by Sammy Sutton
She’d always been good at spotting them. Nevertheless, she spent countless nights counseling her violated friends. No, not legally violated and proven in a court of law, but still - violated.
Antonio knew she never promised it would be smooth sailing. Sometimes your brain and body are not in harmony. Trauma becomes part of a person’s cells. The brain may say, ‘Come on’, while the other parts of your body tighten into ‘Fight or Flight’ response, and you have to deal with it.
Sometimes, there are triggers in the mind that disable you from pinpointing or recognizing trauma. Often, recovery requires focusing on the unknown triggers. You take small steps if you have to, for reassurance, but you feel and you try.
Maybe he didn’t want to face that task for the potential disappointment. Now, she was furious. He wanted a contract, a promise that once they got started, she would finish. Sorry, she would not sign that contract. Unfair, this had become unwelcomingly complicated.
Antonio entered the room, and spotted Amanda on the sofa. She appeared livid. Maybe she got a bad phone call or something.
“Amanda, did something happen? Did you receive some upsetting news?” His voice showed concern. She shot him a look that said he was the craziest man she’d ever laid eyes on.
He was astonished. What in the hell had he done? This was insane. Okay, he’d taken a bit of latitude with her, perhaps pushed the physical envelope beyond her comfort zone. Even so, when she didn’t grant him permission, he backed off.
Now he was angry. He’d told himself. Wait, let her initiate. Let her decide when, what, and how much. He shouldn’t have touched her so much. Now he felt sick because he’d traumatized her. If he tried to comfort her now, it would probably freak her out. He rubbed his head. It was all too complicated.
“Amanda, I’m sorry. I lost my head and took too much liberty. I know, I’m not a kid, and I behaved like one. I promise I’ll wait until you’re ready. There’s no excuse. I apologize and hope you can trust me.” His voice was sincere.
What in the hell was he talking about? Now he was never going to touch her again. Did he want to punish her? The fury was still in her voice. She tried to maintain, but it was difficult.
“Antonio, what are you talking about? Wait, I need to say this first. I cannot give you a damn contract stating everything will go great the first time. There are no guarantees. I am afraid. Hell, I am afraid on so many levels I should write a book about it.
I am more scared of falling in love with you than I am scared of anything that could trigger any physical response. In the future, I am terrified that I will need something I have learned to live without for so long. I am afraid – terrified. Send me home. I cannot write out a contract guaranteeing when we finally make love, it will all be perfect.
By the way, I’m still pissed that my mother told me - Men can’t stop once they get started. Intellectually, I will know, until the day I die, that it’s not true. Yet, on some innate level, I swear I still believe her.
Call off this charade, Antonio. I am unable to promise anything you want promised. You scare the hell out of me, and on so many levels that it blows my mind. I guess I am crazy, or pitiful, because I’m scared. I can think no longer. I let it paralyze me, but if I said it wasn’t there, it would be a lie.” She said all of it without taking breath.
Damn. They weren’t having the same thoughts at all. During intellectual conversations, they finished each other’s sentences. Apparently, love and sex were total opposites. Despite her oratory of fury, he had no clue as to what she wanted, expected, or needed from him.
All he got from it was her mother hated him and thought he was a rapist. In addition, Amanda believed her.
He hadn’t lived long enough, nor learned enough to know how to respond. He wanted to throw up. Insulted most by the idea that he couldn’t stop, he knew he could stop. Of course he could stop, he just proved it.
He wanted to talk to her damn mother. How in the hell did that woman know anything about his sexual habits? Maybe he should get Amanda’s phone and call her mom when she wasn’t looking. How could a woman say something so ridiculous to her daughter?
Amanda was nuts about her Dad, and he was sure that her Father had never been that way. It must have been her Mother that savored her daughter’s virginity.
Now Antonio was the man with the evil penis weapon. Once you release the safety, the damn thing had to fire. This was vulgar. Amanda was one of the smartest people he’d ever met, and she believed his penis was a .44 Magnum.
