"Hmm..." he breathes. "Thank you for getting me into the tea habit. It's done wonders for my sleep."
"You're welcome," I say, not realizing that I'd been responsible, but getting the idea anyway.
We're quiet for a few minutes before Edward sets his mug down. "So, tell me, what were you thinking about this morning at breakfast?" he asks gently.
My pulse picks up. I'm not sure how to answer him without what might be construed as word vomit. The questions and assumptions themselves were definitely brain vomit, and I'd spent all day trying in vain to mop up the mess. "I'm not sure how to ask without sounding accusatory," I say honestly.
He opens and closes his mouth a few times. "Should I pre-empt with an apology?" he offers. "Whatever you think I've done..."
"It's not like that, Edward." Oh, how to ask? "I just... I'm worried about something you said last night. The stuff you took a pass on, actually. I started coming to what are probably really absurd conclusions and I couldn't stop thinking about it all day..." my voice trails off. Edward's gone pale. He looks down at his hands, the way I do sometimes when I'm ashamed. The knot in his neck bobs up and down as he swallows.
"Oh… that," he shifts uncomfortably. "Do we have to talk about it right now? I'd hoped your memory would have returned and we wouldn't have to."
"So I already know all about whatever this is?"
"Yes."
"Before or after?" Relating knowledge to occurring before or after the wedding has become monumental in establishing a level of trust, and thus far, he's not lied to me…. that I know of.
"Baby, you were quite aware by the end of our second date."
Oh! Then it can't possibly be that bad.
He shifts uncomfortably. "Kristina… I had a vastly different worldview when we met. I lived my life by a very strict set of rules, never deviating. I mentioned to you how uncomfortable I was with certain kinds of touching, that you let me tie your hands, do you remember that?"
I nod. How can I forget?
He closes his eyes briefly and takes a few breaths. This bothers him on some level I haven't yet reached. "Please, baby, I'd rather not talk about it now. We've had a good weekend. I'm tired, you're tired… let's just go to bed and leave it for another day."
Yes, it can be that bad. I swallow. "Was I okay with it?" my voice is small.
His eyes open, pleading. "Some of it."
"I don't understand." But I'm scared. I'm clutching the nearly empty mug for dear life. If I were any stronger, I might break it.
Edward's gaze alternates between my face and… everywhere else, as though there are answers written on the walls, and he's desperate to find the right one. "Krissy, please… I've never outright asked this of you before, but may we seek John's counsel, together, to discuss this further?" His voice holds an edge of panic. "I'm very uncomfortable anticipating your reaction, because I fear you'll misunderstand." He rises… how does he do that so gracefully? …and picks up his mug. He holds out his hand for mine. I wordlessly hand it to him, and he moves away to the kitchen.
What just happened? I can't fathom whatever could be so bad that he'd fear my reaction that much. What does he think I'll do? Something drastic? That's just not me. I'm not a fan of drama, and this is getting ridiculous. I drag myself up from the couch and follow after him. He's at the sink, having placed the mugs in the basin, and is gripping the counter edge.
"Edward?"
His eyes fly to me. I must have startled him. His breathing is quick.
I inch toward him. "Talk to me."
He shakes his head, his eyes reaching for the ceiling again.
"Hey," I'm standing before him, calling him back to me. His gaze returns, fearful as ever. I must be brave. Whatever he's keeping bottled up, I need to give him the benefit of the doubt, to allow him time for explanation before I jump to a conclusion. My fingers come to his cheek, and his eyes close, leaning into my hand. He grasps it after a moment and turns to press a kiss into my palm.
"I love you," he whispers. "So much."
"So talk to me."
He shakes his head. "I meant it, Krissy, I need Flynn's help with this."
"You need my therapist to help you?"
He laughs. It's sudden and nervous. "He was my therapist first."
What?
