by Dale Mayer
Oh shit. Where the hell had that had come from? He sank a little lower in the water. Not that he could go much deeper and still breathe. “You don’t have to answer that. It just popped out.”
“No,” she said, “I’ve never been married or engaged. Came close a time or two, but it didn’t work out.”
“Ah,” he muttered. Christ, he sounded like a dolt. He should just shut the hell up. He didn’t do small talk. Or relationships.
“Not an issue,” she murmured quietly. “I haven’t had time for relationships since the accident.”
Ah, this was the first time she’d mentioned that. Dare he ask? But curiosity got the better of him. “How long ago was the accident?”
“Almost six years now,” she said absentmindedly.
At least her voice said it wasn’t an issue any longer. Likely she’d had a normal childhood, happy and stable, before her world blew apart. Yeah, life was like that. “That must have been tough.”
“Yep. But not as bad as a lifetime of abuse. I was happy and settled and thought I was heading forward in life. Had a long term relationship with dreams of that whole house, white picket fence and the perfect two kids.”
“And what happened?”
There was silence, then she sighed heavily. “I found out that the perfect dream requires two perfect people, not one that is badly damaged.”
The sadness in her voice got to him. There were layers of emotion in her tone. Old and new. He could understand that the dream might need to be changed. But it didn’t have to be discarded completely.
Chapter 12
Robin settled back into the water. Waves of depression washed through her.
Just the reminder of all those long evenings talking and planning out her future – her imaginary future with boyfriends and girlfriends over the years. How sad. She missed those hopes and dreams the most. It didn’t need to be as bad as it felt to her – she knew that.
At least, she’d been told that many times. However, to know she was supposed to feel something other than what she did made her feel worse. Like how wrong was that? Just because people said something was right didn’t make it true. Only she wanted them to be right. She wanted to be able to look forward and see sunshine and roses. A life full of laughter and love. Where children didn’t run from her and men didn’t cringe when they saw her.
But dreaming a dream didn’t make it a reality.
“Thoughts?”
She gave a broken laugh. “Not worth repeating.”
“Ah. Stuck in that self-pity mode, huh?”
She froze. How dare he? She opened her eyes and glared at him. “What do you know?” she said bitterly. The words were flying out before she had a chance to hold them back. Damn. Because he of course did know. Just in a different way. Groaning, she closed her eyes and sank back, muttering, “Sorry.”
“Why? Because you think it’s not fair to lash out when you’re hurting? It’s not, but haven’t you heard that life isn’t fair?”
Damn him for being so reasonable. She wanted to really lash out. She wanted to hit him – have him be a target that she could pour her anger and frustration out on. But what good would it do other than be a temporary release of the emotional stress building inside? Besides, he’d already learned life wasn’t fair. She had no business feeling sorry for her lot in life when his had been so much worse. She’d been loved while young, had grown up in a nurturing environment, her every need cared for.
And him…she wondered if he had any good memories or if it was all one black pit of pain and despair. His situation made her angry on so many levels. That it stopped her from feeling justified in her own anger and pain was just one of the less nice ones. She hated being petty and selfish. Sure, she had it rough, but as she’d seen today, some of those kids at the hospital had it rough, too. Some people never survived the horrors of their lives. Then there were people like Sean who’d survived – but at what cost?
“There’s nothing I can say…” Sean said. “That someone else hasn’t already said,”
She opened her eyes and stared. “You are right there.”
“So I won’t. It’s normal to feel angry, depressed even, but from what I have seen of you – you are anything but normal.”
That she hadn’t expected. Nor did it please her to hear it. After all like he’d said – the little bit of her that he’d seen…wasn’t much. And not enough to judge her. Good or bad. “You know nothing.”
“And you’re going to make sure that I don’t know any more, right? Use anger to keep others away. Keep your pride intact, thinking what the hell, it’s all you have left anyways, might as well use it, right?”
She swallowed the hard truths, her mind locking onto his angry comment. Had he done that? Was she doing that? Was pride all she had left? True, pride that kept her head high in situations where she’d rather run away, but it wasn’t pride that had kept her hiding away at home, too scared to deal with more of the public than she had to. Where had her pride been then? In hiding with the rest of her.
“Ha,” she said defiantly, “You don’t know me.”
She watched his lip curl, feeling her anger blaze inside. She clenched her fists. As soon as she realized what she’d done, she shoved them under the foaming water, a shudder working its way down her thin frame. She had to regain control. She’d leave, but she didn’t know that she had enough spine to walk out of the water. It had been hard enough coming here as it were. She only managed it as she knew the hot tub had been empty.
It had been that philosophy that had gotten her through most public meetings. People were curious, sometimes sympathetic, but they weren’t part of her life. She whispered under her breath, “Everyone is just grateful that they don’t look like me.”
“Isn’t that too cynical of an attitude for someone your age?”
She opened her eyes to see Sean staring at her. It wasn’t disapproval she was seeing in his eyes, but they were dark with something. And she realized he’d heard her. Heat flushed over her cheeks. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that.”