This was Freud’s psychological castration. He wanted to love her with it, not murder her, and especially not destroy her ability to have future relationships. He’d never been this insulted. Even in casual relationships, he’d always treated women with respect. Never had he felt like such an ass.
“Amanda, listen to me, don’t just hear my words. Listen. I can’t get past the idea that according to your damn mother, I want to injure you with my penis. No, let me talk, Amanda. Since I met you, my evil penis weapon has been primed and ready to go, several times a day. In fact, that’s an understatement.
And guess what - in all that time, it hasn’t fired once. Not necessarily by choice, but still, it’s fine. I’m fine. You’re fine. My penis is fine, insulted, but fine.
Now, I assume it’s not what it sounds like. She was trying to preserve a little girl’s virtue. However, she’d probably never forgive herself, if she thought you still bought into that myth. Hell, she probably doesn’t even remember saying it.
You told me yourself, your parents were soul mates. They loved each other very much. Something tells me she hasn’t spent fifty years with your Dad believing his penis is an evil weapon.
I’m going to ask you a question. Please, don’t do anything further, except answer the question. I want to take this one-step at a time. Amanda, humor me. Have you ever, even once, had a positive sexual experience?”
“I almost did.” Her tone was barely a whisper.
“Okay. Now work with me here. How would a sexual experience be almost good?” His kindness and love came through, even though his emotions felt mixed. He felt angry for her, not towards her.
“It was good. It was not intercourse, but something happened. It was something that I had never experienced before, nor have I since. It was my first year of college. He was…he is, a great person. We were in a car by the lake. A cop came and reprimanded us, taking our names.
A few weeks later, the cop told my Dad. He knew my Dad. Of course, he didn’t say that when he busted us. Embarrassed, I broke up with the guy.
The other person I have had sex with was not capable of anything more than sex. I have explained that situation to you. Antonio, I believe in the importance and value of great sex. I am not bitter.” She didn’t want him to feel sorry for her. Pity made her ill.
Antonio was sure he’d vomit. He’d underestimated what was going on here. Having studied culture his entire professional career, right now he felt cheated. His degree may as well have come out of a damn Cracker Jack’s box.
He knew this was the result of culturing. This rigid culture still dominated many regions of this country. He now faced it right here, in his own life, culture trumping Intelligence.
He had a beautifully intellectual woman, and she was a cultural victim. In fact, he was in love with her, a real, live, breathing victim of craziness. Our culture was just as cruel, maybe even worse than the so-called barbaric practices of the ancient civilizations he studied.
He wasn’t sure how to handle a living victim. Amanda would hit the roof if he told her she was a victim of culture. She’d accuse him of thinking she was stupid, or backwards.
Duty… she was a prisoner of duty, and custom.
He tried to process if he understood what she wasn’t saying. She had one orgasm, probably 27 years ago, with a great guy. The cops came, and she had to break-up with someone she liked. He even guessed she broke up with the guy because she felt it was her duty, she never said her Dad forced or
punished her.
Her Dad shouldn’t have told her that he knew. Antonio was sure the man had no idea the impact it had on his daughter. Amanda appeared to have a stronger sense of duty than her damn parents did. Why? He wondered about her brothers.
He remembered the story she told him about living with someone who had a shadow. She insinuated that you don’t morally get up and leave someone with an emotional or psychological issue. She conveyed that it’s like leaving a sick person. You don’t abandon someone who is unable to care for himself.
“Damn duty.” Hell, what was he saying? She was here with him because of duty. Duty to King Solomon, duty to the Scrolls, did she even know that she responds so strongly to duty?
He decided there was a helpful point he could make that wouldn’t have her on the next plane back to the Midwest.
“Amanda, I think on some level, your own experience has reinforced your mother’s warning. I haven’t met your mom, but I swear she’d take that statement back. She would be deeply saddened that you remembered it so darkly, let alone believed it at such a level.
