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Jack pops his head back in. “Sesame chicken, babe? Wonton, barbeque spare ribs?”
“Sure. It’s all fine.” When he frowns, I pretend to adjust the blanket until he pops back into the kitchen. Yup. Everything is fucking peachy, just like this couch’s description in that overpriced blasted catalog. I pick at a piece of fuzz on the couch as a rage slowly simmers inside me. It’s not Jack I’m upset with, but he’s the easiest outlet for my anger. If I could identify the true source, I could attack it, flush it out, and move on from this strange limbo my brain and heart seem to be in right now.
“Delivery in twenty minutes.” Jack strides back into the living room and sits down next to me, my skin itching from his proximity. What is wrong with me? my mind screams, but a serene plastic expression covers my face. Jack puts his arm around me, and it takes everything inside me not to push him away. I love Jack and want him to touch me. At the same time, I want to burn every inch of my skin from the memory of Daniel’s hands on me. The things he called me, the things my brain has blocked out from that afternoon…
“I can’t wait. I’m starved.” Leaning into him, I try my best not to freak out. Jack traces a line from my shoulder to my elbow, igniting a shivery spark. I hadn’t felt much of one since Daniel’s attack. If only my brain would shut itself down.
“Me, too,” Jack says, and I know he’s not talking about food. His palm cups my cheek and I close my eyes, breathing deeply. How I could not want this man after all his care and gentleness is beyond me. I want what we had before. I’ll do anything to get that back.
Jack
Edith is still uneasy with me. As much as she masks it, I can tell she’s holding back. I don’t know what kind of misplaced guilt or shame she’s feeling, but if I could kill Daniel Munson and get away with it, I would. My beautiful girl is a mess inside that head of hers, and I’m helpless to assist her in sorting it out. I consider asking her to see a therapist, but I’m afraid she’ll go ballistic on me. One crying fit was all I could handle after the police questioned her and she fell apart. I wanted them to call a doctor to sedate her, but they wanted their fucking statement first. Then I found out the prosecutor didn’t have enough evidence to lock Daniel up forever, and the university could only do so much… Well, I was fucking livid. I forced Edith to file a No Contact order for her protection, but a piece of paper isn’t a guarantee that Danny boy will behave himself. If all I’m going to get from her is placating statements and holding her like this, I’m going to go crazy.
When the doorbell rings, I sigh. “I’ll get it, sweetheart. Stay here.” I ease myself up, hurt that I can feel she’s slightly relieved I’ve let her go. I grab our dinner and bring it into the kitchen, placing everything on a tray to bring in to her. Using my foot, I push the coffee table closer, then put everything down and open up the boxes.
Edith grabs a box and stuffs a piece of chicken in her mouth. “This is really good. I can’t remember the last time I had Chinese food like this.”
“New place just opened up. I thought we could try it.” I shrug and figure this is my in. “Speaking of new things…”
Edith looks up at me in mid-bite of a baby corn, her lips wrapping around and snapping it off in a clean bite. It’s seductive. She licks the juice from her lips and slowly chews. “Okay… New is good.”
“I think we should go to Miami for Christmas. Get out of town and spend time away from…” I wave my hand around, “all of this.” I watch Edith put her carton of food down and lick her lips.
“Away could be good… Like you said, a change.” Edith leans in and kisses me on my cheek. Her lips are cool, but I don’t know if it’s forced or real. I’m pissed, but I don’t know how to ask her because it’s not her I’m mad at.
“We can spend time on the beach, shop, do whatever you want.” I cup her cheek and kiss her. She goes along with it, but doesn’t open her mouth to me, so I don’t push her further.
She peppers tiny kisses all over my face, giving me hope. “Okay. Yes, let’s go. You can’t take away my flip flops in Florida.” Edith runs her hands through my hair and I smile. It’s the first cheeky thing my girl has said since this whole nightmare began.
