Page 25 of A Lesson In Beginning

“I swear, it often feels as though I have left Zion, only to be forced into a distant country where I do not speak the language.” I sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of my nose between thumb and forefinger to assuage the tension I was feeling at my lack of understanding.

“I don’t know all that much about Zion, or the life you and the Temple’s lived before coming here, but what little I know makes it sound like it was a difficult life you all walked through. I can’t imagine how jarring it must be to go from that to this world. To do it alone has to be even more isolating.”

“It has been difficult.” I spoke so softly I could barely hear my own voice, and yet somehow I knew he had heard me.

“The term fight or flight refers to an automatic physiological reaction to something that’s difficult, stressful, or frightening. There are technically four primary reactions someone feels when put into a situation like that: fight, flight, freeze, and fawn. What I saw in you downstairs when Trixie’s Dominant walked in and spoke was a textbook freeze response. You were frozen in place, frightened, but it seemed like you couldn’t move.” The fact that he had read my reaction with such unerring accuracy was more than mildly disconcerting.

“You are making me uncomfortable.” I fiddled with my hands in my lap, unable to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry, Adah. I never want to make you feel uncomfortable. I only want to help you feel seen.” His remorse at causing me distress was nearly palpable between us.

“That’s just it, Joel. You do make me feel seen. Far more seen than I have ever been before in my life. Growing up in Zion as a woman meant I had to be something that blended in. It was more than the old adage of being seen and not heard. It was about being something so insignificant that you could blend into the background like a pattern on wallpaper. Something no one would notice, and never out of place. You, however, make me feel completely laid bare. Like you can see me completely. So much so that you see right through me. It is not a feeling I am well accustomed to.” Why I was being so forward, so open with him, I did not know.

“I do see you, but I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. Safety is really important to me, and I want you to know that you’re safe here.” He leaned on the table, perching his chin on his hands, his finger intertwined as he regarded me with such an open honesty it nearly took my breath away.

“Because you are my employer.”

“No, not because I am your employer. I am not. Levi is your employer. I want you to feel safe because I am a Dominant, and it is in my nature to want the people around me to feel safe.”

“Is that why you know about flight and fight and all of that? Because you are a Dominant?”

“I know about physiological responses because I am a doctor. But it translates to my kink world just as much. You would be surprised how many people in the world have suffered trauma. But to be completely honest with you, the reason I recognized your freeze response is because it is one I know well, from my own trauma.” His admission was a shock, to say the least. I could not help my jaw from hanging slack in surprise.

“Your trauma?” I repeated lamely.

“Yes, my trauma. I experienced a rough childhood. One far too many people know. It’s not like the trauma you experienced, I think, but there are similarities. There often are, in childhood trauma stories, though each is unique in itself. Why are you looking at me that way?” He laughed lightly; a slightly uncomfortable sound, accompanied by him running his hand through his hair. It was a nervous gesture, one I knew well.

“I suppose I’m surprised. I didn’t know men could experience trauma.”

“Why do you think men can’t experience trauma?” His eyes narrowed slightly, though not in anger. My response had put him off, and I felt myself cringe with chagrin.

“I mean no disrespect. In Zion, men ruled everything. They were the head of the household, the leaders of all business. Women did not own businesses, run anything, and honestly, could not even have opinions. It is hard to comprehend how one could feel trauma when given so much power.” I looked away, slightly ashamed of my gaffe.

“Sometimes I forget just how crazy it was for you all, back in Zion. I’ve been told a few stories, though nothing in all that great detail. I can imagine that the transition from that way of life to how things are here had to be difficult.” His arms stretched out over the tabletop. At first I thought he was reaching for my hand, but he only seemed to be stretching. For some reason, that fact disappointed me slightly.

“Thank you for being honest with me, Joel. And for showing me this place. It’s quite calming after the noise downstairs.” I graciously offered him a small smile. “Is it alright if I do something a little unbecoming?” I bit my lower lip in embarrassment, appalled that I was even asking, but I simply could not refrain any longer.

“If there is anywhere you’d be safe to do something unbecoming, I would think it would be in a kink dungeon.” He laughed, the sound deep and rich, like music to my ears. I smiled softly, then slipped my feet out of my simple flats and did what I had been longing to do since we had stepped foot on this rooftop garden. I sunk my toes into the grass, letting the cool blades and soft earth below cushion my feet. For a singular moment, I felt at one with the world, and I felt my shoulder visibly relax.

“That’s the unbecoming thing you wanted to do?” I nodded at his question, and he laughed even louder, though there was no malice in his tone. He seemed tickled by my antics, and though it caused me to blush furiously, I could not find it in myself to mind. “Feel free to do that anytime you want to.”

“You’d give me permission to do such a thing?” I was teasing him, but it was fun. It was a moment of lightheartedness that I hadn’t realized I was longing for. However, his laughter stopped and his expression grew slightly more serious — if only slightly.

“Let me be clear, Adah. You do not need my permission to do that. If you did, we would be having an entirely different conversation.” The tone was back; that tone he had used to calm me from my panic attack downstairs. It stopped my breathing, my heart racing with a feeling, though I wasn’t sure what. This wasn’t fear or trepidation. It was something more exciting and unknown that I could not put words to.

He grinned at me, and then relaxed, rising from his seat and holding his hand out to me.

“Let’s head back down, shall we?” I placed my hand in his, allowing him to help me to my feet, which I slipped back into my shoes.

We made our way back to the kitchen in silence, but as soon as we had begun to work, the companionable silence we had previously shared ceased.

“What is your favorite color?” His question startled me.

“Excuse me?”

“What is your favorite color? I realized I know very little about you, and I’d like to change that.”

“And asking my favorite color will allow you to get to know me better?” Our conversation on the rooftop had given me a false sense of comfortability, and I found my sassy attitude coming forth unbidden.

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