Finding Valor

by Ripley Proserpina

  The worst part of Dr. Murray’s study, so far, was that she had no choice but to go along with whatever they wanted. Leave a date on her birthday for testing? Sure. Show up on a Saturday? Okay. Spend an hour locked in a creepy old lab? Don’t worry about it; accidents happen.

  Leaning her head on her hand, she waited for Dr. Murray to ask her another question. Today was the inkblot test.

  The doctor sat on the same side of the table as her but angled himself slightly behind her so she had to look over her shoulder to see him. Jessica had been sitting next to her, but she’d stepped out after her phone rang, leaving Nora alone with the doctor.

  It was an inconvenient position. She didn’t like the feeling of Dr. Murray looking over her shoulder or staring at her without her knowing. She didn’t like that, in order to see if he was staring, she had to make checking obvious.

  He didn’t do anything creepy, like breathe down her neck or lean forward and whisper in her ear, but each time he spoke, she found herself jumping, the hairs on the back of her neck lifting.

  The other thing was, once testing began he turned into a different person. Between testing sessions, he was funny, kind even, but during testing he was straitlaced and serious.

  “Two garden gnomes touching hands,” she observed, taking in what looked like little red hats and tiny bodies in tunics.

  Papers rustled behind her before he displayed the next card.

  “Waiters.”

  “Big foot.”

  “A moth.”

  The next card was placed in front of her, and she flushed and stuttered, staring at the inkblot. It’s just folded paper, just folded paper.

  An oval dot at the top of the page trailed into two blurred petal shapes. Once her brain supplied her with the answer, she couldn’t unsee the image. It was like a Georgia O’Keefe; as soon as someone told her all those beautiful flowers were supposed to be vaginas, it was the first thing she saw.

  The image he laid in front of her looked like a vagina, but for the life of her, she could not make herself answer. She desperately tried to see another image. A moth cutting through the ocean. Two waves crashing into each other.

  “Nora?”

  “Um.”

  “I can tell by your pause this makes you uncomfortable. Please answer with your first impression.”

  She linked her fingers together, squeezing tightly, glad Jessica had stepped out for the moment. Leaning back in the chair, she suddenly remembered he was seated closely and slouched forward again. “Vagina,” she answered quickly and softly.

  The next card was placed in front of her without a word.

  Thankfully, her brain interpreted the rest of the inkblots innocently: a child’s silhouette, pigs, deer with antlers locked, a crab.

  “For this next section, I’m going to show you the cards again and ask you questions about them.”

  Looking over her shoulder, she saw he was reshuffling the cards. Her face was still hot from mortification, and she swore she could feel sweat dripping down the back of her neck. Had they turned the heat up?

  “Can I get a drink of water first?” She nodded toward her backpack sitting on the floor in the corner.

  “After the entire session is completed.” He wrote something down quickly and then handed her the card she’d earlier identified as a child’s silhouette.

  “Do you see the same thing?”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “It looks like a silhouette of a child.”

  “What makes it look like that?”

  She pointed to the inner portion of the card. “These are the lips.” Her finger outlined the shape. “The chin. The nose.”

  “Feel free to turn the card.”

  She turned it upside down. “Oh,” she said without thinking.

  “Yes?” Dr. Murray prompted.

  “Well.” She paused, glancing back at him for permission, and he nodded encouragingly. “Like this, it looks like a mother on top of a child.” She pointed to the mother and the child. Her finger trailed through the empty space at the center of the card as the shadowed portions were along the edges and at the top and bottom.

  “And there?” He asked the question when her finger paused on the white.

  She stared, rotating the card again. “A uterus?”

  The “crab” came next and then the “deer.” She waited anxiously for the dreaded vagina card. As he presented the next card, the door opened and Jessica slid inside.

  “Sorry!” She went to the medical bag left on the table, pulled out a blood pressure cuff, and wrapped it around Nora’s arm. She reached for her wrist, looking down at her own watch. “Ready.”

