Haze (43 page)

No matter what though, I felt stupid for checking in that alley, felt stupid for putting myself in such a potentially dangerous situation. Thankfully, no one was being critical of me—and it definitely helped me regain emotional stability.

"That guy has a record," the cop had said. "He's going to jail for a long time."

As it turned out, Sam had been stalking and aggressively forcing himself on a number of women over the years, which corresponded with HR's research. This time, he had gotten fixated with me, losing himself deeper and deeper in the world his mind had invented from scratch. He didn't have a wife, family, or anything else. Everything had been a lie with the intent of manipulating me.

Yeah, I met with HR, but I wasn't the first person to make the complaint. It had been everyone else. He had picked me out like a serial killer or something, observing me until he could make a move. And then things got messy and then this happened.

I imagined him, locked away in his room every night, counting down the days until Jack's big event, his hands clenched into fists, his veins bulging. It was clear that he was trying to hurt Jack as much as he was trying to hurt me. I was just lucky as hell that he hadn't succeeded. It made me want to sit down with him and ask him
why
.

Or, maybe not.

Honestly, with the newfound knowledge regarding Sam's criminal history, I worried that maybe he'd raped others as well, victimized women just like myself who didn't get so lucky. Maybe they could connect him to those crimes now and finally find justice for those poor, abused souls.

What would I have done if he'd actually raped me and then run off?
I wouldn't have known who did it unless they could have identified him from the rape test. The thought made me feel sick again.

God, I was probably going to have nightmares from this failed attempt. I couldn't even imagine what the real thing would have been like.

Fuck you, Sam.

After the police left us alone, Jack turned to me, his expression so fragile. "It happened again." Everyone else was waiting outside for us, but he didn't seem to be concerned about them.

"Jack, it's okay. I'm okay. You're okay. He could have killed us, but he didn't."

"But I swore I wouldn't let it happen again. I swore I'd watch you better. I just got caught up in my own stupid world." His features were so tense, so clenched up as he coped with the mistake he believed he had made.

I felt something flare up inside of me, something powerful and borderline angry yet supportive. "Jack, snap out of it. You
did
save me. You're acting like the girls that blame themselves for getting raped just because they wore a skimpy dress. Sam was a fucked up guy and he was probably planning this for a while. He lied to me, and now he did this." I hugged him, feeling weak, the tears resuming as I cried into his chest.

"Oh God, Effie," he said, his composure returning after witnessing my vulnerability. "I love you so much. That was so fucked up. It's just hard to comprehend."

"I know," I moaned between shirt-muffled sobs. This was the first moment we'd had alone since the police and doctors had cleaned up the mess. "I love you so much too," I said remorsefully, like I felt bad for allowing myself to hurt him at all, even if it was totally outside of my control. Plus, the painkillers were making me extra emotional.

"We're
gonna be fine," he said. "If we can survive
this
, we can survive anything together."

No matter how many mistakes we each thought we made, no matter how many ways we could have acted differently, he was right. I knew that I would probably forever scrutinize myself for walking toward that alley—Jack would have his own qualms as well—but then again, I did it because I was trying to be a good person, trying to help someone I believed was in need.

Could I really be mad at myself for trying to help someone else?
That was ridiculous.

"Can we handle moving my stuff tomorrow?" I said, laughing in unison with my crying.

"I think we'll take a rain check on that. It's after five now. We need to fucking sleep
sometime
."

Holy shit.
He was right. It had indeed been
all night
. We should have stayed and partied.

"Can we do something weird?" I asked, struck with a sudden pang of hunger.

"What's that?" he asked, concerned look on his face.

"I want pancakes. Can we get diner food before we go to bed?"

He smiled huge. "Yeah, that sounds better than anything right now."

We checked out from the hospital and said our goodbyes to Jack's band mates. It was incredible that they had stuck around all night with us, trading their sleep for sitting around in a hospital.

Once again, it was clear why Jack had chosen them for his band. Although we invited them to breakfast, they all politely declined due to sleepiness, and that was just fine with us. I wanted to soak up Jack all alone, just like my pancakes would soak up butter and maple syrup.

And when the food arrived, bliss hit me like a drug and followed us home until we fell into a
carb-induced slumber.

***

As expected, we skipped moving on Saturday, instead sleeping until late afternoon. Jack got up before me, but I wasn't sure how much earlier. I only knew because he was standing in the doorway when my eyes opened.

"I should call my parents," I said, the first words out of my mouth after achieving consciousness. "They'll hate me for telling them, but I have to. I want to." The decision felt somewhat impetuous and random, but I simply could not help it.

"Do it," Jack said, fiddling with his phone. He was shirtless, the bandage on his side a painful reminder of what we had just survived. He sat down next to me on the bed, my body still buried under blankets.

I don't know why that feeling of longing rushed in, but it did. Last night, I had only really thought about Jack, thought exclusively about the disruption of my immediate surroundings. Disruption of my current
world
.

As much as it would trouble my parents to hear about their daughter narrowly escaping rape and murder, it would be a way to reconnect, a way to re-include them in my life in a very real way. I had barely escaped danger, and now I desperately wanted to hug them both, the people that had raised and protected me through the earliest portion of my life.

My brain overflowed with memories of growing up, learning to ride a bike, Christmas mornings, family vacations to the beach. I was suddenly imagining my dad with a mustache and laughing inside. He had shaved it off almost a decade ago, but prior to that, it was a serious part of his appearance. My mom always jokingly suggested that he should grow it back and he always grumbled about it.

