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The Power of Salvation

Page 8

by Passarelli, Caterina

Are you fucking kidding me?

  I don’t even know what to do. I want to help her so bad and get her out of here, but she won’t give up on my dad. She says he wasn’t always like this, that he doesn’t mean to be like this, and that there’s a lot of pressure on him at work.

  This family is a fucking joke.

  My brother and sister try to stay out of the house as much as possible, but I can’t leave mom alone. She encourages me to go with my siblings but I refuse. What if he comes home and hurts her? I mean really hurts her. She won’t call for help. I need to stay. I have to protect her.

  Chapter twelve

  Luke and I are going out to dinner again, but this time I’m in charge of our evening’s activities. I loved the date he planned, but I want to show him a more laid back version of Chicago. Has this guy ever not had the best of the best? Doubtful. Let’s see if he can hang with the middle class.

  My phone vibrates on my dresser, a text message:

  I’m outside, whenever you’re ready come down. Don’t rush.

  Even though I’m in charge of this date, he still insists on picking me up and using his car. I guess if I had a private driver I wouldn’t want to slum it around the city either, so I won’t call him out on this one. And I like not having to find my own way home when I’m with him.

  I look in the mirror for a last minute check to see that everything is where it should be. I leave my hair down in long waves, swipe some lipstick on, and grab my clutch as I head towards the door. Serena is out for the night, so I can slip out without any harassment about having a good time and giving him some sex.

  Rushing out the door I bump into my neighbor, Linda, an elderly woman who’s carrying a bunch of groceries up the stairs. She refuses to take the elevator—she says she’s fighting the aging process. But before I can offer to help her, I notice Luke coming up behind her with his arms full of grocery bags.

  “Hello Ariana, your kind boyfriend here offered to help me with my groceries. What a sweetheart!” Linda exclaims.

  “I’ll be down in a minute,” Luke says, trailing behind Linda, looking like a man on a mission to get these groceries into her apartment. It looks like they’ve got things covered and I would just be in the way, so I head downstairs—skipping the elevator myself so Linda doesn’t yell at me—and meet Luke’s driver on the curb.

  “Hello, we’ve never officially been introduced. I’m Ariana,” I say, sticking my hand out towards the middle-aged man with short red hair and green eyes. He extends his hand and takes mine into a firm grasp.

  “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Ryan,” he says. I give him the directions and then he walks towards the back door to open it for me. It feels so weird being treated like royalty—something I’m not. I want to tell him I can get my own door but he looks like he takes his job seriously—which is something I can admire in any person.

  Climbing into the backseat, I pull out my phone to browse social media while I wait for Luke to finish helping my neighbor. In just a few minutes, he’s in the backseat next to me. He takes my phone and puts it inside my clutch and then sits the clutch back on my lap. I’m in shock—no one touches my phone—and I think my jaw drops. What the hell just happened here?

  “We don’t need something like that to be a third wheel when we are together. So many people are obsessed with their smartphones and social media—it’s ruining real-life interactions.”

  Well, damn. He’s right, but I didn’t see something like that coming from him.

  “You run a massive company—how can you not be in support of the Internet?” I laugh at this ridiculous conversation.

  “I didn’t say I don’t support the Internet. Vulcano Vodka has an entire marketing department that consists of people who solely work on online advertising and social media. But outside of the office, that’s useless to me.”

  “Enlighten me—what is useful to you then?” I lean in, touching his arm while I tease him.

  “Right now … being present in the moment with you,” he says, turning to face me.

  As we pull up towards the bar, which I think is a hidden sports gem in Chicago, I laugh now realizing how opposite we are going to look tonight. I told him to be casual, but he’s besides me in a black dress shirt and black dress pants. At least he ditched the full suit. I’m walking in next to him wearing dark ripped jeans and a green T-shirt paired with a brown bomber jacket, but I did pair the outfit with a cute pair of heels.

  “What’s so funny?” He looks at me quizzically.

  “Do you know what the word casual means?” I ask, pointing to his clothes as the hostess takes us to our booth.