If I thought it wouldn’t cause her serious pain, I’d say call her and talk to her about, she’ll tell you differently now. Amanda, I can say that without even meeting her. Let me ask this, did your Dad punish you over the cop busting you and your boyfriend? Did he make you break-up with him?”
“No, my Dad is not that way.” She honestly defended her Father.
“Why did you punish yourself?”
“I do not know. I screwed-up.” She projected each word.
“I see. Do you screw-up often or mostly just with men?” He spoke as calmly as he could. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Men.” She whispered.
“Is that why you don’t have a spot in your life for a man? That’s what you said when I met you. Nevertheless, you like men. You have men in your life that you love, and like. For example, your sons, Dad, brothers, even male friends, and colleagues that you truly love and care about, even Tommy the driver. Men surround you.
You even seek to help people with their relationships. You do believe in the power of a loving relationship, and you believe in great, appropriate sex.
You know, because you’ve studied, and you’ve learned. Hell, you’re a scholar when it comes to the male-female ritual of bonding, lovemaking and all the components. Amanda, you’d never do it halfway.
You may not have it, or experience it, but damn it you’ll sure as hells know all there is to know about it.
You're afraid you’ll screw it up because you made a dumbass choice.
You’re clear that you should be sexual. You don’t have that kind of problem. No, you’ll screw it up somewhere in the W’s, right? Who, what, where, when, why and how?
If you make a choice then you only have yourself to blame. You see, I didn’t hear you blame anyone, not once. Sometimes, Amanda, someone besides you deserves the blame. Often, we make dumbass choices. We don’t always need punishment. Even when we deserve it, there’s a limit to what’s appropriate.
He didn’t want to believe the magnitude of her duty. Even swimming she took out of her sleep-time, refusing to slight anyone with her selfishness. He had no idea what to do next. Maybe she was even too tough for her own family.
She wasn’t getting away with this, not with him, no way in hell. She wasn’t going to stay with him out of duty to the Scrolls. She wasn’t going to make love to him because his weapon had to go off. She wasn’t going to go for a swim, or spend hours writing during sleep-time and become sleep-deprived.
She would make him understand the food thing, quit eating yogurt, quit starving because she had a reason, and quit not wanting to bother anyone.
He would handle every damn one of these issues, he just didn’t know how. Shit, he studied things and solved nothing… But he dealt with the problems of dead people.
Suddenly his career seemed ridiculous, meaningless. Amanda was alive and honest-to-God good, too damn good. She was more important than any damn dead person ever was. He looked to Amanda, knowing she didn’t intend to answer him. He didn’t blame her. In defending her, he somehow offended her. He took his boots off and stretched across the bed. Folding his arms behind his head, he crossed his legs at the ankle. He had to make a plan.
Shit, he’d done many of the same things as Amanda. They both had dedicated their lives to situations that kept them in isolation. He wasn’t sure why at this stage in their lives they were in a position to change, or choose to change.
Had they really decided to change, or had change come to them, and demanded they both decide to come out amongst the living? He was nuts about Amanda, and sure that he wanted her.
Without a concussion and hallucination, would he have seen or known that he wanted her? He was sure he would’ve noticed her. He would’ve been attracted to her, even asked her out. Would he have realized that she was everything he needed?
Would it have been worth it? After all, he didn’t even know that he needed her, or what he needed her for. Sure, he knew he was lonely, but until he’d experienced time with her, he had no clue how lonely he really was.
He saw Amanda’s face in his workroom. She was appalled that he spent days surrounded by dead things from dead eras. He knew they shared a love for antiquities, but she saw him in her mind, working hours on end with no one around, no one at the house, spending days with the dead.
He noticed her look of disgust as she realized the concept. He honestly took her out there thinking she would be impressed. Sitting there, he knew what she thought. Hell, what happens when he’s tired of playing with me? Is this what I hold second place to?
