Chapter Nine
The shower had multiple heads from various points in the ceiling, and that was only the beginning of its wonders.
The temperature control. The dispensers with every sort of soap a girl could imagine. A steamer for aromatherapy. Speakers built into the walls. It took all my willpower to not just settle in and accept it as my new home.
But Alex wasn’t here, and eventually my own antsy nature led me to shut off the water and step out.
The warm lighting kept me cozy as I grabbed a towel.
A white robe had been lovingly folded and placed on the counter, waiting to embrace me, and the moment it touched my skin, I could tell this wasn’t some department store knock-off.
Whatever the hell this fabric was, it was pure luxury.
My phone buzzed to ruin my bliss. Most likely it was my mom telling me she was on her way home, but when I turned it over, I was assaulted by Cliff’s name.
And then a second buzz. Two unread messages.
Nervous, I opened them up.
Saw you leave with that dyke. Is that why you haven’t been texting me back?
And then the second one: Is she your girlfriend?
There didn’t have to be a threat for the second message to knock the wind out of me. I had to tell Alex, yet bile rose in my throat. I wasn’t sure what was worse: the awful pic just a scroll away in the thread, confronting that question…
…or what he could do if he knew.
Perhaps it was nothing. Perhaps it was warm blood seeping onto frozen concrete while you begged to call 911—
The phone clattered into the sink. I ducked, head against the granite finish of the counter. Damn these tears. My breath came in spurts.
I couldn’t protect El. I wouldn’t be able to protect Alex either.
I sank to the floor, tears clouding my vision as I fought to keep my cries muted.
Pathetic. Weak. That’s what I’d been when she’d died in my arms.
And now….
I gasped as time suddenly ticked forward once more, clarity settling despite my heaving breaths. I swallowed them, wiped my tears, then stared once again at the messages.
I had to tell her. I could blame my red eyes on the shower.
Alex’s condo was compact, with a few closed doors atop the stairs. But I heard what I was confident was the TV downstairs, so I made my way down, as clean as I’d ever been.
There was Alex on the overly comfy couch, clad in her own maroon robe, paying little attention to whatever sitcom was on the huge TV screen mounted to the wall. Her eyes flicked up from her phone, her smile leaving me swooning.
It faded. She stood, swiftly approaching. “Are you okay?”
“I-I’m fine—”
“You’re sheet white.” Her hand grasped my forearm, the other touching my forehead. “Come sit. I’ll get you some water.”
I didn’t fight when she led me to the couch and said nothing when she disappeared into the kitchen. Only when she returned with a glass did I find my words. “I need to tell you something.”
Cautious now, Alex set the water on the table before me. “Okay?”
She settled beside me. I summoned a pathetic attempt at courage and handed her my phone with the open thread.
“I should have told you days ago. I was just so embarrassed.” I paused, failing to suppress my next sardonic words.
“But then you told me about how a hooker pissed on you, so maybe it’s not as bad as I thought. ”
Alex chuckled, though it faded as she scrolled up. “Can I screenshot this? Unfortunately, there is someone I need to send it to.”
“It’s not like I have any dignity left.” I tried to reach for the water, only to realize my hands were shaking. “What if he hurts you?”
“Me?” Alex scoffed. “He won’t hurt me.” She stilled, however, then set the phone aside and pulled me into her arms. “He can’t hurt me.”
“I know,” I lied. We were all immortal until we suddenly weren’t. Alex had too much money to understand—
But didn’t she? I managed a glance at her forearm, that awful scar making my blood run cold.
“I’ll make sure he stays away from your work,” Alex said. Lips brushed my hair. Alex kissed me softly, her presence enough to drive away the flashbacks, at least. “In the meantime, could I convince you to borrow one of my cars?”
“What?” The statement left me taken aback. “That’s so much. I can’t accept—”
“I could buy you a car.”
“You could not.”
“I knew you’d say that, but think about it, at least?”
I nodded, though I was hardly reassured. At least I was safe, here and now. She was safe, here and now.
“He did pose an interesting question though.” Alex’s fuckboy grin returned, my favorite asshole front and center. “Am I your girlfriend?”
I bit my lip, blushing at my unexpected smile. “As if I know the answer to that.”
She laughed, a marvelous sound. “Think about that too.”
I lost my breath, torn between residual panic and a painfully familiar bliss.
“I was thinking, while you were in the shower,” Alex began, her bold confidence fading, “about what you said. That it’s up to me to decide how I feel about the clothes thing.
