Pieces For You (15 page)

When he finally loosened his hold, Ev proved her merits as a self-defense student by flipping an unsuspecting Hunter over the back of the couch in an impressive Jiu-Jitsu move.  He hit the ground with a loud thud, followed by a deep groan.

Ev walked over to me and I high-fived her.  “Bad ass!”

She pulled me into a fierce hug, offering me the love and acceptance only family could provide.

“They are self-absorbed, ignorant assholes who never deserved you—you are better off without them in your life,” Ev said with conviction.

“You guys are definitely an upgrade.  My assigned family sucks compared to the one I selected myself.  Proof once again of my impeccable taste.”

We ended our hug with an extra squeeze and I went to dress for my appointment with Thia.  So much had transpired the last week, I wasn’t certain what to focus on for the session.  I slid into a studded denim miniskirt and brown ribbed tank top, accompanied by my favorite brown cowboy boots and a chunky bronze medallion necklace.  The outfit was fun, a little wild, and represented the Sam I was versus the cream-clad innocent I presented to my parents last night.  It was me.

I rushed to my car, not wanting to be late.  Safely belted in the driver’s seat, I was about to pull out when I noticed something tucked beneath my windshield wiper.  Annoyed by the physical equivalent of SPAM emails, I lazily rolled down my window and clicked my windshield wipers into motion.  After several rounds of playing ‘catch the fluttering paper,’ I successfully snagged the offending advertisement.  Unless this was a 50% off coupon for a designer outlet, I was going to be pissed.

What the—?  I read the message again, ensuring I had understood correctly.  Did I just receive a poetic threat on my windshield?  Was this how
his
people scared off all the other victims from testifying?  Maybe lyrical threats and ransom notes were the new rage in the criminal underworld.  I was glad to see he was bettering himself in prison and investing his time in creative pursuits.  Jackass!  If he thought this would frighten me, he had another thing coming.  He had already done his worst…what more could he do?

I shoved the ridiculous note under my visor and threw the car into gear.  I had a therapy session to get to, and he had derailed my life enough.  I arrived at Thia’s office and didn’t even have a chance to sit in the waiting room before she greeted me.

“Hello, Sam.  You came back…a brave one.”

“Brave, crazy, the two are hard to distinguish.”

Thia smiled at me and I caved immediately, unwilling to endure another staring contest.

“It feels more like a month has passed, so much has happened in the last seven days.”

“Tell me about it.”

I told her about my parents, wanting to share the worst of my week first.  She listened intently, never interrupting my stream of consciousness.  When I shared about my meltdown after leaving their home, she made a note on the pad resting on her leg.

“What are you going to do now?” Thia asked.

“Nothing, they’ve disowned me and I disowned them right back.  I have a family to love me that doesn’t include them.  Just because that family isn’t blood doesn’t make them any less significant,” I answered defensively.

Thia laughed, “Retract the claws, I wasn’t questioning the quality of your family unit.  What I intended to ask was—how will you survive now, financially, after losing what could be considered a winning lotto ticket?”

“I understand better than anyone that money will not buy happiness.  It’s not the root of all evil, as far as I’m concerned, but it is low on my list of what really matters.  I’ll be fine without the big payday after they croak.”

“But how will you live, pay rent, car insurance, food, gas, etcetera?  You haven’t had to worry about these realities before; it is added pressure during an already difficult time.”

Oh, she was assuming I was a spoiled brat who had no clue how to survive on my own.  Now I understood. 

“I’ve had a job since my freshman year of high school.  When Ev began working I was bored, and if I had too much free time my mother would try to rope me into attending random social events, so I found a job, too.  I’ve always enjoyed working and earning money independent from my family.” 

Thia nodded.

“The condo was a high school graduation present from my parents, as was my car.  They are in my name—no rent or car payment, just taxes and maintenance fees.”

Thia nodded again, clearly expecting me to continue.

“I haven’t touched a dime of my parents’ money since the attacks.  I didn’t want their financial assistance if that was the only type of assistance they were willing to provide.  I didn’t want to lessen their guilt for abandoning me; I even paid for TPC myself.  It’s almost comical that my father still doesn’t realize I haven’t charged a single expense since my release from the hospital.”

Thia smiled with pride.  “You were well prepared for your parents’ ultimatum, even though it was unexpected.  You’re confident you can get by with a low-wage job?  You must have blown through your savings if you covered TPC.”

“I’m fine.  My Grandmere was an eccentric artist who left her husband and the United States once her children entered boarding school and moved to Paris.  I only met her a few times, but we understood each other.  She was the black sheep of her generation and apparently I am the black sheep of mine—shunning the money and the family name for real life and real friends.  Of course, she and my grandfather never divorced—it was unseemly, as you know.  So when he died, she inherited all his money.  When she died a few years ago, she left most of it to my father, but secretly held several million in a trust for me without anyone’s knowledge, except her attorney.  Grandmere left a note saying it was my ‘security’ to ensure I could always follow my heart and be true to myself.  The trust came to fruition when I turned twenty-one.  I’ve had access to the money for the last eighteen months.  TPC was my first withdrawal.  It’s not the obscene wealth my parents have, but if I’m sensible it could sustain me for the rest of my life.”

