by Nana Malone
I stuttered. "Oh I, uh-- Sorry, yeah, I'm Abbie. Most of my friends call me Abbie."
Her smile was soft and kind. "Abbie, welcome."
As she marched back to a small corner of the room, I watched her. Her hair, dark, sleek, and flat-ironed with an inch of its life, swung and bounced as she walked. She was trim, fit. And she looked young. Her face was smoothed and aligned. Not a single grey hair on her head. She could have been me, be thirty. When she turned, she asked, "Would you like some water?"
I shook my head. "No, thank you. I'm good."
She nodded and watched me. "Okay then, why don't you tell me why you're here?"
She gestured me to a seat while she took one across from me. And I silently wondered where the couch was. Weren't all therapists supposed to have a couch? "Um, I- I just moved here from DC. And um, there're some things I want to work on, to make sure I have the fullest London experience. And I know that if I don't talk to someone, I'm always going to be looking back, I guess. Or even worse, making the same kinds of mistakes I've made before."
She nodded. "Okay, why don't you tell me about some of your mistakes?"
The fear rose up inside of me, like bile trying to make an eruptive escape, but I shoved it down. I was doing this. I wasn’t running anymore. I wasn't going to swallow the truth. The truth was like vegetables. It was good for you. Even if it tastes like shit. "My ex-boyfriend…abused me for years. I, when I came here, I basically run away from him. "
I don't know what I expected. Shock. Surprise. Something. Instead of the somewhat detached empathy, her eyes were soft and she nodded encouragingly. She encouraged me to keep talking. So I did. I told her all of it. How we'd met. How I'd felt. How I'd soon come to feel. How I'd stayed, like the coward that I was.
His betrayal, hiding my acceptance letter, shredding my passport, tearing my birth certificate, how I'd gone home because I couldn't leave. And then I'd run away from my parents in the middle of the night. How I turned up here, ready for a new chapter, ready for a new adventure. But part of me was still afraid. Part of me thought I should go back. A part of me believed the things Evan had told me.
It all poured out of me. It didn't take long, because once I was on a roll. Man, was I on a roll. Desperate to purge it. Like I'd overindulged on alcohol. Something that was, in essence, poison to me. And it had to come out, one way or the other.
When I finally finished, she sat back. She made a few notes and then watched me closely. "Can I ask you a question, Abbie?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"Do you love, Evan?"
"Of course, I love him. I mean, that’s what got me to this whole mess, I think."
She cocked her head. "Okay well, what does love mean to you?"
I frowned at that. I had no idea how to answer. "Um, I don't know, that feeling where you know you belong to someone and how they make you feel, and like you could do anything. It's hard to quantify that. It’s not even about sex, or about you doing anything to be near that person."
I paused and thought it through. None of those feelings described how I felt about Evan. Mostly maybe in the early days, but lately? No. I'd mostly stayed to keep the peace. To stay safe.
She smiled at me then. "You're thinking it through now, aren't you?"
I nodded. "Um, I guess. Once I hear myself say it out loud, I guess that’s not love." The shame was quick to follow, punching me in the gut, making me want to bend over at the waist and write out the pain. "I don't think I'd loved him for a long time."
"And why don't you think you loved him?"
The answer was quick. It jumped right off my tongue. As if I've been holding on to it at the sour taste of lemons in my mouth for far too long. "Because he betrayed me the first time he put his hands on me."
She nodded. "And that's fair. He betrayed you again and again, didn't he?"
I nodded. "I didn't even think of it was bad at the time. I don't know what's wrong with me that I believed everything he said like it's my fault and that I was responsible."
Her smile was soft. "Well, there's a part of you that held yourself responsible."
"But I didn't ask for that," I whispered.
She nodded, but more in an encouraging way. And I kept talking. When I finally tripped over the answer she was looking for, she put her pen down. "Tell my Abbie, why do you feel responsible?"
Something tickled my cheek and I swiped away at it before I realized that it was a tear. I was crying. In a stranger's office. Fan-fucking-tastic. "Because I stayed. Because I didn't tell anyone. After that first time, I should have told someone. I should have run fast."
