“No, you are! Now gulp that down and let’s go cut a rug.”
She laughed at the expression. “Do Canadians say that? You sound like an old western movie.”
He shrugged and handed her drink to her. She guzzled several long gulps and set the glass back down on the bar.
“I didn’t mean it literally. You’re going to get drunk.”
“That’s what I’m going for.” She turned to the bartender. “Watch our drinks . . . and start making me another because this one’s about gone.” She swigged a couple more gulps, which almost finished it off, and then pulled Christian out onto the dance floor.
oOo
“I need the restroom!” Rhees yelled over the music to Christian. He nodded and waved her off, but didn’t stop dancing. Rhees made her way to what she always thought was the most luxurious bathroom on the island, but just before she turned the corner, she stopped cold.
Paul ambled along the path, headed to the bar—headed straight for her. Hands in pockets, he held his head down, staring at the ground. He looked sad, or angry, or both, and hadn’t seen her yet.
A woman, a beautiful woman she’d never seen before, strolled at his side, jabbering at him as they walked. With his head down, it was hard to tell if he was listening or not. He definitely didn’t speak back to her, but that was no surprise. They reached the bathroom and stopped. Paul opened the door and made a gesture with his hand to usher the strange woman inside. She went in, turned, and said something to him with a demure smile.
Rhees’ mouth fell open as she stepped out from around the corner where she could be seen, trying to make sense of the horrible scene, sure that she’d already made sense of it, in spite of her alcohol impaired mind.
Paul didn’t return the woman’s smile, but his face registered with curiosity at the way the woman looked to her left from inside the small room. He turned his head to see what the woman was looking at.
Rhees stood, gaping in shock, in horror, in pain. Paul reflected Rhees’ expression as if looking in a mirror.
“Rhees?” He shut the door to the bathroom and almost hit the woman’s face, but he didn’t seem to notice. “What are you doing here? Where’s Christian?”
Rhees didn’t answer. She spun around and marched back to the bar and downed the rest of her second drink before ordering another.
“Double everything this time,” she growled to the bartender. By the time the bartender handed her the new drink, Paul had stepped up behind her, and grabbed the drink away.
“How many have you had?”
“Someone stole my drink,” she yelled at the bartender, ignoring Paul. “Make me another!”
“Cancel that,” Paul said. Rhees gave him a dirty look.
Christian noticed she’d returned, that Paul was there, and made his way to the bar. “Paul. You’re here. How’d it go with Rick?”
“You were supposed to make sure she ate food, got home, and had company so she wouldn’t cry all night.”
“You didn’t say we couldn’t go out.” Christian looked like he didn’t like being put on the spot. “She wanted to go out, and I took it as a good sign. She’s obviously feeling better.”
“Take her home,” Paul growled. “Now.”
Christian looked confused. “Why don’t you? You’re obviously done with your meeting.”
Paul didn’t seem to know what to say.
“Come on, Christian,” Rhees said. “Take me home, please?”
“What’s this kerfuffle about?” Christian gave Paul a questioning look as Rhees pulled on him.
The strange woman had come out of the bathroom by then, and Rhees gave her a dirty look before dragging Christian away. A few steps away, Rhees stopped and watched to see which direction the woman would go. Sure enough, she walked up to the bar and stood next to Paul. He’d just finished off the tea he’d confiscated from her and slammed the glass down on the bar.
“Rhees? Are you all right?” Christian’s concern showed. “I’ve never seen you so angry. You look like you could murder someone right now.”
“That is exactly what I plan to do. See that skank making eyes at my husband?” Rhees started back toward the bar but Christian grabbed her arm. “Let go of me.”
She struggled against him, but he didn’t let go.
“I told you I’m married. Leave me the fuck alone!” Paul boomed over the music. Rhees and Christian both looked to see Paul walk away from the woman.
“Now we can go, eh?” Christian asked.
oOo
Two hours later, Paul reached for his phone on the coffee table in his apartment.
“What is it now, Christian?” Paul’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat, hoping it wouldn’t happen again and give him away.
Christian’s voice sounded muffled, like he didn’t want to be heard by someone else in the room. “You lied to me, and I’m really pissed at you.”
“Get in line.”
Christian was silent for a moment. “I’m not going to be put in the middle of your marriage problems. I resent that you used me, and now Rhees is crying, has been since I got her home.”
Paul sighed, loudly. “Climb into bed with her and put your arms around her.”
“What the hell? Are you serious?”
“She just needs a hug. Give her one.”
“It’s not my job to hug your wife, or make her stop crying. You’re her husband. Get over here and hug her yourself!”
It was Paul’s turn to be silent.
“Do you hear me? Get your arse here, now.”
“I can’t. I’ll pay you to do it. I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Oh, heavens to Betsy!” Christian cursed. “Rhees is my friend. I don’t know what’s going on . . . and I don’t want to know, but this is hooped. All the money in the world wouldn’t make me the one she needs.” He went quiet for such a long time, Paul worried.
