Stay With Me

“I have to say, you seem a lot happier recently.”

My fervent gazing at the beige carpet was broken by Nina’s words. I looked at her, surprised by her assertion. Did I really seem happier? How could she tell? Was it in my body language, or in the things I didn’t say? I was thinking about how I changed over the past three months, since Frank and I had talked, and yes, things had improved. I was no longer as distant and afraid of him leaving me as I had been. I was more ‘there’, when I was with him, and the same was true for him. Our sex life was back on track, or at least good enough that Frank had no that idea I was sleeping with Gerard on a bi-weekly basis.

Every Saturday, I would meet Gerard. Frank knew of Gerard’s existence now – I had to tell him something to prevent him being suspicious. I told him that he was teaching me photography, which wasn’t a lie, and I would show Frank the pictures as proof. I told him that Gerard had suffered the same kind of abuse as I had , and that was enough to ease Frank’s doubts over me spending time with another man. I’m certain he thought Gerard was gay, and I did nothing to dissuade him from this assumption. Gerard would take me somewhere new in his car every week, and of course every place had something to do with whatever lesson he wanted to teach me. By then I was really getting the hang of using a camera in a more creative way. I thought about things like angles and perspective when it came to capturing an image. It wasn’t the same mindless hobby it had been to me as an eight year old, but with Gerard’s encouragement it became just as meaningful, or perhaps more so, since Iwas more able to appreciate what a joy it was to still be here to do it. It was during those days that I fell in love with Gerard even deeper, and his smile, and the reassurance he always gave me when I doubted myself. I felt free when I was with him. I felt unburdened, uncomplicated and just…myself. I got to know Gerard better too.

I found out about his brother, Mikey, who he talked about non-stop whenever he got the chance. They were as close as any siblings could be, and I was envious that the only excuse for a sibling I had was an evil monster whose name I could barely mutter. I found out about his high school years, and how tough they had been for him. That had been the time when he had started drinking, to deal with the bullying and the aftermath of his own abuse. He had told me the horrors of what the priest had done to him from the age of ten, when he was an innocent little boy, who had an unwavering faith in God. He told me how the priest had told him that he was taking Gerard’s sins away by molesting and raping him, that he was really saving his soul from damnation. Even when the abuse ended, Gerard was tormented by the doubts he felt over his sexuality, and the fear he had that it would get out. He had fought hard to keep Mikey away from the priest’s paedophilic hands when Mikey had been pressurised into serving as an altar boy by his parents. That was when the truth came out, and with it the disintegration of his parent’s marriage. His father blamed his mother for encouraging Gerard to be an altar boy, while his mother blamed his father for not seeing something was wrong. They divorced, leaving Gerard with the guilt of being the instigator of his parent’s separation. He drank to excess during high school and college, having fleeting relationships that never lasted long, once the extent of his drinking problem became noticeable. I almost cried when he told me about his multiple suicide attempts, which poor Mikey had saved him from every time. With every new admission and insight into the man that he was, I felt a deeper connection between us, and the desire to be with him grew.

I still had my down days. Sometimes the crushing weight of what had been taken from me would come crashing down unexpectedly, after another nightmare that was little more than a forgotten memory of the vile things that Nick had done to me during his years of abuse. Sometimes they were of the day that I had found my father bathed in a pool of his own blood. The only constant during those times was Frank’s comfort when I needed to be held, and the knowledge that Gerard was only a phone call away if I needed him. The guilt over my relationship with Gerard, and how un-guilty I felt when I was with him, was a trigger for the nightmares. I felt worthless, cheap and like the whore Nick had always told me that I was, whenever I was Frank, in his arms, while he was unaware that I was falling in love with another person.

