Christmas Cowboy

by Claire Adams

  “It’s okay,” Brian said quietly. “It’s not your fault.”

  “Oh, I know that,” I said, rolling my eyes dramatically. I’d been told that more times than I could count, and I was tired of hearing the mantra only because I didn’t fully believe it. I still felt like I was responsible for so much of the twisted activities that Dominic had dragged me into, mostly because I hadn’t had the strength to say no.

  “I’m serious, Ava,” Brian repeated. “It’s not your fault.”

  “Just stop, okay?” I pleaded. He nodded and squeezed my hand. “It took a couple of months, but I can see now how he was grooming me by breaking me down. He’d get angry about some small infraction of the ‘rules’ that only he knew existed, and then he’d punish me. At first it was just silence, but after the Chem exam incident, he began regularly beating me for all kinds of things. He was so good at it…”

  Brian didn’t move a muscle as I told the story.

  “He knew just how to slap me hard enough to hurt, but not so hard that it left a mark,” I said, shaking my head. “Or he would leave marks where no one could see them. And as our sex life got more adventurous, he’d often extend the boundaries into non-sexual aspects and make them part of some twisted game. He’d frequently ask to tie me up and practice with his cane. It got so confusing, you know? The boundaries got blurred in a way that I didn’t know what I had actually consented to, and that cane…”

  “The cane?” Brian asked confused.

  “He had a long, thin cane, about the length of a pool cue,” I said, wincing as I recalled the whistle it would make as it sliced through the air just before slamming into my flesh. “He’d always say that I had the best ass to practice on because it was fleshy enough to take the blows. And he always made me thank him for it as he cleaned my wounds after he was done. He’d dab alcohol on my raw skin, and I’d cry until he finished and then he’d pull me close and stroke my hair. Sometimes he’d tell me how wonderful I was for allowing him to practice something he enjoyed so much, and other times he’d tell me how if I’d just behave the way he wanted me to, he’d never have to use the cane on me again. I was always trying to figure out what was going on, but the rules were always changing, and I never knew what they would be from one day to the next.”

  Brian nodded as he listened. There was something about the look in his eyes that told me he understood what I was talking about. He didn’t seem to be judging me, and that made it easier to open up and tell him more.

  “He was always plotting revenge on someone,” I said. “He had a list of grudges a mile long, and he told me that these people deserved what they got because they’d broken some rule of his. He was absolutely obsessed with rules and following them, but the weird thing was that he never felt like the rules applied to him. When I’d ask him to tell me what rules he lived by, he’d punish me for being sassy. So I stopped asking and just learned to watch closely so I could figure out what he might want on any given day. But he was never predictable. One day he’d want me to be sweet and innocent and dress in pretty flowered dresses and accompany him to the zoo or a museum, and the next day he’d be yelling at me about dressing like an immature child when he wanted to be with a woman. It was beyond confusing. I had so many different wardrobes and he was constantly changing his mind about how he wanted me to dress and behave.”

  I looked away as I recounted the day that I decided not to get up and get dressed until Dominic told me what he wanted me to be. I’d stayed in bed, waiting for him to get out of the shower, and when he entered the room he flew into a rage because I wasn’t up and ready to go. He’d yanked me out of bed and screamed in my face about how lazy I was and demanding that I get up and get dressed. When I asked him where we were going, he’d told me I was being rude and disrespectful and told me I’d need to learn how to follow directions. I was so completely confused, but I’d gotten out of bed and headed to the shower. On the way, I made the mistake of asking where we were going so that I could figure out how I was supposed to dress, and he flew into a rage and beat me until I lay on the floor sobbing as the blood ran from my nose and mouth.

  “When he was done, he looked at me and said ‘Go wash your face’ and walked out of the room,” I said as tears slid down my cheeks. Wisely, Brian didn’t move a muscle. He watched and waited until I continued. “I didn’t leave the apartment for two weeks—I couldn’t, not with the black eye and swollen lip. He wouldn’t even look at me. He’d come home and treat me as if I were a piece of furniture. I felt like nothing, like I didn’t exist. It wasn’t until I’d healed that he began talking to me again, and then he was loving and kind. He brought me flowers and chocolates every day. He’d take me out to incredible restaurants or book us a flight to some exotic locale for the weekend, and he’d treat me like a queen while we were there. He’d make love to me in a way that made me feel like he really did love me more than anyone else, and I’d be seduced into thinking that he’d changed. That this time it could be different; that he really loved me and that everything that had happened before had been in my imagination.”

  Brian squeezed my hand tightly.

  “Until the next time I’d break one of his rules,” I whispered. “And then he’d punish me in ways that…” I shook my head as I tried to clear the memories. I just couldn’t go back down that horrible hole of pain and self-loathing.

  “He’d punish you to try and rid himself of his own pain,” Brian said quietly. “You were his canvas.”

  I looked up, surprised that he had been able to voice my thoughts so clearly, and shocked that he wasn’t condemning me. I nodded slightly.

  “I don’t understand it,” I said. “I don’t understand how he could use me the way he did, and I don’t understand how I allowed myself to be used! I actually felt sorry for him more often than I felt sorry for myself!”

