10. I’ll Take A Bear
Chelsea
Friday mornings at Promise are quickly becoming one of my favorite things. It’s quiet to start, and I’m getting to know the team better, but as things pick up throughout the day, I get to shadow the counselors and even the nurse practitioner. Kristen says spending time with the nurse practitioner helps understand a different side of helping women after sexual assault.
I’m in the midst of working on some potential campus outreach options when the locked front door buzzes, then the interior glass door swings open, and Rae flies into the room like the devil’s on her heels.
“Hey,” I say with a laugh.
She sighs heavily. “Hi. I got stuck behind someone going thirty the entire way here. My soul temporarily left my body while I rage-screamed behind the wheel. But it’s fine. I’m fine.”
“You seem it.”
She sets her purse on the counter and sighs. “Everything’s crazy right now. But that reminds me, I have something for you.” She fishes through her bag until she finds what she’s looking for, then hands me a creamy pink envelope.
I pull it open to find an invitation to her wedding. October twenty-third. Only a month-and-a-half away.
“What—you didn’t have to put one together for me.”
She shrugs. “We haven’t known each other that long, but I consider you a friend and I’d love to have you at the wedding, regardless if you go with Trevor or not.”
“I’d love to come. But I thought when we talked about your bachelorette party earlier this week that you knew I’d be coming to the wedding too.”
“I wanted you to know it wasn’t something I just threw out there. I really want you there.”
“Well, I appreciate the invitation, and I’ll definitely be there.”
And to prove that I mean it, I grab the response card and start filling it out.
“Good. A bunch of the girls will be getting ready with me, so I’d love to have you for that too.”
“Text me all the details.” I hand her the response card with a smile. “So, is wedding stuff why you’re stressed?”
“Part of it. As great as it sounded to have my wedding on my grandparents’ property in the fall with the leaves changing and everything, it’s been a lot to organize mid-semester. We’re taking our honeymoon the week after, so it’s been a lot to work out with professors and plan ahead. So far, they’ve all been great, but then Aaron’s having surgery in early November, so we’re trying to figure all that out too.”
“What’s the surgery for?”
“His hand. He broke it—” She takes a deep breath. “He ended up with a bunch of microfractures in his fingers from punching the guy who assaulted me.”
My heart aches for her. Were they together at the time? That all sounds awful.
“He didn’t realize there were breaks—and didn’t initially go to the doctor—so he’s dealt with the pain for a long time. I’m hopeful the surgery will help. And trying not to get my hopes up too high that he’ll finally be able to pitch again.”
“Pitch?” I ask, my heartbeat ticking up.
“Yeah. I must not have mentioned that. He was an amazing pitcher, and he misses it. He coaches for the college team because it’s a part of him. Like it is with all the boys.”
“All the boys?” I squeak.
Oh no. Oh no, no.
Her brows pinch together. “Yeah. Aaron, Joel, Miles, Trevor and a few of our other friends have played together for years. I’m surprised Trevor didn’t mention it.” Then she winces. “Shit. Of course he didn’t. I—Chelsea, are you okay?”
That’s a great question.
But if my nausea, clammy palms, sweating, and the pain in my chest are any indication… no. I’m not okay. Because Trevor… Trevor plays baseball? And we—I—fuck.
“Come with me.” Rae grabs my hand and drags me down the hall toward the break room, only stopping long enough to stick her head into the door of the counseling area. “Hey, Levi, can you cover the front for us for a few minutes?”
“Sure thing.” The younger intern makes her way out to the front, and Rae’s still dragging me.
Am I breathing?
My chest is heavy.
It’s been months since I’ve had a panic attack. But this?
Rae guides me into a chair, gets me a cup of water, then sits down opposite me and wraps her hands around mine.
“Breathe with me. In through your nose. Nice and slow.”
I try, but my breath hitches halfway through.
“Hey, you’re safe here. You’re surrounded by caring women, two armed security guards, and locked doors. Look at me. You’re safe. Let’s try another breath.”
I nod, and this one comes easier.
We take a few more before the slightest touch of calm settles in. I grab the water and take a long sip, the cool liquid calming me a little more.
“Do you want to tell me what’s going on? What just triggered you?”
I open my mouth, but then close it again. Take another breath. I won’t feel shame for this. It wasn’t my fault. I want to learn to be more open about it—to talk about and use my story to help others. My story itself isn’t where this reaction is coming from, but I want to get it out to Rae. I want to let her in.
“The guy who raped me was—said he was a baseball player.”
“Oh wow. Your reaction makes sense—”
“No. You don’t understand.” Tears crest in my eyes. “The school I went to before this—where it happened—was Syracuse.”
“Oh my god. Does Trevor—wait, you don’t think it was him, do you? Because he’d never—”
I shake my head. “I know it wasn’t him. I have a hazy memory of that night because I was drugged, but the guy looked nothing like Trevor. Shaggy blond hair and hazel eyes. He was bigger, too. I think? Either way, I’d trust it wasn’t Trevor, even if I didn’t remember at all.” At least I hope I would. This is all a mindfuck.
