I am HER... (48 page)

 
"Can you open your eyes for me, sweetheart?"  Sweetheart? 
Still?
  "Yes, but I still have a bad headache.  May I keep them closed for now?"

 
"Can you please open your eyes for me, for just a minute? 
Please?
"

  O
pening for Z, my lids begin blinking rapidly.  Argh. 
Flinch.
  I hadn't realized he was right beside me looking down.
  "Please don't be afraid of me, sweetheart.  I would never hurt you, I promise." 
What?!
  "I know."
  "Do you?"
  "Of course.  You haven't so far, and I'm sure you're leaving soon, so..."
  "I am NOT leaving soon!"  Oh!  Another flinch followed by Z breathing heavily.
  "Fuck, I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to frighten you.  I'm just so fucked up right now.  Listen to me, please.  Look, I don't know what to say.  I guess I’m just so sorry,
so
fucking sorry that my
father
ever hurt you.  I can't believe it, and yet I totally believe it.  I believe he did those things to you... And I AM SO SORRY.  I want to kill him, and I can't... the fucker is already dead."
  "Z..."
  "No.  Please, let me finish.  I will never be able to make this right for you, and I can't make it right. But I need you to know, that I didn't know what he did to you.  I knew he was a pig, I saw pictures once..."
  "Of
ME?!
"
  "Oh, fuck no!  Some other girl, a young brunette.  When I asked him about the pictures, he was so cavalier about it, so dismissive, that I became disgusted by him.  After that, we had very little relationship left.   My parents died maybe 2 years later.  And yes, I mourned for him, but I didn't know the extent of his depravity.  But if I had known..."
  "It’s okay, Z.  I'm sure I deserved..."
  "If you say you
deserved
what he did to you, I'll lose it.  This is
So Fucked Up
.  I wanted to help you because I care for you.  Now, I
have to
care for you because my fucking father hurt you.  I am just so messed up over all this.  I NEED to make it right for you, somehow."
  "Z, I'm really sorry about all this..."
  "Sweetheart, if you apologize one more time, I'll..." 
Flinch.

 
"Z!  That's enough.  That sounded like a threat, and she doesn't need that added weight or pressure to her situation right now.  Stop."
  "Shit.  I didn't mean to sound like that... I was just trying to say how sorry I am.  I don't want you frightened of me.  I just meant that I, ah,
fuck!
"  Z is shaking, badly.
  God, I want to touch him. I would do anything to make him happy again.  I wish I had never met him.  I wish I could just walk away and never see him again.  I
want
him to be happy again.  My heart aches for him.  My heart
breaks
for him.
  "Oh, sweetheart...
Please
don't cry.  I wasn't trying to make you upset.  And I could NEVER be angry with you.  I just wanted to apologize for my father having any part in what happened to you.  I don't know how to make you believe me.  I don't know how to make this go away for you.  I always know what to do, about anything, about
everything,
but I don't know this time.  I can't make this go away, and I'm so sorry about that."

 
I have no words to give him.  I don’t know what to say, even if I could speak.  There is just nothing but silence.

  "Z, you didn't do this.  You had no part in this. So you need to leave her alone, so she can process her own memories.  She needs comfort right now, but you are adding to her upset.  There is a time for apologies, if you feel the need to make them...
later.
"
    "You're right, Mack.  I'm sorry, sweetheart.  I didn't mean to make any of this about me.  We can talk about this later.  Please forgive me." 
  "There is nothing to forgive.  I just wish you weren't unhappy right now.  I don't like it when you’re unhappy.  It hurts my heart."
  "I AM sorry for that.  That wasn't my intention.  What can I do to make your heart NOT hurt?"  Don't say it!  DON’T SAY IT!
  "I think you should leave, Z.  I don't really want you here anymore.  I don't blame you for anything
at all,
I promise.  But I just don't want you to hear anymore of all this...
stuff
."
  Wow.  Z actually took a step back from my bed.  He looks really hurt. 
Shit.
  I was trying to prevent him from feeling any more hurt.  Looking between Mack and myself, Z seems to collect himself after another moment.
  "Um... Are you sure, sweetheart?  I'll just stay in the corner like I did this morning.  I'm okay now."
  "Yes, I'm sure.  I just want to talk to Mack alone for a while.  It's not you, I promise.  I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."  Fix this!  Please.
  "You didn't hurt my feelings.  Its fine, love.  Whatever
you
want, remember?  I'll just go home for a little while, freshen up, and if you decide you want to talk to me, or you need or want me to come back, just call my cell.  I can be back here in an hour or so.  It's whatever
you
need, sweetheart.  I know that."
  "Thank you Z,
for everything
.  And I'm really sorry for all this drama.  It just never seems to end with me, does it?"  I give him a weak smile, which he doesn't return.  Ouch, that hurt.
  "I'll see you later.  And Mack, please call me if she needs anything."
  "Of course.  We'll be fine."
  Looking toward me once more, Z touches my shin over the sheet, smiles at me, nods once, and makes his way to the door.  Wait! 
Shit!
  I don't want him to go.  Too late.
  Once the door closes, I lose all control.  Great lunging sobs tear from my chest.  My head hurts so badly, I hold my head with my hands, ripping my bandaged hand free of the sling.  Holding my head tightly seems to help.  Grasping and pulling at my hair seems to help, as long as don't pull the hair too close to the bandage on my skull.
  I just can't stop crying.  The pain is shocking again.  I know he will return if I ask, but I'm not going to ask.  He shouldn't be here anymore.  He gave me Mack, and he should be free of all my drama now.  I had really wanted to keep him... But now, I just want him free...
  I know there can never be a 'Z and I', so I have to let him go.  I won’t see him ever again.  I can't.  It hurts him too much.  And it hurts me too much.  I had him for a little while and it was amazing, so I’ll just keep my memories, and I'll move forward without him in my life.
  God, I wish I could stop crying. 
Please,
stop crying. And almost immediately my sobs taper off to little hiccups of tears, and breaths of pain.  This time, I really, truly am
heartbroken
.  But it's good.  It’s as it should be. 
  I wish I had said a memorable, heart-felt goodbye to Z, but I didn't.  And now I can't.  Seeing him again, even once more, will kill me.  He is free now.  And I want him free.  I want him free o
f
…
me. 
  “Goodbye, Z…
    I think I love you.”

