Exposed: A Novel (13 page)

Chapter 30
Taylor

Dr. McNear sat down at a table across from Andy and me. “No need to be scared,” his words echoed in the fluorescent-lit room. “Andy has brought many of his girls”—his girls?—“to me in the past and I have taken good care of them all.” He looked at Andy. “Haven’t I, Andy?”

Andy nodded. “Of course you have, Len.”

Interesting—a first name basis relationship.

“So, what cup size are we looking for this time?” Dr. McNear stared at my breasts, then my face. “She’s a beautiful one, natural-looking too.” His eyes gazed down again. “I’d recommend no bigger than a C-cup for her.”

Andy put his hands on the doctor’s desk and smiled. “A C-cup, huh? I was thinking D. I want her to be a ten and I think if she had those, man, the cash would pour in.”

I couldn’t stop shaking my foot. Escape seemed impossible. I should have known he knew the surgeon personally, just like he knew Dr. Majewski, who prescribed me “legal” drugs to get through scenes. And yeah, he was definitely aware of the situation.

Anything, anything at all to make more money. That’s just how Andy was. All about money. Which is great because most men in the world fall for the little traps he plasters online. And porn keeps on keeping on. So does Andy.

“Okay,” Andy interrupted my thoughts. “D it is.”

Well. Glad I had a say.

Dr. McNear showed me some pictures, explained the procedure, but I didn’t listen. I didn’t care. And since when do you get implants the same day you choose your size? Creepy place.

Andy never left my side, even as the anesthesia blurred my vision and dulled their laughs. Even during the surgery, which I hoped I’d never wake from, Andy probably laughed alongside Dr. McNear.

I woke up to the two of them talking about someone named Bridget. I can’t even describe the pain I felt, but I’ll give it a shot.

My unwanted plastic implants were high on my chest, so high I couldn’t see over them, and they were so tight I thought for sure I’d never be able to move my arms again. The nausea crept up slowly. Didn’t notice it at first, but once my eyes adjusted to the light and Andy’s laugh surged through my brain, gravity could’ve stopped and the spinning in my head could’ve kept Earth on track. Yeah, it was that bad.

“Looks like she’s up,” McNear said, clinking metal objects across the room.

“How soon till we can leave?” Andy said.

“Give her about an hour or so and it’ll be fine,” McNear said. “Here, take these. I know you are aware of these things, but I have to give them to you to keep myself out of trouble.” Footsteps trailed away and stopped. “Throw them out if you want.”

“You giving her pain pills or what?” Andy said, muffled by the sound of crinkling paper.

More footsteps. “Here.” Paper ripped. “I’ll put the prescription in your name. She may be in extreme pain for a few days since we went under the muscle, so you may want to use one of those. If not,”—another rip—“use one of these.”

“How long until she can work again?”

“I’d say six weeks. You won’t want them to look swollen for films anyway, it’ll be too noticeable.”

The more the anesthesia wore off the more I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Imagine being sliced opened, pried apart, and sewn back together while being awake. That’s how I felt. And I had a sick feeling those pills from McNear would rattle their way into Andy’s mouth and never touch mine.

Chapter 31
Ally

Cars drove by, casting shadows on the bedroom ceiling as I remembered the day Jessie and I said
I always will
instead of
I do.

Mom held my hand. We stood outside the wooden doors, waiting to walk down the aisle. Music stopped. The doors opened. And my stomach waltzed right up to my chest. I squeezed Mom’s hand tighter as the violins slowly came to full resonance to the tune of Kenny G’s
Going Hom
e.

Mom guided me down the aisle. I forgot I was walking, breathing, or even living.

So many faces smiled at me. Reality came back. I bit my lip and swallowed. Then I saw him. Hands clasped in front of him, he smiled sweetly. Nothing in the room existed when he smiled. I looked down. My dress shimmered and glided over white rose petals. Mom stopped. I stopped. The time had finally come. I closed my eyes, then looked at my soon-to-be husband.

Mom gave me away and Jessie took my hand. My eyes warmed, preparing to cry the most joyful tears they’d ever cry. And they did. So much that I can’t remember any words or vows or anything else until Pastor Dave said, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. Jessie Graham, you may kiss your beautiful bride.”

Our lips touched and I didn’t mind the surveying audience.

That kiss was unlike any kiss we ever had and any other we ever will have. It stands on its own. Untouched and filled with so much promise, so much hope, but yet not an ounce of expectancy. It was the present. And it was the best present I ever had.

“And so,” Jessie whispered. “Life begins.”

My tears subsided as I wallowed in memories and stared into space.

Jessie opened the door and stood in the doorway. “Allyson, I love you. I’m tired of this space between us. It kills me.” He stepped in the room. “I hate myself. I hate everything about myself for what I did to you.”