Teaching classes he’d influenced and interacted amongst the living. He wanted to stay out in the field, on digs as often as possible. He built the lab and workroom to gain credibility so he could do what he wanted. Bringing in some grants and gifts to the University helped keep it secure. He soon realized his lab would make big money. Between it and his investment sideline, he wanted to make a liar out of Pop.
His father called it a hippie career. ‘Antonio you will barely survive doing this.’ Well, he’d made a liar out of Pop now. Lot of good that did - Pop didn’t even know it. The old man didn’t care or give a damn. Hell, he had seven other kids. So one kid was lost to him, the others were fine.
He wanted to help Amanda, but he saw so many of his own demons in her situation, he felt like an inadequate hypocrite.
When you get around these Biblical guys, you have to go to Hell. He didn’t want to go to Hell. He wanted to do the right thing by the Scrolls, and he wanted the girl for keeps. Yeah, Jesus hardly sinned, maybe he didn’t sin at all, and he still had to visit Hell.
What was up with that? King Solomon did everything better than anybody. Sorry, you still have to visit Hell before you die. Moses never saw what he obtained for his people, and he fought his whole life for it. He must be the guy that refused to go to Hell, therefore he was denied witnessing the completion of his life’s goal. Even Noah visited Hell. Early on, he faced his ugly demons.
Antonio was just a guy trying to understand the Scrolls, and get it to the rightful owner. They could take all the rest of it, and stick it. He wanted the girl, without the trip to Hell. Oh, did the jerks have to make her go to Hell, too?
Out of nowhere, he heard his Grandmother’s voice; "Antonio, wrestle with God’s wishes and you will go to Hell."
She was right. His Lita was always right.
He guessed only Jacob was allowed to argue with God. It still made no sense. If arguing with God didn’t prove you believed in him, and gave him credit for everything, what in the Hell did?
Don’t question God? How, in the hell does he answer if you don’t question?
He wouldn’t stop and argue with God right now. Amanda needed him for something. Within himself, between him and God he warned, I will ask. I will argue. Don’t be a pansy and say I don’t care or believe. Are you not the ultimate professor? Professors answer questions, I know tha
t first-hand.
“Amanda… we need to talk.” He spoke with a reserved confidence as he sat up in bed.
“Antonio, I am not pitiful. You want to pity me. I hate that, it is counter-productive.”
He shook his head, and slid his hand across his hair. “Talk to me. All we have is words to understand… Amanda, I’m sitting here, telling you where you’re wrong, only to realize I’ve been living out a similar hell myself.
I wouldn’t pity you now, especially since I’ve seen myself within you. I still think we should do it, together.” He lay back down in his previous position. Slightly apprehensive, she sat beside him. Maybe he could make it to hell and back, if only they could hold hands. He took her hand in his own.
“Amanda, I swear I hadn’t seen that we both lived in the same way, and that we got there on completely different paths. I’m sorry. I want to make the wrong into right for you, but I realize I’m not a stellar example for what’s right...Please, let me keep trying. I think we’re good together. I think I’m going to screw up a lot, but I’m not going to lie to you.” Amanda relaxed next to him on the bed.
She spoke softly. “Remember the process is a journey. We must travel to the other side with objectivity to learn, explore, and become familiar, while opening ourselves to each other.
They accepted the fact that secrets hid from them, then came to learn those things. They embraced their differences. They became more complete, a more perfected ‘One’.” She rested her head on his abdomen.
He acknowledged. “Solomon and Sheba...I have to be honest, Amanda. I didn’t set out to follow their lead.” He put his fingers through her hair, he liked touching and playing with it.
She chose her words carefully, “I talk about it a lot, but I have not made it a mission. I think we are at a turning point. The circumstances have presented us with a choice. We can see and process the experience through Love, or Ego. We could grow, or blame.
You approached it in a loving way, Antonio. You were open to objectivity. You did not rush to judge the mistakes people had made. You gave them the benefit of the doubt.”