by Cecy Robson
“Hello?”
“Where the hell are you? You said you’d be back after the game.”
Mateo covered us with the blanket. “Sorry, Lourdes. I decided to stay with Mateo tonight.”
Her brief bout of silence was followed by “Holy shitballs. You finally had sex!”
I cupped the base of my phone when Mateo busted out laughing, then removed my hand just to yell at her. “Lourdes!”
“Was he good?”
Mateo smirked, waiting for me to answer. “Well?” he asked.
“Aren’t you going to tell me?” she demanded.
I glanced back at Mateo. “Jesus, Lourdes!”
“I bet he was all rough and shit. He looks like the rough-and-shit type.”
I tried to escape into the other room. Mateo hauled me back, still laughing, and pulled me back into bed. “Lourdes, he can hear you!”
She paused, then got mad. “Evelyn, do you have me on speaker?”
“No!”
“You know I hate being on speaker, Evelyn!”
How the hell did I become the bad guy? “Lourdes, I don’t have you on speaker.”
“Then how did he hear me, Evelyn?”
“Because you’re too damn loud!”
Another pause. “I wasn’t that loud,” she said defensively.
I smacked my hand over my eyes, joining Mateo in his laughter. “Yeah. You were. Look, I’ll see you at home after class tomorrow.”
“Fine. But send me a text if you decide to have sex again. That way I know you’re okay.”
I covered my quickly reddening face with the sheets. “Fine, Lourdes.”
Mateo clasped me by the ankles and yanked me to the end of the bed. “Come on. Let’s give you more to tell Lourdes tomorrow.”
Chapter Fifteen
My psych instructor, Dr. Harte, paced the front of the classroom, her face solemn as she continued her lecture. “I know this may come as a shock, but every two minutes, someone in the U.S. is sexually assaulted,” she said. “According to RAINN―the Rape, Abuse, and Incest National Network—forty-four percent of victims are under eighteen and eighty percent are under the age of thirty.”
Okay, so not the topic I wanted to discuss, especially after sharing several wonderful weeks with Mateo.
The older student next to me raised her hand. “How many victims know their attackers?” she asked.
My instructor skimmed RAINN’s fact sheet before answering. “Two out of three.”
The room collectively shuddered. I squirmed uncomfortably and glanced at the wall clock. Jesus, when was this class going to end? Lourdes had enjoyed her psych rotation. Me? I couldn’t wait for the term to finish. Some things in life were dark. Too dark. I needed light, not more scary stuff to keep me awake and afraid at night.
The last six weeks had left me battered. Between working at the club, keeping up on schoolwork, and making time to be with Mateo, what I most needed was to sleep. I leaned my head against my hand and closed my eyes, wishing all my stress would just end.
Don’t be afraid, a garbled voice whispered. I jerked up just in time to see the nursing student who sat behind me fleeing the room with her books clutched protectively against her.
Dr. Harte watched her leave, her voice heavy with sadness. “This isn’t an easy subject. If anyone needs to take a break, they can leave without repercussions.”
“Can we switch subjects?” someone in front asked. She turned around to scan the rows of desks behind her, her expression distraught. “I mean, it might help. This is some disturbing shit.”
“We could,” the professor said, ignoring her choice of words. “But it doesn’t change what’s happening. As women, we’re vulnerable. But children and men aren’t immune. RAINN’s findings are that one in six men will be sexually assaulted and that one in ten children will be sexually abused before their eighteenth birthday.” She walked behind her desk. “This isn’t a discussion most welcome. But it is our reality and one we can’t shrink away from. Knowledge and awareness is the best way to protect ourselves and our children.”
“Sometimes you can’t,” the same person in the front muttered.
“No. Sometimes you can’t.” She offered the class a sympathetic smile. “But one thing to remember is no matter what, the only one at fault is the perpetrator….”
Don’t scream. My eyes widened. I knew the voice was in my head―in my memories. But I didn’t know why.
Don’t scream, he insisted more harshly.
I closed my lids tight, my breathing pained, my skin horribly cold. The voice poked and prodded, demanding that I listen. I didn’t want to. So I opened my eyes and tried to focus.
Dr. Harte handed out copies of the RAINN fact sheet. I glanced at the brochure as she read the warnings aloud. Although I didn’t want to hear her either, I did try. Her voice was better than the ghostly one lingering in my head.
“Always be aware of your surroundings and who is near you. Knowing where you are and who is close can help you get out of a dangerous situation. Avoid isolated areas, ladies. No one can help you if you’re alone.”
She looked up from the sheet, careful to not let her attention stay with any one person for too long. “Walk with attitude. You’re from the Philly area. I know you all have it in you.” Her smile faded although some students chuckled. “Even if you don’t know where you’re going, act like you do. Perpetrators target those they consider easy prey, and have easy access to. Do whatever it takes to stay safe.”
She crossed between the rows of seats, continuing to read. “Always trust your instincts. If something doesn’t feel right or safe, it probably isn’t. Also, don’t load yourself with packages. You want your hands free in case you need to act….”
Don’t fight me. My body shuddered and my eyes burned. Shit. Why was this happening?
