Chapter Ten
CHAPTER TEN
Zarah
I ’m nervous about my next session with Jerricka. I have a lot to tell her, and she reminded me that today we’d talk about sex. It’s good timing since I’ve been thinking about Gage and his endless patience more and more. The way he talked to me in the woods during our walk, answering my questions without making me feel stupid, or the way he smoothed my hair back while he waited for me to fall asleep. I wish he would have stayed, but it’s hard being scared of something you want.
Douglas drives me into the city, and I have the list Gage filled out tucked into my purse. I didn’t think of the ten reasons, but I’m sure Jerricka will be proud I willingly opened myself up to a relationship. That I took the initiative to invite Gage and Baby to the house.
I dressed the way I always do. Heels, dress slacks, blouse and jacket. Catching my reflection in the mirrored wall of the elevator going up to Jerricka’s office, I look perfect. Expensive. Rich. Untouchable, though I guess I do that on purpose, to keep people from approaching me.
I don’t have friends, not anymore. I used to, high school classmates, other rich girls I would party with before Ash sold me, but they dropped off and don’t come around. Probably think I’m a slut or a whore, or their fathers used Ash’s escort service and they’re in prison and they blame me. Sometimes I miss going out, carefree, just being myself, not having anything to worry about. I’ll never have that again.
Not because of what Ash did to me, but after meeting Stella, I know that kind of life is a waste, and I need to start thinking about what I want to do. Having a purpose, a goal, a dream, my recovery could be all that more reachable. I would have something to work toward. I wonder why Gage went into private investigating. I bet he and Mel would have a lot in common, and I press my lips together against a sudden rush of tears.
Gage and I don’t have anything in common. We couldn’t be more different. People in meaningful relationships are supposed to have things they can talk about, activities they can share.
He won’t always want to walk the dogs. What would we do if we spent more time together?
This isn’t a good way to start a session, and I wipe my cheeks. I don’t need any help crying when I talk to Jerricka.
The receptionist shows me into her office, and she’s looking out her window, the city of King’s Crossing its own animal, vibrant and bursting with energy below her. A weekday, the streets are full of traffic, and being this high, I miss the Crowne’s rooftop pool. It’s closed now, because it’s winter, but maybe Gage would like to go up and look over the river. We could eat dinner at a restaurant on the water.
I sigh. He’s not going to want to do that. It sounds boring, even to me.
Jerricka turns from the window, and she looks sad. Her eyes are downcast and she’s pale. She’s always been steady and strong, and her melancholy surprises me.
“Are you getting sick?” I ask.
She forces a smile. “No, just a little out of sorts. We’ll have time for one more session and then I’m taking the rest of the year off to celebrate the holidays. Will you be okay during the break? I’ll give you some exercises to work on, like the list. Did you fill it out?”
Time off from therapy sounds appealing, but not having anyone to talk to for that many weeks is terrifying. I dump all my nightmares onto Jerricka. Stella will talk to me, and I take advantage of that all the time, but talking to a therapist is different. They’re paid to listen...and to keep their mouths shut. I doubt Stella tells Zane everything we talk about, but if I told her something that would indicate I’m struggling, she would let him know. Sometimes, even if I am struggling, I want to keep it private. Jerricka does.
She says it helps me grow stronger to push through certain things on my own, and I don’t disagree.
“Yes.” I pull the paper out of my purse, drop my bag onto the floor near the couch, and slide my jacket off.
“This isn’t your writing,” she says, skimming.
I perch on the edge of the couch’s cushion. “No. I met someone.” I say it out loud, and goosebumps zip along my skin like an electrical current. My fingertips buzz, and I capture my hands between my knees to keep them from shaking.
“Did you read what he wrote?” she asks, sitting next to me like she always does, and the session starts to feel normal.
“Yes.”
“Do you agree with all the attributes he gave you credit for?”
I frown. “Not some of them. Like being smart. I’m not educated, not like Stella or Zane. Because of what Ash did to me, I haven’t gone to college.”
“Do you think a person has to go to school to be intelligent?”
“Maybe. I think it helps prove you are if you have a degree.”
“You took a gap year,” she says, writing something on her tablet.
“Two of them,” I admit. When I met Stella, I was still struggling to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. I never got the chance.
“Was school part of your plan?”
“Not back then. Mom and I were involved in a lot of charity work, and she was teaching me networking and fundraising. I guess that’s learning in a different way, but after the plane crash, I stopped thinking about the future all together.”
“So, let’s think about college now,” Jerricka says, smiling. “You have the resources to go anywhere, do anything you want. Choose some classes that sound interesting and see what you discover.”
The idea thrills me and scares me at the same time, like so much these days. Signing up for classes, navigating my way around a campus, muddling through the coursework. Meeting all those people who know who I am and the things Ash did to me. People would look at me and know I’m dirty, and they wouldn’t talk to me, they’d shut me out. I would be alone.
