Chapter Thirty-Nine
Kip
I can’t sleep. My mind just keeps running through everything that’s happened. I’m worried about her, really worried. I can’t believe she fainted today and nearly fainted a second time. She didn’t eat dinner yesterday. She hardly ate anything tonight.
I get out of bed, throw on a shirt, and head upstairs. I don’t know what I’m planning to do, but the basement feels suffocating. I stop short as soon as I walk into the kitchen.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know...”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” To say she’s not happy to see me is a wild understatement.
I should just turn around and go downstairs. I told her I'd keep my distance, but instead I say, “Are you okay?”
She just stares down at her hands.
“Are you feeling sick? Should I get the doctor again?”
She shakes her head. “I’m fine.”
I study her for a moment and then say, “Will told me you’ve been having nightmares.”
Her eyes flash up. “Will needs to mind his own business.”
“I’m worried about you. You’ve lost weight. You look tired. You fainted for god’s sake.”
Anger flickers in her eyes for a moment. “It’s really none of your concern.”
She grabs the container of cookies from the counter and sits down at the table with them. “Happy? I’m eating.”
I’m not sure how to respond. She opens the package and takes out two cookies.
“I’m starving,” she says under her breath. She takes a bite of a cookie and moans. I swear it’s one of the most erotic things I’ve ever witnessed. It’s a completely inappropriate time to get hard, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I sit down across from her quickly.
“Want one? You can’t have any of the ginger ones. They are mine.”
“Sure.”
She hands me a chocolate cookie, and I take a bite.
“Did you have a nightmare tonight?”
She shakes her head.
“I didn’t even fall asleep.” Her eyes lock on mine. “Too many things on my mind.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I ask.
She lets out a bitter laugh. “Oh you’ve already helped out enough.”
I shoot her a confused look, and she averts her eyes.
“I care about you. I want to make sure you’re okay.”
She huffs. “I don’t need you, Kip.”
“I never said you did.” I know she’s angry with me about the things I said, but I’m not really sure why she’s reacting like this.
“I’m tired of everyone treating me like a child. I don’t need to be watched. I don’t need to be rescued. I’m doing fine. I’m capable on my own.”
“I know you are.” My voice comes out barely a whisper.
She rubs her temples with her hands. “It’s been a tough few months.”
“And I made things worse,” I say, lifting my eyes to hers.
“There’s a lot more going on than just what happened between us.”
I reach over and grab her hand. I know she probably doesn’t want me to, but she doesn’t move it either. “Tell me.”
She hesitates for a moment and then lets out a breath that softens her body. “Oh fine. I had forgotten, or I guess repressed a lot of memories from when I was little, and they’ve all started flooding back.”
I squeeze her hand. She closes her eyes. “I remember him choking my mom until she passed out. She’d hide us in the closet when he was angry. One time he pulled me out by my hair after he was finished with her.”
“Jesus.”
Her eyes are still closed. “I keep seeing the bullet rip through his neck.”
She opens her eyes. “When I close my eyes at night, it just plays over and over again.”
My arms twitch to hold her. “Can I hug you?”
She nods without looking up. I move over to her and wrap my arms around her. As soon as I pull her into my body, she inhales sharply and flinches, jerking her body back.
“What’s wrong?” I look down at her with worry.
“Oh, it’s nothing.”
“Brooklyn? What was that?”
“I’m just sore...it’s, um...”
“What?” She’s making me really worried.
“It’s just PMS.” She’s not looking at me.
“Oh.” I didn’t know you could get that sore, but I haven't talked to many women about their PMS symptoms if I’m being honest. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
She shifts her body slightly to the side and leans in toward me again. It feels so good to hold her in my arms. “Is that better?”
She nods.’
“He can’t hurt you anymore.”
“But what about my mom? My sister? Where are they?” she asks.
I stroke her hair. “I don’t know.”
“What did he do to them all those years?” Her face is resting against my chest.
I don’t answer. I don’t have any answers.
“Will said you started therapy. Is it helping?” I ask.
She lets out a heavy sigh. “It feels like it’s making things worse.”
“Really?”
“Maybe it's one of those has-to-get-worse-before-it-gets-better-sort-of-things.”
I consider what I’m going to reveal for a moment, and then I say, “I started therapy a few months ago.”
“You did?” Her face is still pressed against my chest.
“I understand what you mean about how it feels worse before it gets better,” I say.
“Do you feel like you’re getting better?” She pulls back and looks up at me.
“Yeah. I do.”
She bites her lip and then says, “There’s something I need to...”
Before she can finish that sentence, Zadie walks in the room. “Oh, sorry, I’m not trying to interrupt. I’m just starving and up breastfeeding.”
Brooklyn pulls away from me, moving all the way to the other side of the kitchen and resting up against the counter. “It’s fine. I was just heading back to bed anyway.”
She’s avoiding eye contact with me.
“Okay, I’m just going to grab some toast or something,” Zadie says.
“See you tomorrow.” Brooklyn rushes toward the stairs.
“I’m heading out too. Good night.” I rush to catch up with Brooklyn.
“Night,” Zadie calls.
“Brooklyn, stop.” Her feet are already on the stairs. “Wait.”
She turns. I can tell immediately the moment has passed.
She’s not going to tell me, but I ask anyway. “What did you want to say to me?”
She rubs her neck nervously. “It’s nothing. We’ll talk about it later.”
Before I have a chance to argue with her, she turns and disappears up the stairs and into the darkness of the hallway above.