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Finally, when there were no more tears left to cry, she pulled herself together. She gathered her things, went to Sondra’s desk, picked up the file, and stuffed it in her bag. CLASSIFIED, my ass.
Addie couldn’t get home fast enough. She needed to hold her boys—to tell them
how much she loved them, how much she wanted them, and how proud she was of them. Addie knew she was a good mother, and yet she still wondered if it was enough—if she was enough. Did she tell them she loved them often enough? Were they going to end up like her clients? Like her? Feeling unlovable and unworthy, never quite good enough, remedying their pain by attaching themselves to all the wrong things, anything to fill the void.
She wouldn’t let that happen. She couldn’t let that happen.
Addie’s phone lit up. Again. Sondra had called at least five dozen times since she’d left Seven. Fuck Sondra.
Once home, she relieved Kelsey, telling her to go home even though she was staying with them for the time being. Addie needed to be alone.
Later, after she’d showered, she tiptoed into Connor’s room and sat on the edge of his bed. Addie watched the rise and fall of his chest as he slept and inhaled his little boy scent. He was growing up so fast yet still trapped somewhere between a little and a big kid. Some days he tried on the big kid outfit for size. While others he was still content in his little kid uniform. He wore them both well, although neither quite fit, one still too big, the other too small. Addie stayed there, watching him sleep. She studied his face and breathed in his innocence. Silent tears fell as she remembered the times she’d cried herself to sleep at his age because no one had cared enough to comfort her. She cried for the little girl and what a shame it was that no one had ever loved her this much.
Addie awoke later in the darkness, shaking. You’re ok, she told herself. It was just a bad dream. She sat up, trying to shake it off. In the dream, she was naked, chained, and locked in a cage. She was battered and bruised. Thinking about the dream rattled her. It was just a nightmare, she told herself again as she went downstairs and put on some hot tea. Still shaken and unable to sleep, Addie removed William’s client folder from her bag, curled up on the couch, and began reading.
Due to the nature of work and celebrity in which this client is involved, he will be referred to only as Mr. X in all correspondence.
Over the course of seven years, from five to twelve years of age, Mr. X was brutally tortured and abused daily at the hands of his stepfather. The abuse was ritualistic in nature, taking place each day as his stepfather arrived home from the office. Mr. X was expected to be waiting at the door holding a scotch, made to perfection, just the way his stepfather liked it: chilled with two ice cubes. The scotch had to reach a certain level on the glass. No more, no less. After his stepfather tossed his drink back, he instructed William to put on Pettersson’s Symphony No. Seven and remove his clothes. He beat him for the duration of the piece. When the music ended, although sometimes he ordered that it be played again, the stepfather would tell Mr. X that “he knew the little bastard was just using him for money, mooching off of him” and that “he was so worthless his own father didn’t even want him.” He instructed Mr. X to repeat the same sentence seven times over: He would never be as successful as his stepfather was because he was a worthless piece of shit.
Over time, Mr. X learned not to show any emotion during the beatings. Otherwise, the intensity was far more severe and longer in duration. When asked where his mother was, Mr. X replied only that it was the time of her daily massage. When questioned whether or not she knew about the beatings he endured at the hands of his stepfather, Mr. X commented that he wasn’t sure, but that he thought she had suspected.
At the age of eleven, his mother divorced the abuser and remarried. Mr. X has implied that with the new stepfather there was a short reprieve and that eventually the abuse continued, though the physical beatings were less intense while the verbal assaults held the same, if not increased, intensity.
Mr. X has made significant progress during his time as my client. In the beginning, he was unable to show any sign of emotion and had a difficult time performing as a submissive. Although over time he has shown improvement, his capability to feel and/or exhibit emotion still remains severely limited.
It is my personal opinion that Mr. X suffers from Reactive Attachment Disorder (RAD) marked by emotional detachment in the second sense: a decision to avoid engaging emotional connections, rather than an inability or difficulty in doing so, typically for personal, social, or other reasons. In this sense, it can allow people to maintain boundaries, psychic integrity, and avoid undesired impact by or upon others, related to emotional demands. As such, it is a deliberate mental attitude, which avoids engaging the emotions of others.
Addie set the file down, unable to read any further. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she forced herself to breathe. Her mind wandered to William and memories of the time they’d spent together. Suddenly, there was clarity where there had been none. There were little things that at the time she had thought were odd which now made perfect sense.
Reading his profile had been too much to bear. William, who had never been able to emotionally connect with anyone, had fallen in love with her. And the realization that she’d hurt him to cover her own ass was more than she could handle. Knowing that she lied to him to keep from getting hurt herself, never once considering what she might be doing to him, was excruciating. Due to his playboy reputation, Addie always figured that he wasn’t the type who wanted anything more than casual sex. And she was ok with that. But she never once considered that his reputation had more to do with the fact that he couldn’t give more, not even if he’d wanted to. Addie now understood that her acceptance of his playboy lifestyle, the fact that she never demanded more from him on an emotional level, which was easy because she was married, in addition to remaining emotionally unattached herself, gave William the freedom to explore his emotions.
All at once it became clear why their connection was so intense, why he drove her insane, and why she couldn’t stay away from him. Addie understood how it could be that she was in love with him but unable to admit it, even to herself. She and William were one and the same: both broken, both confined by their past, both adding fuel to the other’s flames.
Sixteen
The following morning, Addie had originally planned on calling in sick. She hadn’t slept. She was emotionally and physically spent. It wasn’t until Andre showed up and coached her through one of his signature grueling workouts that she surprisingly found her second wind and decided that wouldn’t hurt her to go into the office for a little while. She needed to have a few words with Sondra, anyway.
Addie showered and dressed in a long t-shirt dress and sandals; she was going casual today. Her days of caring what Sondra or anyone else thought were over.
Once downstairs, she sat sipping her coffee and watched the boys enjoying their breakfast carefully prepared by the chef that her lies were paying for. She watched them eat, listened to their laughter, and wondered how anything could be more perfect. She didn’t have any work scheduled at Seven this weekend. Maybe they’d get away, just the three of them.
Addie heard her driver pull up, and as she kissed and hugged the boys, she lingered. “You know how much I love you guys, right?”
“Yes, Mama.” The boys replied in unison.
Addie laughed and threw open her arms, extending them as wide as she could. “THIS much!”
Parker climbed down from his chair and ran to Addie, hugging her knee. “I wuv you this much, Mama.”
Her heart slowly melted into a million tiny pieces. Being a mother was hard, painfully hard sometimes, but moments like these were what made it all worth it. Addie bent down and wrapped Parker in the biggest bear hug she could muster, considering how sore she was, until he begged for mercy. Before long, the other boys joined in, and the four of them tickled each other and laughed like lunatics in a pile on the kitchen floor. Addie had no idea that it would be this lasting memory that would hold her together over the next forty-eight hours. That she would conjure up thoughts of this very moment as she begged for her life and tried to survive the most horrific, excruciating situation one could possibly imagine.
Sondra was, not surprisingly, waiting in Addie’s off
ice when she arrived. Addie walked to her desk and sat down without saying a word, pretending she wasn’t there.
Sondra eyed her up and down, blatantly displeased. “What in the hell are you wearing?”
Addie shrugged her shoulders. “Whatever I damn well please.”