“Christian?”
“I’m leaving.”
“No. Stay. Please, don’t leave her alone. I said I’d make it right with you.”
“No, Paul. There is no making this right. This is your job. I can’t believe you think you can pay someone to do your job. I’m leaving.”
“Give me ten minutes. I’m at my apartment.”
“Five minutes.”
“Five? I don’t think I can get there in five.”
“I’m walking out of here in five minutes.”
“I’m already out of my apartment, I’m locking the door, now, but I’m telling you, I can’t get there in five. Give me ten. Please don’t leave her alone when she’s like this.”
“Seven,” Christian blurted out.
“Seven? I’ll take seven,” Paul huffed. He’d already reached the street and broke into a sprint.
oOo
Paul reached the stairs and flew up, three at a time, before bursting onto the porch just as Christian walked out the door. Christian looked at his watch.
“Seven minutes and sixteen seconds,” he said.
Paul bent forward and rested his hands on his knees to catch his breath. When he stood, he pulled a fifty-dollar bill from his pants pocket and tried to give it to Christian as they passed each other.
Christian stopped, looked at the money, scowled, and continued to walk by.
“Christian.” Paul offered the money again.
“I don’t want it.” Christian shook his head. “What happened, eh? Rhees deserves better than this. She deserves better.”
“That’s what I keep telling her.” Paul tossed the money at Christian’s feet and walked to the door. He turned to give Christian one more look. Christian glanced down at the money, glanced back to Paul, and headed down the stairs without picking it up.
Paul walked quietly int
o the apartment unsure of what he’d find. Rhees lay on the bed, her back turned to him, and convulsed with the most miserable sobs he’d ever heard.
“Aw jeez, Rhees.” His shirt and jeans were off in record time and he snuggled up next to her, pulling her in as close as he could get her. He brushed the hair away from her face and rested his cheek against hers.
She continued to quiver and wail.
“Shhh . . . I’m here now. Shhh . . .” he cooed. “Please don’t cry.”
She put her hands over his, and the intensity of her bawling began to subside.
“This is only temporary, isn’t it?” she asked with a sniff.
He didn’t answer for a few seconds.
“I’m here, now. Maybe we can get some sleep tonight. I haven’t slept for two nights. You?”
She sniffled again before she finally nodded.
“Okay, sleep.”
Chapter 18
Rhees woke to Paul kissing her shoulder, the way he used to. She knew he was still asleep, mostly. She didn’t move, hoping the moment would last.
“Good morning,” she said when he stopped kissing her and got out of bed.
“I need to get to the shop.”
“Please, can we just talk?” She sat up and watched him moving around the room, gathering his clothes.
He froze but didn’t look up. She took advantage of the pause.
“I am so sorry for what I did,” her voice cracked. She didn’t know how to convey her sincerity properly. She knew she hadn’t done a very good job of it so far, an obvious fact, based on how angry he still was with her. “I’m sorry I drank more than you realized, but I wasn’t drunk. I’m sorry about the lubricant—I didn’t use it, and I’m sorry I acted so contrary, trying to work you up so you’d be—” She didn’t want to finish that sentence.
He squirmed, his agitation on the rise, but he didn’t respond.
“Paul. Please.” Her eyes filled with tears faster than they ever had. “Please, talk to me.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Help me, then. I want to understand so we can fix it.”
“Fix it? Interesting you’d use those particular words.” He sat on the twin bed to put his feet into the legs of his pants. “I thought I had fixed it. I changed for you. I worked so hard to be the man you needed me to be. I’d actually started to like myself, a little.” He stood and pulled his pants up, but then he paused. He pursed his mouth, staring off to the corner of the room. “I don’t know how I feel, knowing you didn’t want me to change. That you’d actually been counting on me all along, counting on me to rape you.”
“No! Don’t say that!” she pled, despairingly. “I’m sorry—I’m sorry that you feel like I believed you were a rapist, or that I wanted you to be. I didn’t! You’re taking what Keene said, too literally. If I’d really wanted that—” She paused to think of how to put it into words.
“I didn’t want Creepy to rape me. Do you really think I wanted that?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed, but he’d stopped getting dressed again, which meant he was at least listening. He sat back down on the twin.
“Okay, and think about the way I was, after Mario. Do you honestly believe everything I went through was because I was disappointed? You think all the panic attacks and nightmares were really just some kind of disappointed tantrum because you stopped him and saved me?”
Her question caught him off guard, but it only took a second to recover with a snide retort.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he hurled out scornfully. “How many times have you thrown that at me? Huh?” He changed his voice to mock what she’d said in the past. “‘Mario wanted to fuck me. Maybe he still does! Do you think the prison has a conjugal visiting program’?”
“I’m sorry.” Paul was right, she had no defense to that, and the desolation she felt was crushing. “I didn’t want you to—I never once thought about it like that, ever. I just needed your help to push me, help me through my fear. If what you’re saying is true, then that means I wanted them to—I can’t even say it—would I have trouble just saying it if I really wanted it to happen?”