He looked different from the man I married that day. More tired, more real. Old Jessie, I knew him. New Jessie was just that. New and unfamiliar. I didn’t like unfamiliar. Too risky.

“Allyson, do you hear me?”

I looked up. Jessie stood in front of me, lips relaxed and lonely.

Hold me, Jess. Just hold me, I silently said to him, hoping he’d catch the ESP. I don’t have the strength to tell you I need you.

He stood there as lifeless as my fried blonde hair.

A tear fell from my cheek to the bed—our bed—soaking into the same feathers that cushioned our love on our honeymoon.

Hold me, Jess.

He didn’t hear me. He didn’t know. And I couldn’t tell him. I wasn’t sure if I actually wanted him to or not.

I sat up.

His hand touched my cheek and stayed there.

I put my hand over his. “I don’t know what to do.”

He wiped my face and sat down. “Let me fix this, Ally. Let me try.”

“Why did you do this to us?”

“I don’t know why I’m so stupid.” He put his hand on my knee. “I thought it would go away when I married you.”

I wanted to ask him a million questions. Do you think I’m beautiful? Do you love me? Really, really love me? Do you think of other women when we’re together? Do you stare at blondes when you’re out for a walk? What do you see when I’m not around? Why do you want them? Why don’t you want me instead?

But the more the questions piled up in the silence, the harder I cried. Jessie held me in his arms, a strange relief considering half of me wanted him as far away as possible. His affection brought shades of scarlet to the room, a shade I hadn’t seen for some time.

His fingers danced on my face and played with my hair.

“I love you,” he said.

I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against his.

He placed one hand on my neck and the other on my hand, and then his lips, with delicate purpose, touched mine. A car swooshed by. And like a candle lit after being smothered for so long, I kissed him back, so eager to be illuminated, no matter how dim the light.

He moved closer and wrapped one arm around my hip. His other hand smoothed over my face. I leaned into him, cradling his neck as he kissed my shoulders, my neck, my cheek, sending chills to every part of me, but warming me all the same.

So many thoughts raced through my head. The images, the blondes, they pestered me, haunted me, tried to ruin our moment.

Jessie’s index finger pressed against my lips, hushing my thoughts.

Okay. If anything, I’d pretend. I’d pretend none of this happened so I could make love to my husband, get over the past, and forgive even if I’d never forget.

He kissed me.

I let him.

His fingers traced my jaw, pulling my chin to his as he pressed his face against mine. Those fingers soothed me, they swept me away from reality for a few minutes, just a few minutes, as we kissed in the ribbons of moonlight shining from our bay window.

We kissed and touched and kissed some more.

Fireworks of every color burst in the room for the first time in weeks as we made love in the shadows of a summer night.

It would be romantic, perfect, and so Cinderella-like to say that the other women never showed up in my mind that night. But they did.

Sorry, but this is reality I’m sharing. And those women danced around my reality the entire night. Even in my dreams.

Chapter 32
Taylor

Unfortunately, I knew Andy too well. He never gave me a pain pill no matter how many times I screamed my bronchial tubes out in the bathroom. He did fling the door open once to say, “Shut up or I’ll kill you,” and cuss me out. Lovely, I know.

He also brought me stale bread and told me to drink water from the sink, which I couldn’t get to until the third day after my surgery, but I did manage to pull myself into the bathtub to run cold water over my aching chest. I kept myself well hydrated by drinking water from the tub’s faucet. Easier than pulling myself to a standing position, I guess.

So I stayed there, in the bathtub, cringing and twisting as I tried my hardest to endure the five-thousand bees stinging my chest. Every now and then I’d pass out from the pain. Or I’d throw up on myself and choke on the bile. But I never left the tub so I wouldn’t have to move much if I needed a drink. Plus I liked being near ice water in case my watermelons needed a cool down.

The only time Andy gave me a Percocet was when he took me (a week later) to get my stitches removed. Guess he wanted me to be loopy so I didn’t spill the truth. Like I would anyway. I bet McNear would’ve laughed and given Andy a high five.

No, thanks. I’d rather have kept silent and planned my escape for some other time. Some other time when Andy wouldn’t be watching me.

On the way home from my check up Andy turned to me while we stopped at a red light. “Will I ever be able to trust you?”

I wanted to spit in his face. And maybe my eyes screamed so, because Andy looked back at the red light disgusted, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. There used to be a sparkle in his eyes. A promise of hope.

The light turned green. I looked at the door handle next to me, wishing it didn’t have a child lock. An idea sparked. At the next red light I’d scream and pound the window until someone noticed and called 911.