That was why I hadn’t ended my relationship with either one. The two men fulfilled two different needs that I found myself craving. Frank was comfort, love and the safe place I needed to fill the void from the lack of security that I had felt as a child. Frank was happiness, and a reason to try and be a better person. Frank stayed with me even after he had found out about my past, and because of that I loved him even more. Gerard was the one who made me want to be a part of the world again. He was an outlet for the passion I needed to unleash. He pushed me to be myself, to allow myself to be me without any apologies. He was an equal, who understood the depth of my pain and anguish, without me having to spell it out. He understood my bad days, because he had them too. He made me feel needed, like his world would stop if I wasn’t in it. He would text me goodnight every night, and every morning he would text me, just to let me know that he was thinking of me. I felt horrible, and dirty, and completely unworthy of either men’s affection or love. People always made love out to be such a simple thing. That you could only love person at a time, and that was that. I was learning that it wasn’t so, and I could only wish it were indeed that simple. The idea of losing either was a pain that was too much to bear. I would sit down at night sometimes, when Frank was busy elsewhere, and write a list of their pros and cons. I figured that if I could see their positives and negatives on a cold piece of white paper, that it would make things clearer. It never did, though. Their positives and negatives always equalled out, leaving me more confused and indecisive than before.

Despite the guilt I felt, and the down days, things were certainly much better. Nina, as much as I loathed admitting it, was an outlet I found necessary these days. She cut through my crap, and rarely let her true feelings show. Her neutrality, though irritating, was something I soon realised I needed. She never made me feel bad about myself, and she didn’t force an opinion or a desire on me. She listened, and let me cry and feel self-pity on the days that I needed it. She had given me coping strategies for my depression, which were slowly working. She never forced me to speak about my parents, and our topics of conversations mainly revolved around Nick, and the depression I was slowly climbing out of. She refrained from asking about Gerard, though I was certain she was smart enough to realise what was going on. So, in a way, her observation was right.

“I am happier,” I confirmed, letting the words roll off my tongue with a strange taste.

Was it wrong to be happy, given how selfish my actions have been? It felt immoral to find happiness in something that was so frowned upon, something so hurtful and possibly life-damaging. It didn’t feel like it was wrong when I was with Gerard, and I was beyond happy with Frank, and still as in love as ever.

“You’ve made some good progress, Grace. I think maybe now is a good time for us to move things forward.”

I frowned, not understanding what on earth she meant by ‘moving forward’. Did she want to refer me on to someone else? Did she feel that I no longer needed therapy?

“I think it’s time we delved past your abuse, and looked at your relationship with your parents.” She supplied when I failed to vocalise a reply.

“I don’t want to talk about my parents,” I replied surly, with an expression I was certain matched my tone.

“Grace…we’re at a point where we need to delve deeper to get to the root of some of your issues that stem from before Nick. You avoid acknowledging your father’s death, and you never mention your mother. These are things that are holding you back, and they will continue to do so until you begin to talk about them.”

I let out a sigh, knowing better than to deny her insight. She normally proved herself to be right, and I wasn’t going to go around in circles for the sake of it.

“My father killed himself, because he was a coward, and my mother is a heartless bitch.There’s not much more to say about it, really.”

Nina sighed, leaning back on her couch with an unamused expression.

“Grace,” her tone was slightly stern, in a motherly way.

“I hate them.Both of them.”

The words had been thought a million times, but never spoken aloud, even to myself,in the dead of night. The sentiment was true though, something many would see as a crime, but the truth was that they had both failed me. My father had chosen to kill himself rather than face up to his gambling debt, and admitting to my mother that he had lost us everything; and then my mother threw herself into her second marriage, without any consideration for her only daughter. Her desire to move on left her with no time for my pain, to help me grieve for the man who had been my world, and make sense of what had happened.

“You’re angry at them” Nina corrected.

“You’re right about a lot of things, but this time you’re wrong. I hate them. They brought me into this world, and then abandoned me, because they were too selfish to be proper parents. My mother was there physically, but she didn’t want me around once she had George. She didn’t see what was happening under her own roof. She remarried for money, and left me to suffer in every way possible, during my teenage years. She loved a boy that she didn’t even give birth to more than she loved me. He’s the perfect son to them, with a perfect life, and I’m just second best in comparison.”

