The Seduction Of Claudia

by Chauvet, Antoinette

  "I don't know what happened between the two of them, but I have no doubt that my mother was at fault. She wouldn't know goodness if it bit her in the ass. I'm sure she intends to take that poor husband of hers for all he's got, so she can come back here and pick up where she left off," Claudia said venomously.

  "So that's that. Now you know exactly who I am," she finished, trying for a light tone and failing miserably.

  Andrew went to her and folded her in his arms, squeezed her tight, wishing that he could take on all of her pain. He guided her to the couch and sat down with her on his lap. He held her, saying nothing, because no words seemed appropriate in the face of what she'd revealed. Andrew's mind reeled as he synthesized all he'd learned about her tonight. His primary feeling was grief; he grieved for the little girl who'd never had the stability or support that he had been able to take for granted. He grieved that her innocence had been stolen in such a cruel way. Despite the life her mother had led and the things Claudia had been exposed to, that sixteen-year-old girl had still managed to hang on to some semblance of innocence and it had been violated as wholly as if her hymen had indeed been broken that night. Yes, she had maintained her viginity, but had lost so much more. Having cared for herself and navigated life largely on her own, Claudia had always been perceived as mature for her age; but, for all that maturity, she'd still been a child. She had grown up the rest of the way when her mother hadn't provided her with comfort and reassurance after the abominable violation she'd endured. She'd emerged on the other side of that night a fully formed adult with scars and wounds that should have taken her years to acquire. It explained a lot, Andrew thought.

  Anger was hard on the heels of the grief and sorrow he felt. He was enraged that a mother would willingly endanger her child. She had brought hundreds of men into that house, men she didn't know, men who could have been murderers or pedophiles. It was a miracle that nothing awful had happened before the night in question. That she'd told Claudia in such cruel terms about the circumstances surrounding her birth was inconceivable. How could any mother curse the day her child was born and tell her she wished she'd had an abortion when she had the chance? How could a mother inflict such psychic trauma on her child? He hadn't met Marcheline Beaumont, but after tonight, he harbored intense revulsion for her. He would do his damnedest to protect Claudia from being hurt by her again. He wished he could turn back the clock, so he could fight Claudia's battles for her. He wished... Well, wishing wasn't going to change anything. He'd have to do his best to help Claudia through what was destined to be a difficult visit from her mother. He wanted to stand with her as she faced this so that she would see that he was there for her no matter what. He hoped she would see that she was worth everything he had to offer and more.

  He thought she might have fallen asleep in his arms and he shifted her in preparation to stand and carry her to bed.

  "Don't feel sorry for me, Andrew, I don't need your pity," Claudia said, sitting up so she could look him in the eye.

  "I don't. I'm sad because you didn't have all the things you should have had growing up. You had so much going against you. But in spite of that, you became a phenomenal woman, Claudia. I can't imagine how you did it..."

  Not willing to acknowledge what he'd just said, Claudia ignored him and avoided looking at him.

  "So. Umm. I won't feel bad if you don't want to see me anymore."

  "What? Why the hell would I not want to see you anymore?" A tinge of anger crept into Andrew's voice as he slid her off his lap and stood up.

  "Because now you know all there is to know about me. You can't possibly want to be with someone who's as damaged I am, someone who's had a life as fucked up as mine! So you can just go and spare us both the mess of a long, drawn out break-up," she said with more than a little anger of her own.

  "That's what you think of me? You think I'd just cut and run just because your so-called mother was a whore who endangered the safety of her innocent child by turning tricks at home? Maybe I should leave if you think that's the type of man I am," he said disgustedly.

  "I know you're a good man, Andrew," she tried to reason with him. "That's why I'm giving you an out. You're too decent a guy to just leave after all I've told you. Even if you wanted to leave, you'd stay, because in your mind, that would be the right thing to do. I don't want you feeling trapped in this relationship, or whatever it is we have, by duty and obligation. I'm not going to fall apart if you're not around -- I was fine before and I'll be fine again. So if you want to, you can go and there'll be no hard feelings."

  "I should take you up on the offer, just to teach you a lesson," he said, through gritted teeth. Claudia had never seen him this angry and, in an odd way, it thrilled her.

  "But I won't leave, Claudia. As angry as I am with you right now for pulling this crap on me, I will not leave. You're not the sum total what happened to you. You're not," he said, grabbing her shoulders and giving her a firm shake. "You're just you and I'm just me."

  She looked up at him, felt an almost irresistible urge to push him further, to make him so angry he would just go and leave her like she knew he would anyway. She was so crippled by her past that the idea that their relationship could work seemed ludicrous. Unwisely, she had become attached to him again and knew that she'd be heartbroken when their affair ended. As she had when they dated before, she wanted to just sever the ties between them before she got in any deeper. Feeling suddenly exposed, she averted her eyes from his gaze.

