Compose

by Lily Kay

  A little vein emerged on the side of Gavin’s head, and his hands clenched so hard, white knuckles appeared. He opened his mouth to say something but then closed it, waiting for me to finish. Wondered how much he compared my story to his sister’s.

  Gavin sat on the bed next to me, taking it all in. He didn’t say anything for a minute or two. “Is it going to be okay for you to be intimate? The last thing I want to do is trigger a flashback every time we’re together,” he finally asked.

  “My therapist actually encourages it.” I hope I sounded confident. Not sure if he bought it. “I don’t want us to stop exploring. Up until my mind decided to snap back in time, replacing you with Martin, I genuinely enjoyed it.”

  Gavin blew out a long breath, his bangs fluttering against his forehead. “For real. Martin, or whatever the hell his name is, had major issues, which had nothing to do with you. You do realize that, right?”

  “I know now.”

  “Why didn’t the school do anything?” Gavin’s words were clipped and his tone like steel.

  “The golden boy of the school versus the weird girl with even weirder friends. He scared the shit out of me and succeeded in making sure I’d stay silent.”

  He didn’t speak. A line sealed his lips, and the little muscles in his jaw twitched.

  “I should probably take it a little slower, and I should have told you before we did anything. I’m sorry for that, too.”

  “Goddamn, quit saying you’re sorry.” He fretted both of his hands in his hair, and I worried he might not have any left by the time our conversation ended.

  I watched him. Watched his jaw clench before giving his face a rushed massage. Watched his eyes as he gauged my current emotional state. I remained frozen, clutching the now empty gray mug, hoping he would say something. Anything. Because the silence was like nails on a chalk board.

  “Will you say something?” I asked.

  “I’m pissed off right now, and I don’t want to scare you.”

  “I’m really sorry. I—”

  “Stop. Just stop.” Gavin closed his eyes while he curled his fingers into fists. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at the fuckers who bullied you.” He stilled himself and extended his fingers wide before letting them relax.

  He placed my mug on the nightstand. “Why don’t I hold you tonight and we can talk more tomorrow.”

  I nodded and slipped my hand into his as he tugged me closer, acting as my sanctuary. Once he fell asleep, his hold on me finally eased, though not by much.

  Chapter 17

  “We didn’t go shopping the next day or the rest of the week.” I maneuvered into a comfier position, with legs crossed in lotus position on the couch kitty corner to Dr. Liz’s chair and ottoman.

  “How come?”

  “I couldn’t do it. I felt embarrassed I had freaked out, and I couldn’t snap my fingers and then feel sexy. Not happening.”

  Dr. Liz nodded.

  “And to try on underwear in front of him? I basically ruined all chances of him ever wanting to touch me again.”

  “I’m fairly certain he’s still quite attracted to you.”

  “How do you know? He didn’t invite me to stay at his house again the rest of the week. And when we got together, we literally cuddled. An occasional frontal grope, some kisses, but―”

  “Are we playing this game? Where you try soliciting accolades you can shoot down again? To what, verify the fact you aren’t worthy? To prevent someone from loving you?”

  “No.”

  “Are we going to be passive aggressive or honest?”

  I crossed my arms and glared in her direction. She was a bitch sometimes, but I suppose in her defense, she didn’t let me get away with shit, and that’s exactly what helped me heal.

  “Fine. I’m sure he didn’t want to feel like he’d be taking advantage of me or conjuring up more flashbacks. I couldn’t talk more about it, and he didn’t push.” My jaw ached like a son-of-a bitch, though no surprise there given the current state of my clenched teeth.

  “Better,” Dr. Liz replied.

  “I guess the bullying appeared too fresh, and I got scared.”

  “And . . .” Dr. Liz was the queen of composure.

  “And he still wants to be with me,” I relented.

  “Of course, he does.”

  “But we’re going to take it slow, and I can’t hide from him, which is hard for me.” I reached for the pillow next to me and glued it against my stomach.

  “And why is that?”

  “Because it makes me vulnerable, and I’m afraid to lose him. I’m letting the past rule the present, and it’s not fair to him.” I sighed. Because sometimes I’d rather do nothing than deal with the headache from new stresses and strains.

  “Good. Now, let’s start the next phase of EMDR. I think, in light of what happened over the break, we should proceed.” Dr. Liz had been making me do homework to be ready for the actual physical sessions we would have in her office.

  “Okay.”

  Dr. Liz pulled the ottoman up to the couch and sat across from me. “You’re going to have to sit up straight for this, legs uncrossed. My method is a little unconventional but, well, you’ll see. I’ll be doing some tapping on your shoulders, arms, and back. Will this work for you?”

  “Uh, sure?”

  “Good. First, think about an event. We can start with the time Martin attacked you. I’ll ask you some questions about how you feel, and what happened that day. Then, I’m going to ask you to hold the image until it dissipates. Any questions?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Follow my prompts. I’ll walk you through it, okay?”

  “Um, okay.”

  “I want you to think about the bullying. Think about an influential one, maybe the time with Martin when it became a lot more physical? How it happened. What’s going on?” She leaned in.