When Stella goes to campus, people vie for her attention. If I went to school, people would call me a whore.
I shake my head, whipping my hair back and forth. “No. I can’t. People would know.”
“Okay. We can table school for a while. Let’s go back to the list. He thinks you’re kind. Do you think that, too?”
I shrug. “I guess so.”
“And he thinks you have a big heart, and that you’re beautiful. He likes the sound of your laugh, and the way your skin turns gold in the firelight. Zarah, he sounds like he’s in love with you. You said you met someone?”
I scoot off the couch and pace. This is what I wanted to tell her, and I grin. “Yes! He’s a private investigator, and Max’s brother. His name is Gage, and he invited me to have coffee. I told you about him, do you remember?”
She nods.
“He came to the house—he has a dog named Baby—and we let the dogs run around in the woods. I asked him to kiss me, and he did, but light.” I press my fingers to my lips and imagine Gage kissing me, his strong arms holding me against his chest.
Jerricka leans forward. “And how did you feel?”
“Nervous. Zane says if we get close, he’ll want sex.”
“He won’t be the only one. No matter whom you meet, they’re going to want to be closer to you. Intimacy between two people isn’t only about physical satisfaction. It’s about a man showing a woman how they feel, through actions, not words.”
“I know. That’s how the men who paid Ash treated me. They showed me they hated me by what they did to me.”
“Can you talk about that, Zarah?” Jerricka sets aside her tablet and folds her hands in her lap.
My mouth goes dry. Besides the attorney who needed to know, I haven’t divulged any details about Ash’s jobs to anyone. Stella was there to support me and she listened, but we never spoke about it again.
I’m quiet for too long.
“You don’t have to,” she says.
“I think I can talk about the first time he sold me.” A pitcher of water sits on a sideboard, and I pour a glass and sip. “The first time he did it, I didn’t know what was going on. We met for drinks at a bar in a hotel Ash owns. Owned. Ash said it was a business meeting, and he wanted me there. We grew up together, and he was Zane’s best friend. I had no reason not to trust him, and if anyone had asked me, I probably would have said I was in love with him. I think on some level, I knew our parents expected us to get married. Maybe everything I felt was a lie.”
I walk around her office, picking up little trinkets, my mind sifting through hazy, faded memories to the time I met Stella. She grew up having to watch her back and everyone else’s, and I couldn’t hide anything from her. Not my bruises. Not my fear. In the end, she paid for that, but it’s me who’s in her debt.
My head starts to ache, but I keep going.
“We finished our drinks and went upstairs. I thought Ash had reserved a business suite and we would move on to the real portion of the meeting, but when Ash opened the door, he gestured us inside. He said, ‘Have a good time,’ and he closed the door. Today, right at this second, I can still hear the snick of the lock as the man who paid for me slid it into place. But I’m stupid. I still didn’t get it. He took my hand, and I followed him into the suite. He poured me champagne. Ran his fingers through my hair and told me I was beautiful. He backhanded me, and a ring he wore cut my lip.” I can feel the sting, the shock, and I press my hand over my mouth.
“Take your time,” Jerricka says.
My voice grows louder and my words come faster, and I sip more water, wishing I could tell the story and not have to relive it. But I’m there, in that luxurious room, blurry, lights dim, and I can almost picture the man who paid for me, sophisticated and handsome in his suit. His features are still out of reach, the man still a faceless monster in my mind. I wish I could forget everything.
“I stumbled back, not understanding what was happening. He called me names and told me he was going to fuck me over just like my father did to him. He pushed me onto the bed, ripped my dress and my panties. I’d only had sex one other time, and that was with Ash. He was big and it hurt, and he didn’t let me go no matter how loud or hard I cried. All night he rammed into me, and I started bleeding. He stopped then, buckled his belt and straightened his tie. Then he left. I laid on the bed in a puddle of semen and blood, and Ash came to the room and cleaned me up. He told me if I ever said anything, he would kill Zane and destroy our company.”
I pick up a little unicorn statue, but I can barely see it through my tears.
“He carried me out of the hotel, my head on his shoulder. We must have looked so romantic, but no one knew he had to carry me because I was too sore to walk. That was the first time he sold me, and the man who paid Ash to do that to me is in prison right now.”
I look at Jerricka, and she’s wiping tears off her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
The area between my legs throbs like it happened yesterday, and my stomach lurches. A sheen of sweat covers my skin, and I can smell my fear through the floral scent of my deodorant. I sink onto the couch, my emotional pain settling into my aching muscles.
I force myself to remember Gage’s soft touch, the tender look in his eyes when he rubbed his nose against mine. The way he pet Sansa at dinner, the way he caressed my cheek as I fell asleep. I think of Zane and the way he holds Stella, and I tell myself not all men are bad.
