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He held a hand out to me, palm up. “Let’s go, Princess.”
I let him guide me off the bed until I was standing beside him. He traced his thumb over the soft skin between my thumb and forefinger. With his free hand, he reached for the cordless phone by his bed. He stared at the buttons for a moment, before pressing them in sequence and holding the phone to his ear.
“Janet? Hi, it’s Victor. Do you have an opening this morning for two?” He paused.
I leaned in, pressing my cheek to his shoulder to hide my blushing. I’d never gotten out of the house for things other than school and other mundane necessities and I was about to go to a spa with him. My mind flew with ideas of what it might be like. What would we do there?
He continued tracing my skin with his thumb as he spoke into the phone. “Yes?” His eyes sought out the clock by his bed that read seven a.m.. “Seven forty-five? Sure, we can make it. Thank you.” He pressed the button and dropped the phone onto the covers on the bed. “Run and take a shower, Princess. We’ve got to go.”
“Should I wear the clothes I wore yesterday?”
“Aw, I forgot,” he said. He frowned, raking fingers through his wavy hair to drag it out of his eyes. “No. Wait. Hang on. I’ll go get you something.” He nudged me toward the bathroom. “Go shower. I’ll bring something up to you.”
My nerves started to rattle as he said shower. I opened the bathroom door. I avoided looking at the shower stall, and instead focused on the large tub.
“We don’t have time for that,” Victor said behind me. “Just do a quick shower. You can take a bath later if you want.”
That wasn’t the problem, I wanted to say. I bit my lip, stepping inside the bathroom and closing the door behind me. I didn’t lock it. I knew better. If he really wanted in, he’d get in. And he wouldn’t come in unless I wanted him to.
I stood for a couple of minutes with my back against the door. I knew I should hurry. I wasn’t sure how far away this spa was or what Victor had planned, but I didn’t want him to be late.
The standing shower appeared bigger to me this morning that it had been yesterday. The dark tile looked smooth. The walls were beige rocks, almost like the outface of a vertical mountain side.
Maybe it’ll be different. It had been a while since I had tried to take a shower. And this was a different shower. This was Victor’s. We were behind his safe wall. We were safe. I could do this.
I sucked in some courage. I snatched up a towel from the closet, dropping it on a rack next to the stall. I undressed quickly, planting my things in a small pile on the counter.
With shaking knees, I reached into the shower, flicking the handle to start the water.
The spray started instantly, streaming down in a powerful jet.
My entire body started to rattle, until I found it hard to stand up straight. My breath caught. I felt better when I wasn’t looking at the water, so I focused on the floor. Then I closed my eyes. I felt stupid, but it was better this way.
It took clenching the wall in a death grip before I could work my feet forward. I hovered with my toes just inside the wall of the shower.
I have to do this. I couldn’t disappoint Victor. I needed to hurry, too.
With my eyes closed, I tried to force myself to think of things I liked. I thought of Victor’s music. I thought of Silas’s corny jokes. I thought of Kota counting off as he tried to dance with me. I thought of Gabriel cutting my hair.
I inched forward.
My breath caught again.
The dizzying sensation was unrelenting.
The water spritzed against my skin.
The boys’ faces ebbed away from my mind, replaced by McCoy’s angry face, and his hand grabbing at me. My mother’s dull eyes were behind him, commanding I kneel.
I collapsed to the floor on my knees. The spray of the water met my back. I kowtowed in front of it.
My mind blanked out.
???
“Sang!”
Victor’s voice called me back. I was aware I was kneeling. Why was I kneeling again? Kota told me not to kneel.
Only I couldn’t move. I couldn’t power my muscles to do what I wanted.
The shower was turned off. A towel was dropped around my body. Arms collected me around the towel, picking me up and dragging me out of the shower stall.
My body trembled back to life. My breath returned. I gasped for it, unaware of how long I’d been out of air, but suddenly discovering I didn’t have enough.
Victor was on his knees in front of the open shower stall door. His arms lifted me into his lap. He held me close, his hands smoothing over the towel along my back. “Princess? Sang? What happened? What’s wrong?”
