Stay With Me

I had given Gerard my number after our coffee date. I felt obliged to offer him the same courtesy he had so graciously given me. We had spent a couple of hours just sitting in the coffee shop, talking about meaningless subjects that served to plaster over the awkward conversation we had. I realised what a funny guy he was. He made me laugh most of the time, whether it was from a dry witted comment or telling me some ridiculous story about his time spent in art school. He talked out of the corner of his mouth sometimes which was oddly adorable. I also became aware that he was reaching out to me not just to comfort me, but because he was lonely. He talked about his friends in the past tense. I wondered if he had had a falling out with them, or had he inadvertently isolated himself from them while fighting for sobriety. Perhaps they were bad influences who would destroy the progress he seemed to have made. Whatever the cause, it was with a pang of pain that resonated from my chest that I saw the sadness and loneliness he was feeling. It wasn’t in the words he said, and if you didn’t look below the surface of his somewhat chirpy façade you wouldn’t even know it was there. But I could see it. It was all so familiar to me. It was the same mask I wore day in, day out when in work and at home. I felt a tinge of anger at the unfairness of the situation. I didn’t know him very well or even at all really, but it didn’t take long to acknowledge that he was a good person. He was able to talk with confidence; he could make you feel at ease with a smile and a few words. His smile was genuine and sincere, and he seemed to be a very open minded individual who actually took a look at the world around him and had an opinion on what he saw. He didn’t deserve to feel the pain and loneliness that plagued him. Something inside me wanted to fix that part of him. The part that wanted to know someone cared about him. The truth was I did care. I cared as much as I could for a guy who was nice, sincere and royally fucked up like I was. I found the traits I wished I had so badly in him. When it came down to it I wanted to be more like him. Or maybe I just liked him.

So I had left him with a napkin that had my number written on it and a note reminding him he could contact me any time if he wanted to talk. I had no doubt he would get in contact with me. I was only surprised by how often we were in contact. In the few days since we had met for coffee he messaged me every day, not just once or twice but consistently throughout the day. He would ask how I was, how my day had gone, if I was okay. He’d tell me about his day in return, sometime more if I asked him. He was always honest with me, and I returned that honesty back. I felt unable to hold myself back now that he knew about my past. Like a sixteen year old schoolgirl with a crush I found myself waiting for his messages and I kept my phone close by at all times so that I wouldn’t miss it. He never called me, and while I was glad he didn’t I could deny that a part of me wanted to hear his voice again. Frank would ask questions though if I was suddenly spending my evenings talking on the phone. Maybe not though, seeing as he was now making a point of limiting our conversations. His passive aggressive behaviour was driving me to the brink of insanity. In all our time together we’d never taken our arguments this far. I felt like we were becoming strangers, cold and indifferent to each other and how our actions were affecting the other. I knew I could fix it if I wanted. All I had to do was say the words I had uttered to Gerard and Nina. I could end the suffering one way or another by revealing the most disgusting piece of me. But the fear that I would lose him forever stopped me. I slowly came to realise that the true fear wasn’t that he wouldn’t believe me. For all the protestations to myself that he wouldn’t accept what I said, I knew I was lying to myself. The true terror was the fact that it would change us if I did. I would no longer be the Grace he fell in love with. I would become this broken, damaged human being that needed to be treated and fixed. He would have a cause and solution to any problem put before him. He wouldn’t realise that there was no fixing me. I wasn’t an unfeeling machine or a broken string on his guitar. My emotions and psychological makeup didn’t have a remedy that would turn me into a ‘normal’ person and erase all the bad memories that made me the person I had become. I had ceased to be normal the minute I found my father’s body the day after my twelfth birthday.

I wanted Frank to be the first to break for once. I didn’t want to be the one who gave in any more. Every time we hit a bad patch or had a disagreement it was me who breached the gap, or jumped through hoops to get things back to normal. It was always me that cracked under the pressure from the negative emotions between us when something was wrong because I was so afraid of losing the one person who made me feel loved without conditions. Now, something had changed. For once I wanted Frank to be the peace maker; I wanted him to come to me with tears in his eyes telling me he was sorry. I wanted him to be as weak as I felt every time I waited for him to tell me he forgave me and that we were alright. I was tired of compromising myself. I was tired of the submissive façade I had built up over the years. The mask was of my own making, and the consequences of it were mine to bear. I was just so [i]tired[/i] of it though. The weakness and vulnerability I had felt through my adolescence had never gone away. I realise that now. I wanted that to change. I was adamant that I wouldn’t crack. It was important to me that I didn’t.