  “What do you see?”

  “Big Foot,” Nora answered.

  “What makes it look like that?”

  Jessica squeezed the cuff, pinching her bicep. Nora used her free hand to point to the shapes. “These are his feet, legs, and head.”

  “Okay.” His voice sounded confused. With the cuff around her arm, she was anchored to Jessica, so she couldn’t turn to confirm her suspicions.

  “It’s stepping on something,” she explained. “You’re looking up at him, as if you were much smaller.”

  There was a hiss as the air in the cuff released, and her pulse pounded as the pressure disappeared, a steady thump, thump in her veins.

  “This one?”

  She nearly groaned aloud. There it was.

  “What do you see?”

  Jessica held Nora’s wrist now, and with her other hand holding the card, she couldn’t cover her eyes as she would have liked.

  “A vagina.”

  “What makes it look like that.”

  She made a sweeping gesture to the card. “That part.”

  Jessica chuckled. “Tyler said you were in a polyamorous relationship. Surely this can’t embarrass you.”

  Dr. Murray made a choked sound. Unconsciously, she tried to pull her hand away, not wanting to touch the woman who invoked a feeling of shame.

  Tyler! He was a kid Cai knew from the youth center where he worked. Tyler had introduced her to Dr. Murray, had been there at their first meeting, and then again when one of Dr. Murray’s students threw herself out of the window at Converse Hall.

  Cai had let Tyler stay with them after witnessing the girl, Tilly Mason’s, suicide, and Tyler had quickly picked up on the fact all five of the guys dated her.

  She didn’t want to feel ashamed of her relationship. It made her happy, and she didn’t want to walk out of these test sessions with Dr. Murray feeling icky and then somehow associate those feelings with the guys.

  Yes, it was complicated and unconventional, but so what? Asking her to choose between Seok, Cai, Ryan, Apollo, and Matisse was like asking her to give up her lungs or brain. She couldn’t function without them.

  Her anger helped her find her spine, and she lifted her eyebrows. “Am I going to have to do this test over?”

  “Why do you ask that?”

  “Jessica asked me a very specific question not in line with the questions you’d asked me up to this point. I wondered if the test validity was now compromised.”

  Jessica’s eyes flicked over her shoulder, and Nora bit her lip to keep from smiling. They underestimated her. Even if Nora’s life as an adult consisted of jobs such as a housekeeper and a deli person, she was smart, and if the doctors were making assumptions about her based only on her work experience, she’d set them straight.

  “Shit. You’re right,” he groaned. “Jess! Fuck!”

  A slight blush stained Jessica’s pale cheeks. She was a beautiful redhead, but unfortunately for her, her skin broadcasted her emotions loud and clear, even if her facial expression didn’t change. “Sorry, Daniel. I—”

  “Forget it; we’ll redo it with Form B. I have the other set of cards upstairs.”

  Nora pushed her chair so he was more in her line of sight. His features were pinched, and he dropped his notebook and pen onto his l
ap. Unbuttoning his cuffs jerkily, he shoved his sleeves over his elbow, displaying the tattoos covering his forearms, and checked his watch. “I don’t have time today. Shit!” He rubbed his eyes, and she noticed damp ovals beneath his armpits.

  “You turn the heat up in here?”

  “What?” He dropped his hands, staring at her curiously.

  “Well, I’m parched, and you’re sweating. I assume you turned the heat up. Usually it’s so cold in here I need my sweater.” She pointed to the sweater lying on top of her backpack. “Today I needed a drink. Simple deduction, Doctor.”

  “Damn, Nora,” he chuckled. “You’re too smart for your own good.”

  She stood up, stretching her arms above her head. “Can’t be too smart.” While she spoke, she made sure to glance at Jessica. “Or street smart, as it were. I thought you had my records from high school?” As she said the last part, she smiled, lifting her eyebrows. Let Jessica interpret that however she wanted. “So we’re done?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.” He stood as well, and Jessica a moment after.

