Neighbors

by Ashleigh Royce

  Heat rises in my face. I know my blood pressure is way up. Not wanting to continue, I slam the door, turn the lock, and run into the bathroom for some tissues. I was never good with confrontation and I had just let Greg have it—big time. It was a long time over due, but I feel good that I finally told him how I feel. Tears stream down my face but they’re of triumph not defeat.

  There’s a pounding on the door. “Go away,” I yell as I walk into the living room. Dabbing my eyes, I stand in the center of the living room with only the door between us. He’s yelling my name. “Mel. Melissa, please open the door.” I exhale in relief when the banging stops. My shoulders drop and my body starts to relax. Remembering my original goal, I turn so that I can change my clothes and get back to Dylan.

  A loud crash makes me scream as the door forces open. Fragments of wood splinter out into the living room. My eyes widen when I notice it’s hanging from the hinges. Greg is in the doorway, fists clenched at his sides, his eyebrows are dipped low on his forehead. His stance reminds me of a cartoon bull with steam blowing out of its nostrils. He steps toward me with a slow, deliberate pace.

  My mouth drops open as he gets closer. Keeping my eyes on his, I back up inch by inch until I’m against the wall outside of the kitchen. His eyes bore into me. The hairs on the back of my neck rise. Panic fills me.

  “Greg, you have to leave.” My voice is shaky. “I’m going to call the police.” But he’s walking toward me.

  Before I know it, he clutches my shoulder. I attempt to pull away, but he grips the fabric on my shirt and it rips. Forcing my arms between his body and mine does little to stop him. He grips my other shoulder and pushes his body onto me. His mouth is on mine. I twist my head, resisting his kiss. It angers him more.

  He throws me down on the floor. I land on my butt. The sting of the floor causes adrenaline to surge through my veins.

  “Is this what you want, Mel? You want me to fuck you on the floor, like your new boyfriend does?”

  Using my legs, I try to scramble away, but he bends over and takes hold of my left foot. He yanks me close to him. The carpet burns my elbows. He lowers himself so that he’s kneeling over me, my leg still in his grip. With his other hand, he unbuttons his pants. “You used to love it when I fucked you, Mel.”

  Using my free foot, I kick at him. Tightening the grip on the foot he has hold of he stops fumbling with his pants long enough to capture the leg that’s kicking. He puts them together and places my feet between his thighs. His hand returns to its chore as he unzipped his pants. He shifts them down low enough so that they’re below his hipbone.

  “I don’t want you, Greg,” I say, hoping he sees I’m not afraid of him.

  He looks at me, rage in his eyes. “I don’t care, Mel. I’m going to fuck you whether you want me to or not. It seems you like it a little rough these days. That wasn’t the case when we were married. Maybe you’d rather I paint you.”

  My eyes widen.

  “Yeah, that was quite a little show you put on.”

  I’m dumbfounded. “How?”

  “I’ve been watching you through his windows, Mel. I saw your little paint fight.” He yanks my shorts down to reveal my lacy pink underwear. He stops to look at them. “You always wore nice lingerie.” He grips the front and rips them from my body. The elastic cuts into my skin as they tear. He throws them behind him.

  “I know you’re nice and ready. I am, too.” He reaches into his pants and takes out what he proudly uses on every girl he encounters. He strokes himself with the hand that isn’t holding my hip down. He leans into me, pushing his weight onto me. He’s heavy. I can’t move. I struggle to get away, making it difficult for him to enter me. The warm skin of his erection presses against the inside of my thigh. Before I can scream, he has his mouth on mine. I pound his back with my fists as he shifts his weight, hoping for entry.

  Then there is no weight. No sloppy mouth trying for kisses. No pressure on me. No Greg on top of me. I look up and see him across the room.

  Dylan is leaning over me. “Melissa, are you all right?”

  I look into his eyes. He’s here. He’s saving me. “Yes.”