Good, sweet, loving memories. Jack was my
now
, and they would always be my
then
. Stress made the desire to reconnect more poignant than ever before.

I hadn't called my mom since I asked her for rent money, something I regretted every time I remembered it. Life had sped up after that, and I hadn't really wanted to get into the details of my love life. The money sat in my account the whole time, unused as Jack's finances covered us both—and my new job's very plentiful income sweetened things further.

My phone was cracked again, so this call would be the last prior to repair/replacement. It felt symbolic, in a way. My life had been fractured similarly, and now I'd look to repair it as well.

I couldn't believe how bad my luck with cell phones had been. Honestly, I had gone for years with my first cell phone, never having any issues or breaking it. Now, I'd smashed two in two months. It wasn't entirely my fault, however. I wasn't as much of a klutz as I was making myself out to be.

After so much potent introspection, weeping came easily, and Jack comforted me, holding me in his arms. "Just cry," he whispered. "I'm here for you. Always."

"Shut up," I complained. "You're too perfect and it's just making me cry more."

He handed me a wad of tissues and groaned as he stood up from the bed. "God, I'm so sore. Everything hurts."

After he said it, I realized how sore I was as well. It felt like I had been through a very rough and competitive boxing match. "I need painkillers," I said. "We need to go to a pharmacy." My head was throbbing slowly with my heartbeat. The doctor had given me a prescription last night, but after all the drugs at the hospital, I had been set to make it through the night.

"I already took care of it," he said with a smile. He tossed a bottle of pills to me. "Don't get addicted to these now. Vicodin is serious stuff."

I greedily dumped one onto my tongue and swallowed it with water. "Oh, God, thanks again." Medicinal relief couldn't come soon enough.

"It's nothing. Every fucking second with you is worth it." I guess we were both being a little extra dramatic and verbose after such a terrible event.

I smiled, picked up my phone, and started dialing, feeling extra brave after hearing Jack's powerful words—and then my calm failed the second I heard my mom's voice. "I almost got raped and murdered
and I'm okay and I swear I'm all right and my boyfriend, Jack, saved me!" A flood of tears soaked the sheet as I reflexively used it instead of the giant pile of tissues to my right.

Unsurprisingly, they booked a flight and were on a plane to NYC the next morning—and I would have to introduce them to the man of my dreams, face to face. I think I subconsciously made the call because I knew this would be the end result. I couldn't hide anymore. I would peel off every layer, every bit of mask that I had hidden behind.

I hated that I had so much to tell them, so many details that hadn't arisen at all due to the distance I had created between us. And not so much the physical distance as the emotional distance. I had taken their advice and come to New York, but I guess I had hidden myself upon arrival, trying to make it on my own without relying on them for support, emotionally, financially, or otherwise. I hadn't gone home at all, even though they would have paid for the plane ticket.

They obviously knew about my breakup with Timothy, but they didn't know about his moving here and attacking me. Yeah, I would have hours of conversation already queued up in my head before we even said hello.

This was my world now, a world that was becoming clearer all the time. They needed to be part of it, needed to be a part of Jack and me, because it wasn't about to end anytime soon.

Jack insisted upon meeting them at the airport in a limo. It was ridiculous, but at the very least, they'd get a kick out of it. We drove slowly to JFK, dressed in casual clothes as we sat in the back of Jack's regular method of luxury transportation. No champagne today, and I was okay with that. I didn't want to be drunk when they arrived.

My mom had called me to inform me that they were waiting outside the arrivals area as we pulled into the airport. I told her we'd pick her up, and when she asked what we were driving, I just told her that she'd know when she saw it. I giggled to myself after hanging up the phone, amused at the surprise I was harboring.

"What?" Jack asked.

"Try not to be
too charming
," I said jokingly.

"You're terrible," he complained. "I can't just
turn it off
!"

I kissed him deeply, my tongue darting into his mouth. "I love you," I said post-kiss. "I can't believe the shit we've been through lately."

"No kidding," he said, lightly stroking my hair. The midday sun was glowing on his skin, framing his beautiful face as he touched me. I was glad to see him feeling better already.

We pulled up to the arrivals gate, navigating past the scores of people and cars that littered the area. Everyone was picking someone else up at that same moment, and this happened to be the only place to do it. Percy found a space right next to the curb, big enough for the limo, a minor miracle given the chaos. When I peered out the tinted window, I saw my mom and dad standing there, staring at our ridiculous car with weary eyes, oblivious to the fact that I was nestled away inside it with Jack.

"Are you ready?" I asked Jack.

"I've always been ready." He gave me that gorgeous wide smile, and I almost passed out like I had the first time I witnessed it. Jack kissed my cheek and pointed at the door. "You first."

I took a deep breath and then opened the door, hiding behind it before I stepped out. My parents were still aimlessly looking around, trying to find the mysterious vehicle that I had refused to identify. And then, my dad's eyes met mine and he was frantically tapping my mom's shoulder and pointing.

They walked briskly toward me, roller suitcases following behind them. "Effie, sweetheart!" My mom's voice soared over the ambient noise. I felt fragile, but I kept walking.

"What the hell is this damn thing?" My dad's voice was full of lighthearted curiosity as he tried to digest the bizarre situation.

They hugged me together, and I wrapped my arms around both of their bodies. A rush of relief hit me at once as I felt something quite like
reunion
. I was going to come clean to them, to let them know the real me from this day forward. And the real Jack, of course.