“I did some more shopping this morning. Got you this.” He nodded at the bag.
I put my spoon back into my bowl and moved them to the side. Then I peered into the bag, anxious to see what he’d bought me this time.
“That’s a kneeling pad,” he said, as I pulled out a sturdy cushion. “I noticed you kneeling a lot yesterday in the garden, and I don’t want you fucking up your knees. I wasn’t sure what your favourite colour was, so I got it in my favourite, blue.”
I loved blue too. I was never a pink girlie girl.
“The guy in the store said those are the best gardening gloves,” he added, as I pulled out a pair of blue gloves from the bag. “They’re goatskin. Apparently, that means they have a tougher barrier of protection. Plus the long cuffs are good for keeping the dirt out and preventing scratches on your skin. Speaking of skin…” He twisted around then planted a bottle on the island. “This is Factor 50 sunscreen. You can’t be outside all day with your pale skin and not use protection.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. He was being beyond sweet. Who was this guy? And what had he done with the sassy, childish, prank-loving Cillian I was used to dealing with?
“Laugh all you want, sweetheart. It’s music to my ears.”
Sweetheart.
I blushed, but I don’t think he noticed. At least, I hoped he didn’t.
The last thing I pulled out was a blue carry case. When I opened it, I saw a gardening tool set encased inside, with everything I’d need to do the jobs I loved.
“I know it’s not much. When I have more time, I’ll get you some bigger gadgets.”
I didn’t want bigger gadgets. This was all just… perfect.
I gathered them up in my arms and glanced tenderly at him. Wanting him to see the gratitude in my face without me having to say it.
“You’re welcome,” he replied, without me needing to say a word, and started to busy himself clearing away plates and bowls, but I saw how his cheeks flushed. Mine did too.
* * *
At eleven on the dot,we heard the loud knock on the door that reverberated through the house and straight through my heart too. Angela Cartwright was punctual, and I was petrified. I didn’t see how talking, or rather listening, to someone would help my case. Surely, moving on from what had happened, and avoiding all thoughts and memories was the way to go? I was no expert, but what good could come from revisiting my past with… them.
Angela wasn’t what I’d envisaged when Doctor Graham mentioned her. In fact, she didn’t look that much older than me. Her brunette hair was tied up in a messy bun, with a few stray wisps hanging around her round face. She had ruddy cheeks, like she’d been outside braving the wind for too long. Her earnest smile took some of my butterflies away. Not all of them, but some. She reminded me of a kindergarten teacher, even more so when she spoke.
“Hey, it’s so nice to meet you. I’m Angela, but you can call me Ange. I can see right away that you’re nervous, but you don’t have to be, not around me. I’m not here to make you uncomfortable, I’m here to see if I can help.” Her voice was gentle and had that calming effect that made you want to sit and listen to her, no matter what she was talking about. A quiet but commanding presence, I suppose you’d call it.
Cill came to stand next to me and shot his hand out.
“Cill James, thanks for coming.” He glanced down at me like a protective older brother. “And this is Wednesday. She doesn’t speak… yet.”
“Oh, I know,” Angela butted in. “Pam Graham told me all about you both. Will you be sitting in our session today? It would probably help if you did, but I understand if Wednesday doesn’t want that.”
They both turned to me to gauge my response, and I nodded just a fraction to let them know that, yes, I did want him to stay.
“Wonderful. Shall we talk in the living room, or do you want to go somewhere more private?” Angela looked between us. I had no preference for a certain room. If I had my way, I wouldn’t be doing this at all.
“Living room’s fine, I think?” Cill looked to me again for confirmation and I smiled.Let’s get this over with.
Cill made coffee and we sat on the couches. Cill next to me, and Angela on the one opposite. She asked us to fill her in on the situation so far, and Cill took the lead, telling her about our first meeting. Wisely, he left out the part about the nature of the club, but he told her what the party entailed and about the night he saved me. I zoned out. I couldn’t understand why it was important to rehash all this. Then Angela turned her interrogation onto me.
“Wednesday, I know there will be a million and one memories you’re trying to supress right now about that time, but to aid your recovery, we will need to address some disturbing incidents that happened back then. Do you understand?”
No, I didn’t understand why I had to give those men a single second more of my life. They didn’t deserve shit.
“It won’t be with any intention to upset or distress you, but looking at things from a different angle can help. Talking through your feelings and learning to conquer those fears. You might not realise it now, but healing comes through acceptance. You need to accept what happened to move on.”
So easy for you to say Ms. I-got-a-degree-so-I-know-everything. What the fuck did she know about my life? What the fuck did she know about anything? She’d probably never even met men like them. I wished I hadn’t.
She kept talking, telling us about her credentials and how successful she’d been in helping so many sufferers through trauma like mine. How the fuck did she know what my trauma was? I hadn’t told her.