  Greg charges and Dylan is pushed to the ground. Twisting around, he lunges for Greg, and a fight ensues. Punches fly and furniture is broken as I shrink into a corner. Tears stream down my face. The brawl lasts a few minutes and in the end, Greg is unconscious on the floor. Dylan races to my side and wraps his arms around me. Without letting go, he takes his cell phone from his back pocket and calls the police as I cry into his chest.

  I spend the next several hours in my own ER as Gladys performs a rape kit on me. Purple welts cover my arms and legs.

  “You’ll be okay, Sweetie,” Gladys says as she takes me into her arms.

  I cry into her shoulder. I feel safe with someone whom I don’t have to explain anything to.

  “The female detective has to take pictures,” Gladys says. I nod. Unfortunately, I know the procedure having to have been in the room for other women who had been brought to the ER in similar situations. “Want me to stay?”

  I shake my head. “No. I’m okay.”

  Dylan insists on holding my hand while I recount the events to the detectives. Then he takes me to his house and doesn’t disturb me as I spend two hours in the shower, trying to scrub the memory of what happened from my body.

  I leave the bathroom wearing one of Dylan’s shirts and a pair of his sweat pants.

  “Are you okay?” His voice is soft; as if he’s afraid he’d break me if it were louder than a whisper.

  I nod. I have no words.

  “I made you something to eat. Are you hungry?” His tone is endearing.

  I shake my head.

  “Okay, but you have to eat.” I nod. “Do you want to sit and watch television?”

  I nod again and sit in the corner of the couch. He eases into the cushion on the other end and is careful not to move too quickly. He keeps his distance because he must know I’m traumatized by what Greg has done. But I want to be near Dylan. I want to be safe in his arms. I want to be protected. I want his love. Deciding that I don’t want to be helpless or shut him out, I crawl next to him. He lifts his arm so that I can push my way under. His body shifts and he tightens his grip around me and I know I’m safe here with him.

  “I know this isn’t good timing,” he starts. My body tenses. “But I love you, Melissa.”

  I relax and smile, then rest my head on his chest. I search his eyes. His expression is serious.

  “I know it’s only been a couple of weeks, but this is right. You’re the right one.”

  A tear slides down my cheek.

  “You need time, I know. I just want you to hear how I feel. I’ll wait for as long as it takes for you to be ready.”

  I move my arms around his trunk and he holds me close.

  Seventeen

  Dylan is very patient with me. He never pushes or pries; he’s always ready to listen. He even accompanies me to a counseling session after work. His patience is incredible. Still, I know my emotional retreat has put a great strain on our relationship. We haven’t had sex since the day we painted his dining room.

  Even Gladys doesn’t make jokes. In fact, she offers her shoulder many times, but I refuse. My way of dealing with things is to keep them inside until I’m home, where I can cry into a pillow, alone.

  Three weeks after Greg’s attack, Dylan comes to the ER. He doesn’t grab me or kiss me. I suspect it’s because he’s afraid of how I’ll react. “Will you meet me for dinner when you get off of work?” he asks.

  His expression is serious and his voice lacks emotion. A small red flag goes up and suddenly I’m nervous. “Okay. What time and where?”

  He tells me which restaurant and the time. He gives my cheek a chaste kiss before he leaves. That was it. No passion, no pawing, no overwhelming desire like the last time he visited me at the ER. Gladys looks over her glasses without comment.

  After he’s gone, panic fills me. T
ears pool in my eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” Eileen asked.

  “I think he’s going to break up with me.” The words pierce my heart and deep sadness oozes from it.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Melissa. The guy loves you.” Eileen’s expression is sincere. Gladys offers her mom-type smile. “He’s still there for you, right?”

  “Eileen, it’s different now. Greg ruined me mentally, on all levels.”

  My mind doesn’t focus well the rest of the day. I can only think of the horror to come, of Dylan releasing me. On my break, I call Tracy.

  “I’ll have to move. I can’t see him every day if he breaks up with me.”

  “I think you’re jumping to conclusions, Mel,” Tracy tries to assure me.

  “I can’t watch him bring other women home, Tracy. Especially knowing it’s my fault that he’s with them.”