  “Tomorrow? Same bat time? Same bat channel?”

  Laughing again, he held out his hand, and she shook it, noting his palm was sweaty. “Yes, Nora. Same bat cave.”

  Slinging her backpack onto her shoulder, she nodded at Jessica and the doctor. “Have a good afternoon.” She tried the doorknob, relieved to find it unlocked, and exited to the hallway. The cool air hit her full force, making her realize how warm it’d been inside the testing room. The sudden temperature drop left her shivering, and the damp skin on her neck made her prickle with goosebumps.

  But she didn’t want to stop. She didn’t want them to come out and say, “Actually, Nora. Jessica can finish up.” Or worse, yet, “You hang here until I’m done with whatever will take an unspecified amount of time, and then we’ll continue with a fresh hell.”

  Hurrying, she stomped up the stairs and out of the building. Students milled about on the stone stairs, chatting innocently before continuing to classes. She looked around as she shifted her bag and shoved her arms into her sweater.

  “Nore,” a low voice whispered in her ear.

  “Ryan.” She smiled, turning around to glance over her shoulder. “Where’d you come from?”

  “I was waiting for you on the first floor.” Tipping his dark head to the side, he gestured toward the doors. “You didn’t even look up, even after I called your name. Did something happen? You looked upset.”

  In reply, she shook her head. She was determined not to let the guys worry about her. This study would last four years before she was released from her contract, and she couldn’t spend that time freaking them out every time the doctor or one of his colleagues made her uncomfortable. “I got out early. I didn’t want them to haul me back in case their appointments were canceled.”

  Staring for a moment, he nodded before squeezing her hand tightly. “I owe you an apology.”

  Eleven

  Scarves

  RYAN STUDIED NORA, worried she really had seen him in Converse Hall and was so angry—as she had every right to be—she’d pretended she hadn’t. All he found in her expression, however, was honesty. She met his gaze, and she didn’t hesitate to take his hand when he reached for her.

  She gripped him tightly, pulling his arm behind her back and then grabbing his other hand and doing the same thing so he was embracing her. “I checked on you last night.”

  Her face was smug, and in response he grinned and tucked her under his chin. Rubbing his cheek against her head, her curly hair caught in the stubble of his beard. He loved the way his hands rested at the small of her back, but he skimmed them upward, pulling her more firmly against him. “I knew it was you.”

  “You…” She trailed off, and he waited. When it didn’t sound like she’d finish, he squeezed her encouragingly. “You were exhausted.”

  “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “You were lucky you were asleep,” she muttered before groaning. “Ignore me.”

  “No. What do you mean?” Pulling away, he dipped his head, angling to see her face.

  She dropped her arms from his waist, lowering her chin to her chest and turning away.

  “Nora.” He wanted her back.

  Shaking her head, she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I was worried about you. I was going to demand answers. Not the best way to approach you, I know.” Peering up, her cheeks pinked, and she twisted her mouth.

  What kind of answers? He wasn’t ready to discuss things, especially not standing in front of a busy campus building. “Can we talk later?”

  She met his eyes, and the hopeful look on her face was an arrow in his heart. He’d spoken those words without really thinking about what they meant. Talking meant telling her why he was worried and what the dean of admissions had told him. No, he wasn’t ready.

  A thought occurred to him. What he really wanted to do was lie, say everything was okay, and go back to it being the way it was, where he took care of Nora and he knew what to do. His life was laid out, and things had been the way he wanted them.

  This wasn’t the way he wanted to feel— scrambling, fingers clawing at the dirt to keep from slipping over the cliff and back into the mess he used to be.

  What the hell was wrong with him? When had he become afraid of everything? Afraid of the past. Afraid of the future.

