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I tear a piece of paper free and scribble down the name of the gym, the address, the time the class starts, and my cell number because I can’t remember the number of the gym off the top of my head. When I have my wallet with me, I also have cards for the gym with the class times on the back of it.
“Anyway.” I turn back to her. “Here’s the info, if you want to think about joining us. Or observing. You can even bring your friend.” I point to the ceiling. “Some of the women who take the class have had negative experiences with men, kind of like what you’ve been through, and there’s always a female trainer with me so we can make sure everyone is comfortable.”Yeah, it’s time to get the fuck out.I set the paper on the table.
She stands up, adjusting her robe, maybe finally registering that she’s not dressed in real clothes. Like she does with her cardigans, she pulls the sides over each other. “Thank you. I’ll think about it.”
“I should go. Unless you need anything else.”
“I think . . . I think I’m okay.”
“You’re sure?”
She nods, somewhat hesitantly, but when she doesn’t offer anything else, I nod again. “Okay. I, uh, I put my cell number on that paper. I wanted to do that in August, but I didn’t want to put pressure on you.” I tap the edge of the chair. “Anyway, you don’t ever have to use it, but if you’re feeling unsafe, or you need to talk it out or whatever, all you have to do is send me a message and I’ll run by. No questions asked.”
She glances at the paper, her teeth sliding over her bottom lip. “Okay. Thank you. Hopefully I don’t need to do that.”
“Better safe than sorry, right?” I couldn’t make this more awkward if I tried.
She gives me another tremulous smile and nods.
I head for the hallway, and she pads along behind me.
She stands a few feet away while I struggle to untie the stupid fucking knots in my running shoes. There’s a little bench, one with hooks behind it like we have at my parents’ house in Lake Geneva, so I sit on that to avoid taking up 90 percent of the confined space.
“Thank you again,” she says. “For everything.”
I finally manage to get the knot untied and jam my foot into my shoe, quickly tying the laces. “You gonna be okay?” I ask the floor.
“Yeah. I, um . . .” She clears her throat, and I look up to find her chewing on her bottom lip, struggling not to break down and losing the fight.
She lifts one hand, her fingertips touching her lips. “I didn’t even scream. I didn’t make a s—” She chokes on the word and shakes her head. “I should have done something.”
“It’s okay. You’re okay now. You’re safe. And those guys were drunk assholes. They were out of it and not thinking clearly.” I feed her all the lines meant to help calm her down, even though my head has already gone through scenarios I don’t want to entertain. Memories I try to keep buried float to the surface . . .
Lavender’s ripped dress.
The deep cuts on her palms that left scars.
Her haunted eyes.
“I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t run by.” Her voice is a wavery whisper.
I stand and lift a hand, letting it hover in the air for a second before it falls back to my side. “But I did. And the important part is you’re safe. A little banged up, but safe.”
She brushes away a tear. “This is so embarrassing.”
“Hey, hey.” I want to offer her comfort, but I don’t know where the lines are anymore. “It’s okay. This is a lot. And it’s layered with other stuff. I’d be more concerned if youweren’tvisibly upset by this.” I take one of her hands in mine. “I don’t know if this is out of line or not, but I give a pretty mean hug, if you need one.”
She presses her bandaged fingers to her lips and nods. “Please? I’m sorry.”
“No apologies necessary.” I open my arms, and she steps forward, eyes on my chest. I envelop her small frame. She’s familiar in a way that’s hard to explain. I’ve spent a handful of weeks sitting in a classroom listening to her insightful commentary about the craft of creative writing. And I’ve slept with her. It’s a strange position for both of us.
She inhales a shuddery breath and exhales on a soft sigh as I give her a squeeze. “I got you. You’re safe.”
She makes a little humming sound and turns her head. Her cheek comes to rest against my hoodie-covered pec, and she wraps her arms around me.
We stand there like that, just breathing, for long seconds. My heart thuds in my chest.
“You really are a great hugger.”
