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I fall into a heavy silence. Matt’s still holding my hands, and I realize how tired I feel. My body is heavy, as if I just ran a marathon. The experience of talking to someone, of knowing that they care about me personally, is cathartic. I’m absolutely drained even though I tried to keep the story brief, not wanting to burden Matt with all the details.
“Can I ask something?” Matt’s voice is quiet and hesitant. I nod, but he waits until I’m looking up at him to speak.
“Have you gone out or been with anyone else since then?” I give him a questioning look, and he clarifies, “It’s just that I’ve noticed how nervous you get around guys, especially guys your own age.” He winces and notices that I’m still confused. “What I’m clumsily trying to say is, have you had any serious relationships? Any positive experiences to help you, you know. . .” He makes a rolling gesture with his hands and sends me a pleading look.
“Move forward?” I offer, and he nods in affirmation. “I tried. I went on a couple of dates, but, like you noticed, I have a really hard time with men my age. Dr. Connors thinks I would get used to them with time, but whenever I went out with someone, all I could think about was what they might be thinking about doing and how I would have to get myself out of the situation. There was one guy. We chatted for over a month before he took me on a date but stopped responding to messages after looking me up online.”
Matt nods. “Was he about the same age as you?”
“Yes.”
“And your supervisor? He was about the same age as you too?”
“Yes. He was a TA with a research job in the library. He was supposed to be some kind of genius. Graduated high school early, rich family, made for great press for the university. That might have been why things were kept so quiet too.”
My stomach roils at some of the articles I found about him after the trial.
“But you feel comfortable with me?” Matt watches my reaction carefully.
I nod but want to give him a verbal confirmation, so I say, “I am.”