Dr. Harte’s attention swept over the class, pausing on me when I blew out another heavy breath. I lowered my gaze, my actions begging her to walk away.
Thankfully, she did. But even when I heard her steps return to the front of the class, I kept my head down.
“I know you all have cellphones,” Dr. Harte continued. “Keep them with you and keep them charged. I also recognize you’re all poor, starving college students and sometimes beer money or a pretty lipstick is where you think your cash should go. Fine. But stow at least twenty dollars somewhere in your purse, your pocket, anytime you’re out. You can use it for cab money if you need a safe ride home.”
She said something else about using only one earbud when you’re walking―so you’re more alert to your surroundings, but her voice faded in and out. I pinched myself, trying to snap out of my mounting fear when Dr. Harte put her RAINN fact sheet down.
“Never be alone with someone you don’t trust or don’t know. I can’t emphasize this enough. And if you’re afraid, there’s probably a reason for it.”
She glanced at the clock. I could have cried. There were still twenty minutes left in the damn lecture. Dr. Harte gathered her things. “Let’s end for the day. I’ll see you all at Thursday’s clinical.”
Everyone piled out. I loaded my backpack beneath my desk, where no one could see my shaking hands. When I finally stood, everyone had left but Dr. Harte. She smiled kindly. “Are you okay, Evelyn?”
I tried to shrug it off. “Just freaked out about the topic. It’s a scary world, you know?”
“I know.”
I adjusted the backpack on my left shoulder. She continued to wait in front of me. “Are we going to cover schizophrenia soon?” I asked. “I have a few questions about it.” I didn’t really. But I suppose she realized as much.
“We’ll cover mental disorders in another week.” She handed me a business card. “I have a private practice and offer help to my students on a pro bono basis. If you ever need to talk, give me a call.”
I stared at the card but didn’t take it. Taking it was like admitting something was wrong. And something couldn’t be wrong now. I had too much to do. B
esides, if I could handle finding my dead father, I could handle anything.
Or so I told myself.
I backed away from her and tried to smile. “I don’t need to talk. But thank you.”
I left without another word. Dr. Harte didn’t try to stop me.
My eyes darted in all directions on the way out. I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was lurking, waiting to harm me. I hurried to my borrowed car and quickly locked the doors and started the engine, anxious to leave the campus far behind me.
The voice, the one oddly familiar, left me as quickly as it came. Dr. Harte’s words and her lecture were a different story. They haunted me all the way to Mateo’s place.
I couldn’t stop my trembling and blamed it on the cold November day. My fingers cranked up the heat in Mateo’s Explorer. Summer had stretched into October. But now it was long gone. What remained of the falling leaves danced in front of me as I pulled into Elaine’s driveway.
I waved as I passed her. She smiled and nodded back, her hands full of groceries. I thought to stop and warn her against keeping her hands full in case she needed them to fight off a potential attacker, to…I shuddered, trying to shake off my paranoia and the remains of the lecture. She was home and Mateo and I were close if she needed us. Good God, I hoped nothing would ever happen to her…or to any of us.
I slowed to a quiet stop in front of the three-bay garage. My eyes shot open when I saw my engine lying in pieces along the garage floor. Mateo had been working on my car in spurts, fixing things I couldn’t remember the names of and replacing things I could barely pronounce.
Footsteps to my right had me turning around. That grin that I loved so much greeted me before strong arms wrapped around me. I hugged him tight, welcoming him with my lips when he kissed me. “Hi, baby,” he said. “Clean any nasty wounds today?”
I laughed. “No, Teo. That’s clinical. Besides, now I have psych.”
“Hmm. What are you doing there?”
“Studying disorders.” I motioned to my motor, trying to distract him. “Is it dead?”
“No. Just needs a gasket.”
“I thought so.”
He laughed, knowing I was lying. “Come on, I need to work out.”
I followed him into the garage and into the area where he kept his gym. He tossed his sweatshirt and positioned himself to lift. I sat on an old patio lounge chair he had set up for me and hit the timer on my cellphone. “Okay, go.”
Mateo began his reps, his motions quick, his muscles straining with each movement. I paused just to watch him before reaching for my workbook and study material. When he was done with lifts, he moved on to squats, then crunches. I could handle the squats, usually. But the friggin’ crunches stopped me every time. He’d incline all the way back on an angle, then pull up, jabbing side to side. Left hook, upper cut, thrust, each motion tensing the bulges to his arms and tightening those already rigid abs.
He slowed when he caught me swooning. “Ev, don’t look at me that way.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said innocently, although my teasing smile spoke otherwise.
He slid off his bench, laughing. “Hold that thought until I’m done, sweet girl.”
I forced myself to flip through my psych book when he went to work on the heavy bag. I’m surprised the bag was still usable. Mateo practically demolished it on a regular basis. Duct tape held most of the larger rips together, but those sections had begun to fall apart again.
Mateo kicked, high and low, intermixing punches that were so powerful I could feel the vibrations through the floor and loud enough that I had to cover my ears. Although his opponent wasn’t punching back, it was the only part of the workout that was hard for me to watch.
