Heartstrings

by Heather Gunter

  A lady walks over to me. “Hi, you must be new, I’m Claire, the director of the group.”

  “My name's Tori.”

  “Well Tori, it’s very nice to meet you. I hope you feel comfortable in our group. I’ll introduce you when we start.”

  Before I can even ask the question I’m terrified to ask she continues, “I don’t want you to feel you have to share tonight. I want you to feel comfortable before you do. It’s important for you to gain some trust first. Does that sound okay to you?”

  Breathing out a sigh of relief, I rush out a little too quickly, “Thank you.”

  “Trust me, we won’t throw you to the wolves. We do want you to feel comfortable to share otherwise this group won’t work. These girls and women pour their hearts out weekly, and they’ve gained the comfort level to do so. You will too, eventually.”

  I look at her dubiously, but she just looks at me kindly and asserts, “You will because talking about it is what you need and this will help you heal.”

  Before I can respond she says, “Come on and I’ll introduce you to some of the girls.”

  I don’t have a choice, so I just follow, as much as I don’t want to. I take stock of my surroundings and see a variety of different faces; young and just a little older than me. She leads me to a girl that’s shorter than I am with an angelic face and looks around my age.

  “Sam, this is Tori. Do you think you could walk her around and introduce to her to the others before group starts?”

  I tentatively smile at her as she asks, “Are you nervous?” She has a small voice that matches her face. She has a sweetness about her that makes my stomach clench knowing what obviously has happened to her and it makes me sad.

  “That would be the understatement of the century.” I say.

  “Maybe it’ll make it a little easier to get to know some of the other survivor’s.”

  I stop her and ask, “Do you look at yourself like that?” Feeling horrible for asking the question I begin to apologize, “I’m sorry…”

  She interrupts me and says, “No, really it’s okay and I’m fine to talk about it. There was a time I couldn’t. I mean I had a hard enough time accepting what happened to me. I felt so alone until my dad convinced to get some help. My dad, had a really hard time with it for a while, but it’s just my dad and me. My mom skipped town when I was young and it’s all I’ve ever known.”

  I feel shocked at her words and her openness with me. Apparently I’m horrible at masking my expression because she says, “This happened to me a while ago and I’ve had time to heal. Trust me, I will never forget it, but it gets easier with time and talking about it helps, believe it or not.”

  I’m awed at her strength. She leads me around introducing me to girls my age, college age and a little younger than me, which breaks my heart in two.

  Before I know it, Claire begins to speak and instructs everyone to take a seat. There are about twenty chairs arranged in a circle. I follow Sam, since she’s the one I’ve spent the most time with, and sit down next to her.

  “We have a new member with us tonight. This is Tori everyone.”

  In unison everyone chimes, “Welcome Tori.”

  I throw a small wave and give a hello back.

  “Would anyone like to begin?” Claire asks.

  I look around and see several hands shoot up, completely surprising me. I honestly thought we’d sit here for a while, waiting for people to volunteer. Or Claire would call on someone to start the conversation. At least six girls have their hands raised.

  Claire calls on a girl named Payton. She’s a pretty blonde and looks to be slightly older than I am.

  Peyton begins her story. I sit and absorb every word, and every story each girl has to tell. There are several girls with situations very similar to mine, not to mention the guilt some felt and were able to get over. There are also girls still dealing with the guilt like me, but are willing to discuss it openly. I can see why the sign on the door says survivors because that’s what they are. They are definitely not victims.

  As I sit here and contemplate everything I’ve heard so far, I hear another girl, named Tiffiney that I briefly met, begin to speak.

  “Lucas, my boyfriend has been really great. He’s finally consented to come to some counseling sessions with me.”

  As she continues to speak I’m flabbergasted. This girl has a boyfriend and he knows about it? And he’s still with her? He didn’t run?

  Without thinking before I do it, I ask, “So, Tiffiney, your boyfriend knows about everything and he gets it?”

  “Well, don’t get me wrong, he had a very hard time with it; still does sometimes. He hates what was done to me, but he knows it wasn’t my fault. He’s been with me since the beginning. He gets angry, not with me, but he’s really supportive.”

  I let this information sink in when she asks me a question I didn’t see coming. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

  I’m mad at myself for opening my mouth, but I need to respond since I’m the dumbass that spoke out in the first place. “Me?” I ask. “No, but there was someone.” I stutter a little before continuing, suddenly put on the spot, but willing myself to continue. “We were on our first date.” I look down at my hands searching for the strength I need. “We liked each other for a while and he finally asked me out. There aren’t enough words to express how excited I was.” I don’t go into detail because I’m not ready to, yet. “He still wants to be with me, but he doesn’t know what happened. I never told him. And I kinda freaked out on him, and slapped him. It all just came crashing back. Can you believe, after all that, he still wants to date me?”

  I hear a couple of sighs and look up. Several of the girls exchange looks, and one pipes up and says, “Then he’s a keeper. If, after all that, he still likes you, why not take the chance?”

  Sighing I say, “Because I’m scared of what he’ll think of me.” There I said it out loud, and now it’s out in the open.

