Yesterday’s ambush came crashing back down on me and it made me really mad. Charlie had ruined my feeling good about myself; he’d stopped me from reveling in this big accomplishment that I was taking so much pride in. Why couldn’t he just get it? I didn’t want to be with him, I wanted him out of my life. Life was hard enough for me to navigate with the obstacles that I had, which were already a daily challenge.
Rachel didn’t hold a lot of value in anger. She felt like it was an unproductive emotion, and that it too often obscured the feelings that we should be focused on, impeding our progress toward reaching a healthy state. Diane, on the other hand, didn’t have such a problem. Diane felt like sometimes when we were needing something powerful to guide us, we could harness our anger and use it to propel us toward our goal. We could focus our energy by utilizing our anger as an impetus toward change. Personally, I had gone through all of the stages, fury being one of them, but it didn’t last because it wasn’t really in keeping with my personality. I was angry alright, but it didn’t really accomplish anything so I found myself experiencing it less and less.
But Charlie was bringing it all back.
I realized belatedly that Charlie’s calls hadn’t been the first notification on the phone, that they’d come through before Harrison had used it to text Kara. Which meant that Harrison had seen them. But, like Harrison, he’d not mentioned it, probably to respect my privacy and also to not make me feel obligated to share my feelings with him. But I also felt like at this point, at least in regard to Charlie, Harrison had the right to pry.
As this thought crossed my mind, and before I could examine it and its implications too closely, the door opened and Harrison walked in. His serious expression quickly transformed into a big smile as he saw that I was awake and sitting up in the bed where he’d apparently left me, when he’d gotten up.
“Sorry, but I didn’t want to wake you up. Plus, I figured you might prefer waking up alone and have a little time to yourself.” That was a weird statement, and yet he was completely right. I may have allowed myself to fall asleep next to Harrison, but waking up next to someone in the daylight seemed a little more daunting.
“Yeah, you definitely don’t need to apologize, you really helped me out last night.” I said noticing that he’d showered, and although in his white tee and jeans, he was barefoot and his dark mass of hair was still damp. Getting blasted with a whole lot of Harrison’s scent, it was both intense and reassuring. I hadn’t truly grasped how little by little I had grown attached to him, but here we were.
“You can stay as long as you want, I was actually trying to sneak in for my socks,” he smiled unabashedly, shrugging. “My feet are cold.”
“I think you have too much energy to ‘sneak’ into anywhere, and besides, this is your room. I’m pretty sure sneaking into one’s own room is like against the laws of nature.”
“Yeah, I think there’s an exception to that when you're sneaking back into your room. Although, I’m pretty sure that my mom can confirm your first observation, based on how often I was caught.” Harrison laughed as he crossed the room in a few long strides, opening a drawer and pulling out some athletic socks.
“Why do you always wear white tees, Harrison?” I’d finally asked what I’d always wondered, but hadn’t cared enough before to inquire about.
“I don’t always wear white tees…” Then Harrison laughed. “Just, mostly always. It’s just easier, and it always goes.” He smiled cheesily at me as I just stared back, refusing to believe that was all. “Fine, I used to work as a maintenance guy, which included a lot of cleaning. I got bleach on like every shirt that I owned, so finally my mom got fed up and bought me a gazillion white tees. I guess the habit just stuck.” Oh. I had a few of my own favorite shirts that were now forever banished to the backs of my drawers, due to unfortunate bleaching incidents, so I kind of got it.
“So it’s not all of the food that you dribble on yourself when you eat, that can be easily bleached out?” I asked, kidding, but kind of not. I’d seen him eat.
“Well, that part is an added bonus.” He smiled self-deprecatingly and I was struck again by how he always seemed to not sweat the small stuff.
“I assume you saw my missed calls,” I said, feeling like I’d rather he knew that I’d figured that out, and not have him think that I was keeping it from him.
“Sorry. He’s not letting it go, is he?” Harrison had lost his smile. I wanted to explain myself and what had happened yesterady, if only because I felt like Harrison deserved to have a better understanding. Not like, a big picture understanding, but more than I had given him.
“I guess I should tell you…so I kind of have these…episodes, where things get too intense for me, or whatever…anyway, I black out. It doesn’t happen that much anymore, but…I ran into Charlie outside the donut shop. Harrison, I couldn’t help feeling like he was there on purpose. And he just keeps saying the same things and I have told him I’m not interested…”
“And that made one of your…made you have an episode?” he asked, although he obviously already knew the answer to his question. I guess he just wanted to be sure that he understood. Not that I’d given him a lot to understand, but still. For me, it was a lot. I could only nod. “Cass, from my perspective, it pisses me off and makes me worried about you. I thought Charlie was just an ass, but now he’s starting to seem like something worse. From your perspective? I can’t imagine. Maybe you should go to the cops or something. I could ask my mom, she dealt with them a lot with my dad, and restraining orders and stuff…” Harrison looked like he felt helpless, but that wasn’t going to stop him from trying.
