by Freya Barker
Dorian walks to the middle of the room before turning around, his hands on his hips. “Last night and fucking hell, Viv! I cannot believe you never said a word. Not even to me.”
That feeling of contentment is gone as fast as it came. He knows. I’m suddenly overwhelmed with a rush of anger at Owen. He promised to let me do the talking. He didn’t like it, but he promised.
“Dorian ... Owen shouldn’t have ...” I start, but that’s as far as I get. I don’t know what to say. Dorian is empathetic and also very persistent. A lethal combo when you have something you’d prefer to keep to yourself.
A sharp shake of his head indicates keeping quiet is a good idea, for now.
“You mean Owen knows? You told him and not me?”
I’m confused. If Owen didn’t tell him, then who? “I don’t understand. Who told you then?”
“Kyle told me. He got a call from one of his models yesterday morning, saying she needed to talk to him. When she showed up with her arm in a sling and a scar on her cheekbone, he was shocked. She said her boyfriend put her in the hospital a month ago, and she’s pressing charges. Guess what her boyfriend’s name is?” He pauses to make sure he has my attention, which he does, but I’m afraid I already know the answer.
“Frank Miller.”
I flinch at the mention of the expected name and bile creeps up my throat, but I can’t get any words out.
“Turns out she met Frank at one of our parties, when you guys were visiting San Fran the year before you broke up. He’d stayed in touch and hooked up with her when he apparently moved to Los Angeles—something else I did not know,” he snaps with a pointed look at me. “She told him she wanted to get a message to you to be careful. Frank found out that the cops intended to question any previous girlfriends, to see if they could establish a behavioral pattern to support their case, and that’s when he disappeared.” His head drops and he takes a few deep breaths.
“I’m sorry ...” My voice cracks under the weight of my guilt. Dorian lifts his head and looks at me with tears in his eyes.
“What did he do to you?” The bluntness of his question takes me aback.
“It doesn’t matter,” I whisper, “it’s over.”
“Like hell it doesn’t matter!” Dorian bellows, and with his long arm, angrily swipes the content of my shelves on the floor before turning and punching a hole in the wall.
Ike
My first instinct on hearing an angry man’s voice when I shut off the water, is to barge in and throw myself in front of Viv. It sounds a lot like she’s under attack. Then what sounded a lot like anger, is laced with pain. This is one of her brothers, and if my guess is right, it’s the youngest one. The one Viv told me she’d been closest with growing up. That’s why he’s upset, he’s hurting for her as well as for himself. Instead of interfering, I decide to monitor from where I am: standing in the doorway of Viv’s bathroom, drying myself quickly with a towel.
I’m just pulling up my jeans when a loud yell, followed by a crash and the sound of something hitting the wall has me on the move double time. The first thing I see when I turn the corner is Viv cowering on the floor by the door, her arms covering her head, and I see red. Did he hurt her? From the corner of my eye I see her brother moving, and without thinking, I haul out and connect with his face. Only then do I notice the hole in the wall on the other side of him.
“I swear I didn’t touch her,” he mumbles through the hands he has covering his face. I ignore him, instead kneeling down in front of a whimpering Viv. I carefully reach out and stroke her hair, only to have her try to curl up even tighter.
“Viv, baby, look at me. It’s just me. No one is going to hurt you.” She doesn’t move other than the inadvertent shaking of her body. When I sense Dorian step up behind me, I turn. “Find her cell. Her purse is in the bedroom. Find a number for Pam.”
“Who’s Pam?”
“Just fucking find the phone. She’s a friend and her therapist.”
I try to touch her again, but each time I do she flinches. Jesus Christ. She even flinches at my soft words. This worries me.
When Dorian hands me her phone over my shoulder, I quickly find Pam’s number. While I dial, I turn to Dorian who looks about ready to burst into tears. I did a good number on his face, his cheekbone is starting to swell. “You’d better put some ice on that.”
“Hey, girl, miss me already? I’ve got you down for tomorrow.”
“Is this Pam?”
“Who the fuck are you? And what are you doing with my girl’s phone?” The switch from friendly to fierce is scary, it’s so fast. I hurry to explain.