“You did, you just didn’t mean to have me hear your rambling. Besides, I think you give people too much credit. They aren’t thinking about any of that stuff. They just want to do whatever is required for their moral compass to feel comfortable and still be able to get up the next morning and look at themselves in the mirror.”
She had to admit, he likely had a better take on humanity than she did. It made her feel oddly more comfortable. As if he really did understand what her life was like.
She wafted her hands around in front of her, her fingers slipping through the foam and bubbles as she contemplated people and humanity.
“How many more surgeries are there to be done?” he asked.
One side of her mouth instinctively twisted downward. “None.”
“Meaning there is nothing more the doctors can do for you, or that you won’t go for any more surgeries regardless of what the doctors feel they can do?”
The gentle curiosity in his voice threw her off balance. She never had a chance to get to know him because he always showed her a different side of his personality. She knew he didn’t like her as a woman – not even a casual one-night stand, but there was something in his demeanor that had been caring. Maybe as one would for a hurt animal. Maybe it was nothing special for her. “I’m done with surgeries.”
“Ah.” A wealth of understanding laced his voice. She glared at him.
He leaned back and closed his eyes, as if happy to sleep while she was now angry and bitter.
“What? Am I not allowed to say enough?”
“Of course,” he said equitably. “After all, why look normal? You can stay angry and bitter this way.”
Shocked, she cried out, “That’s not fair.”
“Life isn’t fair, sweetheart, I keep telling you that.”
“Then get your own body fixed up. Surely there is something they can do about your shoulder.”
“Nope. This is fixed.”
>
She stared at the puckered skin. “It doesn’t look it.”
“Yeah, but I did the rounds of surgery and this is what I am left with. And you know something – I am okay with that.”
She frowned. Surely he couldn’t be as blasé about that. Then again, it was his shoulder, and it could be hidden most of the time from prying eyes.
“Doesn’t it affect your love life?” She hated the need to know, the curiosity not something she was entirely comfortable with. Had he had the same horrified reaction from women as she’d had from men? That he was comfortable with his body even though he was as disfigured as she was didn’t help. In fact, it just added to her off-centeredness.
“Nope. Don’t have one to begin with, and if you meant my sex life, then you should have said so, and the answer is still no. The women who I have sex with don’t care.”
Damn if that didn’t leave her stunned, her mind flooding with dozens more questions. He separated love from sex. Whereas she hadn’t had sex with anyone she didn’t love. Had he loved anyone? Or did he call sex, love? Love was a pathway she didn’t expect to go down again. Not after being hurt the last time. She’d carefully wrapped up her bruised heart and packed it away in ice. Like so much of her life.
“What about you? How is the scarring affecting your sex life?”
Really? He’d asked that? Then again, why not? She had. “My boyfriend and I had been together for two years before my accident. He told me afterwards that there was no way he could have sex with me again. Not even as a mercy fuck.”
The crude words left her mouth in a vitriol of pain. She stilled. Oh my God. She hadn’t said that, had she? What was it about this man that could set her emotions and her tongue off like that?
She’d never shared Tom’s parting words with anyone. Not even to her therapist.
How could she? Tom had been serious. With those few words, he’d broken her heart and driven her self-confidence into a pit deep inside, never to see the light again. After that, she’d iced over her heart to avoid being hurt again.
Until Sean. Why him? Unless it was because he was safe. After this week, she wouldn’t have to see him again. Or because he was as broken as she was.
Wincing, she waited for Sean’s response, but there was only the effervescence of the water popping gently between them.
“A mercy fuck?’ he asked in a delicate voice, humor bouncing from letter to letter.
Closing her eyes, she groaned again, grateful that he couldn’t hear her above the bubbles. “That’s what he called it.”
She stared down at the foam bouncing against her chest, wishing she’d kept her big mouth shut. Then that appeared to be part of this week. Being someone she normally wasn’t. Awkward. Scared. Always putting her foot into her mouth and leaving it there. She despaired of the rest of the week given the way it had started. She already wanted to go home. Hide away again. So she wasn’t put into these situations. She wanted to go back where she was comfortable. Normal.
Sure, she’d be alone, but that was the reality of her life. This being out in public was like wearing a second skin – one that didn’t fit well. She wanted to keep tugging it into place.
And trying to keep her mind focused on the things going on this week wasn’t working to avoid the burning sensation on the back of her eyelids. Sean’s burning gaze.
After a few moments, the air relaxed slightly and dropped that expectant air. She relaxed back.
“Can’t say that I’ve ever had a mercy fuck.”
He said it in such a wondering tone that it caught her funny bone. And against all odds, a surprised giggle escaped. She gasped and opened her eyes to see his big grin.
She couldn’t help it. She beamed back and said, “As I turned him down, neither have I.”