  “This is casual for me,” he replies, not even looking fazed that we don’t match. This is probably another one of those things he just doesn’t think twice about. I wish I had such a carefree attitude when it comes to caring what people think.

  “Is this booth okay?” The peppy hostess asks, placing the menus on the table.

  “Perfect,” I say, sliding into the booth.

  This is where true sports fans come to watch the game or eat the best deep-dish pizza in the entire state of Illinois. I love sports; they are so cut and dry—there’s a winner and a loser. Tonight there isn’t a local game playing, but we can still enjoy the atmosphere.

  Our waiter takes our drink orders. I wisely pick water this time and Luke gets a beer. I’m not going to be off my game on this date. No chugging champagne or martinis like they are going out of style.

  We chit chat about how our days went—his in the office and mine in the hospital. It’s a very easy conversation—talking about the vast personalities of the people we work with and why we do what we do. This date is going well until moments after our check arrives—Luke pays it even though I fight him on it since this was my idea. We are relaxing at the table before we head to our second location when I spot Drake and a few of his fraternity brothers pile into the bar. Drake eyes us and strolls over, not even stopping to talk to the waitress who tries to get his drink order.

  “Ariana, how are you doing?” Drake asks, not even glancing in the direction of Luke. I spoke to Drake a few nights after the weird confrontation in the coffee shop to clear the air—he said everything was fine but apparently that was a lie.

  “I’m doing good, Drake. You remember Luke?” I ask, extending my hand in Luke’s direction to bring him into the conversation. I feel a little weird about all of this.

  “Of course—the guy who wanted to start a pissing match with me in the coffee shop over my best friend,” he says, still staring at me, and then he turns his body to face Luke. “Yeah how you doing?”

  Luke breaks out into a shit-eating grin, clearly not phased by how rude Drake is treating him. Before I can swoop in and correct the conversation, Trey walks over to our table and drapes his arm around Drake’s shoulders. Clearly these guys have already been drinking before coming to this bar—a Friday night ritual.

  “Ariana, girl, it’s good to see you! Is Drake interrupting your date?” Trey shouts—I don’t think he knows how loud he’s talking but the fellow patrons have as they glance our way. “Have we seen her go out with other guys before?” he asks, turning his head towards Drake to get an answer. Drake just nods his head ‘no’ and doesn’t say a word. “Oh damn, I thought you two would always end up together,” Trey slurs; clearly indicating he means Drake and me.

  “Okay fellas, it’s time you go back to your own table. Ariana and I would like some privacy,” Luke orders.

  “Privacy? She’s our friend. What the fuck? Are you going to let him talk to us that way?” Drake asks me. Now he’s the one raising his voice. This is déjà vu of the coffee shop with all eyes on us yet again. Why can’t I be in the room with my two favorite guys and have nothing go wrong?

  “I think you guys should go back to your table. Luke and I were just about to leave anyway,” I say. A flash of hurt and confusion crosses Drake’s face and then it’s gone in an instant—replaced with anger. He clenches his fists and puffs out his c
hest.

  Drake leans into the booth, crowding my personal space. Before he can say anything else, Luke eyes him with rage. Luke’s hand, already wrapped around his beer bottle, squeezes it a little too hard in his grasp and shatters the glass.

  Drake’s eyes go from me to Luke’s broken bottle.

  “What the fuck man?” Drake asks. Pushing past him, I slide out of the booth.

  Drake turns to me and grabs my upper arms a little too tightly. “Ariana, I don’t think you should keep seeing this guy. I’ve looked him up, he’s not right for you. And what the hell was that with the bottle?”

  Drake’s fingers dig into my arms and now I’m uncomfortable, trying to weasel my way out of his grasp.

  “Drake, you’re hurting me, let go.”

  My friend doesn’t seem to comprehend what I’m saying and it’s only a matter of seconds before Luke is out of the booth and pushing Drake’s hands off me.

  “You heard what she said, asshole. I don’t want to see you put your hands on her ever again,” Luke commands, taking a stance right next to me like a guard dog on duty.

