while to start chipping away at his walls. I’m not through all the layers yet.’

  ‘He really can’t stand social workers, can he? Or maybe it’s just me.' I said, scrunching up my face.

  ‘He has a long history. His childhood was very bleak. He doesn't have the greatest memories. Social care was in his life for years. He doesn't feel they helped him in any way, and if there's one thing I know about Danny, it's that he finds it hard to forgive and forget,' she replied. ‘It doesn't excuse his behaviour, though. I'll talk to him when he's cooled down. He needs to apologise. That wasn't acceptable, and I won't have it. Not here and not to you.' I smiled tightly. ‘Don't take it personally.'

  ‘Trying not to,' I said as I took a sip of my tea. ‘He's doing well, isn't he? He said he's been clean for two years.'

  ‘He told you that?’ Ruth appeared shocked.

  ‘Yes, before he stormed out of the session. I think he was trying to push me. Or shock me. I don't know.'

  ‘Tying to shock, I’m sure. He likes to get a reaction out of people. It’s all very attention seeking,’ she smiled.

  ‘He said he’d replaced his drug addiction with a sex addiction.’

  She pushed her head back into the chair. ‘I think he’s testing a beautiful, kind, caring woman. Not his usual type,’ she winked as I widened my eyes. ‘Don’t look so shocked. I see the way he looks at you.’

  ‘I think you have it all wrong,' I replied, suddenly feeling the heat rising in my cheeks and trying to hide the smile that her words had encouraged.

  ‘He’s a very complicated man, Kate. His childhood has left scars, some that will never heal, others that are beginning to, but if you push all of that to one side, you’ll find a lovely, caring, exceptionally talented young man.’

  ‘I’d like to meet him,’ I laughed lightly.

  ‘I’m sure you will, Kate. I’m sure you will.’

  Her words were heavy, but underneath it all, I could tell she cared for Danny. I wasn't sure of her assessment of our relationship, particularly after today, but I was determined to crack the surface of the moody artist hiding behind the truth of his tattoos. There was so much more to Danny Benedichi and I wanted to get to know him better, release some of that bitterness and help him redirect it through his art. I also wanted to feel his fingers trail across my stomach, stopping to kiss the curve of my hip before licking the tip of his tongue down to my—I had to stop. That wasn't happening. I didn't crave tattooed bad boys. I couldn't have a sex dream in Ruth's office. Return to the ever-professional Kate who didn’t want to lick Danny’s bicep. ‘Do you have any tips on how I can crack the surface?’ I asked, my voice shaking as I smoothed my hair down my shoulder.

  ‘The way to get to know Danny better is to approach him on mutual ground. He doesn't like talking about his past, but he does like talking about his artwork.' That seemed simple, so why hadn't I thought of implementing it before? ‘There are some of his paintings displayed in the art room. Go and see them. Study them. He has a very distinctive style. Get to know it better and then, when he's stopped being stubborn, you can find your way in.'

  I collected my bags and let the crisp early spring air prickle against my face. The busy road in front of the centre was always quiet at this time of night. The air was still, people had found their way home, and that was comforting. I let the doors shut quietly so I didn't disturb the peace, and as I felt in my pocket for my keys, my eyes were drawn to Danny. He was sitting on the bench outside the centre, his legs crossed and a pencil in his hand. His head was down; he was lost in the moment as his hand worked quickly across the sketchpad. I took advantage of being able to watch him at work. He was completely engrossed. Captivated. Consumed. Part of me felt like I was trespassing on an intimate moment but another part of me wanted to take it all in.

  I stepped closer. I held myself back. I clasped my hands behind my back. I dropped them to my sides. I didn’t know what to do with myself. Should I disturb him, or just walk past without acknowledging him?

  Closer.

  Another step.

  He looked up and slammed the sketchpad shut, but not before I saw what looked like a shaded drawing of a long pair of legs and a skirt billowing around them in a breeze. I instinctively looked down to my legs and my skirt flicking softly around me. Oh my.

  ‘Are you fucking following me?’ he said, clasping his sketchbook against his chest.

  ‘No. I'm just leaving. I saw you were lost in the moment.' I pointed to the sketchbook. ‘I wasn't sure what to do.'

  ‘You don’t need to do anything. Just leave.’

  I nodded, mentally going through the whole monologue of what I wanted to say to him, but instead, I decided to do the inevitable. Keep my mouth shut and smiled. Why change the habit of a lifetime? I could only stretch myself so far. I picked up my bags and sidestepped him, cursing myself that I didn't have the balls to bring up what had happened earlier, and, more importantly, to ask why he was sketching me.

  ‘Kate,' he shouted, standing up and letting the book drop to the floor, finally looking vulnerable. I wondered if he was going to apologise, but I knew that if
he did, it would be in his style. He looked to the floor and closed his eyes. ‘Nothing…Fuck. Just go home.'

  ‘What do you want to say?’ I asked, frustrated and so disappointed in him. ‘Just say it. It can’t be any worse than what you said to me earlier.’ He clenched his jaw and picked up the book, throwing it onto the bench. ‘I’m immune to it now, Danny. Do your worst.’

  ‘I questioned why you were here in the beginning.’

  My breath shuddered through me.

  Yes.

  He took a few paces forward and averted his eyes. ‘Despite what happened today, I want you to know that I’m pleased you stayed,’ he said. ‘This place needs you.’

  ‘This place?’ I asked, willing him to dig deeper, say more, be more truthful.

  He took more steps forward, leaning into me slowly. He smelled so good. Clean. Natural. Him. ‘This place,’ he repeated.

  ‘Not you?’

  ‘Kate,' he groaned, but it was a warning. Don’t push me any further.

  ‘Nothing you do will make me stay away. I love this place.' We took a breath together, sharp and quick. I didn't miss the sound of his because it sounded the same as mine—the sound of two people trying to contain their intense hunger and desire swirling together to make you feel like nothing else existed beyond the need for a deep kiss.

  ‘Do something for me,' he whispered against my ear. I tried to swallow, but I'd lost the instinct. ‘Wear this skirt next week. Please,' He clutched at it, bunching up the fabric just above my thigh, brushing his fingers against my skin, causing a tingle, goosebumps, every sensation that was good, before letting it drop. The weight almost took me with it. ‘If you do that for me, I’ll look forward to seeing you even more than I already do.’

  ‘You are so confusing,' I gasped as his nose nudged lightly against my jawline. I held onto his arm tightly to try to stop the tremor taking hold of my body.

  ‘I know,’ he replied, nodding his head as he stepped back. I did everything I could not to crumple on the ground before him. He watched as I nervously fiddled with my arrow necklace, which ironically pointed directly to him.