Thia looked slightly stunned by my admission.  I guess discussing four million dollars dismissively was shocking to most people.  The money had already been invested, and my goal was to live off the interest.  Not a bad annual stipend, but it still required fiscal responsibility.

“Oh, and I did my homework and am now employed at Higher Yearning, which will provide supplementary income.”

“Well, as long as you have the supplementary income from Higher Yearning, I guess I don’t have to be concerned with how you will pay for your sessions,” she said dryly.  “So since I don’t need to kick you out, what else happened this week?”

“In addition to the parental showdown and finding a job, I’ve eaten at least two square meals per day.  And I’ve been to the gym every day with the exception of yesterday, but I’m meeting Griffin after our session to resume my routine.”

“That’s a new name—Griffin.  Tell me about him.”

I gave Thia the low-down on Griffin, leaving nothing out.

“Do you want a relationship with him?”

“Am I capable of a real relationship with him…with anyone?”

She scribbled on her pad again.  Shit, that couldn’t be a good sign.

“What are you writing?”

“Grocery list—wouldn’t want to forget cat food.  My seventeen babies would be distraught.”

Oh my god, was she really a ‘cat lady’ or was she just messing with me?  I couldn’t tell. 

“Have you experienced physical attraction or sexual arousal since the attacks?”

“Yes!” I shouted triumphantly.  “I was worried I would never be turned on again…I used to like sex.  A lot.”

“The return of your sexual desire is a good indication that you are making progress in your recovery.  I assume Griffin was the inspiration?”

“Oh yeah, if you saw him you’d understand.  If I wasn’t turned on by him, then all hope would be lost.”

“But you don’t believe he wants you?” 

“I think he’s attracted to me, but that isn’t the same thing as wanting to bed someone with all my baggage,” I said regretfully.

“Any sexual partner, especially the first after the attack, will need to be aware of what you’ve been through and prepared for possible triggers.  It’s a lot to ask of a casual sex partner.”

“Don’t feel the need to sugarcoat it for me, Doc.”

“That was the sugar-coated version.  Do you want the ugly truth?”

“Do you charge extra for the ugly truth?”

“No, only sugarcoating incurs an additional charge, like sprinkles.”

I gestured for her to continue.

“You would be the exception to the rule if you have a beautiful experience the first time you attempt sexual intimacy.  In fact, most women find it takes several attempts to complete the act.  Your partner will have to be patient, prepared to stop at any time.  Many rape victims also report it takes time before experiencing orgasm.”

She observed my horror-stricken face and laughed before continuing.

“Some men aren’t able to handle the pressure of performing while concerned about triggering a flashback.  Additionally, male pride tends to struggle with the inability to produce an orgasm in their partner.  Many established relationships and marriages can’t survive the strain in combination with the emotional baggage outside the bedroom.  As you can imagine, the failure rate of new relationships is exponentially higher.  It generally takes at least a year before most women are prepared to engage in more than a casual relationship.”

“I liked the sugar-coated version better,” I groaned.

“I’m sure you do.  Time’s almost up, and while I’d love to gouge you for more of your hardly earned money, I have a class to teach at the University, so it’s homework time.  Work on sexual stimulation by yourself—remind your body of the pleasures of sex without the pressure of a partner.  Go out with your friends and push your comfort zone, a bar maybe.  Go somewhere alone with a lot of people that makes you nervous…the park, a movie, I don’t care where.  And continue eating, you’re still too skinny.  I get hungry just looking at you.”

“Got it; masturbate, bar hop, movie, eat.  Should I take myself to dinner and a movie before I get frisky so I can still respect myself in the morning?”

“Play hard to get.  It is good to have standards,” she said straight-faced, but added a wink.  “See you next week.”

Once in my car, I withdrew my cell phone to text Griffin, only to find a text from him awaiting me.

I was bummed to lose my exercise partner and my massage, but I soldiered on.  It was my first workout alone, but I managed to remember everything Griffin had taught me.  I kept my focus on my routine, hanging the proverbial ‘do not disturb’ sign with my body language.  Thankfully, this time of day the gym was packed with stay-at-home moms.  Not a lot of danger there.

I ran home to shower after the gym before visiting the foot spa to make up for the massage I missed.  Best $28 I had spent in ages.  I would have to bring Ev back with me next time; she would love it, and we were long overdue for a girls’ day.

I loved Hunter and he was perfect for my bestie, but I did miss our chick time.  We saw each other every day and talked all the time, but rarely found time for the two of us to just be silly girls.  My life was seriously lacking silly the last few months.  Hell, it was missing fun, too.  We used to go to The Spot, the bar where Griffin worked, every Thursday to sip drinks and listen to local performers.  I wasn’t sure how comfortable I would be at a bar now, but I missed our routine and wanted to try.  Plus, it would accomplish one of my homework assignments.  And I knew if I was with Griffin and Hunter, I would feel safe—even Ev could hold her own after months of Krav Maga classes.

I arrived home excited about my idea.  When Griffin showed up with Italian take-out, I laughed, reminded of Thia’s desire to stuff me full of pasta and meatballs.  We all settled into our same seats as last week.

“Hey, Ev.  Do you think the boys choose to sit across from each other so they can play footsie under the table?” I asked with a smirk.

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Ev concurred.