  “It was after school, and I had stayed later to practice pit orchestra for the school musical. I had headed toward the parking lot, and he started chasing me. He didn’t stop until he tackled me to the ground.”

  “And how are you feeling now?” Dr. Liz stood up and placed my folder down on the ottoman.

  “Shitty. My stomach hurts, I’m sweaty and anxious and want to curl into a ball. The only way to take away the pain is if I punch it out. Fricking A, it aches.” I clung on to the pillow in my lap, grateful Dr. Liz didn’t make me remove it.

  “Good. Now keep that image in your mind. Close your eyes. Place your left hand on your forehead, and your right hand on your stomach. Now hold the image until it goes away.”

  I grieved the loss of the pillow and placed my hands where she instructed. My mind went back in time, and I felt the sweat surge.

  My head throbbed as it banged against the gravel on the sidewalk.

  Breathing proved difficult, the volume of his voice crushing my ears.

  The anger in his words sliced my heart. Though I sat in Dr. Liz’s office, the adrenaline coursing through my body made the memory feel real. Her lavender lotion surrounded me, bringing me back to her office, as she tapped with the tips of her fingers before flicking them away from my body. All around me she continued tapping my skull, my arms, my shoulders, and back.

  Finally, a sense of calming enveloped me, as I kept the image and let it fade. I lay on my back again and his face became fuzzy, before shifting to black.

  “When the image dissipates, sit in the empty space, and think about how you want to feel. Take some deep breaths. If it comes again, try to sit until it fades again,” she instructed.

  At the sound of her voice, I returned to the parking lot, his weight pressing me down, blue eyes stabbing through me, wavy blondish brown hair falling over his lowered eyebrows. And the tear
s released, a steady stream down both of my cheeks. I sat, willing it to disappear. Despite my efforts, the image of Martin remained.

  “He won’t go away. The image won’t go away.” Frustration laced my plead because I couldn’t make his face fade.

  “Think about how you want to feel in this situation. Don’t think about how you used to feel, envision how you would want to feel right now. Don’t beat yourself up. This doesn’t have to happen in ten seconds. Take your time, there is no right or wrong here, this is your healing.”

  Her tapping resumed, and when she returned to my skull, pins and needles appeared around the back of my head down to my neck.

  His words dissolved, the features of his face diluted, until only his clothing remained, and then blackness. I breathed deep, feeling my stomach push my hand out slightly.

  “Good, take another deep breath, Louise.” And I did, keeping my hands in place with my eyes closed, while Dr. Liz tapped all around me.

  I thought about my skin staying normal, my teeth relaxing apart, and my stomach free of pain. I thought of me feeling good in the arms of a man, like Gavin.

  Brave.

  I snuck more breaths.

  “Okay. It’s gone.”

  “Good. We’re going to sit here a little longer. Keep those good feelings and keep breathing.”

  We sat for a few good minutes as she continued tapping.

  “Open your eyes and try to relax.” Dr. Liz’s voice released me from meditation, and I forced a half smile.

  “Well done, Louise. Now go home and journal about this. Remember to journal when you feel shame, guilt, pain, pretty much anything we might associate as a negative feeling. We’ll approach all traumatic events tied to these emotions.”

  “Okay.” And I meant it. Because I wanted to get better. I wanted to live a life a happy life, void of constant comparison to others. A life where fear played zero role whenever a man entered my life.

  I wanted to be able to lie with Gavin, and know I would be safe, know my body wouldn’t betray me. “Okay, Dr. Liz.” I repeated, determined not to let the past paralyze me.

  ~ ~ ~

  Sight-singing? A blur. After my session with Dr. Liz, I had felt like I ran a half-marathon with a hangover. Instead, Dr. Haven had given us another plunk and flunk. Emmy and I faced each other and had groaned.

  Lucky for Emmy, she had fared a little better with these than I did. But it was still torture for the both of us. I had finished the day still in a haze.

  Whatever Dr. Liz had done truly exhausted me. I barely had energy to eat dinner with the gang before I crashed for the night.

  Naturally, Haven had also sprung a listening quiz on us.

  “Couldn’t she have given us at least a week back to recover?” Emmy whispered as we passed our staff sheets to the front.

  “No rest for the weary, apparently.” I bit down on the end of my pen, though not strong enough to leave an indent.

  “No kidding,” Emmy agreed. “It’s not like we should be surprised. It is Haven, after all. How’d you do on the last one?” she asked, as I packed my books into my backpack.

  “Not great. She said I barely got a B-. But at least it’s not a C. I’m hoping I can pull off a B in this class. You?”

  “B+, I swear the woman doesn’t realize A’s exist.” She rolled her eyes at me.

  “Amen, sister.”

  We escaped the classroom and Emmy nudged me. “So, things go well with Gavin over break?”

  Today I finally caught up with Emmy. Despite both being music majors, our schedules outside of sight-singing and theory made it almost impossible to visit. “Good, I think.”

  “You think? Hey, FYI. Based on what I’ve been hearing through the grapevine? He is thoroughly off the market. Because if he isn’t, we might have to stage an intervention.”