"I've been seeing him for years," he answers my unspoken question. "Your husband has issues, Krissy. You knew this going in, and yet you've stayed." He brings the hand he's holding to his chest, spreading my fingers over his heart. It's pounding furiously. "I'll never, ever hurt you, or give you reason to fear me. The thought of doing so is abhorrent to me. This is all you really need to know. The rest, it's in the past. It doesn't matter."
"It matters to me." It does. I can't imagine what it is that has him so scared of my reaction. Is he a serial killer? He said there was nothing illegal about it, but then he also said something about a shift in his worldview… did he once perceive illegal things to be morally sound? I'm so confused. "If we sit down with John, will you tell me?"
He blinks. "I've said I would." His hold on my hand tightens, and his pulse continues to thump under my palm. "Please promise me you'll remember the person I am now, and that I'm very different than I used to be. I need you to be open-minded, baby. I can't go through this without you."
I cock my head to the side, gauging him. I want to believe what he's saying, that whatever this horrible secret is, that he's moved on from it, and that it's not so horrific that I'd take Ryan and run screaming from the house. Heck, if that were the case, wouldn't I, in my right mind, have gone long ago? I hope that I've kept my integrity all this time, that I haven't somehow sacrificed my values for the sake of this known and yet unknown secret. To do so really doesn't sound like me. I may have wavering regard for my self-worth, but I'm not an idiot. "I promise. When can we go?"
Edward sighs, not in relief, but in what seems like resignation. "I'll call him now, and ask for an appointment tomorrow morning, before I leave for New York." He's quiet, and his pulse has slowed just a little. "This way, you'll have a few days to reflect, and to decide if… you want to stay, or… not…" his breath hitches.
I'm not sure what possesses me, my apprehension of the last short while is clear, but I step in, snaking my arms around his back, holding him to me. For some reason, I need this, need him, before whatever innocence that exists between us is stripped away by his impending revelation. His arms come around me as well, hesitantly, as though he doesn't want to frighten or cage me, but is nonetheless desperate for the contact. His lips press against the top of my head.
"Why do you think I'll leave?" I murmur into his shoulder.
"Because you did once," he whispers. "I can't bear to lose you again."
~oOo~
John Flynn studies us, separately, from his desk chair. He's leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands folded before him.
I glance to Edward, but he doesn't notice... his eyes are locked with Flynn's, a mental exchange transpiring between them, the likes of which I can't even begin to comprehend. I'm at a monumental disadvantage, and my stomach clenches. Edward told me on the way here that John knows everything. I wish I knew what everything meant. I'm not even sure whose side the great Dr. Flynn will be on, but I'm pretty sure it won't be mine; apparently he's known Edward longer.
"So, what can I do for you both this morning?"
Edward audibly inhales, reaching over the barrier created by the arms of our respective chairs to grasp my hand. "Krissy has asked some very difficult questions about our past. It's important that she have answers, but I'm... apprehensive, of her reaction. I'd hoped you'd be a character witness. I don't want my wife to be afraid of me when it's all been said." He looks to me, sincerity radiating behind his watery gray eyes. I give his hand an answering squeeze, my heart thumping disjointedly.
"I'm honored, and more than willing." John shifts, pulling his legs up and crossing them. "Krissy, would you like to start by restating whatever questions you have?"
I swallow. When I find my voice, it's small and trembling. "Edward hinted at having other kinds of relationships. I'm not sure what that means; my limited knowledge doesn't allow my imagination much room to run wild, but not knowing really scares me. And also…" I glance over at Edward again, his jaw is set, rigidly, "he says he was a different person when we met, and that I left and it changed him. I want to know how."
"I see. Well first, allow my experience with both of you, together and separate, to reassure you. Krissy, you and Edward have a very healthy, loving relationship, and one of the strongest bonds I've ever witnessed in many years of counseling. He's never lied to you, and he won't hurt you. Please bear that in mind, all right?"
Oh my. The reassurance is heavy, and all-encompassing, but it unlocks a new level of my fear, that whatever Edward is keeping from me could lead me to believe that he's frightening, even dangerous. Both now have reassured me that Edward won't hurt me, so that must mean I might see him as capable of it. I suppress a shudder, manage to nod, and Flynn turns to Edward.