“I’m proud of you for being able to share that with me,” Jerricka says, picking up her tablet again. “How would you feel now if the gentleman you’re seeing wanted to make love to you?”
My answer is immediate. “I wouldn’t be able to.”
“Aren’t you afraid he’ll leave you if you don’t give him what he wants?”
I meet her gaze, and while the words are sharp, her face is passive. I don’t know where she’s going with her line of questioning, but I’m uncomfortable. “I don’t know how long he would wait.”
“If he told you he didn’t want to wait any longer, what would you do?”
The thought of Gage leaving me over sex tears my heart into bloody shreds. “I’m not sure.”
“Would you give it to him anyway? To keep him with you?”
Picturing Gage fucking me even though I didn’t want it is too much, and I scramble to Jerricka’s bathroom and throw up in her toilet. I heave the breakfast Lucille fixed me, the coffee, maybe even some of the drugs Ingrid watched me swallow this morning. I wretch, Gage’s twisted face above me, determined, while he shoves his cock inside me, and I sob into the bowl, tears running down my cheeks, vomit coating my lips and chin.
He wouldn’t do that to me. He wouldn’t.
“Shh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go that far.” Jerricka kneels next to me, a damp washcloth in her hand.
It reminds me too much of the morning Ash took care of me after letting a man rape me all night, and I rear back, my body pressing against the wall. “Don’t,” I rasp.
She tilts her head. “Don’t what? Help you clean up? You’re a mess. Let me help you.”
I grab the washcloth and rub the nubby material over my face. “I’m sorry. I’m confused.”
“I know you are, sweetie,” she says, and something about her casual tone shoots apprehension down my spine. “It’s okay. It will be quite some time before you can talk about sex without having such a negative reaction. You have to remember that sex isn’t about love, it’s about power, and rape is one way men choose to dominate and show off that power. That’s all.”
Her words do little to calm me. Every man who paid Ash to hurt me chose to rape me. Sex was their preferred way to dominate, controlling my body, leaving a piece of themselves inside me because they never wore a condom.
Jerricka fills a cup with water at the sink, and I gulp it down. It settles in a cool pool in my quivering stomach. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Your session is finished. I think we made good progress today, Zarah, and I’d like to stay with this train of conversation if you think you can handle it.”
I have to handle it. It’s what Zane is paying for, and no one said therapy would be easy.
“Yes, it’s fine.”
“Good.”
She holds out her hand in an offer to help me to my feet, and now that I’m in the right frame of mind, I let her steady me. I drop the wet washcloth into a discreet hamper and follow her out of the bathroom. I want to get out of here as quickly as possible, and I pick my purse up off the floor, slip on my jacket, and tell her a hurried goodbye. I don’t waste time in the sitting room, and I trot to the elevator, not caring what people will think if they see me.
The morning temperature is crisp, and little snowflakes fall from the sky. I sink onto an empty bench and drag deep breaths of the frigid air into my lungs. Purging made me raw, but I’m a little lighter, too. Jerricka didn’t look at me like she stepped in dog crap, and that’s how I feel everyone looks at me behind my back. Like I’m always going to be gross and dirty, not worth anyone’s attention. Like they’ll do anything they can to get away from me so they don’t have to be reminded there are horrible people in the world.
I asked Douglas to start giving me an extra hour after my sessions, and sometimes I find a café, sometimes I walk the street. Sometimes I just sit, like I’m doing now, dissecting our conversation word for word like my tongue jabbing at a sore tooth. I know it hurts, but I can’t stop. I suppose Jerricka would say that’s good, too. That I’m opening myself up so I can heal.
I dig my phone out of my purse and check to see if I have any messages. Stella sent me two hearts. She knows therapy is difficult, and she’s been in and out of a therapist’s office since she escaped Ash’s. She misses her foster mom, Maryanne, and she’s still adjusting to finding her parents.
Gage also texted me. Hey, bum. That’s all the message says, and I don’t know if he wants me to text him back or if he was just saying hi. It’s been a couple of days since we walked the dogs and we didn’t plan to see each other again. I was waiting for him to make the next move. I’ll probably never have enough self-esteem to ask a man out on a date. Not a real one. It’s a nice thought, but I can’t get over feeling stupid about it, or wondering why a man like Gage would want to spend time with a woman like me.
I text back, Hi, and while I wait for him to respond, I chew on a fingernail.
People walk by the bench, some nodding and smiling briefly, some pretending they don’t know who I am. I wish I could make friends. I wish I had people in my life besides Stella and Zane who wanted to, I don’t know, shop and go for coffee. Go to a museum or browse a bookstore. Ingrid and I do things like that, but she’s paid to do it, an arrangement I don’t see going away anytime soon. I like her and don’t want her to go, but I wish I could meet someone who liked being with me for me and not a paycheck.
