by H. M. Ward
Jon smiles back. “I love talking to you. And I know this is hard. It’s difficult for me as well, Cass. I’ve wanted you for so long and now that I can have you, well, I don’t want this to be clinical, but I think it has to be right now.”
I nearly choke on a laugh. “This isn’t how gynecological visits go, Jon. If they did, every doctor in the city would have a line from here to Jersey with eager women waiting for appointments. It’s not clinical,” I assure him, “but it is different. Will you pet me for a moment, and then try?”
He nods thoughtfully, keeping those sapphire eyes locked on mine. As his hand moves against me, I feel the tension fade away. He says sweet things in my ear, his warm breath washing across my face as he runs his gentle touch between my lower lips. My eyelids feel heavy until he slips his finger inside. I stiffen and yelp, my spine going ramrod straight.
He immediately tries to pull back, but I stop him. “It doesn’t hurt. I just…” My heart feels like it’s going to explode. Regret gives way to relief, and I start crying.
Jon pulls his hand away and cradles me in his arms. He’s crooning in my ear, apologizing. “It’ll be all right, baby. I’ve got you. Nothing will hurt you.” He kisses my head and continues saying comforting things as I shiver in his arms.
I don’t understand. My body reacted wrong. My mind was okay with it. The long scar inside me didn’t make me want to puke. Jon's hand felt good. Then with a single touch, everything changed and I’m a shaking blubbering mess.
Jon wipes the tears away and kisses my cheek as he holds me tight. I rest my head against his chest and stare out at the sea.
I don’t know how to fix this. At one time this didn’t happen to me. I thought if I loved Jon things would be okay, that we could work it out. I never thought my mind might rewire itself over the years, but it must have. It’s like my body bypassed my brain. That tender touch shorted me out, and I feel like he did the same thing as Mark.
That’s why the tears fall.
That’s why I can’t stop them.
I know Jon won’t let me try this more than a few times. It hurts him, too. It’s too much to ask anyone, especially since I’m not convinced getting through this is even possible. I always thought that one day, with the right guy, I’d cross the lake of torment and land on the other side. There’s one question burning my tongue, one thought I’m too afraid to ask.
What if there is no other side?
CHAPTER 25
CASSIE
Last night was difficult. This morning I feel like I’ve been dowsed, drowned, and wrung out emotionally. Jon is headed to a rehearsal for the wedding, but he’s nervous about leaving me. After a long night of tears and tenderness, he called that doctor. She said she could see me today, and talk about options. I don’t want to get my hopes up. I’m not sure what choices are even available. I mean, it’s not like we can pretend it never happened. The things Mark did will always be there. The scars won’t vanish, no matter how loudly I command them to go.
I’m sitting on the couch and staring at the little picture of the Seine River. Beth plops down next to me, admiring the new design on her glittery pink cast. “So, Jon hasn’t let me strip since this happened.” She taps on her cast. “Did you know he had contractors in there yesterday?”
“He did?” I blink at her. “Doing what?”
“They measured everything, and pulled out a lot of that old paneling. Some walls are entirely bare now. Other walls are gone, and the stage is getting a facelift—new floors and these soft velvet curtains. I got chased out before I could figure out what they were doing. Want to know the weirdest part?”
“Yeah.”
“No one worked yesterday or the day before, and the Club didn't open last night. It’s closed tomorrow too.”
I glance at her, wondering what Jon’s doing. He’s not said anything about it. “Do you think he’s just updating aesthetics?”
She shakes her head. “No, it seems like he’s changing the place up. It doesn’t look like a strip club anymore. When I went by last night, they were hanging light fixtures and putting in these cool looking leather benches and booths. He added more club chairs and tables along the front of the stage, but you have to see it. Guys sitting there can't reach us anymore to hand us cash. I’m not sure what he’s doing.”
That must be why we went out last night. He didn’t want me to see. I can’t believe he’d close the place after everything I told him about how much these girls need their jobs. There’s been very little fighting, and most of my friends are excited to work since Jon took over.