  “Mel, it’s not your fault. Greg traumatized you. Anyone who went through an attack like that can’t trust people right away. Just wait to see what he wants to talk about, Mel. Maybe he just wants to have dinner, you know, a slow start back into the relationship. Why do you always have to fill your head with the negative?”

  “Because, it usually is negative, Tracy. Look what happened with Greg. I didn’t see the signs. Not only did he cheat on me and leave me with trust issues but he humiliated me. It took months before I could walk through the hallways at the hospital without people whispering behind my back. And now he’s made me skittish, especially in my own house. But Dylan, Dylan is so wonderful. He never presses me to talk about it. And he’s careful with how he moves around me. Tracy, I don’t think I could live without him. Not now that I know what a wonderful and caring relationship can be. What am I going to do?” Tears roll down my face faster than I can dab them with the wad of tissues I now keep in my pocket.

  “Melissa, just relax. Wait until you know what it’s all about before you start packing your bags and reaching for the razor blade.”

  Tracy’s right. I know it, but I say nothing.

  “Mel? Melissa, are you there?” Fear fills her voice.

  “Yes, I’m here.”

  “Whew! You scared me. Just promise to call me tonight after your dinner.”

  “Okay.”

  “If I don’t hear from you by midnight, I’m running to your house with the police.”

  “I promise to call you.”

  At three o’clock, Gladys tells me to sign out. “Take a nice warm bath, Sweetie.”

  I go home and busy myself with cleaning the house. It helps to keep my mind busy. At four-thirty, I shower and blow out my hair, trying not to think about how everything that’s going to happen tonight is my fault. My closet is filled with perfectly acceptable outfits, but I’m undecided on what to wear. Finally, I chose a plain light blue button-down blouse and a pair of navy slacks. The same thought plays over and over in my head as I get dressed. I pulled away from Dylan and now I’m going to lose him. Greg. That bastard. He ruined my life again.

  At five-thirty, I get in my car, unsure if I want to meet Dylan because I don’t want him to confirm my fear. I consider calling him to cancel. I can say I don’t feel well, but that would only put off the inevitable. No, you have to do this. Straighten up. Take in a deep breath. Be mature. Struggling to hold back tears, I focus my concentration on the music coming from the radio. I’m fine until I pull into the parking lot of the restaurant. I sit in the car for several long minutes composing myself and practicing reactionary phrases.

  It has been weeks since Dylan and I have had sex and I can’t blame him for not wanting to be with someone who cringes at every touch, sexual or platonic. I ready myself and with one final deep breath, I grab my purse and walk into the restaurant. I scan the inside. Two men are at the bar, watching some sports event on the television. One table in the dining area is occupied by a couple who look intimately involved in a conversation. That’s it. He isn’t here. My fears swell. A waiter shows me to a table in the far corner and brings me a glass of water.

  Thoughts of him not showing up fill my head. Maybe he’s not coming. I imagine him phoning or sending a note through the waiter, saying it’s over. I check my watch and cell phone every two minutes. When I convince myself he isn’t coming, I look up as he approaches the table. My heart revs when I see him then plunges in despair knowing that he’s here to break up with me. Inhaling, I straighten in my chair and prepare myself for what is to come.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” he says taking his seat. His tee shirt is powdered with dust and a streak of dirt lines his face. Brown curls sit in a mess on his head. He is adorable. A small fire starts inside me. It shows me that I am returning from the dead. I want him—his caress, his whisper, his smell, his everything. Am I too late? It pains me to know that I’ve waited too long and now those things are lost to me.

  With some effort, I produce a smile and struggle to hold back tears.

  The waiter appears. “Have you ordered?” Dylan asks.

  “No, not yet.” I peer up at the thin man with the pad and pen and tell him that I want a small bowl of pasta. I’m too afraid that my twisting stomach will toss up anything heavier. Dylan orders a steak. The waiter disappears.

  Minutes seem like years as I wait for him to speak.

  “So, how was your day?” he asks. It’s so normal. Casual.