As gentle as he was with me, Mateo had a lot of anger. Most of it he controlled, and he never directed it at me. But since the incident with his little sister, Sofia, and their father, I noticed traces of his inner rage escape. It explained his aggression toward the drunk assholes at Excess and why he was so brutal in the Octagon.
Mateo had spent a lifetime having his father knock the shit out of him. Every time he and his family thought they were rid of him, Carlos would reappear, just as angry and spiteful as the last time they’d seen him. Teo never discussed the details, except now and then he’d let something slip, usually when we were in bed, talking quietly after sex. But I guess we were both vulnerable then.
I read through my psych book and took notes. Thirty minutes later, when he jumped on his treadmill, I was ready to start the practice quiz. The roar of the machine steadily increased until he ran full out. That was endurance I just didn’t have. If he suddenly took an interest in dating a marathon runner, I was in deep shit. Thankfully, he seemed to like petite wannabe nurses just fine.
My studying while he trained was a routine we’d started soon after we took the final step into physical intimacy. It helped us spend time together we normally wouldn’t have. I really liked our time, and I think he did, too. I just wished I had different study material to focus on.
I played with my pen when I finished filling in the answers to my practice test, my eyes idling over the words. Rape. Penetration. Sexual assault. Incest.
My stomach twisted brutally. I shut the book. These damn discussions had done nothing but fuel my nightmares.
Each time I dreamed, the images worsened, becoming more graphic and frequent. I didn’t understand them. They didn’t make sense. Hands. I mostly remember the hands that groped me without permission and led to that wounding pain between my legs. Almost as bad was the mind-numbing fear those touches brought. Sometimes I’d wake up screaming, or trembling so violently it would take Mateo a long time to soothe me. “I’m with you, baby,” he’d tell me. “Don’t be scared. I’ll never let anyone hurt you.”
I startled when Mateo plopped next to me. He tossed his towel aside. “You okay?”
“Sorry, my mind was elsewhere.”
His features were shadowed with concern. “I could tell.”
Whatever he’d caught in my expression worried him. So once again I tried to redirect him. My fingers swept over his temple where perspiration dripped a line down to his jaw. “You really pushed yourself today.” His more serious demeanor warned me something was up. “You have another fight coming up?” He didn’t answer. “Two?”
He rubbed my back, knowing I was upset. “Three. All next week.” He shrugged. “Pot’s high again. I don’t have a choice.”
Damn. I so didn’t like this. “How are you going to do three when you have the club?”
“Ant and Big Chris are covering my days.”
My hand slowly lowered. “Teo, I wish you wouldn’t.”
“I know you don’t want me to fight, Evie. But it’s how I make money for my mother and sister.”
“Do they know what you go through to get them that money?”
He tightened his jaw. “No. They don’t know anything and they’re not going to.”
I covered my face. “God, Teo…”
“I don’t want to fight about this, especially with you. But there’s nothing out there for a guy like me. That year I lost in prison cost me. I’m not that young anymore.”
“Mateo, you’re only twenty-three.”
“That’s too old to start in the real MMA ring―especially at the bottom. Without sponsorship, I’d have to pay for everything myself. And where would that leave my family?”
“I’m not telling you not to help your family. But there has to be a better way. You’re capable of so much more than fighting. I wish you could see that.”
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his legs. “Evie, I’m not you. I’m never going to do college or big business.”
Shit. I’d totally put him down without meaning to. My arms circled his neck. “I don’t care about that. But, Teo, you’re a natural leader. You’re smart, you’re organized, and hell, you’re so strong.” My voice softened. “And when I say strong, I’m not talking about your ability to throw
down.”
Mateo didn’t say anything for a long time. I hoped he gave thought to what I’d said. I couldn’t be sure. His stiff expression was hard to read. But I didn’t want to fight with him and tried to give him space. Something told me he didn’t like his situation either. But for the moment, he could see no other way out.
I placed my chin on his shoulder. “Are you going to see your mother and sister for Thanksgiving?”
We hadn’t discussed the holidays. When I was with Donovan, our families either celebrated together or we switched off. We were expected to spend time together. This was different, though. I wasn’t sure if Mateo expected anything. What I did know was that he hadn’t invited me to join him.
“I don’t know yet. I usually decide at the last minute. My Uncle Lino wants me at his place, but we’ll see.”
“You don’t all celebrate together?”
He stood abruptly and yanked on his sweatshirt, then returned to the gym side to stack his weights. “It’s not as easy as that. Family gatherings tend to be fucked up. Thanksgiving usually sucks. Christmas isn’t much different.”
“Oh.”
Mateo kept his back to me when he was done. For a moment, he just stared at the wall with his hands on his hips. “Carlos showed up at Lety’s school.”
I stood, not caring that my psych notes fell on the garage floor. “Is she okay?”
Mateo didn’t move. “He didn’t touch her. Just showed up wasted and made a lot of noise. A bunch of her friends got involved and called security. Lety was so fucking humiliated it took her a couple days to admit to the dean who he was. He’s not allowed back on campus, but shit like rules never bothered Carlos before.” He swore. “He wasn’t supposed to find out where she was, but like always, my mother caved and told him.”
Oh, God. “Can Lety file for a Protection from Abuse order?”
