The Assignment

by Jade A. Waters

  I tried to pinpoint what had set me off last night. Dean had felt incredible against me, and asking me to touch myself in front of the room had turned me on. So had the idea of taking the stranger in my mouth... The man had been rough, but that hadn’t bothered me, either. Nor had Dean’s suggestion that I mess around with someone else. It had sparked something deep within me, riling me like I hadn’t expected. The fact that Dean could tell me to do something and I’d eagerly comply enthralled me. But starting without him had felt disjointed, and not at all like the other times I’d been the center of his focus. Safe. That was just it—my safety hadn’t been in his hands, but in those of a complete stranger, when I was supposed to be with Dean. This whole thing was about him controlling me, but maintaining his protective role through it all. Not handing that over to someone else.

  And I hadn’t said anything. That was my biggest problem.

  As I neared Alameda, I fished my phone out and dialed Selby. There were two missed calls from Dean and a voicemail notification on the screen, as well as a text. I ignored all of them.

  I’d texted Selby earlier, letting her know I was heading to the hospital to visit Carrie, and she’d proved she knew me well when she asked if it was my familiar client, and what could she do to help? I’d smiled in spite of the agonizing deliberation coursing through my skull. Now, she answered after one ring.

  “How are you doing, hon?”

  “Not so good. Are you busy?”

  “Nope. I’m always here for you. Want to come over?”

  “Please.”

  I arrived at her door ten minutes later. Alex intercepted me in the entryway, his arms enfolding me in a brotherly hug until Selby came into the room.

  “Rough day, huh?” he uttered into my hair.

  I choked out a response. “You could say that.”

  “Honey...” Selby broke into the hug with Alex. For a while, we stayed close. Alex rubbed my back.

  “I’ll leave you ladies be. Juice? Beer?” He headed toward the kitchen while Selby squeezed my arm. “Tranquilizer?”

  “Ha. I just want to lie down.” I curled up in a ball at the end of the couch.

  Selby sat at my feet and picked up the remote, eyeing me. “You can’t talk about it.”

  “No,” I said. I adjusted the throw pillow under my head. “It’s going to be okay for her, but it was bad. Real bad.” I swallowed. “I have to go check on her tomorrow for next steps.”

  “I’m sorry, sweetie. That’s rough. Do you want to talk about your date instead?”

  I must have grimaced.

  “Oh, crap. That was bad, too?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about anything.” I pulled my knees tighter into my chest. “I’m trying to sort it all out.”

  Patiently, Selby turned on the TV. She patted my foot and gave a shout into the kitchen. “Alex honey? Can you make us some popcorn? We’re going to movie out.”

  “Done!”

  I sank into the couch, grateful for good friends while I tried to calm the tormented dance of my thoughts.

  * * *

  Monday passed by in a fog, only key moments sticking with me by the time I got home. I’d visited Carrie in the hospital, providing her with more detailed information on a domestic violence shelter near her college. She’d remained set on her decision, and we’d worked through a safety plan should J appear in the hospital or during her transfer over to the shelter, as well as how to implement her transition. She had at least two more days for monitoring, so I’d set times to visit her and had made appointments for follow-up after her transfer.

  Carrie had also requested a restraining order, for which I’d brought along the appropriate paperwork.

  All week at the office, Maddie gave me more attention than usual. She’d become such a supportive friend, and after dragging me to lunch every day, she sat quietly, not asking for details and reminding me she was there when I wanted to talk.

  And that was the thing—I did want to talk. The worst possible thing I could do was hold it in, because all that did was amplify my discomfort. The night with Dean and my incidents with Charlie weren’t connected, but my gut churned over what bothered me. Both times, I’d felt unsafe. Feeling like this with Dean was what had set off my thoughts of Charlie, but it wasn’t fair of me to not talk to him about it, even if I remembered how poorly the conversation had gone with others in the past. Would it scare Dean away? Worry him? Charlie was long gone, having moved off to the East Coast after our breakup. Why wouldn’t I talk about it?

  In some ways, I didn’t want to taint Dean’s opinion of me. His view was that I was a wild and free woman, one able to express myself and try whatever sexual fantasy crossed my mind. How would he take the truth of my past? Why couldn’t I just tell him?

  I knew the answer though I pretended I didn’t—I liked Dean, more than I could understand. I’d fallen deep and fast. He cared for me, but his feelings couldn’t be serious if he was willing to push me off to play with someone else, could they? And if we already had a power dynamic between us, how could I get comfortable knowing he also had my heart?

  Dean called multiple times, but I didn’t answer. I listened to his messages—considerate, well-wishing memos meant to assuage me. Thursday, he sent a text. I wish you’d talk to me. I’m worried about you. Please call when you’re ready.

  We needed to talk, but I’d gotten caught up in my head. I couldn’t summon up the woman who’d been so open to everything, and she was getting swallowed up by the troubled, frightened girl I’d healed years ago.

  By Friday, my glum mood had taken over. I’d avoided everyone and everything save for work and being by myself at home. I couldn’t shake my frustration, and I didn’t know how to start the conversation with Dean. I got up from my desk, gnawing my lip on the way to the water cooler.