“This is Ike. I know Viv talked about me because she told me. Listen, can you come here? There’s been an incident and something happened to her.”
“On my way. Is she hurt? What happened?” I can hear her walking and talking. She didn’t hesitate to get moving.
“She’s tucked in a ball, flinching at every word I say. I tried touching her but she pulls in even tighter. Her brother, the younger one, came over to confront her about ... well, about keeping her history with that dirt bag to herself. Things got a little heated, and it looks like he took it out on a wall. Don’t know whether it was the yelling or the aggression, but she’s tuned out. I ... I don’t know what to do.” I don’t. I feel absolutely helpless.
“She’s having a panic attack. It’s not uncommon with her kind of history. Keep talking in an even voice like you are doing now. Use her name a lot when you talk, to get her to focus on you and not the memories that are filling her head right now, and put the phone on speaker. I’m about ten minutes out, but let me try to talk to her.”
“Okay.”
I press speaker and move the phone a little closer to Viv. “You’re on.”
“Viv, honey. You’re okay. You will be okay. You and me, we’ve done this before, right, girl? This is not our first parade. Are you breathing the way I taught you? In sharp through the nose—out slow through the mouth.”
I can see Pam’s calming voice having an effect on Viv. Her breathing slows and the tight grip she had on her head loosens a bit.
“Are your eyes open, honey? Can you open your eyes? Ike is right there. Can you see him? He’s safe, Viv. Ike is safe.”
Viv lowers her arms just enough for her to see. Her eyes flick all over the room and her breathing becomes erratic again.
“I’m here, babe,” I step in, trying to draw her attention. “Viv, look at me.”
Slowly her eyes come around and focus on me.
“That’s a good g ... job. Stay with me here, sweetheart. Pam’s gonna be here soon.” Luckily I caught the good girl that almost slipped from my mouth. Something she didn’t react too well to last time I said it.
“Ike.” Her voice breaks on my name and before I know what’s happening, she launches herself at me.
“I’ve got you,” I say, as I wrap her up tight in my arms.
“You’ve got her?” Pam’s voice comes over the phone.
“I’ve got her.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ike
A knock on the door has Viv clutching to my shirt.
I haven’t moved, and I don’t think Dorian has either. He’s behind me somewhere, hopefully with ice on his face. I didn’t look to check, my focus has been entirely on Viv.
“It’s okay,” I tell her softly. “It’s just Pam. I’m just gonna get up and let her in.” But the instant I move, she digs her little nails in my chest.
“No-o,” she whimpers. “Don’t let me go.”
“Okay. I won’t let you go. Just hang on to me and we’ll let her in together.”
Her head, which is buried in my chest, shakes a vigorous no. Fuck.
“How about I take you to the bedroom and Dorian can let Pam in?” This time I don’t wait for an answer, but just struggle myself to my feet, Viv clinging to me like a monkey. I’m not a weakling, but she’s not exactly tiny. It’s a bit of a challenge, until I feel a pair of hands hook under my
arms and lift. Between my leg muscles and Dorian’s upper body strength, I get to my feet and walk straight to the bedroom, Viv in my arms.
I leave the door ajar and hear the front door opened, followed by muffled voices. By the time an unfamiliar woman’s head pokes into the room, I’m sitting on the bed with my back against the headboard and Viv still hanging on for dear life. Or so it seems.
“Hey,” the woman says, taking in the scene before her. “I’m Pam. Ike?” she questions me.
Viv stirs a little at the sound of her voice.
“That’s me.”
Pam gives me a faint little smile before focusing her full attention on Viv. “Hey, girlfriend. You okay if I sit on the side of the bed?” When Viv doesn’t move or respond, Pam sits down on the other side of the bed anyway. Kicking off her shoes, she pulls herself into the same position I am on the bed, her back against the headrest. This is pretty weird. I mean, I’m a guy and a stint in bed with two women at the same time has entered my mind on occasion, but these were not quite the circumstances I’d envisioned.