  “Fine.” I look down at my napkin. This is taking so long. Just tell me you’re done with me so I can go home and cry before I pack and leave.

  He waits until I look up. His eyes search mine. Concern fills them “Are you all right, Melissa?”

  “I’m fine. Why?” Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

  “You look upset. Greg didn’t…”

  “No,” I shake my head. “He hasn’t been near me, not since the arraignment.”

  “Good. I’ll break his legs if he ever comes near you again. I can’t believe they let him out with just a slap on the wrist. I mean only five thousand dollars bail, please.”

  It’s nice to hear Dylan so defensive over me, but I dread what is going to happen next.

  “So why are you upset?” he insists.

  I wrestle with whether or not to tell him and decide that I can’t stand drawing out the pain. “I know why you’ve asked me here.”

  “You do?” he says with surprise.

  “I understand, Dylan. When you moved across the street, my life finally began. You’ve made it possible for me to able to find happiness again. You make me feel things I never thought I would. You’re incredible and you need someone who can give you what you deserve. I haven’t been myself for weeks; not since Greg…” I can’t finish my sentence. A tear betrays my attempt at bravery. Dylan’s hand reaches up and strokes my cheek to catch it. “It isn’t fair to you to put your life on hold because I can’t… give you what you should have.”

  Although I want him to take me in his arms and make it all be okay, I don’t want to prolong my agony. Inhaling deeply for courage, I sit back in my chair and wait for his words. Be strong, Mel. You know he’s entitled to better, and you just aren’t capable of one hundred percent right now.

  His expression is solemn. As slowly as I can, I exhale. I’m seconds from standing and leaving. He moves his chair around the table so that he’s next to me. He smells sweaty and dusty, and… wonderful.

  Taking my hand in his, I feel its warmth. The spark is still there between us. I want it. His touch makes it difficult to concentrate and remain stoic for his news.

  “Melissa,” he begins. My muscles stiffen. “I asked you here to talk about a change in our relationship.

  Here we go. This is it. I hold my breath.

  Dylan stares into my eyes. The grip on my hand is tighter. “Melissa, I want to know if you’ll move in with me.”

  My eyes widen. What? He’s not dumping me? My brain skips. I don’t process what he just said. I exhale. “What?”

  “You’ve been through so much.” He kisses my hand. “I want to take care of you, protect you. Help you he
al. I know these past few weeks have been a nightmare, but you aren’t alone. I’m here.” I melt when I look into his chocolate brown eyes. “I’ve never been this connected to another person before. I know this is right. I have to be with you. You’re the other half of me. And, I’m prepared to wait for as long as it takes to get you back. I just can’t sleep when I know you’re alone in your brother’s house. I don’t want that jackass to come back and I’m not there. I stay up pacing, looking out the window. You have no idea how many times I’ve held myself back from walking across the street and knocking on your door in the middle of the night, just to hold you in my arms to make sure you’re safe. Please, let me take care of you.”

  My brain is numb. The words seep in, but they don’t seem real.

  My body relaxes and the fizzle that was left increases to a small campfire.

  “I know that we’ve only been together for six weeks, but they have been the happiest weeks of my life. I want that to continue. That is, if you want it to.” He stares down at my hand in his, as if I’m going to pull it away.

  With my free hand, I tilt his chin up to look at me. “I thought you were breaking up with me.”

  “Breaking up with you?” His eyebrows furrow. “Why would I do that?”

  “I thought because I didn’t…because we haven’t...”

  His laugh startles me and I flinch. “Oh no, no. No. I wanted to give you time. I didn’t want you to freak out or anything. I figured when you were ready, I’d know. I didn’t want you to think that it was all about sex.”

  My lips find his and even though I press hard, his kiss is gentle. He pulls back, apology in his expression. “I never want to be without you.”

  In that moment, my feelings for him are confirmed. The fire is stoked, and I know that I’m starting to recover. The flames lick higher and higher. Desire begins to smolder. My lips are on him again. This time, he doesn’t let go. The waiter brings our food.