She nodded. "So, you and I are going to work on you not feeling like that. You and I are going to work on the things that lead you to that position, to that moment where someone hurt you and betrayed your trust, and you blamed yourself. And all the reasons why."
"God, I'm to blame."
She sat forward and patted her hand over mine. "No, you are not. It's not how this works. Here in these doors, we tell the truth and we put the blame where it belongs. When you met him you are a kid. But I suspect there is a very strong woman in there who's been battling her way out, who's been propping you up. She's the woman who walked out on him. She the woman who walked out on your parents. She's the woman who flew halfway around the world, for a chance to be amazing. Without anything encumbering her, she made it happen. So, I want you to focus on that part of you."
I nodded. “I'm scared. I'm not going to lie. I'm scared that he's going to come here and find me. I am scared that I'll be weak and I'll go back. I'm scared of maybe meeting someone and not being able to have a normal relationship because he moved too quickly and I ducked. I'm young, I should meet lots of someones. I shouldn’t have to be afraid of my own shadow."
"I think you should be meeting lots of someones. If you walked in here and you told me you were still in love with him, that you were still heartbroken, I’d . But I think you haven't been in love with him for a long time."
She was right. But the truth of that burned like acid. So if I hadn't been in love with him, I'd let him hurt me for no good reason?
"I can see your wheels turning right now. Angry that if it wasn't love, then why did you put up with all that?"
I nodded and fresh tears started to fall. The rack of tissues arrived at my side as if by magic.
"You'd be amazed at the things the human mind will do to validate our choices. On paper, Evan seemed like the man that you would want. The one that would get your parent's approval. But you're an adult now. You need to think about the one that gets your approval. And I'm going to encourage you to do that. This is a clean slate. I'm not suggesting you fall in love with the next man you meet, but you're young. I'd encourage you to meet people. Learn to discern the differences in how they treat you and what you're looking for because I don't think you know. And where most women would be figuring that out, you know, when they were teenagers and young adults at the university, you were with Evan, trying to follow a specific path. And that didn't make you happy. You're in graduate school now. Now is as good a time as any."
"But, what if someone hurts me?"
She shook her head. "Look, life isn't about getting hurt. Because why would we even live it, if that was the whole purpose? We would all stay in our boxes and ordering food and be agoraphobic crazy."
I chuckled. "Are you supposed to say crazy?"
She shrugged. "I'm a little unconventional. Life isn't meant to be sanitized. But, I want you to be able to recognize the difference between someone who will hurt and someone who won't. You don't even have to go on a date to figure that out. There's an intuition about women in particular. We know. It's instinct. I want you to start to do that, to explore, to do the things that you've always wanted to do, the things that you automatically said no to because Evan wouldn't allow it, or your parents wouldn't allow it. If it fascinates you and you want to do it, I encourage you. In the meantime, you and I will talk weekly
. We'll explore your thoughts, what you're thinking, and how you're feeling. Get your brain to start making the choices through things that enrich you and make you happy. Instead of things, you feel like you should do."
I nodded slowly. "This isn't going to be easy, is it?"
She laughed. "No, not easy at all. But you're going to take your time. Have a little fun. I mean, after all, isn't that why you're in London?"
I nodded. "Yeah, you would be right about that."
***
Abbie…
As my luck would have it, the earlier sunshine was a fluke. The skies darkened to a blackened gray, fat raindrops pelted my arms and battered my umbrella. “Damn it.” Sucking in a resolute breath, I marched forward. A little rain wasn’t going to ruin my day. I’d come here knowing the weather pattern. It was just one more thing I’d have to get used to.
Quickly, I checked Tamsin’s scrawled directions to Sophie’s boyfriend’s place. 1257 Camberwell Road. I glanced at the numbers on the row houses on my right. 1232, 1234—at least I was moving in the right direction, though I needed to cross the street.
With rain pelting the sleeves of my thick sweater even harder, I trotted to the edge of the sidewalk and checked for oncoming cars. Just as I was about to step onto the road, I heard a revving motor.