“That’s a lot.”
I nod. “It’s… too much. I don’t know what to do with this. Or how to process it.”
“Do you want to leave early? I can let Kristen know.”
That snaps me back to the moment. “No.” Even though I’m barely functioning, I want to be here. “In moments like this, I want to be here more than ever. It gives me back some of my power. Or gives me control.”
She nods, eyes shimmering with tears. “I totally understand.”
“Trevor doesn’t know about any of this yet, so could you please not tell him?”
“This stays between us. I promise. Anything you tell me always will. But the same goes the other way too. If Trevor didn’t tell you about his past with baseball, I shouldn’t say anything more.”
Sarah’s words from the day we met come back to me.
He’s been hurt too.
“I understand.”
I just wish this wasn’t triggering me so much. The idea that Trevor might know the person who assaulted me. I don’t know if I can handle that. It makes me sick to my stomach.
“Whenever you do tell him, he’ll be… I’m not sure what the right word is. He’ll care. He…” She blows out a long breath. “I think he blames himself a little for what happened to me. We were on the dance floor together beforehand, and even though he went to find Hyla and I went to talk to Aaron, he felt responsible when he finally found out.”
I grab her hand this time, and that leads to us pouring out our stories to each other. Both raging for the other. Rae’s story is almost as horrifying as mine, but in a different way. A football player dragged her off the dance floor at a party in high school and forced her to a bedroom guarded by other football players. Men are trash.
Sure, not all men.
But enough men.
More than enough to consider them the problem.
Man vs. bear? I’ll take a bear any day of the week.
Of course, on the flip side of that, there are good ones. My dad and Robbie. From what I’ve seen so far… Trevor. And Rae’s friends, who saved her from the guy who assaulted her. If they hadn’t—if she’d been alone like I was—her story would’ve been too close to mine.
I know there are good guys out there, but there are way too many bad ones.
Which is all the more reason I want to support and empower women. The stronger we are individually, the stronger we are together. And the stronger we are together, the better we can fight back.
But that doesn’t come easily, especially when we have wounds to heal, when we have to bear the consequences of selfish man-children who think they’re entitled to our bodies.
And today, when I have to try to wrap my mind around this new ugly connection Trevor and I have. My stomach roils with nausea thinking of it, and I start to feel panicky again.
I don’t want Trevor tied to this moment in my life, and I don’t know if I can handle it if he somehow is.
Rae heads back out front, giving me a few minutes to myself, and the first thing I do is text my therapist and ask if we can schedule a video session for today. She texts back right away.
Now I just need to make it through several hours of work and two classes.
With all my strength, I push everything down and do what all women have been trained to do since we were young. Plaster on a perfect smile and pretend I’m fine.
I wasn’t fine. I’m not fine.
I don’t have to be fine.
Work was okay. It’s healing being there. But my classes? I could hardly focus, and walking across campus had me on edge.
I’ve been triggered with a capital T all day. Hell, might as well capitalize the whole word at this point.
Which is why I’m sitting on my couch, clutching a cup of tea, waiting for my therapist to connect to our video call.
It’s my first therapy session since I started school. My last one was in person, shortly before I left. I was lucky to find my therapist, Carina, in Birch Lake. Finding the right therapist is a challenge, and I went through two—one in person and one online—before I found her. I’ve only stuck with therapy as long as I have because Carina understands me and my needs.
She’s young, only in her early thirties, and maybe that’s why she’s the perfect match for me. She’s relaxed, and I often feel like I’m talking to a friend or older sister rather than a therapist. But one who is extremely direct and doesn’t let me get lost in my bullshit. She’s helped me a lot in reframing what I’ve been through and helping me orient myself to what I want going forward. She’s careful never to tell me anything, but to ask the right insightful questions and let me do the bulk of the work.
When the call connects and she appears on the screen, she’s instantly a calming, if slightly concerned, presence.
She also gets right to the point.
“Hey, Chelsea. What’s going on?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. My mind spins like tires trying to gain traction, but everything inundates me at once and I can’t get any grip. Can’t make the spinning stop or words make sense.
“It’s too much. I don’t know—I…”
“Chelsea, look at me. I’m going to count down from five, and I want you to take deep breaths while I do. Can you do that?”
I nod and she starts counting backward.
I close my eyes and breathe, not trying to clear my head, not trying to do anything, just focusing on breathing. It’s not until several deep breaths later when I realize she’s finished counting and I snap my eyes open.
“Tell me one thing. One sentence. It doesn’t have to make sense to me. We can fill in the context later.”
“I met a guy,” I blurt out.
“What else?”
“I’m really falling for him.”
“What else?”
“He plays baseball. Or something with baseball. I haven’t told him about—”
“One sentence at a time.”