Chapter Twelve
Edith
We’re going to Miami? What the hell did I just agree to? After dinner and watching a movie, I pretend to fall asleep on the couch. Yes, I was using every avoidance tactic possible. I wanted Jack, but I was afraid of how my body would react. The idea was taking hold in my brain so much, it made me sick, so I took the coward’s way out. I let my eyes slip closed and my breathing relax as Jack plays with my hair, letting my curls gently wrap around his fingers. The movie credits roll and he lifts me in his arms, tenderly placing me in our bed. He covers me with a blanket, then slips in behind me, his hot skin against my comfy house clothes.
When Jack settles into sleep and eventually rolls away from me, I let the damn tears fall until I, too, fall into a fitful sleep. There was something about him turning away from me in our bed that makes the emotional distance that much greater.
***
Jack must have gone into his office this morning because I woke alone. It was rare that he left me. All I saw was a note on the nightstand and a credit card propped up by the alarm. Reaching over the clock, which reads 8:47am, I grab the note.
Edith… Babe!! Take this plastic and spend like crazy. That’s an order! I called Shelby and she’s taking you out. She’ll be here around 10. Alarm is set for 9:20, just in case you don’t wake up by then. xoxo Love you - J
Ever thoughtful, he even tells me when the alarm will go off. Rolling my eyes, I roll back over on the bed, my body protesting the movement. My head is pounding with a massive headache. I contemplate what over-the-counter drugs we have that would be strong enough to combat it, but come up empty. Groaning, I lean over again and turn the alarm off, then pad to the bathroom to step under the hot spray of water. However, not even the shower clears the cobwebs as I turn off the water and step out, then stand naked in front of the floor-length mirror, water dripping down my body. There’s nary a mark left from the encounter with Daniel. No scars, no bruising, nothing to disfigure me in any way. I wish the same could be said about my mental state.
When Jack had insisted I go and get checked out, a rape crisis counselor came to my hospital room and talked to me about the things I could expect to feel afterwards. She handed me a packet of information and her card, telling me I could call her at any time. That was bullshit. I wasn’t a victim. Daniel didn’t rape me, but he fucked with my head, making me think he would violate me. When you wake from a nightmare in a cold sweat, how do you explain that to someone?
A sick part of me wishes there was a mark on my body, something real I could blame all this aching and misery on. I look back at the shower and see the razor inside. For a split second, I actually contemplate doing something, anything to feel. That’s when another dam inside me bursts.
Choking cries send me sliding to the cold tile floor. Gasping for air, I place my head between my knees. There’s something seriously wrong with me if I’m thinking about opening my flesh to see if there’s a real person left. It’s absolutely crazy. I stifle the tears and take shuddering breaths, attempting to calm myself. Hold it in. Let it go, the mantra repeats. Maybe I should call that rape crisis counselor, the one who looked barely older than me, but I wonder what she could possibly say that would help me make sense of it all. I put an arm out to touch the frigid marble tiles of the wall, my fingers stubbing on the rough grout surface.
As I’m sitting there, wiping the tears from my face, I look into the bedroom. The clock says 9:19, and I watch the digital display change to 9:20. Sniffling, I force myself to stand up and slowly walk to the closet. Clothes… I need some clothes and have to fix my hair. Opening the closet doors, I see another note on my side of the closet which, according to Jack, is too sparse compared to all his ties, suit jackets, and dress shirts hanging neatly. I run my palm over the dozens of hangers. The clothes smell like Jack and my heart squeezes, thinking of him. I grab the note.
Babe! No flip flops until Florida... Seriously. It’s, like, 20 degrees today. xoxo – J
In place of my flip flops, which seem to have been commandeered, he’s left out a brand new pair of black UGG boots, which must have come in the mail from Amazon or something. Not even my well-worn converse can be found. I didn’t order the boots, but I love them because he did, even if I find him overbearing sometimes. I finger the brand new tag and see he’s blacked out the price. He knows I’ll freak about how much he’s spending o
n me. I grab a pair of leggings, a top, and one of Jack’s wool pea-coats, along with a scarf that smells like him. I dress, then head downstairs just in time to see Shelby on the porch, ringing the doorbell.