“He didn’t say anything to me.” I stare at the wall, thinking.
Beth leans in next to me with big eyes and bumps her shoulder to mine. Her fingers are intertwined and clasped tightly, arms straight, and elbows locked. As she sways toward me, her arms go the other way, like a pendulum. “So, what’s new?”
I turn to her. “Nothing. Why?”
Her lips have a strange curve. It’s like she shoved an orange in her mouth and it doesn’t fit. Beth drops her hands and sighs dramatically. “You are such a liar. Come on, spill. I’ve been so good not prying, but the guy is a Ferro, and he’s been sleeping on your floor, and—Cassie what’s wrong?”
My bottom lip juts out. I wish I could just swallow my head. I don't want to talk about it, but there’s no way Beth will leave it alone now. “Nothing.”
“I’m going to kill him. I mean, your dickhead husband is a piece of shit, but if I'd known Jon was—”
I cut her off. “Jon’s not like that! He’s been perfect.”
“Then why the tears?”
I glance over at her through glassy eyes. The world is distorted, blurry, and sad. I have the perfect guy, but I can’t be with him. I figure out how to say it, and tell her what happened. I tell her about Mark and the long periods of time where he used and hurt me, filling in things I’d left out previously. Beth knew Mark was a dick, but had no idea of the extent of his abuse.
I finish by telling her about Jon, and how he's supported me. By the time I’m at the end of the story, tears are rolling down my cheeks, and my voice is flat. I feel dead inside. It’s a story I’d rather not tell, something I don’t want anyone to know. I want to be normal. I want to feel normal. I don’t want this heavy part of my past looming over me forever, but every time I nearly pass it, it comes back stronger.
I swallow hard and clear my throat. “Apparently there’s a doctor that can help me, but I really don’t want to go.”
“I can understand why you wouldn’t. But Cassie, OMG, Jon hasn’t left your side. He loves you!” She presses her palms together, giddy. “The guy said he’d wait for you.”
“I think he’d wait forever. We'll be asexual old people, and he’ll turn into my brother. Then my mom can adopt him and love him more than she loves me.”
I’m not acting rational, and I know it. It feels like I'm caught in a freefall and I'm about to hit the bottom. I have everything I wanted, even snagged the guy, but there’s no future for us. No kids. No pleasure. No passion. Nausea heats in my stomach and washes over me in a wave. I press my hand over my mouth and wish I had a mint.
“Your mom is a piece of work. I won’t say anything about that. Your brother is a dick. And Jon is the guy who got away, right? He’s here now, and he’s not leaving. At first, I was pissed he hung around so long, but with Kam’s guys across the street, a Ferro on the floor seemed like a good move.”
“Plus he bought you glitter tape.”
She beams at her pink cast. “There was that. Can I ask a stupid question?”
“Go ahead.”
“What’s wrong with seeing the doctor and thinking about whatever she tells you? It's not like it can make things worse, right? I mean, you can’t be with him, and you want to, so what do you have to lose?”
As her words sink in, I realize it's not about Jon or sex. It’s about me facing my past, looking directly at it, assessing the damage done, and accepting it. I’ve never accep
ted what Mark did to me. I never told anyone he forced me, I rarely use the word rape. It’s not that I don’t know what it means, it’s that I was stupid enough to let it happen to me. It wasn’t a single occurrence, which makes me partially to blame. When I first met Jon, I thought I was strong. I thought I’d face life head on and shoulder my way past anything that tried to bring me down. I thought I’d fight back or die trying.
I didn’t fight back. That’s what bothers me. I never threw a punch. I never thought about hurting him while he slept. I could have done so many things, left so much sooner than I did—but I stayed. I convinced myself Mark’s behavior was a fluke. I forgave it. I thought I was supposed to, and when I did, he treated me so wonderfully that I thought it was over. Mark gave me so much attention and affection that I felt like he couldn’t live without me.