From behind, someone shouted, “Look out!”
In one smooth snap of icy talons, fear gripped my spine as strong arms jerked me backward with enough force to knock the wind out of me.
My head swam. In an automatic reply to being grabbed, my body went numb, and my oxygen would only come in short stabbing bursts as my hands flew up in an attempt to protect my face. But then, the tiny voice inside screamed, You are not helpless. It was just the motivation I needed.
I fought the stranger’s hold and struggled, immediately losing my footing. In the split second my brain registered my downward trajectory, I squealed and tucked my camera into my sweater to protect it as I fell. The arms tightened around my again and turned both our bodies. Nausea swelled as I tried to free herself from the grip of strong hands.
Me and my would-be attacker landed ass-first in a grimy puddle with a thud hard enough to make my teeth rattle. I blinked rapidly, my brain trying to register what had happened as a Mini Cooper whizzed by. The driver shouted epithets in my direction.
Unable to calm the panic as adrenaline flooded my veins, I continued to try to free herself and fight for control.
“You’re okay. I’ve got you. Stop struggling. I didn’t just save your life so I could hurt you. Just relax for one second and breathe.”
The masculine voice crooned low and soft in my ear, working its magic on me inch by inch. In those endless seconds, my brain registered that the strong hands that held me weren’t squeezing too tight. They weren’t manhandling me, they weren’t striking me. In fact, they were only tight enough to have pulled me back. These hands had caused me no harm. Unlike Evan’s.
I was safe.
Through the thunder of my heart, I heard the splish and splash of heavy raindrops on the pavement and my downed umbrella. My own ragged breathing filtered in next, along with the harsh breathing of my puddle partner.
I yanked my camera out of my sweater and carefully examined it. No cracks to the lens or anything. Thank God. I didn’t have the money to replace it.
With one arm, I tried to leverage herself up, but I slipped and landed back on my savior’s lap…hard.
I whipped my head around to face him and he stared at me. Raindrops clung to his dark, sooty lashes. His wavy hair was plastered to his head. I tried to make my mouth move, but nothing happened, almost as if the command had gotten lost in the cataloguing of his features.
Wide gray eyes that smoldered. Midnight black hair. Full lips that looked like they were on the verge of smiling. Straight Roman nose, and a square jaw. He was beautiful. I wanted him on a canvas, just like he was now, his brow lightly furrowed and his eyes concerned. There was something so familiar about him.
“Are you all right?”
I blinked, tried to form the words, and failed. Then I tried again. “Uhm, yeah. I think so. Th-thank you.”
A blond guy stood nearby, holding an umbrella over the two of us. Finally Gray Eyes stood, pulling me with him. His hand was firm and warm, despite the chilly rain. “You have to make sure to look both ways okay?”
Again, my brain stuttered as the whiskey-smooth texture of his voice rolled over me. I could listen to him talk forever. Quickly, I tugged my hand free of his. “Uhm. I–uh.” Mortified, I covered my face. “Yeah. Thanks. I'll be careful.”
He studied me with a quizzical expression then whispered, “Okay. Cheers.”
After quickly checking my camera for damage again, I stepped to the curb once more. Careful to look both ways–twice–I crossed the street to the opposing row houses. As I muttered the numbers to herself, tension ebbed out of me.
I stopped in front of the address Tamsin had texted. Before I could even knock, Sophie yanked the door open with a squeal.
“Oh, my god, oh my god, oh my god. You’re actually here. I can’t believe it. Yay!”
The hugging came next. I held my camera away from my body as Sophie wrapped her arms around me and attempted to squeeze the air out of my lungs. Sophie was a big-time hugger. Me, not so much.
“Hey, Sophie, you think you could actually let me in? The back of my pants are soaked.”
“Oh, of course. Sorry, babes. I was just so excited.” I stopped trying to administer the reverse Heimlich maneuver and dragged me through an elegantly lit foyer with recessed lights and a slate floor. “What happened to you anyway? You look like hell.”