I hate whining about things like that. People think, “Poor little rich girl,” and they’re right, mostly. Everyone knows what Ash did to me, but I don’t have to stay here. I could go to Europe. I could study in Paris and learn French. Find a small village in Spain, walk barefoot everywhere and become the town’s eccentric. Jerricka was right, even if we weren’t focusing on the school aspect today. I have plenty of options, places I could go to blow some of the stink off me.
I’m only a pariah in King’s Crossing, and I choose to stay to show everyone that Ash Black hasn’t beaten me down.
My phone lights up, and I read Gage’s message. Do you want to get together soon?
Like a date?
I squeeze my eyes shut. Why couldn’t I just say yes like a normal person? Why does everything have to be so complicated? Because I don’t want it to feel like a date. I want it to feel like we’re friends, but if he treats me like we’re only friends, then I’ll think he doesn’t want me like a girlfriend and that’s all I want in the entire world. I’m so messed up. How is Gage going to pick his way through my feelings? It will be like walking through a minefield.
My phone chimes, and Gage’s number glows on the black screen. God. Now he’s calling instead of texting. What does he want to say to me that he can’t type?
“Hello?” I can’t keep the quaver out of my voice.
“Zarah? Are you okay?”
“I’m a little . . . yeah. I’m okay. I’m sorry.”
His warm chuckle drifts over the line, and suddenly it’s not so cold outside. “I don’t know what you’re apologizing for. Do you want to hang out? It can be a date. It doesn’t have to be. Two people getting to know each other while they do something fun. If it makes you feel better, we don’t have to label it.”
It doesn’t feel like it could be that simple, but I let it go for now. I’m not going to be able to explain to him feelings I can’t explain to myself.
“Yes, that sounds lovely. What did you have in mind?” I wince. “I mean, sure. What did you wanna do?”
He pauses. “Zarah, what are you doing?”
I sigh. He knows I sound off. Well, I can’t expect to hide anything from him—he’s a private investigator. That could be a very good thing, or it could be very bad. I’ll never have any secrets around him, but if he can be who I need him to be, I won’t need to keep secrets at all.
“I just finished a session with my therapist.”
“Oh. If you’re not in the mood to talk, I can call you back.”
“No!” I lower my voice. “No. It’s okay. I’m waiting for Douglas to drive me home.”
“If you’re sure. Are you busy later? Would you like to go out tonight?”
Tonight, after my horrid session. It would be a test of sorts, to spend an evening with a man I might eventually want to sleep with while the nasty memories of what Ash did to me are in the top of my subconscious instead of deep deep down where I try to keep them buried.
“I don’t have plans.”
“Good. Dinner and a movie? Does that sound okay?”
I’ve never been to a movie theater. I’ve attended plays, private, red carpet screenings, my mother had a fondness for the opera, but I’ve never been to a movie theater where I’ll sit next to Gage on one side and someone I don’t know on the other and eat buttered popcorn, but maybe he’ll put his arm around me if there’s kissing during the film.
“Yes, it sounds good.” Normal. Something I need right now.
“Where would you like to eat?”
“Have you heard of the Sweet Apple Bar and Grill?”
“You want to eat at a pub?” He sounds surprised.
“Stella and I used to meet there, before. I can’t drink, but I like it.”
“Yeah, that’s great. I’ll pick you up.”
I worry my bottom lip between my teeth. It’s such a long way to our house. “I can have Douglas drive me, if that would be easier.”
“No. I’ll pick you up and bring you home. It’s fine.”
“Okay. What time?”
“About five if we want time to eat before a nine o’clock showing. I won’t get you home until after midnight. Is that too late?”
I’ll have time to take a nap, something I sometimes do if my therapy sessions are especially exhausting. “No. It’s perfect.”
“Good. I’ll see you then.”
“Yeah, I’ll see you then.”
He pauses, and I still, thinking he’s looking for a way to rescind the invitation. I know I’m going to be work, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I am what I am. I’m trying oh so hard not to be, but it’s going to be a journey, a lengthy one at that, and I’ve only taken the first step on the path.
“Zarah?”
“Yes?” I hold my breath.
“I miss you. I’m glad you said yes.”
I tilt the phone away from my mouth so he can’t hear the relieved sigh that shudders out of me. “Me, too.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
Douglas drops me off at the house, and I look for Stella. She’s in the kitchen eating chips and looking at social media on her phone.
“Gage asked me out on a date!” I announce, grabbing her shoulders.
She squeezes my wrists. “That’s great! What are you going to wear?”
“I don’t know, I haven’t gotten that far.”
“Let’s go see.”
We run up the stairs, giggling all the way to my room, like the young women we didn’t get to be.