My cheeks were blazing with heat as strong as the fire that stoked in his eyes. I swallowed, surprised to find my throat thick as if I’d been crying. Then I realized I was crying and that I was naked except for the towel. I’d passed out again trying to force myself into the shower. He was fully dressed in his usual white shirt and dark pants. How long was I out? Why was I so horrible? Why couldn’t I shower?
“Sang?” Victor pleaded through his cracking voice. “God, say something. Please.”
“I can’t do it, Victor,” I said, my own voice cracking along with his. I stuffed the edge of the towel around my body, twisting it until it was snug against me. Keeping my hands busy with it seemed to drive the words from my lips. “I can’t ...” I swallowed. “I just can’t.”
“What’s wrong? I’ll fix it. I’ll do anything you want. Just tell me what.”
“I can’t—” I started to say, but admitting was so hard. And he should know. He’d told me the story before about how he held back what his father did to him, how his father used to belittle him for so long. He kept it for so long until he finally told the others.
The hardest thing to do.
The best thing he ever did.
“What, Princess? What can’t you do?”
I shoved my face against his shoulder, wrapping my arms around his neck, letting go of the towel. I didn’t care about it. I wanted to curl up into Victor and disappear. I couldn’t get enough of his arms around me, making me believe I could trust him. I needed him more than ever and for something so stupid I worried he’d laugh and call me out for being that way. “I can’t take a shower,” I whispered, my voice shaking as I cried. “I can’t do it anymore.”
“Why?” he asked. He scooped me closer into his lap, pulling me close into him until his chest met with mine. The white Armani shirt became wet and stuck to his frame. His hands pressed me against his body, gripping at me as if promising never to let go. “Why can’t you? What happens?”
“I can’t stop seeing their faces,” I whispered, so softly I was sure he couldn’t hear me. I was only mouthing the words. “My mother’s. McCoy’s. I feel like I’m about to be tied up in the shower again.”
Victor sniffed strongly, burying his face against my neck. “Oh god, I’m sorry. Is that why you don’t shower anymore? I thought ..
. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You knew?”
“I haven’t heard you take a shower in a while. Even when we’re at Kota’s, you fill up the bath. And then last night when I mentioned it, you acted like I’d just asked you to squish a spider with your bare hand.” He nuzzled at my neck. His hand felt along my back, tracing along my rib cage. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was like that. Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What am I supposed to say?” I asked. My voice croaked. “It’s stupid. I’m afraid of the shower.”
“It’s not your fault, Princess.”
“It’s a shower,” I squealed at him. “I thought I could this time. I thought since it was a different place—”
“Is it just the shower? I know you were taking baths.”
“I don’t know what it is,” I said, exasperated. I realized I was reacting and being short with him and it wasn’t helping. I pressed my cheek against his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.”
“I’m sorry, Victor.”
Victor released a sigh. He sucked in a deep breath, tucked his arms underneath me and lifted me from his lap, standing. He carried me back into the bedroom. He positioned me on the bed for a moment as he picked up the phone. He held on to it and to me, and headed back into the bathroom.
He avoided the shower. Instead he went for the large bath tub. He sat on the edge, placing me in his lap. “Hang on to me, Princess.”
I kept my arms around his neck, holding myself up against him. With one hand, he turned the faucets of the bathtub. He took his time, testing the water temperature to find what he wanted. With his other hand, he hit the redial button on the phone and held it to his ear.
“Janet?” he asked into the phone. “It’s Victor. Sorry to do this to you, but could you push it back an hour? No, that’s fine. Thank you.” He put the phone on the ledge against the side of the tub.
The jets of water streamed into the bathtub and filled it up quickly. He found a bottle by the collection off to the side, flicked it open with one hand and held it upside down against the streams. The tub water foamed with the bubble bath mixture. He dropped the bottle onto the side again. He cupped me around the back, lifting his foot. Hanging on to me with one arm, he hooked a finger into his shoe, slipping it off and sliding to the floor. He found the edge of his sock, sliding it off.
