Clarity 3

by Loretta Lost

  This has finally happened to me. Liam has overridden Grayson. His carefully calculated manipulation, and his months of conniving and conning me have taken precedence in my mind as the greatest injury of my life. I have never been so methodically and meticulously betrayed. He should win a medal.

  Thanks to Liam, I am now standing in front of my rapist and feeling absolutely no fear. I am actually rather bored and wishing he would physically attack me to cause me some superficial pain to distract from my deeper, more devastating wounds. I never could have imagined this moment in a million years.

  I find myself beginning to laugh a bit hysterically. Grayson sends me a puzzled look.

  “My dog is waiting in the car,” I tell him. “I should probably get going.”

  “Why don’t you stay?” he asks me. “This is your home. Bring your dog inside, and move back in. Your dad and sister miss you and talk about you every day.”

  “I can’t,” I tell him. “My dad has been a major asshole, it seems. I’m leaving for good. None of you will ever see me again.”

  “Then will you please stay for a minute?” he begs. “I can show you around the house—you could grab a bite to eat.”

  For the first time, I do look inside the house. A sharp pain shoots through my chest, and I find that even when I have reached my maximum pain threshold and ultimate numbness, it can still get a little worse.

  “Mom?” I whisper as I walk forward, stepping past Grayson as though he is not even there. There is a large, magnificent painting hanging on the wall. It depicts a beautiful woman sitting in a dignified pose. She has sandy brown hair tied up in stylish bun, along with sophisticated pearl earrings. I move forward until I am standing directly below the painting. I stare at it for a moment as my eyes fill with tears. There is a man standing behind her with his hand resting on her shoulder. He has a bright smile that is mostly concealed by his dark beard. There are also two little girls wearing polka-dotted summer dresses and standing on either side of the woman. The older girl is standing confidently, as though she knows that she’s beautiful. But the younger girl looks shy. As if to reassure her, the seated woman is affectionately holding the hand of the younger girl.

  It’s me.

  I remember posing for those photos when I was eight years old. I remember how stiff and scratchy the dress was, and how I just wanted to put on normal clothes as soon as the photo was over. I can almost remember the feeling of my mom’s hand in mine. I wasn’t ready to lose her. If only she was still around, all our lives would be so much better. None of this would have happened. She loved us so much that she kept us all safe and strong.

  I lift my fingers to touch my quivering lips.

  I feel Grayson’s hand on my shoulder, and it gives me a little shudder of déjà vu. And now we’ve come full circle. Here I am, in the same position as I was all those years ago when he found me on the stairs. Broken down, at my weakest moment. Exposed and vulnerable. Isn’t that what gets him off?

  My head snaps around to glare at him viciously. “Do it,” I tell him. “I don’t give a fuck. Do whatever you want. Hurt me. Come on! Fucking hurt me.”

  He reaches out to embrace me, and I cringe at his touch. For a moment, I grow dizzy as I flinch and instinctively lift my hands to protect my face, expecting some sort of violent impact. My whole body grows tense and stiff. When he pulls me against him, he is gentle and there is no pain. He does not try to hurt me. He just holds me close for a moment.

  “I’m sorry,” Grayson tells me. “I’m so sorry. I’ll never hurt you again.”

  I try to breathe as I wrap my head around these confusing events. Today, I have been deceived by my lover and comforted by my enemy. And somehow, as ironic and twisted as it is, there is almost no one who could comfort me better than Grayson in this moment. As I gaze up at the painting, I feel myself really letting go of her for the first time. How could I really have grieved for my mother when I had never even seen her? Now, at least, I have been given the final piece of the puzzle. Now I feel like I can finally close her book in my mind. Every page has been given the colors of her complexion and the contours of her smile. Every memory I have of her has become more vivid, precious, and complete.

  “That’s exactly how I imagined she would look,” I tell him softly. “She was so beautiful.”

  “She loved you,” Grayson says as he touches my hair tenderly. “Your whole family loves you so much, Helen. You should come home.”

