Chapter Nineteen
That damn door. I’d even dreamt about it; its glossy red surface opening to a number of different scenarios: some of them completely surreal as dreams are prone to be.
Others slightly more realistic. Some of the dreams didn’t even have Justin in them.
In one particularly memorable one, I’d climbed the familiar stairs only to find Simon behind the bedroom door.
He’d loomed out of the darkness, somehow managing to glow enough to be able to recognize it as him.
His octopus hands had groped me everywhere while an unnaturally long tongue thrust its way into my mouth.
Georgia had also been in that one. She’d stood in the corner of the room, egging Simon on and encouraging him not to take no for an answer.
God only knows what a psychologist would have made of my overactive imagination.
They’d probably have had a field day analyzing it.
I lifted my hand and knocked, a tiny flake of red paint chipping off under my knuckles and floating slowly down to the ground.
I hadn’t made a conscious decision to go there.
Even at the point I’d left the house, I’d thought I might go and visit my brother, or Georgia at work.
But, my legs had carried me there. Closure was good, I reminded myself.
Justin was right, we could have a conversation.
Agree that we both needed to take some of the responsibility for the huge fuckup our relationship had turned into.
Then we could move on and both go our separate ways.
Maybe then I’d be able to get him out of my head, not to mention my dreams. At least that was the plan if he ever actually bothered to answer the door.
I knocked again, louder that time. Same result.
On impulse, I tried the handle. The door swung open.
Christ! It was just like old times. I stepped inside to be met with the familiar sight of the lamp on the table.
No envelope, of course, but that was the only discernible difference.
As usual, the downstairs room doors were all closed.
I considered the possibility of Justin being in one of them.
But then, why not answer the door? I glanced toward the dark stairs.
I had a sneaky suspicion, I knew exactly where I’d find him.
I climbed the stairs and let myself into the bedroom.
If I’d been expecting to find the lights on, I was going to be disappointed.
It was equally as dark as it had ever been on any of my previous visits.
What was this? Was I meant to be overcome with sentimentality?
All it was doing was reminding me he’d paid me for sex, both before and after we’d started dating.
I pressed my back to the door. “I’m not taking my clothes off.
” The words sounded bitter even to my own ears.
“I don’t expect you to.”
It was odd hearing Justin’s actual voice echo through the room. I was so used to just hearing the whisper. I turned my head at the sound of footsteps coming gradually closer. They stopped before he spoke again. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
I smoothed my hand over the wood behind my back, letting my fingers trail over the door handle, a reassuring reminder that I could open the door and leave at any time. There was nothing keeping me there against my will. “Neither was I. I don’t really know why I’m here.”
“To talk.”
I swallowed, nerves ramping up a notch. “Right. To talk. What’s with the blast from the past in the dark, though?”
There was a distinct hesitation before he offered any response. “I thought it might be easier…to talk in the dark. You don’t have to worry about body language, or expressions. There’s just words. Seemed, I don’t know…safer somehow.”
The voice—Justin’s voice, I reminded myself—was about a meter away. “I always wondered how you managed to keep it so dark in here. I’ve been in lots of rooms in the middle of the night. None of them have ever been this dark.”
“I hung blackout curtains. Not for you. I already had them. When I got out of the hospital, I had trouble sleeping. I couldn’t nod off until about four or five in the morning. Then, the sun used to wake me up a couple of hours later. A friend recommended a company that made really thick curtains.”
“You couldn’t sleep because of the burns?”
There was a long pause. Long enough I thought he wasn’t going to answer. “That, and the…flashbacks. I had PTSD. Well, still do occasionally. But, it’s mostly under control. I take valium sometimes if the anxiety gets too much.”
Justin suddenly sounded unexpectedly fragile.
He’d never given the impression before of suffering any ill effects apart from the scarring.
I wondered if he’d deliberately kept it hidden.
I had a feeling he wouldn’t be admitting it now if the conversation was taking place in the light.
It left me feeling extremely na?ve and ignorant.
The man had nearly died. It had ended his army career.
Never mind the fact that he was permanently disfigured.
