Neighbors (10 page)

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 ea
t. Are you hungry?” His tone is endearing.

I sha
ke my head.

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

I nod again and si
t 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 slid
es 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 does
n’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. Tears 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 t
o 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 g
et 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.

Thoug
hts 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 ask
s. 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 wrestl
e 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 begi
ns. 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 be
en through so much.” He kisses my hand. “I want to take care of you, protect you. Help you heal. 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 ha
nd, 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 f
ind 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 fo
r 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.

“Can we have it to go?” I ask. The waiter takes it away
to wrap.

I drive behind him until we reach his house. I park in front of his door and race up his steps to meet him.
My hands circle his neck. Tingles run through my body as my mouth reaches up to his. We both gasp for air. I tug at his shirt.

“Inside,” he instructs
edging me toward the door.

He barely
has the door closed and I am pawing at him again. He grabs my hands, stifling me. “Wait!” he says. I freeze, still panting. “Are you sure? I’ll wait.” There’s a deep sincerity in his eyes.

I raise a hand to his cheek and smile. “
I don’t want to wait any more.” I pull my shirt off and slide my slacks down. The look in his eyes changes from concern to lust as they drink me in.

Again he asks,
“Really, are you sure?”

Both of my hands
cup his chin. “Yes. Make love to me.”

He ho
lds up a single finger and I’m stalled again. In a quick motion, he sweeps me off my feet and carries me up to the bedroom. Gently, he puts me on top of the fluffy, beige comforter.