  Claire begins to speak, “Don’t you think you should give him the chance to make that choice? Telling him your deepest, darkest secret is hard, maybe even the hardest thing you’ll do. But sometimes, sometimes they surprise you and end up being the one person you needed all along.”

  I think about her words throughout the rest of group, say my goodbyes and head out to the parking lot. I'm proud of myself, not only for walking in, but for actually participating.

  I walk along and spot Charlie sitting in the Jeep, listening to her iPod--shocker there, and open the door to climb in.

  “You doing okay?” She asks.

  “Strangely enough, yeah, I think I am.”

  She smiles, sensing a slight change in me, and says, “Good, let’s go home.”

  Chapter 18

  When Charlie and I get home mom has dinner ready. Sitting down at the table my mom looks at me and asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I look at her thoughtfully, “It was such an eye opener. I mean, I was scared to even walk in the door, and afraid of repeating my performance when I saw Dr. Heart for the first time. I just knew I would make a fool out of myself. But I didn’t. I opened the door and walked in. I’m not sure how to describe it; they were so open about their experiences. I hope I’ll be able to get there and be as open as they were.”

  They take everything in and I see this look of pride cross my mom’s face prompting me to say, “Mom, I haven’t done anything yet. I don’t know why you have this look that says I’ve done something so huge, when I haven’t.”

  My mom sits up straighter and says in a stern, yet loving voice, “Now see, this is where you’re wrong, so very wrong. You not only went to see Dr. Heart, as hard as that was. But you persevered and kept going. You had a good attitude and went to the group, and you took it in and opened yourself up to the experience and gave it a shot and that makes you one hell of a young woman. You could have very easily chosen to wallow and not do a thing about it, but that’s not the case. Tori, you are so strong, and doing everythi
ng possible to get better. I believe you will get there; I know you will!”

  Seeing the faith she has for me, I glance over to Charlie and see the same look reflected in her face. Charlie nods her head in agreement and says, “She’s right, you are so strong!” She looks down at the table and then back up to me, “I honestly don’t know if I could be as strong as you.”

  “Are you crazy?” I say. “Look at all you’ve been through and accomplished. Look how you are today!”

  Charlie looks at me, “This is different though T.”

  I begin, “No, it’s not.” My tone gets forceful because I know what she went through all too well, and I don’t want her to cheapen her experiences. “They may be two different situations, but what you went through isn’t any less, different, but not less. Don’t make it that way. Don’t lessen what your mom and dad did to you. How they treated you was deplorable and they are terrible excuses for human beings.” I take a deep breath; rant over.

  My mom turns to Charlie, “She’s right honey. The circumstances aren't the same, but you’ve endured a lot. You are so strong and better for coming out of this the way you have.”

  Charlie takes her turn looking up at both of us, her eyes misty. “Thank you.”

  “Aw, we love you Char,” I say this with her sing-song voice she so likes to use on me.

  I continue to share with them about the group meeting, bringing up Tiffiney and Sam. They sit there quietly listening when I say, “This brings me to something else; I’m thinking about the idea of telling Will. I mean I’m not sure I’m quite ready but…” I trail off.

  I wait for reactions and, surprisingly, I don’t receive any. So taking a deep breath, I press forward, “I like him a lot, and I want a relationship with him, eventually. I know he wants one with me, too. He doesn’t make me feel like he would look at me differently; at least I hope not. I hope my instincts are right.”

  “Well,” my mom says, “You know I will support you in any way I can. After having the chat with him that day he stopped by I think you’ve got yourself a good guy. I am a little skeptical just because I’m your mom, and I don’t want to see you get hurt. But I do believe his feelings are genuine.”

  “Okay, I think I’ll ponder on it a while, and maybe discuss it with Dr. Heart.”

  My mom looks at me thoughtfully, and I see her wheels turning, from the look on her face. “I honestly think that’s one of the healthiest things you can do. I think you need to discuss it in depth with her first. Make sure that it is something you’re ready to do.”

  I turn to Charlie because I value her opinion and I know how close she and Will became when Maverick was being a dip shit. “What do you think? Do you think my instincts are wrong?”

  “Honestly T, I think Will would be pretty supportive, and I know how much he cares about you. I agree speaking to your therapist is a really good idea, and any guidance sure as heck wouldn’t hurt.”

  That night I lay in bed thinking about everything that had been discussed today, from the group session to my realization that I want to tell Will. This isn’t a small thing; this is huge. I would be telling my deepest and darkest secret to the one guy I truly care about. It could go both ways. He could either run for the hills, or he could choose to stay and stand by me through all the weird issues I have, and will probably take a long time to get over. The more I think about everything, the more anxious I become, and questions begin to swirl around in my head until I finally drift off to sleep.

  Bile rears its ugly head and attempts to push itself out of my mouth but I swallow it back down. Evil, hateful laughter begins to ring in my ears, a sound I will never forget. My hands are being held above my head and they hurt; they hurt so badly. My eyes are screwed shut. I don’t dare open them to see the face of my tormentor. “Don’t you dare open them,” I say to myself. I’m crying and begging to be let go when I hear a voice. A voice so familiar it brings a yearning to my soul and makes me beg to be let go and makes me fight harder when I feel a slap so hard my head is thrown to the side and something begins to trickle down my cheek. “Please wake up, please wake up,” I say like a mantra. I can taste the blood in my mouth. The voice appears to be moving further away, and I cry harder. I feel my skirt being yanked up around my waist. I’ve lost, I’ve lost this fight, so I let go.

