Page 147 of The Perfect Love

Need You to Hold Me

Chelsea

Things are looking brighter.

If I have a one-word mantra for this year, it’s gratitude.

After everything that happened over winter break, it’s the key thing I want to focus on. Gratitude for where I am, how far I’ve come, for Trevor and my friends, that Hyla’s doing better. Thank God, she’s doing better and getting healthier by the day.

She’s living with Liz now and getting the help she needs. I swear, the other night on the phone, I heard her genuine laugh for the first time. I didn’t realize how good she was at putting on that happy mask until she finally stripped it off. For two people who aren’t biologically related, she and Trevor sure have a lot in common.

He’s also starting therapy this week, and I hope it’ll be good for him. I want him to be the best version of himself. He deserves that. And he deserves to let go of the weight of the world that he’s constantly trying to shoulder. He deserves peace.

Which I’ve been surprised to find has settled over me despite all the craziness over break.

Bridget and Lex haven’t reached out—not that I’m expecting them to—and I’m okay with that. Having the courage to finally speak my truth came with an overwhelming sense of freedom. I don’t have to cling to those relationships because of what we once had. I can still love my memories with them, while acknowledging they might not be an active part of my future. That’s okay. I’ll always care for them and silently cheer them on from a distance.

I glance across the room at Rae and make my way over to her. We’re hosting the Promise support group meeting on campus tonight.

“Good turnout,” she whispers.

“It is,” I agree. “I love it, and I hate it.”

“I know. I hate that so many women have endured anything like this, but I love that they feel safe enough to come here.”

“Agreed.”

It’s a complicated feeling, but one I embrace. It sucks that we’ve all been through it, but it’s what we do now that matters, and supporting each other as we heal is big.

Rae kicks off the meeting and we both introduce ourselves. As usual, we don’t force anyone to talk. We simply open the floor to anyone who wants to tell their story or discuss something.

A few people who are new give a little information about themselves, meanwhile I make it a point to look around the room at who isn’t talking. Who’s the most withdrawn or looks in need of the most help. Many of the women I recognize—it’s one of the things I love, the community of support we’re building—but a few I don’t. Then one girl catches my eye. She’s got her hood pulled up and isn’t making eye contact with anyone. I make a mental note to check in with her later.

One of the women who has been coming to the Promise support groups since at least the first one I attended back in September holds up her hand when there’s a lull. Rae nods to her to go ahead.

“I wanted to talk and maybe ask advice about… having sex again. I haven’t since… and I don’t know. I guess I’m wondering what anyone else’s experiences have been, if they’d be willing to share.”

The tiniest bit of pink splashes across my cheeks and I force a breath, trying to keep my breathing even. I don’t want it to be obvious how intently I’m listening. Hoping for an answer. Because it’s been on my mind too. Iwantto have sex with Trevor. I’ve known that for weeks now. But I chicken out every time I try to bring it up because thoughts of that night infiltrate my mind, and I don’t want any of that mixed in with Trevor.

Rae starts by sharing her story, how she took it in stages and it helped for her that it was someone she trusted, but she also acknowledged that she wasn’t raped, so it’s very different.

One girl speaks up saying she forced herself to have sex within a few weeks. She cried and even threw up after the first few times, but she did it because it was her way of taking control back.

Another says she still isn’t ready, but that’s partially because in healing, she learned a lot about herself and has discovered she’s demisexual—which in the loosest terms means she needs to establish a strong emotional connection before sexual attraction forms.

A third woman, who Rae says has been going to the support group at Promise for almost two years now and also volunteers as a peer counselor, talks next.

“I tried a lot of things. Meaningful sex. Meaningless sex. It wasn’t until I got together with my now-fiancé that I started enjoying sex again. He made it really safe for me. That’s going to be key with anyone. You have to feel completely safe. After that, it’ll really depend on you. Go slow. Try different things.” She huffs out a breath. “What I’m about to say won’t work for everyone, but it worked—still works—for me. My fiancé taking charge and being dominant helped me a lot. It took my mind off things. We don’t do the Dom/sub thing, but there can be kinks within the BDSM realm that may be healing for some. I’m actually doing my thesis on some of this stuff right now. Sex and sexuality are not one size fits all. The absolute best advice I can give is to focus on reconnecting with your body and figuring out your desires first, and then exploring them. You can do that through research, with a partner, reading romance books… however it feels right to you. The more you understand your own needs, the easier you can find what you enjoy.”

Wow. That was a lot. And also very useful.

Rae thanks her and someone else starts talking, but I’m replaying what she said. About her fiancé being dominant and it taking her mind off things. That might be exactly what I need. Trevor talking dirty to me always helps get me out of my head. Maybe the more immersive sex is, the easier it’ll be for me.

I need to talk to Trevor about it. My stomach both lightens and knots at the thought. At least I’ve already done some of the work of reconnecting with my body, and I know without a doubt I’m completely safe with Trevor and can explore this with him.

The topic of conversation shifts and we continue on until everyone who wants to talk has a chance, then we disband and people can grab refreshments—cookies and brownies that Rae and I had a blast making before this—talk amongst themselves, or head out.

As I’m walking toward the refreshments table, I spot the girl in the hoodie, and surprisingly, she makes eye contact with me and aims for me.

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