  “It’s classic Stockholm Syndrome,” Brian explained. “The abuser psychologically manipulates the victim to the point that the victim feels sympathy for him.”

  “I know,” I said as I rolled my eyes. “We’re studying this in Psych class, remember?”

  “I do remember,” he said. “But I don’t think you understand how it works. I think you’re being incredibly hard on yourself because you don’t believe that it actually exists and that you are a victim.”

  “No, I get it. I get it,” I said. “I was abused, I developed Stockholm Syndrome, I was rescued, I’m fine.”

  “Ava,” Brian squeezed my hand again. “It’s not that simple. You can’t just intellectualize abuse and expect that the experience will disappear. Dominic did a number on you and you’re still trying to recover from it. Granted, you’re doing a damn sight better than most people, but you’re still suffering.”

  “I’m not suffering!” I shouted. “It was my stupid fault that I got into the situation in the first place!”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” he demanded.

  “I mean, I started dating Dominic to get back at my parents, so it’s my fault that I ended up with a psychopathic lunatic!”

  “You can’t actually believe that,” he said solemnly.

  “What other explanation is there for it?” I asked. I was pissed at him for lecturing me and for trying to upend my own logical explanation for what had happened and how it had happened.

  “Ava, you didn’t invite a psychopathic lunatic into your life,” he said calmly. “You fell for a guy who manipulated your feelings and abused your body until you didn’t know which end was up. That wasn’t your fault. Psychopaths don’t have a conscience like normal people, so they don’t operate within the same rules as people with a conscience. That’s not your fault.”

  “But if I hadn’t been so stubborn and tried to rebel against my parents…” I trailed off.

  “That has nothing to do with it either,” he said. “Millions of kids rebel against their parents every day, but that doesn’t mean that they are responsible for the behavior of people like Dominic or that they deserve to be abu
sed because they rebelled.”

  “But I made the choice!” I yelled.

  “Yes, but you made the choice based on the faulty information fed to you by a person who was looking to manipulate and abuse you,” he said quietly. “You’re not responsible for his reprehensible behavior.”

  I angrily pulled away from him and buried my face in my hands as I began to sob quietly. When he reached up to touch my shoulder, I shrunk back, and he withdrew his hand.

  “It’s okay, Ava,” he whispered. “You’re safe now. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

  “I’m never going to feel normal again!” I sobbed.

  “No, you probably won’t,” he agreed. “But you’re strong and you have a bright spirit that can withstand just about anything, so you’re going to be okay. I promise. It’s just going to take time.”

  “How do you know?” I wept.

  “I just do,” he replied as he looked out the window. Then he turned back and asked, “What did your parents think of him?”

  “I told you, they never met him,” I said.

  “Oh, that’s right. You did tell me that, but why didn’t they meet him?”

  “They’re always too busy to be bothered,” I replied. “They drop me off places and then they jet off to whatever meeting or vacation they have planned and forget that I exist until they need me for some publicity campaign or someone makes them feel guilty about ignoring their only child. It’s pretty predictable, really.”

  “You’re not serious,” he said.

  “Dead serious. They just don’t care about what I do until it affects them,” I said. “The only reason that my father hired you is because he’s testing the waters to see if he should run for Congress and he didn’t want the psycho ex-boyfriend of his only daughter to mess up his polling numbers. If he decides not to run, I’m sure he’ll fire you quicker than you can say boo.”

  “C’mon, your dad can’t be that bad,” he said.

  “Oh, he’s worse,” I replied. “He doesn’t do anything for anyone unless he can see how it benefits him.”

  “Well, as long as I’m on the payroll, I’ll do everything I can to ensure you’re safe,” he said.

  “And when you’re not on it anymore?” I asked.

  “I’ll stick around and make sure you are safe,” he replied as he put his arm around me.

  I nodded and then looked away.

  *****

  We sat silent for a long time, and I could tell that my revelation about my family didn’t sit well with Brian, but I didn’t know how to make it seem better than it was. Part of me didn’t want to make it seem better because that was my problem to begin with, everything was always painted as a pretty picture rather than looking at the ugly reality.

  “I’m doing a lot better than I was,” I said quietly.

  “Oh? How so?” he asked.

  “I see a therapist and I’ve been able to work towards asserting myself rather than just taking whatever is offered,” I said.

  “That explains it,” Brian said with a small grin.

  “Explains what?”

  “Your stubbornness,” he grinned.

  “I am not stubborn!” I shouted, and then burst into laughter as I heard myself. Brian’s laughter mingled with mine, and together we filled the air with the melody of happier sounds.

  “What else have you learned?” he asked once we’d wiped our eyes and quieted down.