  “Or what?” Drake shoots his mouth back at Luke.

  “Or you’ll answer to me,” Luke growls between clenched teeth, his hands clenched in fists as well.

  “Okay boys, I think this has gone on a little too long. Luke, let’s just go,” I say pulling on his arm.

  “Ariana, what’s wrong with you? You used to care about your friends and you’d never let a stranger control your life,” Drake snaps, shaking his head with disappointment all over his face.

  “I don’t want to have this conversation right now,” I say towards Drake. I then turn to Luke and say, “Let’s go.”

  “Whatever,” is all I hear Drake mutter under his breath. He drops the conversation and lets us leave without causing any more of a scene—thank god! We walk outside and I pull my jacket a little tighter as the Chicago chill hits me deep in my bones. I grew up in Florida, only moving to Illinois when I started my undergrad, yet I feel like I will never get used to these winters.

  Luke notices my shivering and puts his arm around me before pulling me into his chest. Since we so abruptly left the sports bar, Ryan wasn’t ready to pick us up and is driving over to us now. I take the time to nuzzle myself as close to Luke as I can. He smells absolutely heavenly. I need to find out what his body wash or cologne is so I can bathe in it.

  Ryan pulls the car up to the curb and we climb into the backseat, thankful he kept the heat on full blast. I gave Ryan the rundown of the night’s locations earlier so he doesn’t need to ask me as we take off towards the Navy Pier, which is a surprise to Luke.

  As I regain feeling in my fingers and toes, I get a little courageous with the man sitting next to me. He did just stand up for me against Drake’s grabby hands, which was kind of sexy.

  “So tell me something about you that no one else knows?”

  “You always seem to come up with questions I’ve never been asked before,” Luke says, taking a moment to think—is he considering his options? “I sleep in the nude.”

  He flashes a big grin at me.

  “Really? That’s all you’re going to give? And I said something no one else knows,” I sass back at him.

  “No one else knows that.”

  “You’ve never had a sleepover with a woman? What are you going to say next—you’re a virgin?” I laugh.

  Luke fiddles with the zipper on my bomber jacket and looks up to meet my eyes. “I’m definitely not a virgin. I lost that title many years ago. But I was telling the truth—I don’t let women spend the night with me. I always leave or ask them to go. Now tell me something about you that no one else knows.”

  Okay, I wasn’t expecting that answer. Why doesn’t he stay with them? I guess that’s something I don’t really want to know the answer to anyway; I don’t want to imagine him having sex with anyone else.

  Else? Where are you going with this brain of mine?

  “Let’s see.” I pause thinking of what to share. “I have a tattoo.”

  His face lights up eagerly. “Go on ... where is this tattoo no one knows about?”

  I point towards my jeans. “It’s pretty low on my hip bone.”

  His eyes dart right to where I pointed. “Wouldn’t that show if you are wearing a bikini?”

  I fidget in my seat feeling a little uncomfortable with him clearly imagining what I must look like in a bikini.

  “Since I’ve gotten the tattoo I haven’t had many opportunities to wear anything revealing in public. I can’t remember the last time I was on a vacation or even at a beach.” As I talk, I realize just how sheltered I’ve kept myself. “It’s always been school, working, part-time jobs, and then throwing myself full force into my residency. Does the idea of a tattoo on a woman turn you on or gross you out?”

  I’d hate to hear that it grosses him out, but before he can answer I notice we’ve pulled up to our location and I hear a tap on the window—it’s Ryan letting us know he’s about to open the door. I remind myself I’m going to ask him that question again later. I’d love his opinion.

  “The Navy Pier?” Luke asks as he turns to offer me his hand. It’s such a simple act, to place my hand in his, but I have to remind myself that I can do this—let him touch me. I reach out to slip my fingers into his.

  “You’re very observant,” I tease.

  “How late is it?” he glances at his watch. “Isn’t this place closed?”