Pam reaches out and tentatively touches Viv’s arm, who doesn’t move. “Honey, you wanna try and look at me?” she says softly. “Viv? Your breathing sounds okay, maybe you can just turn to face me?”
Slowly Viv’s head lifts from my chest and turns toward Pam’s voice.
“Hey, girl, tough morning?”
Her hands let go of my shirt and she slips from my arms into Pam’s waiting ones, resting her head against her shoulder. But she’s no longer shaking or hiding her head.
“I’ll leave you guys.” I move off the bed.
“Wait.”
Viv’s lifted her head and looks at me, clear-eyed. “I’m ... so sorry.” She looks embarrassed and unsure, her face blotchy, red, and wet from tears, and still she’s gorgeous.
“Don’t. Nothing to be sorry for,” I mumble and lean in to give her a soft kiss.
“Well, this is a new experience,” Pam quips as I end the kiss and find myself looking, at very close proximity, into a pair of deep brown and very amused eyes. “Can’t say I’ve been here before, but hell, I’ll give anything a try once.”
A chuckle comes from Viv as I back away from the bed, and soon these two are giggling like crazy, arms wrapped around each other. At my expense, no less. Still I pull the door shut behind me with a grin on my face.
“She okay? Shouldn’t we call a doctor?”
Right. The brother. I’d all but forgotten about him. I wince when I see his face. Damn, I got him good. His left cheekbone is swollen and I can barely see his left eye. “She’ll be fine. Did you use ice?”
“Yeah.” He waves his hand at a bag of frozen peas left on the counter.
“Put it back on, I did a number on you.”
With the bag pressed against his face, Dorian pulls out a kitchen stool, while I try to find the makings for another pot of coffee.
“I didn’t mean ... fuck, I had no idea ...”
I feel bad for the guy. I get it. I get his reaction, his anger, but the truth is, he wasn’t thinking about her when he came tearing in here. That was all about him.
“You know she didn’t tell your other brother. I did.” When Dorian lifts his head, I shrug my shoulders. “I was with her when we found a note on her windshield.”
Of course this part is news to him, so I take him through the events of that night, up to and including the part where I spilled the beans to Owen in anger, getting myself kicked out in the process. It seems to make Dorian feel a little better, but I’m not sure whether it is because Viv never told their other brother herself, or because I fucked up too. I’m reserving judgment on that one, but I’d prefer to go with the latter, because who the fuck cares who told who. It’s hardly what’s important.
“You know, there’s a reason she’s kept this to herself all this time, right? And from the way you brothers have reacted so far, it’s pretty obvious why.”
“She changed. With him—Frank—she seemed happy at first, but at some point that tight connection she and I’d always had disappeared. I thought it was because she’d told Frank I was gay, but the first time he seemed to realize that was when they visited San Fran. Actually, she already started pulling away earlier. Before Frank even came on the scene.” He seems to get lost in memories as he takes a sip from the coffee I’d poured him. “Viv is the only one in the family I told my sexual preference to, way the hell back when. At first, I thought the change was because of that. Viv had always been outgoing and so damn happy. Loved everything and everyone, could laugh big, and cry big too. Had her heart and her emotions out there for the world to see. Then suddenly, she’d become moody and quiet. I remember Mom telling me it was probably just her “time of the month.” His hands make quotation marks in the air.
“How old was she?”
“Dunno. Maybe fourteen or fifteen?”
I avoid looking at Dorian, because the sense of unease I felt a few times when Viv would talk about her family, just became a vague suspicion that has my stomach in knots.
Viv
It’s quiet in the room when Ike walks out and pulls the door closed behind him. Pam doesn’t say anything, she’ll wait until I’m ready—she’s patient that way. And irritating. But also safe and the one person who knows me better than anyone. So just for a moment longer, I’ll enjoy the haven my bed and Pam’s arms provide. Although I have to admit, Ike gave me the same feeling of security.
“You’re waiting for me, aren’t you.” I throw it out like a challenge, daring her to speak. As usual, she waits me out and is much better and more experienced at this game than I am.
“You said this would happen. You warned me. That one day—somehow—the boys would find out and it would not be pretty.”
“Uh-huh,” is her only contribution. I push back a little, so I can look her in the face.