"Full disclosure would be best," he advises.
Edward closes his eyes for a moment. I think he's counting again. When he opens them, his pupils are dilated. "Krissy, I love you. You mean more to me than my own life. There was a time not long ago, when I didn't think myself capable of these feelings, and I conducted myself in a way that I'm now ashamed of. I can't begin to make amends for some things, but we've put those events behind us in the interest of moving forward." He shakes his head. "I don't even know how to say it without intimidating or frightening you."
"Why don't you start at the beginning, and we'll follow you?" Flynn directs.
"Right," he nods. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, I think he's organizing his thoughts. "I told you I had a rough start in life," he addresses me again. "My biological mother was neglectful, she didn't protect me as she should have. A male acquaintance of hers, he was violently abusive... and left marks. It's the reason I avoided being touched. After I was adopted, I didn't talk for nearly two years. Mom and Dad sent me to a series of therapists, I was always under one treatment or another, and I was always so angry. I got into some terrible fights, expelled from a number of schools. And then, when I was fifteen, a former friend of my mother's seduced me."
The words are flowing from him like water through a flume, direct and unhindered. His grip on my hand has tightened, and I think he's afraid I'll pull away. I could chew on what he's already revealed for a week.
"She was married at the time," he continues, "and we pursued the affair for a number of years. She introduced me to an alternative lifestyle that tempered and focused me, helped me excel in school and later in business. I owe my success to that lifestyle."
"Be specific, Edward," Flynn prods, and Edward stops short. I can see his thoughts backtracking in his expression.
"It's become more difficult to talk about as time passes. I used to be able to discuss it without flinching, but now, it's borderline humiliating. I can't believe I behaved the way I did in the past." He gulps. "Krissy, before you came into my life, my relationships with women were that of a Dominant-submissive nature. I objectified women. It was always mutual; the roles were clearly defined and strictly maintained. I was accustomed to giving orders and having them followed immediately without question. The day you came into my life, your flustered demeanor falsely struck me as submissive, and that is why I initially pursued you. But in getting to know you, you changed my entire world. You were so new and different to me, it was a wakeup call. At first I resisted, tried to integrate you into my lifestyle, even tried to convince myself that I was no good for you, when it was clear that you weren't the submissive I'd hoped you'd be. I tried and tried to make things work my way, to convince you that you could adapt to being that way for me, but you wanted more, and I was afraid of what that meant. I craved you, nonetheless."
I... have... no... words. He was a what? Dominant? What does that mean? His grip on my fingers is borderline painful. I flex them and he loosens his grip, but doesn't pull back, and neither do I. I don't think I could pull away if I wanted to. I'm stunned.
"I… don't understand," my voice cracks.
Edward bows his head. "John, could you…"
"Of course," Flynn picks up. "A Dominant-submissive relationship, or D-s from here on out, is one in which one partner submits to the other's will. For those who choose the lifestyle, it can be carried out in a safe, sane manner, and the respective roles satisfy an inherent need that typically cannot be otherwise fulfilled. In Edward's case, the need to dominate another person rose from the desire to compensate for the lack of control he experienced in his first years of life, and his overprotective nature, from the guilt he felt in being unable to protect his birth mother from her fate, and in some ways, out of the anger he felt toward her neglectful position toward him. Does this make sense?"
Does it? I have to fight for air; I hadn't realized I was holding my breath. My voice is even smaller, higher, when I can finally speak again. "But what does that mean he did, specifically?" I mean, what exactly does it mean that you do?" I turn to Edward, awkwardly appalled that I'd first asked as though he weren't here, and his head is still down, his eyes closed.
"It means that I… hurt you," his voice shakes. "The last person on earth that I'd risk hurting, and I did. I'm so sorry."
What? I look confusedly between Edward and Flynn, and the latter continues.
