Page 129 of Under Your Scars
I laugh again. “You have no idea how right you are about that.”
“I always was the genius of the family,” he jests. “Dad will learn to tolerate your tall, rich, mysterious boyfriend. Give him time.”
“Tall, rich and mysterious, huh?”
“Oh, and hot. Did I mention he’s hot? I’d still hit that even if I was straight. Is he that big and thickeverywhere?”
“Oh my God. Get out!” I yelp, poking Travis in the chest. He giggles and begins to climb down the ladder, and right before his head disappears, I whisper, “Yes.”
He snickers. “Ha! I knew it.”
Travis disappears, and then after a minute of silence, I hear someone else come up the tree. Christian’s head pops up over the porch. He pauses when he looks at me.
“Well come on. Don’t tell me you’re scared of heights.”
He scoffs. “Elena, my right foot could not fit through the door of this treehouse. I get myself in there, and I am never getting back out.”
I meet him halfway, lying on my stomach so our faces are just inches from each other as he balances himself on the rope ladder and holds himself up with his arms on the porch.
“Heard my mother was defending my honor,” I say dryly.
“I have never heard so many insults strung together in one sentence. Also, what the fuck does ‘I’m gonna show you how the cow ate the cabbage’ mean?”
I giggle at his attempt to mimic my mother’s thick accent. “It means you’re about to hear the hard truth.”
“Oh,” he says, seemingly still confused. “You southerners are strange.” I smile and then my face falls. He notices immediately. “Are you okay?”
I shrug. “Not particularly. I honestly just want to go home.”
Christian nods. “Just say when, and I’ll make sure the jet is ready for us.” He sighs with his mouth in a thin line. “I’m sorry. This was supposed to be a nice getaway from the city with your family. Your father and I ruined it.”
“Youdidn’t ruin anything. He’s always been like this.” I lean a bit closer to press my lips softly to his. “Let’s go pack.”
Christian and I walk side-by-side back to the house where things have seemingly calmed down. My dad is in his home office with the door shut and my mom is cleaning up the breakfast no one ate. When she spots us, she gives me a sympathetic smile.
“I wish I could tell you I knew what his problem was.”
“It’s me,” Christian answers. “He doesn’t like me.”
“That is no excuse for the way he’s been acting. You’re with Elena, which means you are part of this family now. He’s going to have to accept that.” My mom rubs Christian’s arm. “I will not let him make you feel unwelcome in our home.”
I am so relieved that my mom is on our side when it comes to our relationship. I don’t know what I would do if both of my parents disliked Christian. She has the best chance out of any of us to knock some sense into my dad.
I sigh. “Christian? Do you think you could give my mom and I a minute alone?”
He nods. “Of course. I’ll go pack our things.”
Christian leaves the room, and my mom and I sit on the back porch for some privacy. It’s chilly outside. I tuck my hands into my sweater and thank God for whoever invented fuzzy socks.
“I know this isn’t very ethical but I’m coming to you as a patient and not your daughter.” She nods and I continue. “After I was raped, the worst part of it all was the fear of being pregnant. I took the morning after pill at the hospital, but I was constantly worried about it until I got my period. Now…God, how do I say this?” I mumble to myself, playing with a split end in my hair. I suppose the best way to say it is just to say it. “I feel dirty. And not just because of what happened to me, but because I don’t think I’ve ever wanted Christian more in my life than I do right now. Isn’t that wrong? Isn’t sex the last thing I should want?”
My mom blinks at me. We’ve always been close. I’ve never hidden anything from her, but she looks just as stunned to hear my words as I am to say them.
“Well, everyone reacts to trauma differently. It’s true, many people who have been raped find touch intolerable. For months, years, even for their remaining lifetime, the idea of sex becomes unimaginable for them, even if it’s with someone they love and trust. The very nature of sex demands that someone must give up control, at least to some degree. Many survivors of sex crimes find it hard to give up that control again.”
I let out a defeated sigh. “That’s my point. What if all I want is to give up that control again?”
My mom gives me a warm smile as my leg bounces nervously. “I can’t say I’ve ever come across this situation before, but if you want my professional opinion, just because your body is ready to take that step doesn’t mean your mind is. Some survivors of sex crimes distance themselves from touch while others act out sexually in order to regain the control they feel like they’ve lost. I know nothing about your sexual relationship with Christian, but perhaps you feel this way because your sex life involved giving up control to him, and you trusted him to make you feel safe. Maybe that’s what you crave now. Not sex.Safety.” She pauses for a moment. “I think you’re very brave for tolerating touch and affection at all.”
