Fight or Flight

by Young, Samantha

  It took everything within me not to stiffen at his comment, which should have been, I dinnae want tae have sex with anyone but you.

  “You aren’t jealous, are you?” he asked, a hum of amusement in his tone as we stepped onto the elevator.

  It was thankfully empty, so I could retort, “Kiss my ass.”

  “With pleasure,” he murmured in my ear.

  Still irritated, both at him and at myself for my jealousy, I stared stonily ahead and attempted to ignore his roaming hand.

  Caleb sighed and stepped away from me as the elevator stopped and more people got on. It wasn’t until we hit the ground floor that he returned his hand to my back and gently led me forward.

  “You have no need tae be jealous,” he said conversationally, holding the exit door open for me. Our eyes met as I moved to go ahead of him and I was halted by his next words. “You’re all I need.”

  And even though it was what I wanted to hear, I couldn’t help the melancholy that swelled over me, because what he didn’t add at the end of the sentence were the words “for now.” Yet those words hung between us anyway, and I scooted out past him, forcing my gaze away so he couldn’t see the turmoil in it.

  “How is Harper?” Caleb sought to change the subject as we joined the crowd on the sidewalk. It was a hot day, the sun beaming fiercely against my head, and I felt envious of the businessman in front of me wearing a fedora. I wished hats were more fashionable with female business attire. It would be cute—very 1940s—and serve the purpose of protecting my scalp from burning during the summer.

  “Harper?”

  I’d wanted to talk about this with him, so why was I stalling? Was it the reminder that he wasn’t going to be my permanent shoulder to lean on?

  Sighing, I shrugged. “She won’t talk to me.”

  At the hollowness in my voice, he took my hand in his, drawing my eyes up to his face. “She’ll come around. She knows you love her, Ava.”

  “I’d do anything for her.”

  His grip on my hand tightened and something flashed in his gaze that I didn’t quite understand. “Aye, she knows that too. You’re the only one she’ll talk tae and she needs tae talk about it. I know you dinnae want tae push but you need tae at least try tae feel her out about what happened. She’ll get mad at anyone who tries, but you’re the only one who might actually succeed in getting her tae open up.”

  His words of advice settled over me and I decided he was right. As much as the thought of confronting her about her emotions frightened me because I didn’t want to push her away, I knew she needed to do it before she buried what she felt. Burying it would only mean the distinct possibility of it being unearthed sometime in the future. Still, I had to ask, “I did the right thing?”

  “You know you did. Stop beating yourself up about this.”

  “How would you feel if it happened to one of your sisters? You can’t tell me you wouldn’t blame yourself for not having stepped in sooner. I know you, Caleb.”

  He nodded, his eyes turning to ice chips at the thought. “You’re right. I would. But I’d like tae think my friend Ava would tell me that the blame didn’t lie with me.”

  I smiled softly at his reply, the warmth of his words easing some of my tension. I squeezed his hand. “I would. Thanks. Not just for saying that, but for everything you did for me and Harper on Saturday. You and Jamie.”

  “You dinnae need tae thank me for that.” He let go of my hand but only to slide his arm around my shoulder and tuck me into his side as we made our way to the café.

  I felt safe tucked into him.

  Dangerously safe.

  The Lutons lived in a midcentury ranch house in Winthrop, a mere thirty minutes from the city. The shingles were a saltwater taffy blue, and I knew from Harper that they’d put a lot of work into restoring the large detached family home.

  I’d decided against dinner at seven and called Gillian to ask her if I could visit that afternoon instead, squaring it away with Stella that I’d catch up with work after my trip out there to see Harper. The idea of trying to talk to her, to get her to open up to me, while surrounded by the Lutons and their kids sounded impossible—because it would be impossible.

  I parked in their drive at the side of their house, feeling ridiculous that my heart was slamming against my rib cage. After my quick lunch with Caleb, I still hadn’t relaxed and I knew I wouldn’t until Harper and I had an honest conversation. Something I felt we could do now that she’d rested up a bit.

