I worried my mouth to the side and somehow that look said enough.
All of a sudden the two of them were so serious, it was actually amazing to see. Both going into a whirlwind of motion.
Christine set aside her dramatics for maybe about the first time since I met her, and instead was pulling out a chair from the other side of the room. Ushering me to sit and relax. Nina whipped out her phone, pulling up the security camera angles from that night while she questioned me about approximate timing, looking to pinpoint the exact frames. Both of them were amazing in their own right and both of them were now seated in front of me in their own chairs looking at me as if I was another one of the women in the shelter.
I didn’t know how I felt about that, I mean I felt grateful enough to be treated with the same urgency as anyone else who was struggling. But I also didn’t feel worthy of it.
I mean, my parents said it best. I had so much, and most of the time I just squandered it away. I took it for granted and made up excuses and I was wrong to do that. So the fact that I was wallowing and feeling sorry for myself when all in all I was okay, was sort of sickening to my stomach.
Still, even though I felt bad about feeling so shaken up, I didn’t know how to stop feeling this way.
“Tell us what you’re thinking, Selena. Don’t bottle it up,” Christine said.
“Not much,” I said, offering a weak smile. An ache spread through my hands as I twined them together tight. “Just about how stupid I am.”
Sympathetic. Fierce. Apologetic. As I peeked up at them, I witnessed the rush of these emotions and so many more crashing over their features one right after the other. It made me want to take back what I said. I didn’t deserve that look. If they really knew me, knew what kind of life I lived, they might not feel the same. It felt like I was tricking them.
Nina gathered my hands in hers, Christine laying hers over top. “No honey, don’t you dare feel that way. Just tell us what happened and we will try our best to make sure, at least on this property, it never happens again.”
Was I selfish to want to soak that declaration in? Was I heartless to enjoy their attentiveness when there were others who might need it more than me? Was I a horrible friend to be given more in this friendship than I was willing to give?
Probably yes on all accounts, but at that moment I didn’t care. At that moment it just felt good to know that even these people, people who dealt with way worse every day, seemed to think my feelings were valid. Even though they didn’t have all the information, they still cared. That felt good.
So I told them.
I told them everything. How I had been feeling down and had left work early to come here. How I stupidly decided to walk, getting myself into trouble because of that decision. I told them how I felt helpless and powerless now that it was all said and done. Not because it happened, but because I would never know if I would’ve made one different decision could things have turned out differently.
They listened quietly. Expertly, and it showed they did this for a living. Hearing from them—two women who could have easily been in the same situation—that it wasn’t my fault, that stupid people were the only ones at fault for the stupid things they did, made me feel better. It showed me how much they cared.
I really needed to tell them soon.
“How are you feeling now? Scared?” Nina asked.
“No,” I said, picking at my jeans and trying to find the right words. “No, I just feel kind of unprepared, you know? Before, I felt confident in most situations because I’d never lost. But I lost this time. And now that I know I can, I feel weak all of a sudden. And I wish I knew what to do instead so I can feel strong again. But it feels like every step I take lately has been the wrong one, you know?”
They looked at each other and then Nin leaned in closer. “Have you thought about going to see someone?”
I shrugged. “I’m not really good with sharing.”
“Therapists don’t only listen, they talk and advise too. And we can find someone who fits you well,” she pressed.
“We?”
“Yes,we!” Christine interjected, sounding offended that I even asked. “We are going to help you through this, Selena.”
“Guys come on, I don’t need to—”
“What you need to do is shut up and let us help you.” This came from Nina, which surprised me because she usually wasn’t so pushy. It made me feel both warm and a little guilty. They were being so nice to me and yet, they called me by a wrong name I’d given to them to hide myself.One wrong step after another.
“I… Okay,” I said, my shoulders sloping. “Thank you guys. But I honestly don’t think I want to talk to someone. I have a friend who…helped me that night and I’m okay, I just, I hate this feeling. Like I don’t know what to do if it ever happened again.”
“Selena?” A voice called from the entryway to the main room. It was Mary, a younger girl with blonde hair that she always wore in a low ponytail. She was quiet and I’m pretty sure she was terrified of me. Eh. That was okay. She was a little bit milk-toasty for me anyway. But she was nice enough, so when she appeared in front of us with a worried look on her face, all three of us stood in unison. “There’s a guy up front asking for you.”
I don’t think it was my imagination that we all stiffened. Men weren’t typically allowed in the women’s shelter unless they were approved caregivers doing a pickup, approved employees, or approved visitors. Basically, all men had to be approved. And the fact that whoever was out there was asking for me, a non-employee, was strange.
“By name?” I asked.
“Um, sort of,” she said, biting her lip. “He keeps calling you, like, See-See though.”