“How was your relationship with your mother before she remarried?”

I had to pause and give the question some consideration. I never thought about my childhood, and as such, my memories seemed hazy.

“Good, I think. We used to bake cakes and buns together, and go shopping together. She would read to me before bedtime, and all that motherly stuff. Then my father died, and it changed. She forgot about being a mother, and she only thought about money. We were being hounded by creditors when my father died, so she married the first rich guy who would take her.”

“Did she ever try to bridge the gap in later years? Or try to reach out?”

“Not really. Sometimes she would try to take me on a girly day out, which I would refuse, but that was it.”

“Do you think that maybe she felt rejected by your refusal to spend time with her? We can get ourselves into cycles of habits. You were hurt by her remarriage, and felt rejected. She reached out, so you reject her in return.”

“I was a teenager. Of course I rejected her when it was her fault that I was being raped every night!”

It wasn’t until I was taking deep, calming breaths that I realised that I had been shouting.

“Sorry, I just… That woman… She’s the reason for everything bad that has ever happened to me.”

“Don’t you think that’s a harsh statement?” Nina was unfazed by my outburst.

“My father gambled, because she only cared about money. She’s the reason he gambled, and the reason he killed himself. If she hadn’t married George, I would never have met Nick. She was so busy trying to have a perfect life, that she couldn’t see what was happening to me. She didn’t care that I was becoming withdrawn and depressed. She didn’t talk to me about why she was marrying again, so soon after my dad had died – she came home one day, and told me that I was going to have a new father, and that was it. I had no say, no opinion on the subject. The only emotion she showed towards me during that time was anger, whenever I was caught lying again. She didn’t ask me why, or try to get me to speak to someone. I was a fucking inconvenience to her. She didn’t care about me.”

“Grace, perhaps we should try to look at the circumstances from her perspective, for a few moments. Her husband had killed himself, leaving heralone with a child, and a mountain of debt. She was scared, confused, hurt and grieving. Her main focus, as a parent, was to find financial stability and get the creditors off her back so she could provide for her child, so she took an easy way out to gain that financial stability. Parents have a habit of underestimating what their children can understand, and how much they should explain; and perhaps she didn’t want the argument, when the situation was what it was. From a child’s perspective, it’s harsh and cruel, certainly, but looking at the situation now, from an adult’s point of view, can you perhaps see the situation in a more…sympathetic light?”

I glared at her, angry that she was defending my mother and her actions, even if her words made sense to the reasonable, adult part of my mind. The part of me that clung to my childish interpretation of the situation didn’t want to acknowledge that maybe I had refused to reassess and understand my mother’s actions as I got older.

“You were right to be angry,” Nina continued, “She handled the situation in a way that left you feeling unwanted, but understand that she was grieving too, and she did what she felt was right, given the circumstances. Perhaps, if you try and think of it that way, you may find yourself less angry. She’s a human being, who makes mistakes, and by acknowledging that, we can begin to heal and move on. Have you ever tried to speak to her about it, to hash things out, so that both of you can try to mend the relationship?”

“No, and if I’m being honest, I don’t want to. I see her every few months, and that’s enough for me. I don’t need her in my life.”

Nina raised an eyebrow.

“Well, I think you should consider talking to your mother about it, as a way for you to get some closure, if nothing else. Would you consider telling her about Nick?”

“No,” I spoke too quickly.

“Well, I still think that it’s something to think about.”

“We’ll see,” I told her vaguely, knowing that the topic would now be on my mind for the rest of the evening.

“Our time is up for today, but, as I said, give it some thought over the next week, and we can discuss it further next Monday.”

“I can’t wait,” I muttered sarcastically, ignoring the glare that Nina sent me as I walked out of her office, feeling worse about myself than I had going in.

Notes

As always, thanks to all the readers/subscribers/commenters. Also, I posted a short, fluffy one shot It's What Friends Do for your reading pleasure, so if have a spare moment, please read!

Lyra