  “I’ve stopped trying to please everyone else,” I said. “Instead, I’m working on doing the things that make me happy. I think that’s the biggest one, really.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that my entire life has been centered on doing whatever it takes to get my parents to love me and pay attention to me,” I said honestly. “I’ve always tried to be the good girl; the good student, the good citizen, the good daughter. I didn’t want to inconvenience anyone or upset the balance. I’ve tried to be invisible while also trying to get someone to notice that I exist. I was a people pleaser to the extreme, and it was exhausting. I can see how I was the perfect target for Dominic; the ultimate pet who was constantly seeking his approval.” I cringed as I recalled the ways in which I would grovel in order to get his approval. I wasn’t ready to share that part of things with Brian; he’d never look at me the same again once he knew. Plus, I didn’t want him telling my parents how dark my life had become and how humiliated I’d been.

  “How’s that working for you?” he asked.

  “It’s a work in progress, but it’s much better than it used to be,” I said. “Now, I figure out what I need first, and then think about what other people need. No more putting everyone else’s needs before my own, and no more denying who I am in order to make someone else feel comfortable.”

  “That is probably the healthiest way to live one’s life,” he smiled. “But it’s not always easy to do, is it?”

  “It’s really not easy at all,” I said. “I find myself constantly pulled back into the bad habits I’ve spent a lifetime developing, and then I get depressed because it feels like I’ll never change. I lose hope and, well, you see what happens.” I shrugged as I tipped my head and grimaced, recalling the previous night.

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Brian offered. “Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

  “God, I hate that phrase,” I muttered. “Why does everyone think that’s at all helpful?”

  “I’m sorry,” he chuckled. “You’re right, it’s kind of stupid to say that to someone who is in the middle of something really stressful and trying to change the situation.”

  “It really is,” I said earnestly.

  Brian leaned back on the couch and pulled me toward him. I resisted for a moment, and then let myself be pulled into his embrace. It felt good to have his strong arms wrapped around me and feel his chin resting on the top of my head. I pressed my cheek against his chest and listened to him breathing as I closed my eyes and willed myself to relax.

  “That’s it,” he whispered into my hair as he gently stroked my back. “Just relax. You’re safe with me, Ava. I promise. I won’t let anything bad happen to you while you’re with me.”

  I nodded slowly and tried to believe that what he was promising was true, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to let go and trust him. I wanted to, but I also knew that people often made promises that they couldn’t keep—even when they wanted to.

  Maybe he’ll be different.

  *****

  “What was it like growing up so rich?” Brian asked as he continued to run his hands up and down my back.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “I mean, I grew up in a family that lived paycheck to paycheck, so I can’t imagine what it would be like to have all that money,” he admitted. “I’m just curious what it was like.”

  “Well, it’s not as great as you’d think,” I said. “I mean, it’s great in the sense that you don’t have to worry about anything. You always have everything you need and often times even more than you need. I always had new clothes and the best books and games, but then, so did most of my friends, so it was like that was the normal way things were.” I sat and thought about it for a while, and then I tried to explain. “Until I came to college, I really didn’t know anyone who didn’t live like my family lived. It wasn’t that I was totally unaware that other people lived differently than we did, it just wasn’t my reality.”

  “That makes sense,” he acknowledged. “I didn’t know what it was like not to live like we lived.”

  “I don’t want to compare our lives,” I said. “But being wealthy has it’s own set of challenges that, in many ways, make things less stable. There are rules and ways of behaving that don’t make sense in any other environment, and I always felt like I was being watched. However, I also always felt like I was absolutely alone. Like there was no one there to take care of me because they wanted to, everyone was only part of my life because my father paid them.” I stopped and looked up at him.

 
; “It’s true,” he said. “I’m here because you father hired me, but I’m staying because I care about you, Ava.”

  “That’s what they always say,” I lamented. “Until the money stops flowing and they go away. I don’t feel like anyone in my life is permanent because I know that money determines their loyalty.”

  “Even your friends?” he asked.

  “Lara and Jessie are my friends until they decide that they need someone more powerful or richer to lead the group,” I said.

  “Wow, that’s kind of sad.”

  “Is it?” I asked. “Or is it simply pragmatic? If I know that most people are going to abandon ship when the money runs out, why would I spend time expecting them to stay?”

  Brian considered this for a moment and then nodded in understanding.

  “I think that’s why I was so drawn to Dominic,” I said. “He didn’t need me for the money. His family is 10 times wealthier than mine, and so if my money ran out it really didn’t matter. I wanted to believe that he loved me just for me and not for what I could do for him or what I could give him.”

  “That makes sense,” Brian agreed.

  “The problem was that he also knew that I was the poor little rich girl whose parents really didn’t have a whole lot to do with her, so he knew he could exploit me, but that’s getting away from what you asked,” I reminded him.

  He nodded and then said, “Back to what it was like growing up.”

  “I was lonely,” I said. “It’s hard to be an only child of really rich parents. They filled my days with all kinds of activities and lessons, and while I’m not complaining about all of the advantages I have because of those things, I always felt so isolated. Alone.”

  “Didn’t you have any friends?” he asked. “Kids you could play with and talk to?”

  “You don’t understand,” I explained. “In my world, kids playing together was akin to corporate executives getting together for a round of golf. You could be friendly, but you never revealed the secrets behind the mask. I knew better than to talk about my parents or explain how I felt to any of the kids I played with because they might have told their parents, and then the balance of power would have shifted and it could have cost my father money. It’s always about the money.”