  “Hmm?” My lips creased together.

  “You guys are together, right?” Her eyes narrowed, and I wondered how semi-ape shit she’d be after I explained my hesitation.

  “Technically? We’re not officially together, but we’re seeing where things take us?” No way I risked eye contact with her right now.

  Emmy groaned and nudged me again as we headed to her locker. “Is this his decision or yours?” We stopped at her locker, and she grabbed her clarinet. “Nope, don’t answer that. I already know.” She put her books in and closed the locker. “What are you afraid of, Lou? He’s not going to leave you stranded at some strange motel in some cow-country part of Pennsylvania.”

  I grimaced. “I know. I don’t think I’m ready. I don’t want to rush this.”

  “Well, don’t wait too long because sooner or later, he will eventually give up.” Emmy pulled me into a hug. “Please at least tell me you guys are past the kissing stage.”

  I did not share with her my make-out session spazz-out, especially since a part of me hoped amnesia would take pity on me. Emmy might not keep it from the gang and dealing with their “concern” made me breakout.

  Emmy swayed back and forth, and her face angled toward the ceiling. “I imagine he’s mega-talented, like make your legs buckle intense. Maybe throw some minor kink in there, and yeah.” She breathed.

  “WTF, Emmy. You’re crazy sometimes.” I brushed her shoulder and shook my head.

  “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. I’m experimenting with Larry. Well, we were experimenting.”

  “Larry?”

  “Oh, right, new guy. Met him at the beginning of the year. I would have told you, but I didn’t want to bother you while you were squirreling away with Gavin.”

  “And were?”

  “It didn’t work out between us.” She gave a little shrug and giggled.

  “Please tell me you made sure everything was sane and consensual and shit?” After Emmy revealed her predilection for some of the non-conventional sexual stuff, Sierra and I made sure to do some research of our own to make sure we could support her.

  “My safety always comes first.” She grinned. “Hey, don’t worry about me. I promise to make safe choices.”

  We strolled down the hallway toward her practice room.

  “So, Larry’s a dud?”

  “He wants sex only, and I want to wait for someone special. You know I only put out if it’s the real deal.” We stood outside her practice room, and both leaned against the door.

  “Do you think you’re ready to go all the way with Gavin?” Emmy asked.

  “You know, I think he’s the one, if I’m going to do it. On the other hand, I’m not sure I’m quite ready yet. It’s crazy. My body is constantly aroused, like all the time, and then I get nervous and shut down.”

  “You talk with Dr. Liz about all this?” Emmy supported therapy big-time.

  “Yesterday morning, actually.” I recalled the EMDR I had done regarding the bullying.

  “And?”

  “And in a nutshell, it’s all about communication with Gavin, and taking risks concerning intimacy.” Divulging Dr. Liz’s voodoo tapping might not go over so well. Even with someone like Emmy.

  “Essentially, embrace the physical with Gavin,” she summarized.

  “Yep. Lots of practice. I think Gavin will be on board.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he will.” She shot me a crooked grin, her cheeks rising to meet the bottom of her glasses.

  “Huh,” she murmured under her breath, her expression now deep in concentration. Or confusion.

  “What is it?”

  “Have you seen that girl before? She keeps staring at you.”

  “Which girl?” I craned my neck around to see whom Emmy referred. No single female. Just a couple walking toward the stairway.

  “The couple walking over there?”

  “No, there was someone else. Strange. She
looked somewhat familiar.” Emmy shook her head. “Ah well, maybe I imagined it. Anyway, I’m certain Larry is on the outs. But I know there’s a guy out there for me. I’ll find him.”

  “No question he’s out there, Emmy. Well, I gotta bolt. Meeting Gavin for tutoring.” I gave a final wave as she turned the knob to her practice room.

  She returned a smile. “Have fun. No hanky panky on the piano though. The rest of us have to use it, too.”

  “Ha-ha, thanks, Emmy. See ya.”

  Chapter 18

  Aside from a very nice greeting, Gavin and I remained the consummate professionals during our tutoring sessions. While it was unlikely someone would interrupt us, I feared being caught.

  I displayed not one iota of exhibitionism and knowing my luck, some idiot would take pictures, tweeting it or sending it out to the music students’ listserv.

  Gavin and Nick would work at our house on more songs for the soundtrack. After the guys finished, he’d stay the night with me, and we would have another talk.

  I exuded a bit more confidence after my session with Dr. Liz yesterday. Whatever witchcraft tapping she performed did something beneficial because a few of the giant knots in my shoulders dissolved.

  Dr. Liz couldn’t guarantee I wouldn’t have more flashbacks, but she said the more we worked on this, the more they would eventually stop surfacing. The level of pain in my stomach should dissipate or at least not rear its ugly head. I filled with hope that I’d find success with my healing.

  I reclined on my bed, bopping my head to a young Michael Jackson singing about second chances. Thank you, The Corporation, for your genius writing.

  I belted out lyrics to I Want You Back when I glimpsed Gavin leaning against the doorjamb, hands in his pockets, eyes dancing at the corners.