Page 78 of Reclaiming Love

Chapter 43

“If you want, as part of a normal work related procedure, I can ask HR to look into this. Get his PC looked at, for other possible images. It might be a way to deal with this matter and with him.” This had been Nadine’s suggestion and Melissa had to admit, it seemed to be the best way of dealing with the situation.

Nadine had left it to Melissa to think about what she wanted to do and how or if she wanted to proceed. What Melissa didn’t want was her shame becoming public knowledge. It had been bad enough that Nadine had seen any of the footage. She would die if anyone else ever saw it.

Nadine seemed more than eager to help her—not only because she was like a friend almost, though there was, and always would be, that boundary between them with her being so high up. But there was something else. Nadine had said she knew what it felt like to be a victim. Melissa hadn’t thought about it at the time, but now it occurred to her that even someone as high up as Nadine, in a position of power, confident and strong, could still have suffered some sort of harassment in her past.

The thought both alarmed her, and yet made her see that it could happen to anyone. That she wasn’t weak because she’d allowed it to happen. That she hadn’t really let it happen at all. Matt had made it seem that the choice had been hers. He’d let the guilt eat at her, and paralyze her. He’d made her think she was too dumb to figure it out.

She’d been a victim. And being a victim was sometimes harder to see when the abuse came from someone who claimed to love you.

Nadine had gone to her meeting in the afternoon, and Melissa did what Nadine had suggested: taken the rest of the day off. She spent the rest of the afternoon curled up in bed.

The dim beat of her cell ringing on her table disturbed her thoughts. She ignored it, trying to use this time to think of all that had happened. When the ringing stopped and then started up again, she ignored it a second time. When followed by a beep signifying that a message had been left, curiosity got the better of her.

Noah. Her insides fluttered.

Two missed calls.

It was only four o’clock. He’d still be at work, she guessed. What did he want? She opened his text message:

Hope ur ok

R u?

Disappointment curled over her. She’d thought that he might be arranging to meet her, maybe later, after work. She put her hand on her heart. At least he’d called to see if she was okay. That meant something. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have bothered. He’d called her twice.

Ruminating about his motivations, she called him back, not even stopping to think it through.

“Hey. Sorry I missed your call.”

“How are you?”

“I’m…okay.”

“Good. That’s good. It’s good that you’re okay.” His voice rang with a touch of uncertainty. As though he wanted to say more, but was deliberately holding back.

She sat down on her bed, one arm folded across her stomach, as she listened for the hidden words he kept to himself. “You sound a little…I don’t know—different.” She told him.

The silence boomed between them.

“Noah?”

“Melissa, do you want to meet up today?” She heard the tightness in his voice. He was going to tell her that he didn’t want to see her again. She frantically thought back to their earlier conversation. How had she left it? She hadn’t asked for an ultimatum. Or hinted that she wanted more. What, she wondered, had prompted this? He sounded strange.

“Uh—sure.” It would mean traipsing back towards work again, assuming he wanted to meet her at the coffee shop again. But it would be worth it. To see him again.

“We could meet at mine—no, we can’t,” he said almost as suddenly.

“No, we can’t” she agreed.

“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I thought it might make a change to meet someplace else other than the coffee shop.”

“You could always come over to mine.”

A split second pause and then, “Sure.”

He was coming over. The prospects for the remainder of the day had suddenly improved—until he got her thinking.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, panicked by the idea of what and why he might want to come over.

“I wanted to see you. To talk. That’s all. What time do you get back? I could meet you somewhere after work.”

“I’m at home already,” she confessed.

“Why? What happened?” She noted the concern in his voice.

“We can talk when you get here,” she said, deciding in that moment, to own up to everything and come clean. She gave him her address and then freshened up. Not because she expected anything to happen between them, but because she looked as if she’d been hit by a trolley.

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