  The light began to fade from Nora’s face; he’d been silent so long. He opened his mouth, but she shook her head quickly. “It’s okay. You don’t have to answer.” She gave a small laugh and glanced away, her curls flying around her face as the wind picked up. “If anyone knows how it feels not to want to talk, it’s me.” She turned back to him and smiled. It was a small smile and a little pained but still genuine.

  Without thinking, he pushed her hair back, wrapping his hand around the back of her neck to pull her forward. He kissed her, hard. Harder than he usually did, searching for control somewhere.

  It wasn’t in his kiss.

  She clung to him. Lifting up onto her tiptoes and curling her hands around his wrists, she dove into his mouth like she was desperate for the closeness only he could give. She trembled, and he wrapped his arms around her. This was what he needed. This was what mattered.

  He couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t care. He’d take the air right from Nora’s lungs as surely as she took the breath from his.

  Groaning, her hands gripped the back of his jacket, slipping beneath it to push his sweater and t-shirt aside. Her chilly hands against his skin made him shiver. Their kiss was a jumble of teeth, tongues, lips. It wasn’t his smoothest kiss by any stretch, but he held nothing back, and neither did she.

  He didn’t know how long he kissed her, but eventually it lost its urgency. Whatever his anxiety or fear or discombobulation, it disappeared when he kissed her. For a moment, one blissful moment, he only thought of her and his sudden, overwhelming desire to bring her home, throw her on his bed, and finally lose himself in her.

  Her lips were swollen when she pulled away. She sucked her lower lip into her mouth, her tongue sneaking out as if gathering up his taste, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

  Her cold fingertips touched his face.

  “I have class,” he said out loud, reminding himself of the reason why he couldn’t drag her back to the house. “I have class.”

  When she chuckled, he opened his eyes. “Walk with me?”

  She nodded quickly, happily.

  It was so easy with Nora. Despite sharing her with four other guys, it was effortless. Whatever mess his head was right now, it was all on him and had nothing to do with the girl staring at him like he hung the moon.

  Wrapping her arm around his, he walked toward his class. She tucked her head into her shoulders when the wind blew and her curls flew everywhere, spirals catching the sunlight and gleaming like gold.

  She gave a little shiver, and he untangled his arm in order to pull her into his body. “You need a h
at.” While he wore a wool coat, Nora still only had a fall jacket. It wouldn’t do much when the lake froze and the wind barreled across campus like a train.

  “I know,” she whispered, rubbing her face against his shoulder and wrapping both hands around his arm.

  “And mittens.” As he spoke, he remembered the small bag of belongings the police had left her and worried she didn’t wear them because she didn’t own any, but she smiled.

  “I have some, somewhere,” she mused. “I remember seeing them when I unpacked.”

  “Why didn’t you wear them?” This conversation was safe, and from the way she giggled, distracting.

  “I didn’t realize it’d be this cold.” The tip of her nose was red, and she shivered again.

  “And a scarf.”

  She rolled her eyes and buried her face against his arm, her voice muffled in the wool of his coat.

  “What?”

  She spoke again, turning her face to the side. “They don’t match.”

  Chuckling, he shook his head.

  “What?” she pressed.

  “Nothing.”

  “Why are you laughing? Have you looked at yourself?” Stopping him, she put a hand on her hip and pointedly looked him up and down.

  He glanced at his outfit, confused.

  “Your scarf matches your jacket,” she told him. “And your bag matches your shoes.”

  “It does?” He wore a grey peacoat, carried a black backpack, and his shoes were black. His scarf. Wait. He was wearing a scarf? Oh yeah. It was black, too.

  “It's black and grey. It's not like I did it on purpose.”

  “Still matches,” she sing-songed teasingly and then glanced around. “I think this is where I leave you.”

  His smile slipped. For a few happy minutes, she'd distracted him from his worries and reminded him of who he wanted to be. Professor Bismarck was bound to know about his meeting with the dean and even more likely to want to discuss what had happened and what his plans were.