I take another breath. “He doesn’t know about my past yet.”
“Okay.”
“I’m scared.” I let out another long breath. “I need more than a sentence now.” She gives me an encouraging smile. “He’s kind. Caring. A little bit of a tortured soul like me. He loves his mom and his sister and he’d do anything for the people he cares about. I think that includes me. We hadn’t fully discussed our pasts yet, and I didn’t know he had any connection to baseball. A mutual friend is how we connected and she mentioned it today, not realizing he hadn’t yet. Now I’m curled up in a ball on my couch feeling so… triggered.”
“Because he’s a baseball player.”
I force another deep breath because these words are almost painful to get out. My chest gets tight again, and it’s like I’ve forgotten how to breathe correctly.
“Because he also went to Syracuse.”
Her eyes widen and her mouth slips open. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
A stilted laugh slips from her. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Me either.”
“But you don’t think—”
“I know it wasn’t him. But… we’ve had these cool little connections to each other. His family camped multiple summers at my family’s campground. We both went to Syracuse, and we talked about whether we passed each other on campus or ever saw each other. It was a surprisingly warm, fuzzy feeling given the negative memories I have there. But now this? Knowing he might know the person who assaulted me? Be friends with them? I’m not sure I can handle it.”
“What is it that scares you the most?”
I pull my knees up to my chest and close my eyes for a moment, tears filling them. When I finally look back at the screen, my stomach churns with nausea.
“That he might be connected to the worst moment of my life. I don’t want to even vaguely associate him with that.”
“That’s fair. But let’s take a step back. It may not have been a baseball player who assaulted you, right?”
“Right. I know that. He drugged and raped me. Why should I believe he was telling the truth about that?”
A bit of the tension in my chest uncoils.
“But if it was someone he knew, are you worried he’d take their side? Continue to be friends with them? Stand up for them?”
“No.” Because I may not have known Trevor long, but his character is evident. And Rae’s words about her assault back that up. “I’m fairly certain he’d cut that person out of his life entirely. Not because of me, but because he wouldn’t want to be friends with someone like that.”
“And if he did know them and it could help convict that person?”
A rush of air falls from my mouth. I hadn’t even thought of that.
“I think he’d help however he could.”
“And how would you feel about it?”
“It scares me, but I’d want to pursue it. No one should get away with rape.”
“So, now that we’ve gone through all those things… what’s really upsetting you the most about this?”
“That I finally found something good. Some one good. He makes me happy. And it was so nice not to live under the umbrella of what I’ve been through. I don’t want this connection to taint that.”
“Then don’t let it. Yes, you know this connection exists, but it doesn’t have to color your relationship with him differently. There are still unknowns here, but from what you’ve said, he sounds like a good person. There’s every chance that once you tell him, if you let this color your relationship with him differently, those colors will only be more vibrant if he chooses you, stands up for you, fights for you.”
She’s right. God, she’s so right it hurts. Letting him affect my relationship with Trevor is the last thing I want. Letting him affect me at all anymore is not okay. He took enough from me. He’s not getting anymore.
“I kinda feel like you just punched my soul.”
She gives a soft smile and a shrug. “Therapy will do that.”
“Is it okay that I’m not quite ready to tell him yet?”
“Whatever you’re ready for is okay, but don’t let it slip into hiding this from him. If you’re going to have a true relationship with him, you will have to tell him.”
“I know. I was looking forward to just enjoying falling for him.”
“And you still can. You set the timeline on this.”
I nod slowly. “Our friend said something that makes me think he’s been through something traumatic regarding baseball. I’m not sure if I should talk to him about it.”
“Do you want to?”
I ruffle my hair and stretch my legs, anxious energy kicking in now that my mind is a bit more settled.
“I want him to know he can talk to me about it.”
“Then you can bring it up and let him decide what he’s comfortable with.”
“And if he pours his heart out and asks me to do the same?”
She purses her lips, holding back a smile. “Then you’re still in control of your own journey. You can decide in the moment what, if anything, you want to share.”
I lean back against the couch and let out a breath. “Thank you.”
“All I did was help you clear your mind and recenter yourself. You did the rest. Show yourself some gratitude too.”
I scrunch up my nose. “But I’m not good at that.”
“And this is why you’re in therapy.”
We both laugh at that.
“Was there anything else you wanted to talk about today?”
I shake my head. “No. I’m feeling a lot better now.”
“Good. Feel free to send me a text if anything else pops up. Have a good rest of your day.”
“Thanks. You too.”
I close my laptop and sink into the couch. I’m soaked through with stress sweat and feel gross. Talking to Trevor about what I’ve been through isn’t something I’m ready for yet. Once I do, there will be a serious cloud in our sunshiney sky. I want to enjoy the cozy warmth for a bit longer first. That said, if he wants or needs to talk to me, I want him to know I’m here.
After a shower.
A long, hot shower to wash off the sweat and emotion of the day.