  “Hi, Ava.” Gillian stepped out of the front door onto the porch as I made my way around the garden to the front stoop.

  “Hey. How are you?” I asked as I climbed the steps.

  She gave me a tired smile, surprising me. On all occasions that we’d spent time together there was a constant bronze glow to Gillian’s skin and a brightness in her hazel eyes that matched this irrepressible aura of energy that athletes seemed to have. Today both her skin and gaze seemed dull. She looked exhausted. “I have three kids and a belligerent houseguest who has quite frankly made me terrified of my kids becoming teenagers. Other than that, I’m fine.”

  I passed her, walking into the beautiful entrance to their home. Ahead of me was an expansive oak staircase with a light gray carpet runner up the center. To my left was a formal living room with a baby grand piano in the corner. To my right a larger family room, with a lived-in corner sofa, armchair and stool, coffee table, television center, and lots of knickknacks. Both rooms had a central feature modern glass-box gas fireplace, neither of which was lit since it was June.

  “She’s just restless,” I replied to Gillian’s comment. “She doesn’t mean to be exhausting.”

  “I know.” Gillian nodded. “Jason has agreed to let her back in the kitchen tomorrow.”

  “It’s probably for the best.”

  “I agree.”

  “Kids at school?”

  “Yeah, I’m actually just heading out to pick them up. I’ll show you to Harper’s room first. We put her in the guest suite at the back of the house.” She led me past the staircase into a sprawling kitchen and dining room. A set of French doors in front of us led out onto the back garden. I admired the modern twist on the country kitchen. They had pale green Shaker-style cupboards, a thick woodblock countertop, a Belfast sink, and a matching island. Built in between cupboards was a large black ceramic range cooker that seemed to have all the bells and whistles. The freestanding combined refrigerator and freezer was one of the biggest I’d ever seen. It was a huge kitchen, accented with copper accessories and copper pans hanging from a rack on the far wall.

  “Love.” I gestured to kitchen.

  “Thanks.” She grinned. “Our pride and joy. Most of our budget went into it.”

  With Jason being a chef, I had no doubt.

  Double doors to our right took us into a fully stocked pantry. A door at the back of the pantry led us out into a small corridor. Gillian drew us to a halt and pointed to the door at the bottom of the hall. “Guest suite.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I hope …” She lowered her voice. “I hope you can get her to talk to you. She can’t keep what happened to her bottled up.”

  I nodded. “I know.”

  As soon as Gillian left, I knocked on the door.

  “Gillian, I said I don’t need anything,” Harper grumbled from the other side.

  So I turned the handle and pushed the door open.

  Harper was sitting curled up on an armchair in the corner of a lovely room. There was a four-poster bed in the center of it, a TV cabinet opposite the bed, and a door next to the cabinet that led into an en suite bathroom. Behind the armchair were French doors that led out onto the side garden.

  Sunlight cast a halo over my best friend’s head as she looked up from the book she was reading and let out a dramatic sigh. Her broken wrist lay on her lap, and the sight of the small cast caused me to wince. “I thought you weren’t coming until later?”

  I shut the door behind me and
dropped my purse on the bed before rounding it to stand in front of her. Her left eye was much better now, although the bruising had turned dark and brutal around it. The swelling had gone down in her nose, and the stitches on her temple and eyebrow were small, clean, and neat. The cut on her lip didn’t look so bad either. Still, my stomach roiled at the visual evidence of what she’d gone through. “We need to talk.”

  “I don’t want to talk,” she answered stubbornly.

  “You’re going to. We are going to.” I lowered myself to my knees, tucking my skirt in neatly around them. “I’ll start.” I began by exhaling shakily and saw Harper frown at the sign of my nervousness. “I feel guilty for not pressuring you more to dump Vince. And I feel guilty that I even pressured you at all because I’m worried that my doubts about him are only intensifying your own guilt. And I’m terrified that you feel guilty at all because you’re not the one to blame in this situation. We have all trusted the wrong person at one time or another in our lives, Harp. It happens. It’s shit, but it happens and we’ve got to learn to give ourselves a free pass every now and then.”