I had dealt with the police a lot after my attack, and although I didn’t doubt that they’d done their best, that they had good intentions, I still didn’t end up with any results that mattered. I thought of my sneakers, and the remnants of my clothes, still moldering away in an evidence basement and shook my head. But this time was different, this time there was a person who could be looked at, who could be put in check. But had Charlie done anything, really? To me, he had, but to the law? It seemed doubtful.
“Thanks Harrison. I have a friend who said she’d talk to friend of hers who is with the police. I’ll tell her about this recent thing and see what happens.” Diane would hopefully have some insight.
“I can’t just do nothing, Cass,” Harrison said, like the idea was unacceptable.
“You’re not doing nothing, Harrison. You’ve been here for me, you’ve helped me more than you know.” Because he had, it was still just impossible for him to understand. “But I should probably be getting home. My mom will only keep it cool for so long. Knowing her, she’ll be showing up here any minute,” I smirked.
“Moms,” Harrison said, and we both laughed. “Fine. I’ll walk you out, and I want you to text me when you’re home. Because Cass, we’re friends…but…” Then Harrison just shook his head as if he’d decided not to finish his thought. I was both glad and wanted to know what he’d been going to say. Last night had changed so much for me, but I was only capable of so much change. Smiling at Harrison in reassurance that I didn’t mind his request, I gathered my stuff and put on my shoes. I hadn’t even noticed that Harrison must have taken them off before putting me on his bed.
FIFTY-TWO
“I need to get this straight. You think you’ve seen him on multiple occasions, he’s left you the note, and he accosted you in person, after which you told him outright to leave you alone. Then he called you…FOUR times?” Diane was acting like she couldn’t believe the audacity of Charlie, but I knew her well enough to see through her act and know that she was freaking out…for me. I just nodded. I’d explained the donut shop incident, I’d glossed over the blackout and Harrison’s, and now she was again acting like she was trying to get all of the details straight. But I knew her, details and Diane were like separated at birth. It was one of the reasons that she was so good at her job.
“And don’t think we aren’t going to c
ircle back around to your little sleepover, but I’d like to stay on topic first.” Ugh.
“Diane. You know it wasn’t like that,” I said, miserably.
“Of course I do. Except, for you, it was exactly like that. For you.” Ok. Whatever the hell that meant. “But let’s get back to Charlie. I’ve seen this behavior, Cass, and law or no law, it tends to escalate. It’s already escalating. Charlie seems to be operating under some kind of delusion that you guys are destined to be together, that you belong to him, that…”
“Diane!” She was making me sick. And my breathing was quickening to a point where I knew, that if I didn’t rein myself in, ended up in a whole lot of bad.
“Cass. I get it. But these are the cold hard facts. This guy who seemed so charming and right, is turning out to be some kind of sociopath. I can’t say he’s violent, but that cannot be ruled out.” She’d barely drawn a breath and I was running to her kitchen to get some water. I needed something to ground myself because I was tired of living in fear, tired of feeling helpless and out of control. I couldn’t allow Charlie to do that to me again.
“I can’t go back, Diane. I can’t live like that again,” I said after downing the entire glass. I knew my statement would need clarification for anyone else, but Diane knew exactly what I meant.
“I agree. You’ve fought too hard, Cass. You may have had your choices stolen from you once, but we’re here and we have to come up with some strategies so that it never happens again.” Diane’s voice rang loud and strong from the other room. I was so thankful to have her in my life.
I wondered why she did it, why she did any of it, not for the first time. But that was Diane, and that had to do with her story and her truth, something I might never fully know or understand. Regardless, she was here for me, and that gave me hope. It was hard to feel alone when you had people who cared for you and wouldn’t allow you to push them away. I joined her back in the living room and she continued as if I’d never left.
“I haven’t had the chance to talk to my friend, the police officer, but I will. This new development makes it more necessary, I think. At the least, he’s a nuisance who is making you feel uncomfortable…” She paused until I looked at her. “But Cass, you need to understand that you may very well have yourself a stalker.”
Boom.
The word that I had been avoiding, the word that made it all more terrifying and real. But despite all that he’d done, was Charlie really capable of being that? That label was something that existed in crime dramas and the news…but so was rape, I heard myself whispering in the back of my head. I’d learned firsthand that art imitated life, that legal procedurals took their premises from the real world. It happened here, first.
But a stalker? Me, the survivor not the victim, Cassandra Warren, Cass 2.0 working on 2.25…now being stalked? And he’d even tainted my name for me…
I’ll be seeing you, Cassandra
“Diane, please don’t take offense to this…but I need to talk to Rachel.”
✧✧✧
Rachel walked into Diane’s living room like she was arriving to a hang out with her two, albeit pretty complicated, friends. She strolled in, unwound her decorative scarf, and plopped down on Diane’s couch before rubbing her eyes and groaning. Gee, way to make a girl looking for a little guidance not feel like she was putting you out, or anything. But I knew that it wasn’t personal, that Rachel’s life was just as trying as the rest of ours, and the last thing that she wanted to do off-hours was deal with a trauma sufferer, despite her always there for you attitude.
