Page 32 of Falling for Mindy

“Yes, I went to her office, and we discussed it. She made a call to the police for a welfare check, and I talked to social services and made a report. I texted Alicia again, too, but I haven’t heard anything. I’m just sick over it.” She broke off, looking pale.

Again, I was taken by how caring she was, how genuinely she liked and worried about the domestic violence survivors she worked with. That kind of compassion and generosity didn’t exactly grow on trees, especially in the social services field she planned to pursue, which was rife with cynics once they’d worked in the system for a year or so. Plenty of people in the office where I used to work had said things casually about women asking for it when they went back to their abusers, not taking into consideration the economic systems and cycle of trauma that led to such a problem. After a while I couldn’t handle the toll it took on me, dealing with the worst tendencies of humanity—violence and cruelty among the clients and even the callousness of some of the social workers as well.

So the very freshness of Mindy’s love for the people she tried to help was breathtaking, the sincerity and sweetness I saw in her. Her warmth was impossible to ignore, her open-hearted attitude. I kept the observation to myself because it didn’t seem appropriate to voice it aloud.

“I’m sure Adeline will let you know when she hears something. If you like, I can take you through the reflection questions for today’s shift so that will be finished,” I offered, “I know with Alicia on your mind, you probably don’t feel like stringing three words together.”

“Thank you,” she said, her face softening into a small smile, the tension still visible in the crinkle between her brows. “That would really help. I have part of it written out,” she took out her laptop and opened it. “I have the first two questions done. If you wouldn’t mind doing the last two with me, I’ve been dreading them. Talking it out would help get my thoughts together. I just can’t think about anything else.”

“Okay, so question three is about working with other staff at the facility. Obviously, Adeline advised you on how to proceed when you had a client no-show. So go ahead and put that in, and just say briefly if you found her guidance helpful and how you’d apply that information in the future.”

“I’d know to call for a welfare check with law enforcement,” she said, and her fingers started flying over the keys. “Calling it a ‘no-show’ helps because that seems less scary if that makes any sense. I can say that this is the follow up plan and that my supervisor and I will continue to work closely to provide further assistance to this client. There,” she said, nodding, “That’s done. Now the last one…”

I knew why she trailed off, because the last question was the same every week. “Which if any women’s social justice issues played a part in this shift?” I asked.

“Domestic violence,” she said, tapping keys slowly, “Underemployment of women and unequal pay. She was almost done with her dental assistant program when she had to run, and now she’s back in a clerical position which we know pays less than a man’s position of equal training and responsibility. Which just perpetuates the cycle of being financially dependent as well as emotionally dependent on an abuser. I’m grateful she hasn’t rebounded with someone else—I really worry about her falling for a narcissist. She’s ripe for love-bombing and she probably was so used to being isolated by her ex that she might not see the signs.”

“She’s in counseling, right? Through the women’s center?” I inquired.

“Yes. I don't know if she came to her appointment yesterday. Do you think I should message Adeline to check?” she asked hopefully.

I shook my head, “She’ll call you when she knows something. Until then it’s not relevant. We’re not trying to build a timeline. Right now, she’s just a no-show for what could be a dozen reasons why,” I said trying to be reassuring.

“Okay. I see your point. I don’t want to bother her. Especially when she dropped everything to help me with the welfare call. The thing is, I just wish I could have done something. Something to protect Alicia, something to help find her…”

“You did the right thing,” I said, “And I have to caution you not to get too personally involved. I know it’s difficult because you care so much. But it isn’t safe to get involved in someone else’s potentially violent personal problems and it’s unhealthy for you to get so invested, not considering the toll it could take on your mental health if things turn out badly,” I knew I sounded stern, but it was in the interest of protecting her, body and soul. Not that either her body or soul would ever belong to me. I still wanted to keep her safe.

“I can’t let myself think that it could turn out badly, Kyle—I mean, Professor Quinn. Sorry,” she said.

The surge of joy, the sizzle of excitement I felt when she called me by my name was unreal. I flexed one hand and took a drink of water, kept my eyes off of her. I liked her saying my name. I liked it way too much for my own good. I wanted her to say it again, to scream it when she was at the height of her pleasure. I practically shuddered with want at the thought. So I gathered myself and cleared my throat.

“Mindy, your caring about the clients is admirable. Don’t take on a burden that isn’t yours to bear. You can offer her professional guidance and wish the very best for her, but you have to hold that boundary, as much for her as for yourself. As you pointed out, Alicia is in a vulnerable state. You don’t want her to feel she’s dependent on you, I know. Or that she needs your approval.”

“No, of course not.”

“Then be intentional in the way you deal with her. Make sure you’re encouraging her without offering extra help or support. She needs to build confidence in herself and her own ability to get past this ordeal and move on. Abusers don’t just break bones. They destroy a survivor’s sense of self worth. She has to be able to know she saved herself, that she is standing on her own. Of course, she knows she can ask for help and that’s important, but she needs that sense of self-efficacy that her ex took from her when he was breaking her down,” I said, hoping she’d understand that it was best for Alicia as well as herself to keep out of a private and potentially hazardous situation.

“Oh,” she said. “I just want to help her. I see what you mean though. And I know I shouldn't have given her my personal number. I won’t do that again. But I don’t want her to think she’s depending on me or that she can’t do this on her own. She’s done so much to get herself away from that monster…I just hope he hasn’t caught up with her.”

“I hope we find out soon, and that it’s good news,” I said encouragingly.

“Me, too. Thank you for talking with me about it. It helped,” she said a little shyly.

“You’re welcome,” I said.

She stood to leave, and I was proud to see that some of the tension seemed to have left her body. She was looser, more at ease than she had been, and I took a little bit of credit for that and gloated over it. I wanted to tell her to eat something, to try to get her mind off of things for the time being. But it wasn’t my place.

I went to open the office door for her, knowing it was tricky. I wanted to say something about what had happened between us, to urge her not to feel uncomfortable around me because I would not make advances or impose on her in any way. I cleared my throat to try to say something to that effect, but she turned to face me suddenly, spinning to say something to me. I was crowding her and standing too close even though I knew better. She put her hand out to touch my chest, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

“Kyle,” she said, her voice desperate.

I was kissing her, and my left hand shot out and flipped the deadbolt, so the door was locked. Her bags hit the floor and her arms were around my neck. I was kissing her like I’d been dying of thirst and she was the only water for miles, the only thing that could save me. I licked the roof of her mouth, teased her tongue with mine, ate at her lips like a madman. I swallowed her moan and it just ramped up my desire. There was no stopping us now.

CHAPTER 19

MINDY

Stern, serious Professor Quinn was groping me through my t-shirt. My ragged breath broke when he fondled my nipple, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it, making it so hard that it stuck out. I nipped at his lip to show him my need, my arousal. When I turned and saw him close behind me and said his name, when I touched his chest, it was like a flame bursting to life.

---