                               
   ==========

 
When I wake up, everything still hurts. 
Christ. 
Will my head ever feel the same again?  I need to get well, so I can get out of here.  I need to walk.  I need to change my clothes.  I
need
to leave.  Where do I go?  Where am I safe from all this?  What do I do?
  "How are you?  Would you like more pain medication?" Oh, Mack's still here.
  "Yes, please.  I'm sorry, but my headache is so distracting."
  "It's not a problem. You've had major surgery AND much stress, so you're supposed to be on pain killers.  Let me just speak with the nurse.  I'll be right back."
  "Okay.  Thank you."
  When Mack leaves, I wonder if this is what it feels like to be really, truly alone.  This is a first in a long time I think.  Actually, it’s a first, period.  I've never been alone in my life.  I've never lived alone.  I've never bought my own groceries.  I've never had my own place.  I've never been by myself.  I've never
been
myself...
  "What are you thinking about?"  Mack asks while holding out the little cup of pills.
  "Um... about being alone."
  "You're not alone.  I'm here, and Z can be back in..."  I have to cut him off.
  "That's not what I meant.  I mean, I was thinking about being alone in the world.  I've never been alone, Mack.  I lived with my parents, even in college, and then I married and moved into the house with Marcus.  The house he purchased without me- the house I help pay for but didn't choose. It's weird, but other than one love seat, and a matching chair in my sunroom, I have chosen nothing in my life.  Oh, actually, that’s NOT true...
sorry.
I choose to wear black clothing, and I choose to keep my hair long, though my mother hates it.  But that's it...

 
“…I didn't pick my friends growing up; my mother did.  So I just stop having friends.  I didn't even pick which college I went to, my father did.  I didn't choose to marry Marcus, my parents did.  Marcus didn't even ask me.  He just worked it out with my parents, prenups and all, and that was it.  I was married on the date they said, with the guests they chose, in the dress my mother designed...
  “... I have never been alone, Mack.  Alone scares me, but it might be okay for me to try.  I think I
want
to try being alone.  Is that okay?"  Oops.  Did it again.  Giggle.  "I realize I just asked you permission to allow me permission over my life.  Pretty absurd, huh?" 
Idiot!
  "No, not absurd.  If you have never had control over your life, taking control is going to be hard, and sometimes confusing.  But you don't need to ask permission to do so, from me or from anyone else for that matter.  Not even from Z. 
You
choose what you want from now on.  You can do that.  I want to
help you
do that."
  "Thank you.  But I don't really know what to do."  What a loser I am. 
Honestly.
  "Why are you smiling right now?"
  "I was just thinking about what a loser I am, and somehow that makes me smile.  Kind of silly actually, but if I can call myself something in my head, and it's not a
dirty
word, I seem to smile." 
What?!
  "Why is that?  Do you often think of yourself as a
'dirty'
word?"
  "Yes, I think so.  I don't know, it's weird ‘cause I hear myself as dirty words, and it's sometimes
my
voice but sometimes it's other people's voices speaking.  I can't always tell who is actually saying it to me." That made sense, right?
  "You have other voices in your head?  Do they always talk to you?"
  "No!  Not like that.  Not like I'm a Schizo or anything.  It's like the memory of
them
saying bad names to me, and my memories of saying bad names to myself get confused or something.  So, I'm not sure if it was actually me, or them who said it."
  "Who are ‘they’?"
  "You know,
the men
, I guess.  The men who did stuff, and said stuff to me."  Dammit.  I hate this.
  "Who were the men?"
  "I told you some already.  Why are we talking about this?" 
  "I would like to know about the men, and the 'stuff' they did and said to you." 
  "
Why do you care...?"
  I practically whisper.
  "I want to help you process these memories.  I want to help you
deal
with these memories.  Once you do, I think you can have the life you want, or at least you can take the necessary steps to create the life you want."  Pause.