  Andrew seemed to sense that she was poised to flee. He took her chin and forced her to look him in the eye again, saying fiercely, "No, you're not going to run and hide behind all those walls you erect to protect yourself. I'm not here to hurt you! You've got to wake up to the fact that not everyone is as callous as your mother. It sucks that she should have been the one person in your life that you could always trust and rely on. But she wasn't. She was thoroughly evil. And that's never going to change; she'll never be the mother you want or deserve. I am sorry to the bottom of my heart that your childhood wasn't what it should have been."

  He let go of her and paced a few steps away. Turning around, he looked at her intently and continued speaking.

  "What you've been doing... This 'independent, I-don't-need-anyone' schtick is pretty immature, you know. You're living in the past, Claudia! Don't you see that? You're letting what happened back then dictate your life now. You're still a victim of the past. Is that what you really want to be? Someone who's not able to see herself for the strong, stable person she is? Do you want to be that sixteen-year-old girl whose life was turned upside down for the rest of your life? You deserve better than that and so does that little girl... Don't let all of her suffering be in vain. Move on and live your life! The past is holding you captive because you are letting it. And only you have the power to set yourself free," he finished.

  Speaking more calmly and with his eyes boring into hers, he appealed to her, "Baby, you've been living your life in solitary confinement. Never letting anyone come close to you because you're afraid of what will happen if you let yourself care or be cared for; you shut down emotionally, build walls around you to protect yourself. That's no way to live. Don't you see? You have so much to offer; that's why you have the friends you have, people who love you and want to take part in your life. You won't let them, but they take what you're willing to give and are happy to have it... You can't think that everyone is a sick sociopath like your mother, running around intentionally hurting people... We all have failings, Claudia. We're none of us perfect. That means that sometimes, without realizing it and without meaning to, people will do and say things that hurt. But that's the human condition; we deal with it and move on. I would think that someone as sensitive, talented and creative as you would pick up on, and revel in, how beautiful the nuances of life can be. But all you've done is run away... You're really missing out."

  He stopped talking and looked at her, waiting for her reaction. She pulled her eyes away from his and walked to th
e fireplace and stared at the flames inside it. Listening to him, really hearing him, was hard. How dare he? she thought with righteous indignation. Although... Perhaps what he said held more than a grain of truth. She had never thought about it in quite those terms. She could admit that, possibly, she was a victim of her past. She hadn't ever made a move in her life without considering the past, without making a conscious decision to make sure that whatever she was doing was as unlike what her mother would have done as possible. She also admitted that she did take great satisfaction from the control she exacted over her life, in direct contrast to how she'd always felt that her childhood had been chaotic. And she definitely kept a safe distance between herself and anything or anyone with the potential to hurt her. Her past did influence her present, perhaps to an alarming, unhealthy degree. But then again, she didn't know what degree of past consciousness was healthy. She didn't even know whether or not 'normal' people placed such importance on the past. She'd have to give that some thought... What she did know was that, in a way, hearing Andrew say what he had said was liberating, as if he'd given her permission to do something she'd never have allowed herself to do. Maybe she was limiting herself and closing the door to possibility. Maybe she was capable of the happiness and freedom other people had. Maybe... just maybe, she even deserved to find some happiness of her own. She didn't know the answers to those questions and didn't think she'd be coming up with definitive answers any time soon. But, maybe...

  "Claudia, I'm sorry if I've upset you by saying what I did, I can leave if you want me to. I'll understand if you don't want me around. I'm..." he hesitated, "glad? Glad seems to be the wrong word, given the circumstances, but I am glad, honored even, that you shared the secrets of your past with me. It couldn't have been easy. I'm just sorry that I thanked you for it by getting angry and giving you the burden of my own feelings in response. It probably wasn't what you needed tonight."

  He paused, unsure of what to say or do.

  Grabbing the poker, Claudia disassembled the fire and closed the screen so that it would die out safely.

  Turning to Andrew at last, she said, "Don't leave. Let's go to bed."

  Chapter Five

  A week had passed since Claudia had told Andrew all about her past. Much to her surprise, not much had changed between them. That is, there were no negative changes. Andrew hadn't changed in his behavior toward her in any way. She didn't feel as vulnerable as she had expected she would having him know about the shameful secrets she had kept to herself for so long. Though she certainly wouldn't be running around telling anyone who would listen about them, it did feel good to have someone who knew all about her, someone with whom she could share her burden. It was an immense relief to her to be able to talk to Andrew about everything.

  She was having difficulty breaking the habit of constantly diverting attention from herself. She had to make a conscious effort to remember that she didn't have to do that with Andrew anymore. She had grown so accustomed to measuring her words carefully lest she reveal too much to anyone. Whenever anyone talked about a subject she was uncomfortable with or asked her questions about her background, she had always given a glib answer and turned the tables, so that the conversation centered on the other person. I suppose that's why people are always telling me I'm a good listener, she thought. She hadn't truly realized exactly how much time and energy went into concealing so much of herself. Now that she didn't have to, with Andrew at least, she was forced to admit that it hadn't been easy to perpetuate her deceit.

