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“Even when I graduate, I won’t be able to keep the Tupps away. Mrs. Tupp loved the idea of the party. She’s bringing a casserole.”
“That’s still two months away.”
“She insisted.”
We shared a small laugh. When I pictured married life when growing up, did I ever picture domesticity being anything like this? Casually talking about therapy over our morningcoffee? Despite that, it all felt perfectly normal, as normal as I felt waking up and seeing Taylor’s face across from mine.
“Let’s get going, we don’t want to be late.”
At Mr. Tupp’s, a floor above his wife’s, we went from the waiting room to the office. The walls of his office were covered with several framed, completed puzzles on the wall. All of them were abstract art pieces. They must have taken hours to complete. How could someone sort through that kind of mess?
We shook Mr. Tupp’s hand. He was a taller, round man with a carefully cared for mustache and a deep, almost bellowing voice, like you might think a mall Santa would have.
“So, Taylor, Lydia, is it fine if I call you Lydia?” Mr. Tupp asked.
“Of course.”
“Thank you for coming here with your concerns. I hope I can help work them out with you.” He had a wide smile that made me feel safe here, even with my complete lack of knowledge of these kinds of things.
“What are we going to do?” I asked.
“I’m going to teach you some common ways of avoiding what triggers your,” he nodded at Taylor, “fears and trauma. I will also be teaching you strategies for making sure both of you are in the position to know when the other is really consenting, even when they seem to want to engage in sexual acts or even say that they do. When in doubt of course, don’t engage.”
I nodded. That seemed like what we were already doing.
“When your control is violated, it can be hard to set boundaries. I’m sure Taylor’s heard this a thousand times, but often convincing yourself you want to even when you don’t want to is a coping mechanism developed by the victim to make the abuse not seem as bad as it is. Abusers will often insist that the victim does want what is happening in order to shame them into not telling anyone and to guilt them into keeping it going.”
That was a lot to hit me with all at once. I understood it all fine, but it didn’t make hearing it any easier. Mr. Tupp had a very understanding and relaxed tone, which helped. I could tell he wanted to help us. I just selfishly wished that Taylor never went through with what he did. That he never had to feel like that. But I knew there was no changing the past, I could only control now.
“Taylor, can you tell Lydia what you’ve been struggling with in particular?” Mr. Tupp asked him.
Taylor turned to me and sighed. “I’ve been assuming I know what you’re thinking, like that you wouldn’t like me because I couldn’t be intimate.”
“But that’s not true.” I tilted my head wanting to reach out and comfort him somehow.
“Those are intrusive thoughts Taylor. I think you need to work on, when you assume something about what Lydia is thinking, that you examine why you assume that. Then I want you to ask Lydia what she really feels,” Mr. Tupp instructed. I guess there was homework in therapy too.
“Now let’s talk about intimacy.”
***
We had been going to therapy for a few weeks. Christmas was a little over a month away. Taylor and I were having a movie night. We were slowly doing small intimate acts, escalating once we both felt comfortable. Last week we were leaning on each other during these movie nights and sleeping closer than ever before. We were daily holding hands and kissing hello and goodbye. There were still days when Taylor couldn’t bring himself to do much of anything. But we worked through those days. I knew Taylor wasn’t ever going to be “fixed”, even after therapy. But he was getting better, and I could feel us getting even closer.
The night before, we had spooned, his solid chest pressed against my back. While we watched the action flick we picked at random, I kept thinking back at the way his legs pressed against me, his heat melding with mine. His body closer than ever before.
He reached down and pressed pause on the remote. I leaned up off of his shoulder a little with a questioning look on my face.
He pushed some of my mussed hair back and stroked my ear with his thumb. “Do I ever say how beautiful you are?”
“It was how you tried to convince me to be your wife.” I reminded him while I moved my body closer. I carefully placed my hand on his thigh, watching to see his reaction. He continued to play with the curls around my ear.
“It worked, didn’t it? And I wasn’t lying or exaggerating. You.” He got his legs onto the couch and leaned forward which pushed my hand further up his thigh. “Are.” He pressed a soft kiss to my mouth. “Attractive.”
He had to know he was driving me crazy. “You’re not so bad yourself.” While my one hand traced circles on his upper thigh, my other was finding the edge of his shirt and slipping under the hem. I explored the hard muscle beneath as he leaned forward for another, deeper kiss.
We were almost on top of each other at this point. As we broke to breathe between kisses, I took in his scent. Freshly showered after his workout earlier, he smelled like mint and spices. I wanted to bury my nose in his hair. I decided, why not. I was basically straddling him and kissed up his neck to his ear, teasing with a quick hot breath.
He made a low noise in his throat while I breathed in the concentrated smell. I slowly leaned back, letting him decide what to do next.