“I’m a mess,” I throw out there, wincing a little at the truth of that simple statement. Almost worse to acknowledge it myself, out loud. “There’s no way to contain this anymore, is there? I mean, I’ll have to tell my mom.”
A slight tilt of her mouth is all the indication I get from Pam, the rest of her face remains almost impassive. Then finally she speaks. “First things first: what happened this morning? Talk to me.”
Her eyes pierce me and reluctantly I comply, telling her how Dorian found out about Frank. How it’s likely that before long, the cops will be knocking on my door with questions. How it makes me feel trapped, and when Dorian started yelling and swung his arm around, I just remember being terrified.
“I don’t even know what happened after that. I just know I was so scared of being hurt, I did what I could to protect myself. Don’t remember much except your voice.” I pause before adding, “and Ike’s.” Disgusted with myself, I hide my face in my hands. “Oh God, I’m such a goddamn victim. I hate this—being out of control. Thought I was done with this a long time ago, and now he saw how weak I am. A fucking front row seat. I can’t do this, Pam.” I sound pathetic, even to my own ears, but I can’t stop the feelings, the words, from coming.
“Prefer to think of you as a survivor, but that’s just my opinion,” Pam says, rather sardonically.
“Whatever,” I mumble, feeling Pam’s warm hand come to rest on my back.
“Panic attack, girl. It happens to the best of us. Especially when we try to bury things that can, and often will, come to the surface. Often at the worst possible times. You want control? Only way to claim it is to deal with shit, head on. This is not news to you. You’ve been faking life these last years, it’s time to grab it by the balls. Let the chips fall where they may.”
I know she’s right. I know it, but I don’t like it. I thought I could control things by controlling my part in them, but it’s an illusion, isn’t it? This morning only proves it.
“This is why you wanted me to try a relationship, isn’t it? To crack me?” I accuse her, but she just smiles her enigmatic smile.
“Dramatic much? Crack you?
I thought perhaps if you opened up a little to someone, it would help you excise that festering sore you’ve been keeping carefully wrapped. You know—you know,” she emphasizes, “that it has to come out. Dammit, Viv, you’ve worked with me at Florence House long enough. You’re well aware it has to get worse before it gets better.” Pam is stern with me.
One of the things I love about her is that she doesn’t sugarcoat things or pat me on the head. She doesn’t allow me to hide, and yet I’ve been working hard at doing just that.
“Ike worked out better than I thought, though. He’s getting my stamp of approval.” She fans herself, rolling her eyes. “Fine specimen,” she mutters under her voice.
I can’t hold on to the burst of laughter that bubbles up; before long, the two of us are howling like hyenas. The tears follow immediately after. Mine. But these are real tears, evoked by emotions that are just a bit overwhelming. Pam, probably expecting this release, simply pulls me back to her shoulder.
-
“Everything okay?”
I zoom in on Ike, who immediately gets up from the couch the moment he sees me. On Pam’s suggestion, I took a cleansing shower after my crying bout. She’d left earlier, making me promise to come see her after I’ve had a chance to talk to my brother. Something I know I need to do.
“Sure,” I smile at him. Funny, part of me is surprised he’s still here, and yet I wouldn’t have expected anything else from him. “I’m good.” Then my eyes find Dorian’s, dark with pain, at least one of them. The other I can’t really see.
“Jesus. What happened to you?” I exclaim, rushing over to inspect his face.
“Your boyfriend,” is his sheepish answer. “Clocked me when he found me scaring the life out of you. Christ, Sissy. I’m so sorry, I ...”
I put my hand over his mouth, cutting off his apology. “Stop. How could you have known?” I use my hand on his chin to tilt his head, this way and that, before turning around to face Ike. “You did this?” When he shrugs his shoulders, looking a little sheepish himself, I almost burst out laughing. Instead I walk up to him, tracing my fingers along his jaw. “That’s a hell of a hook,” I tell him, at risk of getting lost in his mesmerizing gray eyes, so I drag mine away. Only to have them caught on the clock in the kitchen. Almost ten-thirty, holy shit!