Rachel was tired, and I suspected that she was really concerned. Get in line, Rach. Diane hopped up and went to her fridge, grabbing two beers and a bottled water…guess which beverage was for whom. It could be a drinking game: take a shot of water if your medications advise against alcohol consumption, take a shot of water if the concept of ‘may cause dizziness’ was too close to reality…
Popping the beers and handing one to Rachel before take a long drink, Diane finally said, “We may have a problem.” I wanted to scream, ‘I! I may have a problem!’ but that sort of went against what was happening right now. We were in this together, a motley crew of women who had been touched by violence and abuse on some level or another.
We.
“Ok, so go over this again,” Rachel asked, taking a sip of beer before placing it on the coffee table and looking at me. Her salt and pepper curls were being as compliant as usual, and she absently tucked them behind her ears before they immediately began again their attempt to break free. Retelling the story, slowing when I got to the donut shop incident, Rachel’s eyes would narrow at certain details or descriptive words that I used. I could practically see her jotting notes on an imaginary pad in her head.
“And you had an episode once you were at Harrison’s.” It was supposed to be a question but clearly wasn’t. “Cass, I know that you don’t want to hear this, but the fact that your blackout episodes are increasing in frequency is alarming on several levels. But the actual issue is your ability to drive. They could take your license…and let’s be honest, it’s not safe for you to be out on the road when you might experience one.”
“But wouldn’t I have to be reported?” I asked, despite knowing that she was right.
“You would,” Rachel answered pragmatically. Meaning, she would if she felt that she needed to. Rachel’s responsibility was helping people, not helping people to hurt other people.
“Well I won’t drive…until things are a little more under control again. Or, I’ll take a ride-share.” Rachel and Diane seemed satisfied, not that I’d be taking a ride-share, but because I’d essentially said that I wouldn’t go anywhere. They knew that I was about as comfortable getting into a stranger’s car as I was going jogging in my once beloved park. But they also knew that I would be miserable if I felt trapped at home. I may not go many places, but not being able to go out, translated to a loss of control over my life. And it didn’t take a psychiatrist to unpack that one.
“And Harrison? How do you plan to see him?” Diane asked, finding a flaw in my declaration, which she interpreted to mean that I was not being entirely truthful.
“Yes, maybe we need to discuss Harrison,” Rachel said, and I groaned.
“Ok, one mind-suck at a time. First of all, I apparently may or may not have a sociopathic stalker. Secondly, Harrison and I are just friends. And thirdly, he does have a car.” Diane smiled like the freaking Cheshire cat and I wanted to be annoyed, but I felt like maybe we needed to focus on point number one.
“Well, I think we’ve given enough energy to Charlie. I think we should look into filing a Protective Order against him, and maybe it will get him to back off. In the meantime, Cass, I think it would be prudent to keep up your vigilance, but that’s nothing new. You’re going to have to tell your mom and sister, because they live with you. If Charlie were to decide to show up at your house, they could be affected as well.”
Rachel had just voiced my worst nightmare. As awful and life changing as my experience had been, what I hated the most was how it had affected my family. The pain that they experienced, the fear, was all something that I wished to undo. I couldn’t be responsible for them being impacted again, especially not directly.
“You can’t leave them wide open, you must arm them with the knowledge of what is happening,” Rachel said with finality. I knew that she was right, but I was definitely not looking forward to that conversation.
“Now let’s talk about Harrison,” Diane said, lifting her eyebrows several times in succession.
“Ok, never do that again,” I said to her, “and there’s nothing to talk about. He was there when I needed him, and I really appreciate that. We’re close, I guess. And friends,” I added again.
“But he wants to be more?” Diane asked, and it felt like she just wanted to live vicariously through some young romance.
“I don’t know what Harrison wants. And it doesn’t matter what he wants…it doesn’t matter wha
t I want,” I reminded them.
“But it does matter, what you want does matter, Cass…isn’t that the point of this whole exercise?” Rachel asked.
“I can’t believe you just called my life quest an exercise. Besides, I swore off exercise a while ago…” When I knew I’d never run again.
“Yes, that’s also something that we should discuss…cutting out the things that you loved, because of your attack, isn’t a way to feel whole again,” Rachel countered, and I cut her a look. I was starting to regret inviting her and her psychobabble to our pathetic party of two.
“Look, I’m never going to run again. That’s the end of it. And as for Harrison, I told him that I couldn’t be with him…like that. He’s ok with it.” I could almost hear Rachel and Diane asking me the same question that I was asking myself: but was I ok with it?
“Well, apart from making a really bad joke that is definitely in poor taste, Cass, for someone who will never run again, you sure seem like you’re running from your feelings,” Diane said, and mimed hitting imaginary drum sticks on an invisible cymbal.
“Funny not funny,” I said. The truth was, I didn’t know what I was doing with Harrison. And I honestly didn’t know what he wanted, other than to be my friend. We always joked around so much with each other, which was one of the things that I valued most about our relationship, but things had changed a little after last night, and I hoped that we still had a solid foundation. I didn’t want to lead Harrison on, but I felt like he’d never actually expressed interest in me like that, and despite what I’d somewhat said to him, I had also been pretty clear about where the whole issue stood.
TWELVE MINUTES Page 30