  After I filled my cup, I turned to find Maddie behind me. She frowned at me with her hands on her hips.

  “Um, hi.”

  “It’s got to end,” she said. “Something’s battering around in your head and fucking with your mood. Do you have plans after work?”

  I took a sip of the water. “A run.”

  “No run. It’s Friday. You’re thirty-two years old, and it’s Friday. We’re getting drinks after work. I’ll call Henry and tell him he’s in charge of Timothy.”

  “Isn’t your sister coming to town?”

  “That’s tomorrow. I told you already, I took your advice. It’s all good—she’s just coming for dinner.”

  “But that’s going to be stressful. Shouldn’t you take tonight to chill?”

  She gave me a look that made it apparent I didn’t have a choice, and I said okay.

  We both finished before six, and Maddie led me to her car. Occasionally, her mommy persona snuck into her demeanor, and it flared up through her many concerned glances during the drive to the happy hour bar a few miles farther into town.

  Once we ordered up appetizers and drinks and our server left us be, Maddie switched the topic to more serious things. “Okay, fess up. No more grumpy Maya time. You’re as bad as my kid. Hell, you’re almost as bad as my sister right now.”

  My laugh came out a partial snort while I sipped my mojito. “Fuck, I’m sorry. Are you ready for her visit?”

  “Don’t change the subject. We can talk about that later. What’s up?”

  “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

  “Oh, please. What’s going on with you and Dean? What’s made you so pensive?” She sat straighter. “You’ve been weird since your date. Did he hurt you?”

  “God, no.”

  “Well? You went on the date. You came back bothered. And the Carrie thing happened. You’ve been off all week, and you’ve got me worried.”

  “Selby said the same thing.”

/>   “Can you blame us?”

  I surveyed the bar. Plenty of people were having relaxing post-workweek drinks and getting into good moods. Why I couldn’t shake this, I didn’t understand. “It got too wild last weekend. I was into it, but...” I thought of the events, trying to find the words to express myself.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  I scratched at the table’s surface.

  “Go for it. I’m open-minded. You know that.”

  I described the club and Dean’s directions without going into great detail. I mentioned getting involved with another man, but how Dean hadn’t been there when it had gotten weird, when I’d needed him.

  Maddie leaned onto her hand with a large grin. “Okay, first, that’s crazy hot. Being directed by someone you love—”

  “I don’t love him.”

  “Sure you don’t. That’s why you’re such a hot mess over this.”

  I exhaled. “Fine. I’m feeling something serious, and it makes it twice as confusing.”

  “Okay. So then he passes you off to someone else.”

  “Well, he didn’t mean to. He was supposed to be there.”

  “But without him, how did you feel?”

  “Alone.”

  “And unsafe.”

  She’d nailed it.

  “Did you say anything?” she asked.

  I frowned. “Kind of.”

  “Jesus. You’re both playing major head games, a fluke delay puts you in a shitty spot, and you don’t talk about how uncomfortable that made you?”

  It sounded pretty ludicrous when she said it out loud.

  “Then Carrie happens, your most stressful client in as long as I’ve worked with you.” She folded her hands on the table. “I hate to lecture, but don’t you remember what we talked about? It’s not only with sex, but all the time. You have to communicate—especially with your history.”

  The server showed up with our appetizers, and we broke the conversation, thanking her once she spread out the plates. We took a few bites, and after commenting on how tasty the dishes were, Maddie looked soberly at me.

  “You know, years ago, when you first told me about Charlie, you made a guarded comment about sexual things. You’d said he was bossy and mean all of the time, but you also said he sometimes brought it into the bedroom and you’d never understood why it was so good.”

  I took a swig of my mojito. I didn’t recall this conversation, but I remembered the feeling.

  “It stuck with me. You seemed confused, like you were trying to separate the two things. That’s part of why I didn’t tell you about all of Sébastien’s and my adventures. I didn’t know how you’d take it. But here’s the thing...we’re in the business of bad things happening to good people, and sometimes we see unusual stuff arise in a negative context. If your only exposure to that kind of play is linked to your relationship with Charlie, how would you not react poorly if something goes off track?”

  “I do feel safe with Dean, though.”

  “Yeah, with Dean. And from what you described, he’s new to this, too. He has no gauge on what pushes you too far.” She sighed, exasperated. “Look, you’re going to do what you need to do, which may or may not be what you truly want to do, but nothing in sex is wrong if you’re doing it with the right person and you’re communicating your boundaries. So far, you’ve loved what you’re doing with him, correct?”

  In less than three months, we’d had plenty of positive experiences. Until now.

  “Yes.”

  Maddie reached across the table. “Well, there you go. Sometimes it’s easier to see from outside, as you know. Lecture done.”

  “Thanks, Maddie.”

  “No problem.”

  I sipped at my drink, pondering her advice. “Okay. What’s up with Chelsea?”

  Maddie’s face softened. “I did what you said. I told her I’d be happy to host her for dinner.”

  “How’d she take it?”