 
Shit.  I'm feeling so sad again.  It’s like a never-ending cycle of pain, sadness, despair and desperation.

 
"I know what I want, but it isn't for me." 
  "You can have some things you want.  You may even be surprised at how easy it is to ask and receive whatever, or
whoever
it is you want in life."
  "I disagree.  Nothing in my life has been easy.  And I don't believe asking, or
willing
life to change for me now, is going to happen.  It's too late for me."
  "It's never too late."  Oh, he is SO wrong.

 
"Mack, thank you for your kindness, and I guess, for your friendship, but on this you are dead wrong.  Once my mother realizes I’m
awake,
she’ll take me away. I'd be surprised if she doesn't know by now, even though she’s probably busy preparing for her party.  She’ll come here, tell me what's going to happen and it will happen.  Just like that.  Really, there's no sense in me wanting or hoping for anything, I’ll just be disappointed in the inevitable."
  "
Maybe,
but don't you want to try?  Don't you want to make a decision that’s clearly yours to make?"
  "Of course I do, I always did.  But it's just too hard to fight all the time.  It's much easier to simply do what I'm told."
  "That's right... It's
easier.
  You aren't even trying anymore.  When was the last time you fought for what YOU wanted?  When was the last time you
really
tried, and didn't merely live through the motions of trying?" 
Asshole.
  "You don't know me!  You don't know, Mack.  They're brutal and suffocating.  They tell me what to do.  They have always told me what to do... But I DID try.  When I was younger I tried to stand up for myself.  I tried to tell them no, but NOBODY listened!  They even laughed at me when I said something contrary to their demands.  They always laughed at me.  I have always been an inconvenient little joke to them…
  “I once asked my mother why I was born, and do you know what she said?  She actually told me she had to have at least one child to secure herself within the family
fortune
.  That's it.  When I looked at her in shock she laughed at me.  She fucking laughed, pouted her lips and said 'Ah, did you think I actually wanted you?  Poor baby. I never wanted you- yo
u’
re fucking fat, and a whore.'" OH GOD!
What?!
  "Oh.  I, ah, forgot about that. 
Shit.
  That's pretty bad, isn't it?"  Giggle.  Why do I giggle?  I really AM insane, I think
  "I would say that’s pretty bad, yes.  In my non-medical opinion, your mother sounds like a complete fucking bitch." 
What?!
  Both Mack and I erupt into laughter.  It feels good to just laugh with Mack.  He is so easy.  I don't have feelings for him.  He is just kind, because he is.  Instantly, I feel so sad though, and my laughter has quickly turned to tears again.  Christ!  I'm sick of crying.  I spent a lifetime
not
crying, and now it’s all I do. 
  "May I give you a hug?" Mack asks me kindly. 
  "Yes, please."
  Walking to me slowly, I think to appear non-threatening, Mack sits on the side of my bed, and just takes me into his arms.  He doesn't hold back.  He just holds me so tightly, I melt into his chest.  He is so warm, and kind, and my sadness spills over. 
  "I'm sorry I'm crying all over your shirt."
  "I don't care, it’s not mine.  It's Z's.  I grabbed it this morning when I picked up his clothes for him.  I'm sure he won't even notice it missing.  That boy has a serious obsession with clothing."
  "I know...  I snooped in his closet." 
Flinch.
  "No worries.  I won't tell him about the snooping, if you don't tell him about the grand theft dress-shirt.  Deal?"  His smile-voice is almost the same as Z's.
  "Deal."  I smile in return.
  In the silence that follows, Mack stays right beside me.  He even makes himself more comfortable on the bed, but not in a creepy way.  He just leans back, and keeps his one arm wrapped around my shoulders.  He doesn't touch me gross, or even seem like he wants to.  Why?  Every man I've ever met wants to...
  "Why aren't you touching me dirty, Mack?"  Shut up!
  "Do you want me to?"
  "Oh god, no!  Oh!  I'm sorry, that sounded rude.  You are very attractive.  I just don't really want anyone to touch me right now... But if you need to..."
  "Stop.  I do not
need
to, nor
would
I.  Just hugging you like this could be seen as fairly unethical, but I wanted to offer you
comfort-
that's all.  We are patient and doctor... and friends.  I would NEVER touch you, or even
think
of touching you inappropriately.'
  "I'm sorry.  I haven't really known a man who, ah, didn't..."