Of course, that would leave emotional scars as well as physical.
“I didn’t realize. Sorry. I’m glad you’ve told me.
But…I can’t help but wonder why you’re telling me this now. ”
A longer hesitation. “Because…I know at some point, you’re going to ask me why I hired an escort in the first place. And it’s all part of the same story.”
I took a moment to contemplate his words, and the intention behind them, the sound of my own breathing seeming too loud in the oppressive darkness. I had to ask, callous as it sounded. “Are you trying to make me feel sorry for you?”
“No!” He almost shouted the word out, before repeating it more quietly. “No. Definitely not. I just want you to try and understand. I was lucky to get a second date…never mind…”
“Sex?”
“Yes.” There was a long pause. “And I know it sounds pathetic. But, it had been two years…since I’d been with anyone.
Before the scars. A friend suggested it.
The same friend who’d suggested the blackout curtains.
I think it was meant as a joke. I laughed, but then the more I thought about it, well…
” He took a shaky breath. “I googled escort agencies, and you know the rest. They sent you. And you were—”
I waited, but he seemed in no rush to finish the sentence. “I was what?”
“Beautiful…and—”
“Beautiful?” I couldn’t help my snort of disbelief. “You couldn’t even see me! And I lied to you about my hair and eye color…and my height.”
“I didn’t need to see you. I didn’t mean beautiful to look at.
You were sweet, and responsive. And you were clearly nervous.
I didn’t expect that. I guess…I’ve watched too many films. I thought you’d be more, I don’t know, jaded or businesslike.
I certainly didn’t think you’d get any enjoyment out of it.
But, you…came…every time. And you followed all the stupid rules I’d set.
I was so paranoid about what would happen…
if you touched my scars. You were…perfect. ”
“You always threw me straight out after.”
“I was scared!”
“Of what?”
His drawn-out sigh whistled through the dark.
“I don’t know. I’ve thought about it a lot and I can’t come up with a definitive answer.
Maybe of you discovering what I looked like.
Scared of getting attached. I don’t know.
You were so talkative. So friendly. I think I was just scared of getting drawn in and not being able to let you go.
So…I guess I pushed you out of the door before you could reject me.
It made some sort of strange sense at the time. ”
I leaned my head back against the door, feeling stupid we hadn’t had this conversation weeks ago.
The fault for that could be laid firmly at my own door.
I closed my eyes, gathering the resolve to try and talk about the things that really mattered.
“I get why you hired an escort in the first place. I really do. What I don’t get.
What hurts…hurt”—I quickly corrected myself to past tense— “is why you carried on paying me for sex after we were together. I mean, Christ! You could have gotten it for free. God knows I tried enough times to get intimate with you.”
“I canceled.” Justin’s voice sounded strained. “As soon as you agreed to go on a date with me, I canceled. Remember?”
I thought back. He was right. The phone call from Tom had come the morning before our first date.
“I remember. So…then, why not leave it like that? I could have coped with that…maybe. Finding out we’d slept together before we met properly.
It would have been different. It would have been easier to handle. ”
Justin sighed. “It’s easy to see that in hindsight.
But, I felt bad. You couldn’t pay for dinner.
And I’d caused the thing that had fallen through.
I liked you, Dean. I liked you…here. Then, when I met you in real life, I really liked you.
I couldn’t bear the thought of you struggling. You were working so hard.”
“It was…twisted! You were having sex with me, knowing exactly who I was, while I didn’t have a clue.”
“I know.” The two words were barely a whisper. “Don’t think for a minute, I don’t know that. And the longer I left it, the harder it was to tell you. But…” His words trailed off.
“But, what?”
“I don’t want to start a blame game.”
“Go on. Say what you were going to say. I can take it.”
He moved closer. So close, I could feel his breath against my neck.
My cock stirred. “As far as you knew, you were dating one guy, and sleeping with a different one. I kept giving you opportunities to come clean…about the escorting…and you never did. I guess, I thought my confession would follow yours. But, yours never came. I don’t think it ever would have come.
Were you…were you seeing other men as well? ”