Then it’d happen again. The cycle would repeat. Anger. Rape. Sweetness. Presents and promises that never came to be. I shrunk back in my mind and cowered. I wouldn’t have left if he hadn't scared me that last time. I didn’t expect to see the sunrise again. He would have killed me, and I let it happen. All of it. I sank into this unending tide of misery, waiting for it to wash out again, but it never left.
My voice is a whisper. “Nothing. I have nothing else to lose, but I’m not sure if I can face it again, Beth.”
She presses her hand over mine and squeezes. “Do you want Jon to go with you?”
I shake my head. “He already offered, but I don’t think I can manage it in front of him. It’s too much, you know?”
She nods. “I get it. Listen, how about this? I’ll go with you. I’ll go where you tell me. If you want me to stay in the waiting room, I will. If you want me to come with you, I can do that too. When stuff is this emotional, it’s hard to think clearly. It might help to have someone there supporting you—even if it's awkward. I’m here for you Cassie. I’ll go with you.”
I nod slowly, trying not to cry. I never expected to find such a good friend, but I have. “I’d like that. Thanks, Beth.”
CHAPTER 26
CASSIE
Beth sits next to me at the doctor’s office, and when they call me back, I nod for her to come with me. We’re in a women’s health medical mall, and I’m well aware it looks like we’re lesbians. Beth grins and puts her arm around my shoulders. “People are so stupid.”
I shake her off. I’m too fried to deal with the weird stares. It’s irrational to think they know what happened, that they’re judging me, but that’s what it feels like. “You can chide humanity on the way out. Not right now, okay?”
“Sorry, I was trying to make you laugh. I’ll stop.”
“Thanks.”
We pass several doors, and a nurse leads me into a pale gray office with silver chairs in front of a glass desk. There’s an empty white executive chair behind it. Bookcases line the walls from floor to ceiling. I pick a seat and sit down, folding my hands in my lap.
I didn’t realize I’d be in an office. I thought she’d insist on an exam. Honestly, I’ve avoided the women’s doctor since getting married. The thought of pap smears and annuals makes me sick if I think about it.
A tall, thin woman walks into the room. She stops, closes the door, and walks over to the desk with a computer tablet in her hand. She places it down and looks up at us. “I’m Doctor Bellamy. Which of you is Cassie Hale?”
I raise my hand like I’m in school. “Me.”
She juts out a palm to shake. I take it and exchange pleasantries, but my mind is elsewhere. As she shakes Beth’s hand, I realize it sounds like we’re underwater. Voices echo strangely. My hands are on the arms of the chair, nails biting into the soft fabric. My heart is pounding like I’m going to get jumped by a bear.
I barely breathe, “I can’t do this.”
Dr. Bellamy nods. “It’s all right. You can leave at any time, but may I tell you a few things before you go? It sometimes helps to know what we do, how we can help.”
I pause. “I don’t have to tell you what happened?”
“Not today. Jon gave me enough information.” Her eyes sweep over me. “It’s common to feel frightened and avoid coming to this kind of place, but it’s where you’ll find the most help.”
She begins to explain that women’s health is more than annual exams. It’s about helping women from adolescence through old age with issues that affect our gender. She tells me that she gets referrals from other doctors and why they can’t do it. Apparently this is a specialty area. I’ve never heard of this before, and I live in a major city.
I tell her that. “How come I’ve never heard of the other services offered? Like helping someone with my situation?”
“Well, unless you know someone who's been here or needed this type of care, it’s not something people talk about at the dinner table. Or anywhere else. It’s very personal and private.” She’s leaning against her desk, legs out in front of her with clunky black shoes sticking out from under gray slacks. She’s at least twice Jon’s age. Her silvery hair is tied at the base of her neck and pierced by a pencil.
Beth is quiet, listening carefully with her hands folded in her lap.
The doctors ask me some questions, and I don’t see the relevance. Do I feel like I need to pee frequently? Yes. Do I get up a lot at night? Yes. Has it ever hurt to have sex? Yes. Even without abuse. It’s always hurt. The questions stray the other way again, away from sex. She’s asking about my day, what I do. She asks if I’m in danger now.