  “I can’t,” I tell him, turning away from the photo to keep my tears from spilling over. I try to fixate on anything else in the majestic room, and I easily find a focal point. “Wow. That’s an amazing chandelier,” I comment trivially.

  “Yes. I have always loved that chandelier,” Grayson tells me. He hesitates and his voice grows heavy. “Your dad has been bugging me to replace some of the light bulbs. I should probably do that before they get back.”

  The concept of Grayson doing such a domestic chore for my dad surprises me. Maybe my sister really was right to see something good in him. Maybe he really never was the monster that I believed he was. Maybe everything I have ever believed is wrong.

  “I’m really glad that your doctor was able to help you see,” Grayson says with downcast eyes. “I’m so sorry about... what I did to him. I don’t know what came over me. I’m glad that you found someone. I never meant to hurt either of you. I just...”

  “It’s okay,” I tell him softly. “He gave me the ability to see, but he pulled the wool over my eyes in a lot of other ways. He didn’t give a fuck about me.”

  “He took a bullet for you,” Grayson reminds me.

  “He took a bullet for money,” I say bitterly.

  Grayson frowns. “Helen, that man broke both of my arms and gave me a black eye. He would do anything to protect you. Trust me, I could feel how much he loved you in how hard he hit me. If you can’t see that he really cares, then you really are blind.”

  I smile sarcastically at this. Who knew that my rapist had such a strong sense of honor? “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you,” I tell him, “or any conversation. You seem... different.”

  “I don’t know if I’m different,” he says softly, “but I’m aware.” Grayson steps away from me abruptly, moving over to the staircase. He sits down with an exhausted expression on his face as he stares up at the chandelier. “There was so much that I didn’t know; very basic things about how to treat people. I don’t know why I couldn’t learn. It didn’t make sense to me. Helen, I don’t know if you believe this—but I can’t even look at myself in the mirror. I see the same beast that you imagined. I can’t believe the horrible things I’ve done.”

  Wrapping my arms around my stomach, I stare down at him with a mild curiosity and a deep pity. Now that I can see the sad and remorseful look on his face, it is so much harder to hate him. I can see that he feels the full impact of his actions. It feels over. I believe that he will never hurt me again. It is clear to see that he is so downtrodden and defeated that has been rendered harmless and incapable of violence ever again.

  “They’ve been giving me medication,” he tells me. “I’ve been taking it, but—I don’t think my actions can be explained away as some sort of illness. It’s deeper than that. It’s a fundamental flaw in who I am. It’s some sort of incurable ignorance. It will always be a part of me. I’m hopeless.”

  Against my better judgment, I find myself moving over to sit beside him on the stairs. I reach out hesitantly to place my hand on his shoulder. “You’re not hopeless,” I tell him softly. “You’re going to have a baby. A fresh start with a whole new person, who will love you unconditionally. You might have made mistakes, but you can change everything from now on.”

  He shakes his head. “You don’t understand how terrified I am. I’m going to fuck it up. What if the kid is better off never meeting me? I’m just a fuck up. I’ve always been a fuck up, no matter how hard I tried.”

  “Grayson...” I begin to say, trying to think of
a way to soothe him.

  “No,” he says, cutting me off. “You don’t even understand, Helen. How could you understand? Everything I said and did to you—even the worst things—it was all because I loved you. I know that it doesn’t make sense, and that you’ll never believe me. But it’s true. I loved you so much, so uncontrollably. I loved you with such a violent obsession that it drowned all common sense.”

  His hands are clenched and there is a muscle twitching in his jaw as he speaks. There is a strange cloudiness of turmoil in the irises of his eyes. “I needed you so furiously and forcefully that it consumed my every thought. That maddening passion just soaked every rotten, disgusting cell of my body. I loved you, and that is how I expressed it. I know you’ll never believe me.” He lets his head fall forward into his hands.

