Page 164 of The Breaking Pointe
I gently set my phone down, sniffling in a deep breath and glancing at Bonnie. Her glare is becoming stronger by the second.
“Can you not?”I say out loud, having had enough with her silent judgment. I sip more of my coffee, turning to face her as I commit to her staring contest.
She blinks once, blankly, sighing through her snout as she adjusts her sitting position.
“Yeah, I know.I should go, hm?”I sigh back, feeling more guilty as Noelle’s soft voice replays in my head.
She’s needed me there since we met. Someone to be there. She doesn’t ask because it probably feels like a laundryload of stress to bestow upon someone, but we’re now both victims of something together, now. Before we even met, we shared fears that maybe didn’t come from the same abuser, but the experience is not far off from each other. Invisible String Theory says that means something.I’m sure just going and listening to whatever the sermon is with her would teach me a thing or two.Not just about myself, but about how to take care of the one I love without instilling more fear within her. I strive to learn how to do everything differently than Daniel, and even if I think I know everything about how that process works—I simply don’t.
I want her to know that she can need me and that’s okay. More than okay.
For Noelle, a new fear can appear at any given time that she wasn’t aware of before. I understand it has nothing to do with me, but if we learn how to manage it together, then we can manage our love for each other in a healthy manner. I think I can say that we each deserve that, aftereverything.
Somewhat chugging my coffee, I make way to our halfway furnished bedroom to pick out a decent outfit and dress myself as quickly as possible—simultaneously pressing the thought of seeing Noelle’s face when she realizes she isn’t alone in any of this. I’ll go to every meeting from here on out if it makes a difference in how she and I flow together. Our connection needs to be cradled. It’s fragile to me. The more we experience together, the more I feel the need to nurture what we’ve built.The reason that part is so pertinent is because it’s the first time I have felt that way.
The first time I’ve ever loved like this.
* * *
I didn’t realize actually being in the presence of the meeting would make me nervous. I’m not speaking, or even greeting anyone but Noelle, but it’s a vulnerability I have yet to delve into.I listen to other domestic violence victims and survivors, and their stories.There’s much more premiseto the concept than people take the time to understand.I want to understand.If that means understanding more than just Noelle, and other people too, then I’ll listen to as many testimonies as it takes.There aren’t any great lengths at this point that I wouldn’t embark on.
The meeting is being held at an old office building, with a shocking amount of space.The way Noelle had spoken about the center, I imagined it was a small gathering—say possibly ten to fifteen people max—meeting every week.
This was a much greater event.
Finding parking is already a task in New York, but it’s even more horrendous at this center.By the time I’d found
a decent enough spot and managed to parallel park, I was hoping the damn thing wasn’t over.To my benefit, it wasn’t. Just as I was walking in, I began to examine the large crowd stuffed inside. People whisper amongst one another, some in groups and some people alone. Beyond crowds of people is a stage with a podium, and a brunette woman speaking to folks who were neatly lined up in chairs before her. Most seats are already occupied, but every person is watching the stage, respectfully listening.
But no signof mygirl.
Keeping my entrance noise to a minimum, I weasel my way to the back of the room as the room fills with the echo of applause.The brunette woman steps down from the podium, getting replaced by another woman.I finally find a spot against the wall where I can stand, and I hurry to it, fixing myself and looking around to observe more faces. Nobody resembles her in the slightest. I wanna make my presence known.
“Hi, I…” The woman takes a deep breath before continuing. “I’m Noelle.I’m not a new member,but I never talked up here before.”She nervously but whimsically strolls through her words, melodically filling my ears and stealing my attention.
Lifting my head from the crowd of sitting people, my eyes shoot to the podium, finding instant peace within the sight of bronzy, ginger hair and a rosy, freckled face.
“I don’t know why I got up here, to be honest.Talking about anything that has to do with my story has become another troublesome thing,” she continues, twisting a small lock of hair between her fingers. “Almost two months ago, my abuser attacked me in my home. We’ve been broken up
for over two years now, and I even have a new partner. This partner came to my rescue and as a result, he was physically hurt.” Her voice quiets down as she pauses, while staring at the floor.
“I thought it was my fault, for a while.I pretty much convinced myself, and until a few days ago, I thought that was the truth.Not only did he hurt me, but now he hurt someone I love, and this guy is a really good guy.I really mean it.” She breaks her stern facial expression to crack a smile, causing me to do the same.
“He thinks I’m good, too.” Her smile fades just as quick as it grew, and she brings her hands together, fussing with her fingers.“I’m trying to do this thing where I accept all the good that comes my way, but I’m afraid the history I have has me so stuck on the idea that maybe I’m not actually worthy of said good, and that the good is only in my head.” She tucks her hair and uses her sleeve to wipe a tear before crossing her arms.“He risked his life for me though.So that must mean something, even if it’s a small something. And as much as he’s risked a lot for me, all I’ve risked is my heart being broken, but instead he’s made it the safest it’s ever been.”
I’m buzzing, and she has no idea.I haven’t risked anything at all except my pride. Which I’ve now learned to discard.
“Moral of the story,” she sniffles and smiles, “happy endings do exist, because I feel like a princess and I have my prince and we’re finally free.” She giggles. “Thank you.” She gives a quick, dainty wave as she comes down from the stage and makes her way to the back of the room to the snack table.
Ifollowherwithmygazeandstudyhowshethanks
different people and smiles at them, showing unfiltered gratitude. She stops at one person, specifically, and begins conversation, still having not noticed me, now facing away from me.
“You never told me how much he loves you.Or that you love him.That was pretty moving.”The guy chuckles, sipping at his drink from a white Styrofoam cup.
“I love him so much,” she insists as the guy smiles and continues to walk to a seat. She turns to the table and begins to make a cup of coffee, and I take my opportunity to walk over to her.
Stepping right behind her, she doesn’t budge.Still un- aware that I’m right in her bubble.