His belly laugh rolled out free and clean, making her realize that Tom’s issues had been just that – his issues. She didn’t need to make them hers. And she hadn’t realized how his comment had burned. How she’d frozen up on the inside. And how much sharing his comment had freed her.
“Good for you. You are worth so much more than that.”
She shook her head and opened her mouth.
“Stop. No more self-degrading comments. You are beautiful. And your beauty is only becoming more obvious as each surgery lets you shine a little brighter.”
“And if I chose to not have more surgeries?”
“Then you’ll stay just as beautiful as you are now,” he said comfortably. He leaned back, dropping his head to the edge of the hot tub. Then added, “You have to go beneath the skin and see the layer underneath.”
She pondered that wisdom from another person as scarred as he was. Hard to understand coming from someone with that hard edge he carried around himself like a shield. How could he spout all this stuff and be as messed up as he was?
“If that’s true, why are you so touchy about your looks?”
He laughed and barked out, “Because everyone out there is like you – they judge by the covering. I don’t want people like that in my life. So I let them see the harder edges so that they won’t want anything to do with the inside me.”
“Or it’s a shield that you use to make sure no one can actually see the real you inside.”
“Or that…” he said carelessly. And fell silent.
Somehow she knew that this topic was over. He’d done a lot of work and had made some profound insights. This is who he was.
He was comfortable with himself. As for the rest of the world? He didn’t give a damn.
*
If there was ever a guy who deserved punching, Robin’s ex was it. A mercy fuck? It boggled the mind and Sean found himself getting pissed all over again. He couldn’t help but wonder how much of Robin’s issues were caused by his fellow men. Probably too damn many of them.
Then again, all of his had been. His father had been a right bastard. Sean had no memory of the love of his mother, who’d taken off when Paris and he were young, leaving them with their father.
He’d learned. Not fast and not easily. Still, he’d not have survived without his sister. Their bond was strong as they’d been forced to depend on each other for survival.
Something Robin hadn’t had. She’d gone from having a loving family who’d always been there for her to being completely alone in an instant. Everything since she’d had to do herself, for herself, by herself.
He couldn’t imagine how tough that would have been. How wearying. What happened when she hit a wall and crumpled in defeat? Could she get up and keep going without someone there to help her? Or was that why she struggled for as long as she could then slowly gave up and had gone inside?
Since he’d been an older teen, he’d been fascinated with the psychology of people. Why they did things and what it would take for them to change that behavior. He didn’t like many of them, but their behavior fascinated him. He had high hopes for his future once he graduated but had no clue what area he wanted to work in. Maybe profiling. He wouldn’t mind helping to put bastards like his father behind bars.
Paris had laughed and said that him taking a psychology course made perfect sense. He was trying to figure out their father.
She was only partly correct. He’d figured out their father. He even understood his mother, she’d been a victim too. But what he was trying to figure out was himself – so he didn’t end up like his father.
Deep stuff. He wasn’t sure how much progress he’d made. But watching, hearing Robin’s struggles made him realize that although the details were different, their journeys were similar.
Not that she’d appreciate hearing that.
Any more than she could handle being told that she was beautiful. She was. In fact, the newly awoken artist in him wanted to grab a pencil right now. It was almost time to go back to their rooms. He had an idea for the report now. He wasn’t sure he had the skill to pull it off, but for the first time, he really wanted to try.
His father had tried to separate Sean from his art. He hadn’
t completely succeeded. But neither had Sean been able to do much since. It had taken Jenna to bring that spark back to life. Who’d have thought?
Chapter 13
Robin woke the next morning groggy and tired. Talk about a shitty night. When she needed a sound sleep, life had given her a crappy wake up every hour on the hour, only to finally fall into a deeply disturbed sleep at 5am. Like what a joke. She needed her defenses strong today. Of course, this way she’d have little resistance against the world and maybe that would be a good thing – it could shake things up.
Things she wasn’t ready to shake up.
She winced. And said out loud, “That’s why you’re here, idiot.” And that couldn’t happen while her defenses were strong. This way sometimes, things would slip under her weakened guard and prick her where she needed it most.
A horrible thought. God, she’d be glad when this week was over.
She rubbed her eyes and lay still contemplating the day ahead. She had to go back and see the kids.
It had to get easier. Her chest constricted in dread. They were just kids for Christ’s sake. These kids were traumatized enough. And was she supposed to let them see her as she really was and face their horror? Was that the lesson Jenna wanted her to learn? Cause that just sucked big time. She’d already faced that reaction. Look what little good that had done – she’d run away as far as she could to get away. Then had been unable to get out. She was out now. Because of this seminar.
The last thing she wanted was to go back into hiding again.
Yet there was already a thin steel rod of stress running through her. She could feel the slight vibration, that inner shakiness that said her stress levels were rising. She wanted to be able to let the kids see her as she really was, but she couldn’t. Not really. And there was no way she’d be able to smile at them as if everything were okay. Nothing was okay. And coming here had just magnified that. Especially after meeting Jon. Just hearing his name hurt.