  I wake with a start, sitting up quickly, then jump out of bed. I run to the bathroom and look in the mirror prior to splashing cold water on my face. There are tears streaking down my cheeks and I have blood shot eyes. “I’m safe,” I proclaim to myself. The dreams have to start getting easier, right? My heart continues to beat a million miles a minute, and I feel my body shaking.

  Standing in front of the mirror, I glance down at my hands. My hands that will never be the same. The same hands that were held down and slammed against the truck door. They tingle and itch; I can’t explain it. I begin to have doubts about telling Will. Who would want this? This being the whole ‘package’ that is me. I’m seeking help the way I’m supposed to, but I’m still damaged and slightly numb. I can, at least, admit the fact that I couldn’t have stopped it, but is this something he can handle? Taking one last look at myself I walk back to my room and see Charlie standing in her doorway.

  She looks concerned, “Are you okay? Did you have a bad dream?”

  I sigh, “No, more like a nightmare.”

  She gives me a look, “That’s what I meant smartass. Do you want some company?”

  I feel a sense of relief at not having to go back to bed by myself. Having Charlie in my room with me might help keep the nightmares at bay. “If you don’t mind, I would really like that.”

  She smiles and follows me to my room.

  As we climb in I begin to feel a little bit safer, as if ‘he’ can’t get me here, not with Charlie in my room.

  Chapter 19

  No more dreams for the rest of the night, thankfully and the day passes rather quickly, I notice. I’ve become more of a people watcher since I’ve come to grips with what happened to me. I see people going about their business laughing and smiling. I see so many different groups of people hanging out, and not seeing anything bad in the world. Most of them will never see or experience the bad, and I hope they never have to. I like to think I will eventually forget some of the “bad” and move on to be at least a fraction of who I once was.

  I sense a presence, and quickly look up to see Will across the hall gazing at me intently. The moment our eyes meet, he smiles and walks over. Returning his smile, I feel my heart speed up at the thought of just standing next to him.

  “OMG! Get a grip. He’s just a guy!”

  But he's not just a guy; Will is one of the good ones, and I berate myself for forgetting.

  “Hey Tori, I haven’t really seen you today. You’re not hiding from me, are you?”

  I can’t really answer his question honestly. I have been, kind of. The truth is he clouds my judgment, and I lose all form of rational thought. I have my session this afternoon and I want to go in with a clear head.

  “No Will, I’m sorry, I’ve just been really busy.” I look away so he won’t see the lie I'm spewing.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. I glance at him, his brow wrinkled in deep concentration because this is the kind of guy he is. “Anything I can do to help?”

  Feeling like shit I say, “No, but thank you. I appreciate it. I’m sorry to be in a hurry but I’ve got somewhere I’ve got to be, and I don’t want to be late.”

  I turn to leave when I hear, “I’ve missed you today.”

  I turn back around, look him in the eye and tell him with every ounce of feeling I possess, “I missed you too.” I turn quickly and hurry to my car to make my appointment with Dr. Heart. The appointment I am driving myself to. I don’t want to take anymore of Charlie’s time, not to mention it’s something that I need to do myself.

  I know I can’t continue with this silence, and I know Will needs to be told. In this moment, every fiber in my body is screaming at me that this
is worth doing. That he is worthy of my secrets.

  I head to Dr. Heart’s office, park, and head up to open the door. I don’t feel the same way I arrived and have a sense of accomplishment. So much so, I pump my arm in the air like an idiot. But I don’t care it feels so huge to me!

  I walk up to the receptionist and give her my name as she smiles kindly and informs me it will be a few minutes. Sitting down and grabbing my Kindle out of my bag, I turn it on and begin reading. Not something I get to do often, but it’s an escape for me. However, it isn’t long before I’m called and Dr. Heart opens her door prompting me to walk in.

  “Have a seat Tori.”

  I sit down on her couch feeling a lot more comfortable than the last time I was here. That was a catastrophe and a half.

  “How have you been since your last visit?”

  “I’m still having nightmares.” I say.

  “I’m afraid you’ll continue to have them for a while. Everyone’s different, but you may have them occasionally over the years until you can push it back. How about your group session? What did you think?”

  “Oddly enough it wasn’t bad. I was surprised by how outgoing they were with their experiences. I didn’t expect it. One of them even has a boyfriend.”

  “Does it surprise you that she has a boyfriend?”

  “Well yeah.”

  “Why do you think that is?” Dr. Heart asks.

  “Truthfully? I can’t imagine any guy getting over something so horrible, let alone the guy I really like, at least, not without seeing me differently.” I look down at my damaged hands, sigh, and begin to tell her about Will. “I was with Will the night it happened. I liked him for so long and it was our very first date.”

  “The special ‘guy’ you talked about at your last session?”