You didn’t even ask why; you just said it was okay.
I just wanted to say that that’s the sweetest thing anyone has said to me. Maybe ever.”
I wrapped my arm around hers, my heart bleeding at the admittance. “The bar isn’t very high, is it.”
“The bar is in hell.” Her smile returned, though sardonic and bitter.
“That’s where I grew up. I recognize the weight of claiming I had a shit upbringing despite a billionaire mother, but we—my sister and I—weren’t allowed to be children.
We were status symbols. My sister embraced it and got at least some scraps of affection, but I was born with a pudgy face.
Literally as far back as I can remember, my mother would undress me and inspect me for flaws, but because my cheeks were fat, she’d only let me eat dinner, and only because dinner was often in public.
She did that until I was thirteen, because that’s when she found lesbian porn on my phone and decided I must be sexualizing her. ”
My hand rose slowly to cover my mouth, my horror starkly apparent. “Alex, that’s…that’s awful. Please tell me you know that’s awful.”
“It’s the worst, I know.” Her eyes had rimmed with red, though nothing looked ready to fall.
“She’s actually evil, and cutting me off might be the best thing she’s ever done for me.
But because of all that, I never really felt like I had any ownership over my body.
So even when I started hooking up with girls, I couldn’t stand them touching me.
It felt like her, and that freaked me the hell out.
“I guess my point is that it’s not okay that I’m like this,” Alex continued, “because this is something she took from me. Maybe I could work through it. I dunno.”
I reached up to cup her cheek, drawing our gazes to meet. “You could,” I affirmed. “If that’s what you want, of course you could. You’ve overcome so much.”
Alex scoffed. “I don’t know how grand of a job I’ve done, but despite my best efforts, I’m still here, yes.”
It broke my heart to hear her speak so cruelly of herself.
Perhaps it naive, but I couldn’t help gently stroking my fingers up inside her sleeve, her brutal scar a blight against my fingertips.
“It’s not about what you’ve done,” I whispered, watching with pain as tears welled in her eyes, “or what was done to you, but about who you’ll be now.
I’m so glad you’re here, Alex. I’ll be here for you, however you need me. ”
She pulled up her sleeve, revealing her scar, the tattoos, and my tender touch.
“Chiara is the one who recommended getting the tattoo,” Alex said.
“She thought turning something painful into something beautiful would help. There’s some nerve damage, so it tingles pretty much constantly and stings when the weather gets cold.
But, hey, I really dug in there with that knife.
” A tear fell, despite her forcibly neutral countenance.
“It’s what I get to live with, but at least I get to live. ”
I brought her forearm up and placed a kiss in the center of the scar, near the mermaid’s tail. “Can I propose something?”
“Of course.”
“When I was in therapy,” I began, cautious as I habitually evaded any poignant truths, “I learned that non-sexual touching can be healing after…certain traumas. Have you ever had a massage?”
Whatever wariness she showed paled to her vulnerable intrigue. “Not naked, no.”
“Could we try that? We can just start small, like, keep your underwear on, small. I wouldn’t have to see anything.”
She paused. Had I gone too far? Before I could take back my words, she nodded. “Right now?”
“If you want,” I replied. “No pressure.”
Unhurried, she pulled down her sleeve. “Can you look away, please?”
“Yes. Of course.” I turned around, even put my hands up as blinders around my eyes. “Sorry.”
“No need to be sorry.”
I heard rustling clothing. The TV shut off, and soon Alex said, “I’m ready.”
When I turned around, she lay prone on the couch in only her boxer briefs, her head lying on her arms. I scooted up to straddle her waist, my own robe still carefully intact, and gently ran my fingernails down her bare back. “How does that feel?”
I saw her smile, her content, closed eyes. “Good.”
I skimmed my fingers across firm, lithe muscles, only then digging in with my thumbs. “How long have you been kickboxing?”
“Only two years. That’s why I teach the kids and not the grown-ups. I’m still learning.”
“You looked good from my point of view.”
Alex chuckled. “Chiara took me in after my mom disowned me, and she’s the one who encouraged me to try it. She said it would give me confidence. As usual, she was right.”
“She’s really done a lot for you.”
“She started working for my mother when I was fifteen and was fired before I’d even turned seventeen for standing up for me, against her. She gave me her contact info and said, if I ever needed anyone, to give her a call. And thank God, because I would’ve relapsed without her.”
“When did all that happen?”