  I find myself swallowing down a gulp of saliva. “I think I do believe you,” I tell him quietly. Yes, it’s twisted and outrageous. But Liam treated me so well, and it turns out that I was just a chore to him; he didn’t love me in the least. So it might as well make sense that Grayson treated me like shit and he actually did love me. Maybe love is that fucked up.

  “That’s what scares me most,” Grayson tells me. “If it is true, then how can I ever let myself love someone again? How can I be a father? How can I love a newborn child who is completely innocent? My love is a perverse and warped thing that no one should have to suffer. My love is a curse.”

  My heart is filled with involuntary compassion as I stare at the broken man. “You can learn,” I promise him as I run my hand over his back. “You still have time to figure things out. It isn’t too late. You have already made progress...”

  Grayson’s shoulders begin to shake. “It’s too late for me, Helen,” he says with a sob. “You and I both know that it’s too late. I’m too far gone. I can never forgive myself.”

  “Shhh,” I say, reaching out to wrap my arms around him. I am not sure why his anguish gives me pain instead of pleasure. “You have Carmen,” I whisper. “She loves and accepts you. She will take care of you.”

  Grayson’s sobs grow in magnitude as his pain tears his body apart from the inside. “I’m killing her,” he tells me. “She can’t stand me. I’m hurting her more every day. I’ve destroyed everything. I’ve torn apart your family.”

  “No,” I tell him, speechless in the face of his remorse. “No. Grayson, it’s going to be okay. Things are going to get better.”

  “Please,” he says with eyes that are tortured and bloodshot. “Please forgive me.”

  I pull my lips into a grim line as I consider this. “It turns out that there are worse people in the world than you,” I tell him begrudgingly as I think of Liam. “I don’t think you’re the biggest monster I’ve ever met. So, yeah. I forgive you.”

  I am startled when he falls against me, burying his face into my chest and sobbing wildly. He holds onto me tightly, as though I can offer him some sort of salvation. His fingers dig painfully into my side, and I can feel his torment and grief in the way his body trembles. For a moment, I am frozen, but then I hesitantly lift my hands to hold him against me. I press my fingers soothingly against the back of his head, gently caressing his hair. My own actions are both shocking and troubling to me. I spent so much time imagining hurting this man, and wishing and praying for an opportunity to do so.

  But now that he is here, I just see a confused and lost human being. Nothing that he’s done seems to matter any longer. A torrent of his penitent tears begins sliding down between my breasts, soaking my skin and the front of my shirt. I look up at my mother’s solemn face in our family painting. She was not a religious woman, but she firmly believed that there was good in all of us. I can hear her voice echoing inside my mind.

  Love your enemies.

  I think I finally understand the wisdom in these cryptic and seemingly impossible words.

  “I’m sorry,” Grayson says, suddenly pulling away and wiping his face on his sleeve. “You don’t need this. I bet you want to get going.”

  “Yes,” I tell him softly. “I need to head out.”

  “Okay,” he says with a decisive nod. “Before you go—I think your dad left some photo albums up in your bedroom. He wanted to give them to you in person, but you refused to meet with him.”

  “Thanks,” I tell him, rising to my feet. “I’ll definitely grab those.”

  “I should change those light bulbs,” Grayson says, getting up and staring up at the chandelier. “If I can remember where we keep the spares...”

  “They’re in a drawer in the kitchen,” I tell him as I begin moving up the stairs. “The third one down from the forks and knives.”

  “That’s right,” he says in a hushed voice. “Helen? Please say it again. Do you really forgive me?”

  I frown as I turn around to look down at him. “Yes. I do forgive you.”

  “Thank you,” he tells me, smiling through his tears as he gazes up at me. “I have needed to hear those words for so long. Now, maybe I can finally have some peace. Thank you, my angel.”

  I find myself making an amused face at these words. “I’m hardly an angel,” I inform him lightly.

  Grayson moves up the steps until he’s standing on the one directly below me. He looks into my eyes with a strange intensity, and reaches up to slide his hand against my jaw and cup my cheek. I find myself growing tense again, and flinching slightly at his touch.

  “May I kiss you?” he whispers.

