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I shook my head. "No." The memories were there, but it was so hard to push the words past my mouth.
"Jax? Are you okay? You're a little pale." Her earlier ire seemed to have been forgotten. "Jax, honey? If this is too hard, you don't have to tell me."
"I think it's the only way you'll understand."
Grace leaned in toward me as if she knew something bad was coming and she could shield me from it. "Gene always watched Mallory and me carefully when we were together. It was like he was extra protective of her. He was always hugging her and telling her how special she was to him. And he was good to me, too. Always asked about my day, praised me when I did something well at school. I remember thinking how he was different than my dad, who certainly gave me a lot of attention. But Gene was more touchy-feely—pats on the back or hugs. My mom was always smiling. Life was easier.
"It took a couple of months to adjust, but we did, and things felt more normal. Mom loved having a daughter, even if she was a teenager with typical teen rebellion and smart mouthing. Mom and Gene became involved in a neighborhood group that used to get together once a month to do whatever they did, play cards, drink or some shit. Mallory used to babysit me. At first, it was fun. She'd let me stay up later, gave me extra ice cream. She was nice, you know? I liked hanging out with her. It felt like we were becoming a real family."
I dared to glance at Grace. I could tell she was caught up in my story. But this is where it got hard. "One night, Mallory asked if I wanted to see her doll collection. I didn't, but I was trying to be a good brother, so I said sure. We went into her room. Her doll collection was a bunch Barbies, dozens of them. She pulled a couple out of her pile."
I could visualize them perfectly. The dark-haired, brown-eyed girl dressed in a pink floral print on a white background, and a male doll, dressed like he was headed to the beach. "Mallory asked if I knew what Mommies and Daddies did when they went to bed. I was embarrassed. I had a pretty good idea, but not specifics. She made the dolls kiss, pulled the girl doll’s dress up and the boy’s pants down, and then put the male one on top of the girl. She said that the boy knew how to make the girl feel good. I asked her how she knew, and she just winked."
"Oh, God. She was showing her dolls having sex to her stepbrother?"
I nodded.
"That's just sick! Why would she do that? It sounds like..." Grace's eyes widened. "It sounds like someone who had a lot of experience, and that age…" Her face paled further when I nodded. She was getting the picture. "Who was it?" Her eyes grew wide. "Oh, my God! Are you saying she was sexually abused?"
I nodded.
“Oh, that’s awful! But I’m confused. I don’t understand what that has to do with you, other than it sounds like she might have been a handful. Is that why your mom and Gene got divorced?”
“Partly.”
A myriad of expressions crossed her face: confusion, sympathy, and concern, before finally settling on horror. "Wait. Those
nightmares you have. You're always telling someone 'no,' and it's as if you're fighting someone. Are you saying...were you..."
She couldn't get the words out. I couldn't say them for her either. I closed my eyes and nodded.
“Oh, God!”
She stood, one hand covering her mouth, the other across her stomach as if she was going to be sick. She paced back and forth. I wanted to go to her, to comfort her, but I couldn't. Not until I got the entire story out.
"Oh, Jax, no." Even her whisper sounded horrified. "No, no, no."
The couch sank where she sat next to me. I kept my eyes closed, not wanting to see the disgust in hers. I felt her hands flutter over my face, my chest, my arms, then my legs as if she didn't know what to do with them. Finally, they closed around my hands. I let her move them like a puppeteer until I felt her soft lips press a kiss against them before moving them around her waist as she settled herself on my lap. Her slight weight was all that kept me from bolting.
My head fell against her shoulder as I clung to her, still not opening my eyes until I heard her whisper, "I'm here, Jax."
A shudder rippled through me. I blinked a few times, then finally lifted my head. Worried blue eyes found mine. "I'm here. I've got you."
"I told you I was fucked up. It really screws with my thinking sometimes."
"Oh, Jax. You're not fucked up. But anyone who would hurt someone like that, he's the one who is. I thought I knew Gene. He seems so kind. I would never have imagined him doing that." Her face grew cold. "I can't work with him anymore. I feel like I should report him to the hospital. I need to—"
"Grace," I tried to interrupt, but she was like a dog with a bone, not willing to let go.
"No, Jax. They need to know. He can't work with teens. How he ever got this far, I—"
"Grace!" I said more forcefully, bringing her attention back to me.
"I'm sorry. I don't know what to do, what to say."
"Grace, listen to me. It wasn't Gene."
"I don't understand..."