Of course, as always, I did crack though. It was day four after my ‘date’ with Gerard. The day had gone just like all the others. I woke up, got ready for work in the deafening silence that lingered between Frank and I. I went to work, came home from work. Endured more silence from Frank before I went to bed. That night something new happened. Well, really it was something that hadn’t happened in a very long time. I drifted off into a nightmare that was frighteningly real. It wasn’t a nightmare, so much as a memory that I had buried along with all the other memories of my teenage years.

I had gone to bed without feeling the dread that normally filled the pit of my stomach at night. Nick had gone out to a party tonight, which meant he probably wouldn’t be home. He was only seventeen but he was allowed to go out to parties and drink as long as he didn’t bring any trouble home or let it interfere with his school work. Friday was the night he would go out and it was the only night out of the seven days of the week that I got any reprieve from his nightly ‘visits’. I was fifteen now, but that didn’t stop him. I wanted desperately to tell my mother, I had tried to tell her even but the words had gotten stuck in my throat. I was beginning to fight back but it never did any good. I was a mere five three while he was at least six foot. He was a football player, which meant he was well built and toned. I had no way of defeating him, but I refused to let him do what he wanted without at least trying to stop him. He could buy my silence with threats but that didn’t mean I would lie back and take it. Tonight I wouldn’t have to fight though. Tonight I could be free. Better yet, my mother and step father were out and wouldn’t come home until three in the morning. The place was mine for once. There were no judging eyes; no uncomfortable stares that made me want to die.

I should have known it was too good to be true. I had let myself fall into a false sense of security. I was suddenly woken up with a forceful shake, pulling me out of my peaceful slumber with panic. I let out a gasp, anxiety and fear gripping me from the sudden movement. My eyes flew open, landing on a face that had become so familiar to me. I hadn’t been prepared for this tonight. I was caught unaware, making my body tremble and quake with the shock.

‘Damn, she’s cute.’

The deep voice didn’t come from Nick. I turned my head to the left, to find that Nick and I weren’t alone. One of his friends, a fellow jock on his team, was looking at me with a smirk on his face. I couldn’t breathe as my mind quickly realised what was going to happen to me. There was no doubt about what was going to take place. I felt the tears well up in my eyes but I choked back the sob that wanted to escape. Crying would make it worse. Nick didn’t like it when I cried. He would hurt me when I did. His thrusts would get harsher, more forceful. He would cover my nose and mouth and stop me from breathing sometimes if he was angry enough. I couldn’t stop the whimpered breath that left my lips though. The fear I felt was surely written on my face.

‘Now Gracie, there’s no need to cry’ Nick’s slurred voice reached my ears ‘ I’ve just been telling Mark about what a wonderful little fuck you are. He didn’t believe me, so we’re going to show him just what a good girl you are. Sit up, take your top off.’ He ordered.

I shook my head, not even the fear could stop my need to try and take some control. I was rewarded with a sharp slap across my right cheek. My cheek throbbed from the impact. Nick never normally got violent. He could easily overpower me if he wanted to so he didn’t need to use violence unless he wanted to inflict pain. Tonight was different though. Tonight we had an audience, who would later become a participant in his sick game. The stinging pain was all it took for me to sit up and grab the bottom of my tank top with shaking hands before pulling the thin materiel over my head.

‘You’re in for a treat tonight’ Nick murmured, whether it was meant for me or Mark I didn’t know.

I woke up screaming, my legs kicking and flailing as I struggled against an invisible enemy. The sobs were being wretched from my throat as the covers entangled me in their hold. The darkness was suddenly overcome by the bedside lamp as I registered movement beside me.

‘Jesus Christ!’ Frank’s sleep heavy voice croaked out in shock beside me. His eyes were wide and frightened as he sat up on the bed, his breathing coming out in short sharp pants not too dissimilar to my own as I came back to reality and realised I was safe.

‘What the hell was that?’ he asked, confused and alarmed.

‘Just a dream’ I murmured, wiping the tears away as I tried to calm myself down. It was just a dream. It wasn’t real. It was nothing but a memory that had chosen to resurface now for some reason I couldn’t fathom.

The silence descended again for a brief moment.

‘Are you okay?’ Frank asked.

I was about to say yes. The words ‘I’m fine’ were on the tip of my tongue. Instead what came out was a pitiful ‘no’, which was followed by a torrent of tears I had been repressing. Frank took my into his arms, showing me the first bit of affection I’d received in days. It only served to push me further over the edge, my hands snaking to clutch the front of his t shirt as I sobbed uncontrollably.

‘I’m sorry’ was all I could say, over and over again while Frank tried to calm me down with soft, soothing words. We eventually fell back asleep, my head resting on his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around me.

Notes

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