  I lift an eyebrow. “It’s not like you to ask permission,” I tell him dryly.

  “I’m never going to see you again,” he says. “Please, Helen. Just one kiss. I’m begging you.”

  “If I say no, are you going to do it anyway?” I ask him mockingly, but I can see how devastated he is. Maybe I shouldn’t be making fun of him in this moment.

  “Helen,” he says in a hushed voice. “Will you have mercy on my poor, damned soul and kiss me one last time?”

  Perhaps it’s just like the cigarette. Perhaps it’s just my damaged state of mind after Liam’s betrayal. Perhaps it’s due to the fact that I’m about to permanently isolate myself from humanity, and I might never touch a man again for as long as I live. Perhaps I just don’t give a fuck anymore. Or perhaps it does seem like the perfect ending to my story with Grayson; a small act to signify that we’re putting all this behind us for good.

  I am appalled at myself as I lean down and place a kiss against his lips. For a moment, I almost expect that my skin will sizzle and melt at the contact, like I’ve kissed some kind of demon. But nothing happens. I feel absolutely nothing. I don’t even feel disgust.

  He is just a man. All along, he was just a man.

  The tears sliding down his cheeks moisten mine, and for a moment, I do feel like an angel. I can feel his hands on my back, and I almost feel like he is caressing my wings. I didn’t know it was possible to put all of my compassion into a kiss, but that is what this is. Now, it’s really over.

  I pull away and step backward, moving up the stairs a little shakily. “There,” I say bitterly. I’m feeling a little disturbed by all of this emotion. “I’m going to go grab those photo albums and leave. Goodbye, Grayson.”

  “Goodbye, sweet girl,” he says softly. “Thank you for setting me free.”

  There’s a strange madness in his face, and I can’t look at him any longer. I turn and head up the staircase, feeling dizzy and dazed. I am a bit overwhelmed by the confrontation, but I am also satisfied with the sense of completion and closure. I think that maybe we both needed this to move on with our lives.

  I think that now, I can finally find peace, too.

  Moving swiftly through the hallway to my bedroom, I open the door and try not to get distracted by the gorgeous furnishings and décor. I move directly to the albums that are sitting on my dresser. I flip a page open just to make sure that they are the correct albums, meant for me. Seeing the smiling faces is instantly too much to bear. It hits me like a punch in the stomach as I see the love of my mother
and father covering the pages. I can also see the old, familiar closeness that my sister and I used to share. We’re tangled up in some sort of brawl in most of these photos, with our expensive dresses covered in mud.

  A nostalgic smile touches my lips. It’s almost enough to convince me to stay. All the memories I’ve lost, like sand slipping through my fingers, are crystallized here in photographic form. I almost can’t believe that all these precious moments in time have been frozen in images that I have never been able to see. Looking through these albums will be like reliving my entire childhood through new eyes.

  For a moment, I fantasize about sitting by the roaring fireplace with my father and sister, and flipping through these albums as we laugh and reminisce. Maybe we could all be a family again. I don’t think I even mind if Grayson is there. I think that maybe we could be cool. Maybe I could be there for the new photographs and memories. It’s been years since we’ve made any. Maybe, I could be part of the childhood of Carmen’s baby and watch him or her grow up. I could see all the new smiles and new joys that we always dreamed of when we were little girls. Maybe there is still hope for all of us.

  A loud crash startles me from my thoughts. I close the albums and gather them up in my arms as I exit my room and head back to the center of the house where I can see the light from the chandelier illuminating the staircase. As I approach the landing, I turn and gaze down into the foyer.

  My heart skips a beat.

  The scene before me is too horrible to be real. I am sure that it is only my faulty eyes playing tricks on me. It’s impossible.

  “Grayson?” I whisper, as I stand rooted to the spot. I fight against my paralysis to begin moving down the staircase. I hug the albums tightly against my chest. There is a small ladder lying on the ground, as though it has been kicked over.

  A few feet above the fallen ladder, a pair of legs are swaying back and forth.