“Do you want to talk about it? Why you two broke up.”
She stops chewing completely. She wipes her hands on her napkin and I see resolve stitch its way into her features. “It was at Ophelia’s party, ironically. He gave me an ultimatum. Him or The Seekers Club.”
“And you chose the club?”
“No. I chose him. I just wanted to give him what he wanted.” Her eyes go unfocused. She’s staring at a spot on the wall, but I can tell she’s somewhere else. Back there. Backwith him.“We went home that night and he…we got in bed. The mood was just…tense. He put his hands around my neck. He kept saying,This is what you want, isn’t it? And like, yes, but not like that. He was so angry and I…I got so scared…”
A small whimper leaves her. Her hand flies to her mouth as though to keep it in check. But suddenly her face goes red and eyes fill with tears. They spill down the curve of her cheek.
“Oh, God,” her voice trembles. “Sorry. I don’t know what’s happening.”
My heart breaks.
I get up from my chair and go over to her. I kneel down in front of her, lowering myself to look up at her. I drop my voice. “Can I hold you?”
She nods. Her voice is small when she says: “Please.”
I pull her chair back. I scoop her up, sit down, and take her in my lap. I wrap my arms around her and she cradles herself against me. Her hair is soft against my nose as she buries her face into my chest. She smells like fruity shampoo.
She shudders. It’s a full-body shiver with a small twitch, like a hiccup in her system. The sweater gets damp with her tears. I hold her tight.
She confesses, “I don’t think I’ve felt safe…for a very long time…”
“You’re safe here,” I tell her. “You’re safe with me.”
She cries. These don’t feel like sad tears. They feel like a release. Like the sobs that come after a rough scene. That cathartic, therapeutic crying.
This is aftercare, a year too late.
I rock her soft weight in my lap. I hold her until she’s letit all out and her tears are reduced to small, occasional sniffles.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, “for being there tonight.”
I’ll be there every night.
I’ll be there for the rest of your life.
I don’t say that, though. Instead I reach for her plate. “Pickle?”
She nods. She tilts her chin up and I hand feed her. She takes a bite and crunches softly. I can feel her jaw working against my chest. Even the sound of her tiny crunches gives me peace. Her weight seems to get heavier as she relaxes into me. She lets out a small, soft sigh, as though relieved that she can finally hang this night up.
I drop my arm around the small of her back. I draw my thumb back and forth across the small of her back. I hold her up, anchoring her. Stabilizing her.
For a moment, we just linger in this soft, quiet intimacy.
“God,” she sighs. “What a night.”
“What a night.”
The warmth of her breath hits the side of my neck. She tilts her head, and we’re so close like this. Her gaze falls to my mouth. My heart is pounding like the rapid fire click of typewriter keys against my chest. She tilts forward, but then?—
“Dove?”
There’s Ophelia’s voice, soft and sick from the bedroom.
Dove pulls away. “I should…”
“Of course.”