  Harper stared at me sullenly. “Wow. You just dived right into the good stuff, huh?”

  “Don’t.” I reached for her good hand, pulling it away from the edges of her book. “This is me. Ava. Don’t think you can hide behind snark and that I won’t see right through it. Be honest with me.”

  She glanced sharply away, grinding her teeth for a second. And then I felt her squeeze my hand ever so gently. “I …”

  I waited patiently and not so patiently for her to continue.

  Harper swallowed and finally, slowly dragged her eyes back to mine. “I can’t believe I let someone do this to me. Again.”

  “This is very different,” I said immediately. “I didn’t know Vince was capable of this. I just thought he was an unsupportive wannabe rock star who wasn’t good enough for you. And I know you didn’t know he was capable of this, Harp. Did you stick around and tell yourself that it was a one-off, that he was high? No. Did you listen to him when he pleaded with you that he didn’t mean to hurt you? No. You called me to come and get you out of there. Do you want to go back to him?”

  “God no,” she spat, jerking her hand out of mine. “What kind of question is that?”

  “The kind of question I needed to ask so you can see that you’re not trapped in an emotionally and physically abusive relationship with this guy. He showed what he was capable of and you have unequivocally walked away.”

  “I didn’t want to call the police. What does that say about me?”

  “It says you didn’t want strangers dragging up ugly memories from your past. It says you just wanted to walk away and move on.”

  “And let him do this to someone else,” she muttered, self-hatred gleaming from her eyes.

  “You weren’t thinking about that then, sweetie. And no one can blame you for it.”

  “You should. I’ve been treating you like crap for just doing the right thing.” Tears started to spill down her cheeks.

  I moved forward and rested my arms on her knees before placing my chin on them. “Yeah, and that lasted all of two days. And anyway, you know I’ll be your emotional punching bag anytime you need me to. That’s what family is for. To be good to each other, to be kind and loving for ninety-nine percent of the time, and to forgive each other the one percent of occasional shittiness.”

  She wiped at her cheeks but the tears kept falling. “I let him, Ava,” she whispered. “I was in so much shock I didn’t even fight back. And then … all I could think about was if someone called the police and people found out what I’d let happen to me. So I stayed quiet and took the beating. I’ve never once not fought back in my entire life. I fight! So why did I just lay there like a coward? I’m a coward!”

  “No.” I lifted myself up to grip her by the shoulders, forcing her to look me in the eye. “You are not a coward. You are one of the strongest people I know.” My vision turned blurry with my own tears. “This bad thing happened to you. You didn’t make it happen to you. Don’t let this change you, Harp. Please.”

  “How can I not?” She shrugged sadly. “I’ve tried so hard to stay open with people despite everything. And look where it got me.” Her shoulders shook beneath my hands as she started to sob harder. “Only you, Ava. I’ve only got you. You’re the only one I trust.”

  I grabbed her to me, feeling her tears against my skin as she sobbed into my neck. I held her tight, when what I longed to do was break down right along with her. Because I was afraid for her. I was afraid too much ugliness was going to turn her bitter.

  “Shh,” I hushed, stroking her hair. “You have more than me. Look at where you are, Harp. Jason and Gillian are here for you too. And you are still an amazing and successful pastry chef. No one can take us or that from you.”

  After a while she calmed down and pulled away. I got up to grab some tissues from the bathroom so she could wipe her nose. Her smile was small and shaky. “What a baby, right?”

  “Babe, you mean,” I joked, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah, I’ve never looked hotter.”

  “Well, you’ve never looked more badass.”

  Thankfully she chuckled, throwing me a grateful look. “This is what I need from you. I need you—everyone—to not treat me like I’m fragile or like I might break at any second. I just want to be treated like Harper. Not like Harper, the chick who got her ass kicked by her druggy musician ex-boyfriend.”