  Maddie shook her head. “She was annoyed, but I told her with all that’s going on with Timothy, we couldn’t add any stress to the mix right now. I’m over the bed-wetting.”

  “I bet. So she’ll come over for dinner. That’s good boundary-setting.”

  “What are you, some type of counselor or something?” she teased.

  “I learned from one of the best.”

  Maddie laughed and raised her glass. “Here’s to short visits. And good advice!”

  “Yes! Great toast.” I clinked my glass against hers before we both took another sip.

  “All right, let’s talk about something happy,” she said, thinking. “Can I tell you the fantastic news about Timothy—my five-year-old reading machine?”

  “Hell yeah. Tell me about the whiz!”

  Maddie and I hung out for another hour discussing Timothy, work and other things to distract her from her sister’s impending visit and me from my own situation. But by the time we parted ways, I knew in my heart that everything she’d said was right.

  Now I needed to figure out how to handle it.

  * * *

  After a restful weekend thinking things through, I figured I should rejoin the world of the sane. On Monday, I headed into work with a plan to call Selby and then checked in with Maddie on her sister’s visit. All had gone well, and they’d even had a good talk, so I was happy for her. After she tucked herself into her cubicle, I spent a chunk of the morning organizing my schedule for the week. I had plenty of check-ins with Carrie ahead alongside the domestic violence support groups I’d volunteered to run. Every time I met with the women in attendance, I felt like I helped them come to terms with their experiences, and hopefully, like Carrie, they’d make the decision to leave, even if it took a while.

  Carrie’s case was different, and in many ways, a relief. I’d visited her at the shelter the day she’d gotten out of the hospital, and again on Friday after she’d transitioned to her new long-term home. In only a week I found her happier, lighter. She knew she’d made the best decision, and fortunately, she’d had no further run-ins with J and she didn’t want to seek him out, either.

  While I couldn’t legally share any of Carrie’s details with Selby, I kept her posted on the positive spin when I called her that night. Selby loved to hear these stories—much like I enjoyed hearing the stories of third graders she’d helped master multiplication tables or build volcanoes for science experiments—but in the case of Carrie, Selby decided we needed a special celebration.

  “I’ve been meaning to make this lamb dish that looks out of this world,” she said over the phone.

  “You crack me up.”

  “Hey, why not? I have two weeks until work starts. You know how I am. I’ve got to live it up! Let’s celebrate your great news. How about Saturday?”

  “Why would I turn down free food?”

  “Cool. See you then!”

  The week flew by after that. I grabbed lunch with Maddie and conquered copious amounts of paperwork. On Thursday, I received a card from Carrie in the mail. Inside she’d written a message in pink cursive that warmed my heart:

  Dearest Maya,

  Thank you for all your help and support through my experience. I already feel better, like the weight is off my shoulders! This wouldn’t have happened without you. Thank you for setting me free. You’re the best.

  I’ll see you next week for my session!

  XO, Carrie

  I read the words, again and again. Living free was the agreement I’d made with myself after coming to terms with what had happened with Charlie, even though it had rooted itself in me as something I’d need to contend with for a long, long time. I remembered the day I’d told Selby that I’d figured out the best tattoo for me, ελευθερία, freedom—a mark to commemorate embracing opportunities and experiencing
the full ride, good or bad, but always free.

  And keeping my past to myself wasn’t being true to that.

  I hadn’t heard from Dean since his last text the week prior. I also hadn’t worked up the guts to contact him, but I needed to.

  I needed to be free.

  * * *

  I dropped my boots on the front porch of Selby and Alex’s house before heading in. I’d thrown them on under my skirt at the last second, having walked out of my place to find the sky dim with the possibility of one of our infrequent but pleasant August drizzles. The weather was still on the warmer side, and a touch of seasonal rain on the skin felt calming and cool, a promise of our gentle winters not all that far away.

  Selby shouted hello from the kitchen, and I walked in to greet her, ready to help in whatever way I could. As usual, she pored over a recipe book while she fussed over our meal.

  “Don’t bother,” Alex said. He’d come in from working under the house, his shirt speckled with dusty flakes and his face smeared with dirt. “She’s been talking about this dish all week.”

  “Honey, you’re going to get crap in the kitchen.” Selby muttered and reviewed the final details. It smelled delicious.

  Alex rolled his eyes but smiled. “Yes, dear. I’m going to shower up real quick.” He looked at me. “Congratulations on your client.”

  “Thanks, Alex.”

  “I have the wine chilled to celebrate! Congrats to our girl!” Selby beamed up from her recipe, and I curled my arms around her waist from behind.

  “You’re the best.”

  “Yeah, she is!” Alex said. He gave Selby a peck on the lips before heading out of the room, and while she finished up, I set the table, warming as I thought of Carrie. It didn’t hurt that Selby and Alex were so glad to celebrate, either.

  Once Selby pulled the lamb from the stove, the three of us sat down in the cozy dining room and poured some wine. Selby had sautéed the lamb in a mix of wine, olive and onion, and with the side dishes she’d prepared, we were in for a treat.