  Old habits die hard, she thought. This was all still very new to her and she had decided to take things one day at a time. She knew she wouldn't blossom overnight into the type of chatty person who shared everything about herself with just anyone. She didn't think she was naturally inclined to be that type of person, anyway. She could already tell, though, that there was a heightened sense of closeness between her and Andrew, as if a barrier had come down between them and they could now see one another clearly. It occurred to her now that perhaps Andrew had always seen her clearly and that was why he still treated her the same way as he always had. She, on the other hand, had begun to see him a bit differently. She was beginning to believe that he actually was exactly who he presented himself to be. He wasn't like so many of the men she had known growing up, her mother's lovers, who pretended to be one thing or the other simply to get what they wanted. Andrew was real in every sense of the word; a man without artifice or guile.

  Yes, she definitely felt closer to Andrew, she thought, leaning her head against the headrest of the bench seat in which she sat. The commuter rail train she was on was making all stops between the South Shore, where she'd attended a rehearsal, and Boston. It was taking forever to get home, but the long ride provided her with some much-needed solitary thinking time. She gazed out of the window of the train, taking in the wintry sights along the way. Though the suburbs were decorated with holiday ribbons and lights, the gay decorations did little to brighten the scenery, because of the overcast, drab gray day. There was snow on the way for sure. Christmas, two days hence, was sure to be a white one.

  As she thought back to what Andrew had said to her the week before, about her being a victim of the past, she knew he was right. In just the week since she'd unburdened herself to him, their relationship had changed for the better. She really had been missing out on the fullness of all the relationships she had with people. She had loved her friends as much as she had allowed herself to. Fifi especially. But still, she had maintained a safe distance. When she thought of all the opportunities that may have slipped away because of her determination to protect herself, she felt a pang of regret. She had always been prepared for the 'real' side of people to emerge, had waited for the wolf to shed his sheep's clothing. Even among her friends. They would all be very hurt if they ever found out that she hadn't fully trusted them. She had never really trusted anyone.

  She vowed to change that. She would try her best to stop expecting the worst of people. Again, she had to admit that Andrew was right when he had said that people are imperfect and fallible. Everyone made mistakes now and then, and sometimes others got hurt as a result. But that didn't mean that the person intentionally meant to inflict harm. It didn't mean that the person was necessarily a bad person. She had placed herself at such a remove from people that she had become judgmental of them before getting to know the essence of the person. Judgment was the very thing that she had been afraid would be directed at her; she had feared that, subjected to scrutiny, she would be found lacking.

  She had been alone for so long. 'Solitary confinement', Andrew had called it, she thought, he's a really insightful guy. She had been in self-imposed exile; she had begun to have the feeling that she was pitted against the world. She had often felt that, even in a sea of people, an invisible force field surrounded her and kept her separate from the masses. She could visualize the bubble that had confined her and protected her from everything outside it. Now the bubble had burst and she was in full contact with the world. Even though the 'bubble' was metaphorical, it seemed to her that sights, sounds, tastes and textures were suddenly more vivid to her.

  Andrew. It all circled back to Andrew. With a soft smile she thought back to the night she had made her revelations. It had been one of the most difficult things she had ever done in her life. She was immensely grateful that Andrew hadn't reacted as she'd expected. She'd been sure that he would react in the way she'd imagined while preparing herself for the 'worst case scenario' in which he would judge and reject her. She had been taken aback when he'd responded with compassion. She had been stunned and had foolishly gone ahead with her 'worst case scenario' response, telling him he could leave and never come back. She was glad she had, in a way, because it had given Andrew a chance to say all the things he'd said. He'd held a mirror up to her in which she was forced to see herself in a new way. In turn, she was now on the verge of rebirthing herself.

  They had gone to bed that night, both of them feeling very quiet an
d slightly uneasy with one another. They had spooned together in the middle of her big bed and had fallen asleep without making love. She had woken in the small hours of the morning with what she could only describe as a soul-deep yearning to connect with Andrew. They had shifted in sleep in the hours they had been in bed and were no longer curled together. Andrew lay on his stomach, his face turned towards her, one arm thrown loosely over her midriff, the other stretched above him and supporting his head. She had lain on her back and watched him, her eyes drinking in the sight of him sleeping sweetly next to her.

  Tentatively, she had reached out to touch him. A lock of his too-long, thick brown hair had fallen over his forehead. She brushed it back, then let her hand linger there, tracing the shape of the widow's peak at the center of his forehead. Her fine-boned fingers lightly traced the arch of his brow, the long straight line of his nose, the bow of his upper lip and the smooth, full curve of his bottom lip. His jaw was roughened by stubble and she reveled in the way it felt against her soft fingertips. He slept on, undisturbed by her explorations. She turned on her side to face him, the better to see him, to touch him.

  She didn't want to wake him from what was obviously a peaceful slumber, but she couldn't resist the urge to lean in and brush the gentlest of kisses across his lips. As she pulled away, his arm tightened around her waist and he said,

  "That's it?"

  Claudia froze in the circle of his arm then relaxed back onto her pillow. Embarrassed, she darted a glace at him from beneath her lowered lashes.

  "I didn't mean to wake you. You looked so peaceful. I'm sorry."