  I grab a tote bag that Ryan helped me store in the trunk and head towards our destination: the Ferris wheel. Luke doesn’t let me carry the tote bag very long; he’s taking it from my hands to carry himself.

  “Serena is good friends with the Public Relations manager for the Navy Pier—she pulled some strings. Don’t look so surprised. You aren’t the only person who has connections in Chicago,” I tease, nudging him as we approach a teenage boy standing by the Ferris wheel looking down at his phone.

  “Miss Bellisano?” the teenager asks apprehensively.

  “That’s me! Nice to meet you.” I extend my hand towards him, he shakes it, and then he gets right to work by opening the cabin door to our seats on the Ferris wheel. Once we are tucked inside, I take a minute to enjoy our view before reaching inside my tote bag, pulling out a huge fleece blanket that I wrap us up in then I grab two thermos with spiked hot chocolate. Luke takes a whiff and immediately laughs.

  “What are we, in high school?”

  “Hey now Mr. I Own The Fancy Liquor Company, this is what some of us can afford,” I say, taking a sip from my thermos. His face changes into a more serious expression but he’s hard to read as he sips his drink. I was completely joking, considering Serena said the same thing about my alcohol of choice before I left. It’s partly because I’m cheap and it’s partly because I have no clue what kind of alcoholic beverages I even like.

  With the blanket wrapped around us and sitting in such a close space, we have nothing to do but be in each other’s arms. It still makes me slightly on edge to let someone touch me, but as I continue to let my guard down with him, the fear goes away more and more.

  The teenager must have pressed some button or another because the giant wheel rotates.

  “Will you ever tell me what happened? What exactly lead you to not letting people touching you?” He breaks the silence of us staring out at the nighttime view.

  I debate whether I want to get into this, but there’s no point in keeping it hidden. I’ve come to terms with it a long time ago; it’s just not something I like to share. I’ve started once before with him at the charity event, but that was cut short. He already knows I was abused, so I might as well give him the rest.

  I take a deep breath in and out, trying to calm my nerves. My hands are shaking and I feel uneasy. This is something I’ve never fully told a guy before except my father, but that doesn’t count.

  “When I was 14, a friend of my parents … raped me,” I say as matter-of-factly as I can. I’ve convinced myself if I p
ut no emotion into what I say, I won’t feel anything. I won’t cry, shake, want to throw up, or hide my head in shame—what I felt like for years upon years after what happened to me. That’s what I try to tell myself at least.

  I feel Luke’s entire body stiffen beside me; he doesn’t say a word.

  Should I have kept this to myself? I mean, he did ask. This is why I’ve never told anyone all of this before. I don’t know what they’ll think of me. I don’t want this moment in my life to change the way someone sees me. I don’t want it to define me.

  Is he not going to want to do anything sexually with me now?

  Am I too damaged for him?

  Before any more ridiculous questions fly through my brain, Luke finally speaks, “Did you tell your parents?”

  That’s not the question I expected him to ask.

  “Not at first. I was really scared and really confused. I didn’t know much about sex other than the stuff we learn in school. Which isn’t really anything when you go to a private Catholic school. I had never even kissed a boy before…”

  It’s like I’m instantly brought back to that moment.

  Allen cornered me at my family’s house during a Christmas party, which he was attending with his wife, Sarah. My parents were known for throwing big parties. It was always so much fun. Was is the keyword here for me now.

  “I was in my father’s office getting a special Christmas CD that I left in his computer. I burned it earlier that day and was so excited my parents said I could be the DJ; they normally never gave me responsibilities. They are kind of the people who think children are better seen, not heard.”

  I grip the fleece blanket a little tighter to my chest, feeling the Chicago winds picking up as the Ferris wheel continues to roll slowly around. Luke says nothing, giving me time to collect myself before I continue.

  “Allen walked into the office and I didn’t think anything of it at first, until he closed the door behind him. I felt so out of place, even in my own house. I had never been left alone in a room with a grown man before who wasn’t my dad or grandpa. I felt uncomfortable, but I tried to play it off like it was no big deal, like I was mature.”

 

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