  “Okay.” I nodded. “I can do that. And so in that spirit I’m going to ask you if you’ve heard from Vince since he got out on bail?”

  My friend glowered, but it wasn’t at me. “Yeah, he’s been calling. I finally answered the phone last night and told him that if he didn’t stop calling I’d file harassment charges to go along with the assault charges. And then I hung up. He hasn’t called again.”

  “Good.”

  Her sudden soft contemplation of me confused me. “What?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “I just … I used to wonder about you. And Nick. After everything you told me about him, how much you used to love him, I could never really wrap my head around how you could just walk away from him even if he did cheat with Gemma. I never got it. How could you just stop loving someone because he made a mistake? I sometimes wondered if at first you were in denial about that … whether distance was really what made you get over him. I didn’t get it because there’s a part of me that still loves my mom.” Her eyes filled with fresh tears. “Not the mom I left behind but the mom of my childhood, you know. The one who loved me more than anything. I can’t make myself stop loving that mom. So I didn’t get it. You and Nick. But now I get it. His betrayal was a punch to the heart while Vince’s was literally a punch to the face. A moment so big that it kills every good feeling you ever had for them.”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “Shouldn’t I feel that about my mom too?” She wiped angrily at her tears. “Is there something wrong with me?”

  “No, there isn’t.” I moved back to her, needing to touch her, comfort her, my heart breaking because hers was. “It’s like you said … it’s Greta you love.” I referred to her mother by name. “It’s your childhood mom. And as far as I’m concerned, she is a different person from the woman you left behind.” I rubbed her back, trying to soothe her, and when her breathing seemed to even out again, I said as gently as possible, “Maybe you should think about talking to someone.”

  Harper stiffened beneath my touch. “A shrink?”

  “A therapist. Someone who can give you an unbiased, rational sense of perspective so you can stop blaming yourself for feelings that are only natural.”

  She was silent so long I wondered if I’d made a very bad move by bringing up the subject.

  But then she gradually relaxed against my touch and whispered, “Would you come with me? I know they won’t let you in but … you could wait outside for me?”

  Tear
s of gratitude blurred my vision and I leaned down to kiss her forehead, the tears spilling over with the movement. “Anything, Harp. I’d do anything.”

  “Love you, Ava,” she whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion.

  “I love you too.”

  Twenty-six

  Once a few days had passed, Jason and I moved Harper back to her apartment, and I stayed with her the first night. While she’d been at Jason’s, I’d had someone replace her door with one even sturdier than the last. However, I also suggested she find a new place so she didn’t have to worry about the possibility of Vince dropping by. The suggestion was met with approval and we’d already toured two apartments she liked, including a studio in Caleb’s building. I didn’t tell her it was Caleb’s building because I was worried she wouldn’t move in if she was embarrassed by what he’d witnessed. But I liked the idea of her in that building with its tight security. Plus, I would just feel safer knowing Caleb was there if she ever needed his help.

  Being busy with Harper meant I didn’t see Caleb for four days. We stayed in contact and I heard his frustration the last time he called. There was a part of me that could no longer deny that I hoped his frustration was more emotional than sexual—or at least both.

  Harper was back at Canterbury, and with each passing day she worked more and more hours. She basically, according to Jason, oversaw the kitchen and unnecessarily bossed people around. But in her own words it made her feel human again, so Jason was allowing it, as long as it didn’t interfere with service.

  Finally, Caleb and I agreed I’d come over to his apartment on Friday after work.

  Caleb: Don’t wear any underwear. I’ve no patience for it tonight.

  I’d laughed at that text, assuming he was joking. But then I began to wonder.

  That was a joke. Right?

  Twenty minutes later I’d received:

  Caleb: Since when do I tell jokes?

  I’m wearing underwear. Deal with it.

  Caleb: Then wear cheap underwear.

  I don’t own cheap underwear. And why?