Andy slowed at the next red light and came to a stop. His thumb drummed the steering wheel and his eyes never left the road. He looked too peaceful to be doing what he did to me.

He turned up the music.

Aerosmith.

Yeah, the same song as before.

Andy accelerated.

I couldn’t help it. A tear sunk into the skin on my face, melting the last of my hope. Which wasn’t much. Steven Tyler belted lyrics through the speakers. I didn’t sing this time. And wasn’t sure if I ever would again. Not to mention my implants. I could hardly move my lungs without feeling like my chest caught fire.

Andy stopped at another red light.

Tears coated my face like makeup. Through the blur I looked at the car beside us and saw hope. I blinked my eyes. No way. Maybe Daddy finally heard me. Maybe there was hope.

The cop beside us turned and looked at me. I looked up at zoned out Andy, then back to the cop. Here’s my chance.

Chapter 33
Ally

After Jessie and I finished making fireworks, he held me as I snuggled on his chest. Like old times. Except the real old times weren’t clouded by bad times, but that’s fine, for some reason I thought maybe we’d make it through, maybe I’d trust him again.

“Thank you,” Jessie said sweetening the silence with his love.

“For what?”

He picked up my arm and put it on his chest. “Want tickles?”

Tickles were our thing. Well, my thing. I don’t know why but when Jess ran his fingers up and down my arm, no matter how bad the day, no matter how much I couldn’t get to sleep, those tickles soothed me into some of the best nights of sleep I’ve ever had. They made me feel loved, safe. “Sure,” I said, resting my hand on the pillow above his shoulder, my fingers caught in the tangles of his hair.

He tickled me and tickled me and tickled me. But no matter how many tickles, I couldn’t fall asleep. And I couldn’t stop thinking about his words. “Yes, she’s more beautiful than you.” I’d rather be haunted by Jacob Marley than those words. A thousand Jacob Marley’s suffocating me in a room the size of my leg would be better, so much better, than the evocative frost of those words.

I shivered.

“You okay?” Jessie said.

I turned to my back and looked over at him.

“Can I ask you a question?” he said.

I nodded.

“Why didn’t you marry Sean?”

Uh, what?

One word. Tim.

“I mean”—he rubbed this bridge of his nose, right between his eyes—“he always loved you, treated you so nice, and you chose me. Why did you choose me over him?”

I licked my lips, a hundred and fifty percent unsure of what to say. I didn’t know the answer to that question. I never thought about it like that. But now, if Jess asked me, if he saw Sean’s love for me too, then maybe I did marry the wrong person.

I took a deep breath, exhaled in a rush.

For so long I believed in soul-mates. You found the one person you were made for and married them. No exceptions. No mistakes. But now I wondered. Perhaps mistakes were possible. Perhaps you could choose someone and settle and in turn, miss out on your soul-mate, the best one for you.

“Are you okay?” Jessie asked.

I nodded, this time a no.

“What? Would you rather be with him?”

Inside some chamber of my heart I didn’t know existed, my love for Jessie and the pain he caused fused together and swelled until my chest wall felt like it would burst open. I don’t know how else to explain that feeling. My heart wanted to run away, to not feel everything inside. But for some reason running away hurt worse than working it out. And honestly, I hated that. “I don’t know, Jess,” I said. “I don’t know what I want.” I couldn’t look at him, couldn’t stand glassy eyes on a man who rarely cried. His sniffling, my pain, my confused desires, everything all at once pulverized my heart until my chest shook and tears rained down my face.

Jessie tried to hold me. I pushed away. He reached again. I pushed away, wanting him to hold me at the same time. He got on his knees in bed, crossed my arms around my chest and pulled me into him. Wriggling to flee his grip, I wet his t-shirt with my tears. He tugged me closer, his strength fighting my . . . my. . . .

My weakness.

My sobs battled my screams while my twisting and turning battled his love. I suppose I didn’t want his love, as much as I needed it. His love terrified me, but it didn’t scare me enough. Or maybe I was tired.

I collapsed into him and cried until my head shrieked in pain and my lungs begged me to stop. He held me the entire time, rubbing my back, kissing my head, sometimes crying with me.

As my eyes dried up and my lungs thanked me, I thought of Dad. So badly, so, so badly I wanted to tell Jess about Dad. Explain everything, tell him that it wasn’t just his issues that were making me turn into a stranger, but also Mom’s lie exposed.

A stranger to my own life. Or perhaps my life had become a stranger to me.

I wanted to cry again. Jessie’s hand still stroked my hair, pulling damp pieces from my cheeks. I wiped my face, sunk into the bed, and pressed my face into the pillow.

Jessie cuddled into me. “You went to see him, didn’t you?”