I shake my head. “No, Jon chased him off.”
“How is Jonathan?” She watches me for a moment, and I can tell she’s wondering if I know.
I glance at Beth, and she doesn’t need a hint. She gets it. “I need to pee. Where’s the ladies' room?” Dr. Bellamy points and Beth vacates the room.
A moment later, it’s just the doctor and me. “Jon said you knew something happened to him.”
“I suspected it. He was young at the time. Something like that can cause a young man a lot of misery later in life.” Her eyes are hazel, with big flecks of gray the same shade as her hair.
“I shouldn’t ask you about him.”
“He gave me permission to tell you anything about him.”
“Really?”
“Yes, Jonathan is good like that. He’s a very caring person, and I know he feels like he had control of that situation so long ago, but he didn’t. He was a kid. It wasn’t his fault, and if anyone had known about it at the time, that woman would have been sent to jail. Sexual assault happens regardless of gender or age. I wish it didn’t.”
“Does he have this too?” I'm vague, but she understands my question.
“I don’t know, but I’d think not. Women’s bodies are built differently than men. The natural way we react to pain is to tighten and curve around the afflicted area. In your case, it’s a part of the body that is surrounded by very strong muscles, which were probably already too tight. Add the stress of what happened, and trying to force the muscles open just hurt more. Think of it like any other muscle in your body. When it gets hurt, we cradle it, keep it close, and try to protect it. The muscle fibers surrounding the area shorten and become tight. It's painful when you force it to stretch. Some women are in pain without intercourse, as well. They constantly hurt and have no idea why. It could be from a trauma or surgery, they both cause a reaction that’s hard to suppress.”
“Then how do you fix it?”
“I want you to know that while we can make progress, for some people the pain never completely goes away. You’ll have good days and bad days, and in the beginning, it’s one step forward, two steps back. Does your scar make you feel nauseated? Without touching it?” Jon must have told her about that.
I nod. “Sometimes.”
“Nausea, we can help. Scar tissue sometimes becomes tender and over sensitive. We can treat that in the office, or I can tell you how to do it. Was that the main issue last night?”
Tears form in my eyes, and I blink rapidly, trying to hold them b
ack. “Yes, and it hurt a little. It didn’t feel good.”
She’s patient with me and speaks kindly. I don’t feel like she pities me, it’s that she emphasizes, she knows how hard it is sometimes. Still, there’s hopefulness in her voice I can’t ignore. We talk a little longer and by the time I’m heading home, I feel more convinced the other side of this storm is real—which makes me more determined to get there.
CHAPTER 27
JON
I hate weddings. I used to love weddings. It was easy to find a hot girl and nail her, but I’m not interested now. I want to get home to Cassie.
I wanted to be there with her today, but between the rehearsal and her request for privacy, I came here. It’s driving me fucking crazy to stand here with a smile on my face while Cassie is home crying her eyes out. I want to help her through this, but I know she has to see this through on her own. I can’t fix her mind. I can’t mend her body. I can only support her.
Which makes me want to rush out the doors. But Mr. Turkey, Sidney’s pet vulture isn’t cooperating. She’s insisting the damn thing be in the ceremony. We’re in a cathedral, and she brought God’s most disgusting creature into a holy place. If I weren’t in a rush to leave, it’d be hilarious to sit here and watch them try to figure it out.
But that’s not the way today is, and when I see Uncle Luke’s face, I want to smash my fist into his smug smile. He’s sitting on a pew near the front next to my mother, who hasn’t said two words to me since I arrived. She’s pissed.
We practice walking down the long aisle at St. Pete’s, pacing all the groomsmen and bridesmaids to reach the alter at the right time and make the most of it. Sidney would have preferred a backyard wedding. Somehow mother convinced her to do a Ferro wedding, which means a big, lavish Italian wedding with tons of press.