"A major part of the D-s relationship involves a willingness, and often enjoyment, in giving or receiving pain. To couples who crave this type of stimulation, it's expected, but to someone who is first introduced to this lifestyle, it can be a touch unnerving. From what we've discussed in years past, your initial reaction was one of willingness to try, as a means to an end, as you'd not explored your sexuality before you met Edward. He proceeded carefully with you, with full awareness of your inexperience, and you agreed to try, while he agreed to explore the possibility of more than just your physical relationship. Edward believes he'd already fallen in love with you, though he wasn't able to fully grasp such a new and unexplored emotion at the time."
Flynn pauses to gauge my reaction. I think I'm still blinking, but I'm not sure. My stomach sours as I think about where he's going with this. He must be satisfied with my expression because he continues. "After a time, you were curious to know the extent of your respective limits. Mind you, there were safewords agreed upon beforehand, so that you could make him aware that you'd reached your tolerance limit and that he should stop. During a particular encounter, Edward admits he got carried away, but you also conceded that you neglected to use the safeword when you'd reached your limit. It drove you apart for a short time."
"What did he do to me?" I blurt out.
"I hit you… with a leather belt," Edward whispers.
I'm sorry. What… the fuck?
Edward lets my hand drop and pulls away. I don't have brain cells left to ponder why, not with that mind-bomb he just detonated.
"In retrospect, the act wasn't important, though we're in no way trying to diminish how frightening this must be to hear… what you need to focus on, Krissy, is the effect it had on Edward's perception of the act. Edward, would you continue, please?"
He's shaking. I'm the one who should be shaking, and there he is, all jittery and upset. What about me? What about how this is affecting me? I can't speak. If I do, I may throw up.
"You left me that night," he says softly, staring at the dark carpet. "I didn't want you to, I begged you not to go. The remorse I felt immediately after was so intense, like nothing I'd felt in my life; I knew I couldn't do that to you again, and I never have since. But still you went, after making it clear that you felt you couldn't give me what I needed. And it was your leaving that made me realize that I didn't need the lifestyle the way I once did, not with you. And what's more, I didn't want it. The thought of causing you such pain, it's revolting to me. It cleared my head. It made me realize that what I wanted was y
ou, just you, and I'd take you any way I could get you."
There's a pause. I'm suddenly aware that they're both looking at me; I don't know when Edward raised his eyes from the floor. Flynn's gaze is unwavering and expectant, while Edward's is contrite, wary.
"You haven't said much, Krissy," Flynn coaxes. "It's a lot to take in, I understand. Where are your thoughts?"
Where are my thoughts?! The man I married, married… this man I thought to be so kind, caring, protective and gentle has been downright abusive toward me. "What do you want me to say?" I mumble.
Flynn sighs. "Edward, I need you to step outside for a while, please."
Oh yes, send him outside so he can beat the receptionist. My mind is a flurry of images of Edward growing devil horns, wearing the expression I saw in my red-walls episode, sweating over me with a fiery whip. Shit… is that what I was seeing? Why in God's name would I allow him to hit me? Had I completely lost my mind?
The door clicks shut. Flynn is still calculating my expression, whatever expression I have. I feel so blank inside.
"You're perfectly safe, Krissy. You can say whatever you need to."
I shake my head, and my eyes refuse to blink; I just stare back. I can't comprehend what he's told me, what Edward revealed, what they seem to have agreed is normal, sane behavior.
"It's shocking to hear, I know," Flynn continues. "The very first conversation I had with Edward, I wasn't immediately sure I wanted to continue with him; I didn't feel qualified to help him with his burden. But I did my homework, and gave him my best effort. I came to understand the inner workings of the D-s lifestyle, and in doing so, perhaps I've become desensitized to how frightening certain acts can be to those who had never been exposed to them. A trained submissive would be able to compartmentalize the emotions, separate them from the experience and in doing so, could evoke a positive reaction to something commonly perceived as negative."
I hold up my hand to stop him. "How can you be so clinical? He assaulted me!" I shriek.
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