A gilded mirror hung in the hallway, and I groaned when I saw my reflection. My braided twist had come undone, and my make-up was now streaked and smudged, giving me the appearance of a wet, bedraggled Koala.
I followed Sophie into the ultra-modern kitchen and tried not to gape. The cabinets were red lacquer and the backsplash was red orange and gold glass tile. All the appliances were high-end stainless steel and the countertops were white marble. This was where Sophie lived? Tamsin's digs in Chiswick were nice, but this was opulent. “I had a run in with a Mini Cooper and a puddle. Do you have a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt I can borrow? I must look like a drowned rat.”
A low voice came from behind me. “I don’t know. You look well fit to me.”
I jumped and whirled around. I made a quick assessment of him just like I did with all men and filed him into the preliminary category of not-a-threat.
I studied him closer, unsure of what to make of the auburn-haired guy leaning against the counter. He was cute in a quirky way. With his shaggy hair and animated green eyes, I could see how his disarming smile made him even cuter. He had several tattoos on his forearms and one peeking out from the top of his T-shirt. Fantastic. His whole aura screamed trouble. But there was something inherently kind about his eyes.
Sophie giggled. “Jasper, behave, would you? This is my friend Abbie from Uni.”
Jasper uncoiled his lanky frame and strode over. I wasn't so sure about being in his personal space, but nevertheless, I extended a hand to shake, but instead, he bowed and kissed my knuckles. Yeah. Charming as fuck. And he knew it. I tugged my hand back. “Nice to meet you, Jasper.”
“I promise you, Love, the pleasure is all mine.”
I turned to Sophie. “And you know Jasper how?”
“Oh, he's Max’s flatmate,” Sophie replied.
“Yeah, my room's just at the top of those stairs if you need or want anything.” He waggled his eyebrows.
I sputtered and laughed. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”
He nodded with unabashed good humor. “I've been told that before.”
Tamsin came from a hallway at the other end of the kitchen and hip-checked Jasper. “Leave her alone, Jas. She’s a friend of ours and isn’t ready for your flirtation assault.”
Jasper rol
led his eyes. “Okay, fair enough.” He stood directly in front of me, forcing me to take an automatic step back before looking up at him. “But if you come to me, all bets are off.” He winked before turning on his heel and jogging up the stairs to his bedroom.
I couldn’t help the exasperated chuckle. “Is he for real?”
Both Tamsin and Sophie shrugged.
“Yeah, that's Jasper,” Sophie said.
Tamsin’s phone rang. “You two go ahead. I’ll catch up. It’s Liam.”
Sophie tugged me through an expansive living room into the back hallway that sported two additional bedrooms. “Sophie, this is incredible. Looks expensive.”
“Oh this?” I extended my hand and indicated the living room. “This is all Max. I’m just the girlfriend.”
Tamsin had been vague about the details when I had pressed for information about Sophie's man. Maybe if I was lucky, I could meet the mystery guy. “What does he do for a living, and where can I get one of him?”
My friend laughed. “Well, he's a model.”
My jaw dropped. “Of course he is.” Sophie lived one of those fabulous lifestyles you could only read about in Us Weekly.
Quickly, I donned the spare set of jeans and the T-shirt Sophie handed me. I immediately regretted the T-shirt, which had slashes through the sides and was almost completely backless. Sophie usually experimented with designs on her own clothes. “Uhm, thanks, maybe you have a sweater too?” I asked hopefully.
“Somewhere in the kitchen, I think I left my jumper that goes with those jeans. We'll go look.” I continued happily chatting about Max. “Yeah, the modeling jobs pay nicely because he works often, but in addition, he renovates houses and sells them. And he rents out the spare rooms in this place. It’s got five bedrooms and a pretty nice garden.”
I chewed my lip. That explained a lot.
Sophie shrugged and continued, “You know, he’s a bit of a hustler.”
“Oh, okay.” That was a little vague. But shit, he wasn’t my man, so I wouldn’t complain as long as Sophie was happy.