He leaned forward with a sigh and propped his elbows on his knees with his hands clasped so he could rest his face against his hands. His mouth remained hidden from her view but she knew what he was doing with it behind the shield.
“Keene is wrong. I’ve been thinking about all of this since talking with him. I haven’t figured it all out yet, but I know with certainty, I did not want to be raped!” she sobbed. “I wanted you, Paul, but I was too scared to do it your way, and I’m so, so sorry, but I wanted you, my husband, the man I love. Not Mario, or Creepy, or Roney.”
Paul looked up at the mention of that name. He had a surprising desire to hear an explanation of that one too. She must have noticed.
“I didn’t date Roney because I thought he was a rapist either. I liked that he didn’t fall in line like everyone else, and that is what attracted me to him. I was drawn to his confidence, his strength, both physically and emotionally—like my dad—like you. Apparently, I’m attracted to strong, silent, protective types—with a lot of testosterone—not wimps like Sean.
“And you know Sean wasn’t a rapist, right?” she asked. “With Sean, I only convinced myself I could stand to be married to him because he was so sweet—and sexless. Maybe you’re right. Maybe it did have to do with the safety factor, because it was all so nonthreatening for my state of mind at the time, but I was never attracted to him.” She looked down with a pained, repentant expression on her face. “I probably owe him an apology for that.”
He chuckled. He didn’t mean to, it kind of ruined the whole angry, I’ve been wronged, mood he’d had going, but it was so like Rhees to feel the need to apologize. And for what, for not being attracted to a man who’d rejected her, for a stupid reason Paul didn’t comprehend? The idiot could have been married to her by now, but he’d left her emotionally scarred instead. The pud has no idea that he missed the opportunity to wind up with the most perfect woman—
His thoughts suddenly paused, stabbed again by the reminder of his broken, betrayed heart, the reminder that Rhees wasn’t the person she’d led him to believe in after all, just like his instincts had told him in the beginning.
“And I didn’t want the monster you prefer to believe you are—” she kept going, making it easier to get his sulk back, “—to do it either. You are not that man, you are not a monster, and I’ve never once believed you were.”
His mouth twisted with distrust as he stared off into nothingness.
“You don’t want to believe me because it might mean I’m right—” still going, “—that you’re not really as bad as you always want to believe you are. You’re not.”
“Just stop.” He hated hearing her go on and on about what a saint he was in her eyes. He knew better now, she’d finally revealed that chink in her act, but she’d done an excellent job of confusing him, so convincing. He felt his heart wanting to believe her again. He couldn’t help himself.
Great! Just great. I’m an idiot who’ll never learn.
“No, I won’t.” She hopped off the bed so she could stand, showing him a stronger version of herself. He stood too, to make sure he didn’t give her control over the situation, over him.
“Paul. I never, ever made any connection between the dressing room and—” She paused again. A sob broke free and she covered her mouth, he thought, trying to pretend that she was really upset.
“—The bathroom. I thought, if I could just get through it the first time—it worked. Paul, we tried it your way. All the times we tried to take it slow, didn’t. It only gave me too much time to panic. I wish we could have done it your way, but I couldn’t. I’m sorry, but my way worked, just like I knew it would.”
Full out crying now,
she moved to rush him, touch him, but he took a step back and held his hands up as a barrier to her. She stopped cold and it broke his heart, all over again, to see the wounded look on her face. He turned so he wouldn’t have to keep looking at it, have it smashing his core to smithereens.
“I’m tired of this conversation, this topic, this problem. I’m going to work.”
“I’ll never hate you. I’ll never believe in that man, the one you want me to believe you are.”
He rolled his eyes and headed toward the door while shrugging into his T-shirt.
“What’s wrong, Paul? You’re frustrated because you can’t convince me you’re worth hating?” Her lips quivered and she had to take a breath to say what came next.
“I hate your parents for what they did to you! They never allowed you to feel worthy of their love, always pushing for more—no matter how much you gave. They neglected you as a baby. You were just a baby, Paul, and they left you on your own, locked in a tiny room. And because of your gigantic, beautiful heart, and your beautiful need to protect the ones you love, you took it on yourself to look out for your brother and sister. You did it because you didn’t want them to feel as unloved as you did. All you wanted was a real family, real love, and you hung onto that for as long as you could. You held onto the hope that they’d all start acting the way you knew in your heart, a family should be.”
He turned to look at her with his hard, murderous eyes, as if asking if she’d really just said all that aloud, but she wasn’t finished.
“And I hate Peter for forcing you to have sex before you were ready, for tainting your feelings about everything that has to do with romance, and romantic love, and I hate him for being a stupid, selfish fool, and blaming his own selfish stupidity on you. He got himself killed. It wasn’t your fault!”
Suddenly, Paul was bearing down on her, his face in front of hers, not touching, but almost. The look in his eyes would have scared her if she didn’t know him better than he knew himself.
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