Wounds to Bind Chapter 12 – 'I hear the secrets that you keep…when you're talking in your sleep.'–Romantics, Talking in Your Sleep
July 1 – CPOV
"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," I snapped at Sela Koch. Who knew I'd be shedding my clothes within an hour of meeting a new petite brunette? This long haired, pale, brunette has hazel eyes which laugh when she does. There is nothing submissive about this woman!
"I won't touch and you won't touch…but you must know you are not the only person in the world with traumatic scars. Flynn, please face the corner; I'd rather not flash you," Sela requested. When Flynn faced a corner, Sela stood and untied her wrap dress, dropping the bodice to around her hips.
I gasped. Koch exhibits the innumerable scars on her torso. She turned left and then right to show more of her scars.
"Twenty-eight knife wounds. I have a long, thin scar on my neck, where he held his knife while raping me. Most scars on my torso are less than an inch long. The longest ones are the width of the knife he imbedded in my body. After the rape, he tried to kill me so I would not tell the world what he had done. I am lucky he was drunk and didn't strike a vital organ." Sela reassembled and tied her dress. "You can look now, Flynn."
"How old were you?" My face reflects my horrified feeling.
"Twelve, he was my neighbor's stepfather. He raped my friend at least once a week since she was nine. He was her mother's first boyfriend after her father died. She and her mother went to a family funeral. I don't know why he didn't go. My parents were working late. I was home alone. The house was locked. He was drunk, broke in, raped me and tried to kill me."
"What happened to him?" I concentrate on watching her face…not watching her redress.
"He passed out, knife in hand on his way to the front door. I was bleeding out. My parents came home, saw the open door and called the police immediately. He was arrested, tried and convicted." Sela paused. "If I smile and tell you he learned the meaning of rape while in prison…would you be horrified? Would you think less of me?"
"I don't know," I confessed, shocked by what I had seen and heard.
"He killed himself in prison after he suffered a brutal rape at the hands of a sadistic bastard. His rape resulted in six broken ribs, eight broken fingers, lost teeth, a broken nose and concussion in addition to anal lacerations and genital bruising." Sela paused. "I went through three dozen horrible psychiatrists who insisted I talk about the event. Repeating what I endured retraumatized me to the point I was practically catatonic."
I thought for a moment. "I think I recognize that form of treatment. What changed your life?"
"My friend killed herself on her eighteenth birthday, right before we graduated from high school. Her mother killed herself within a week after the funeral. She told everyone she was moving closer to family. We never realized what she intended. She cleared the house, gave possessions to family and charities, filed a will and checked herself into a prestigious hotel. She had prescription sleeping pills. She couldn't live with the guilt of not protecting her daughter or me." Sela sighed.
"My freshman year at college, my mother and I were in a horrible car accident. My beautiful, brave, wonderful mother was critically injured. I had a concussion. When I woke up after the accident, I realized she needed me to get my act together. Mom needed help while she healed from the accident. I realized I needed help and I had to help." Sela paused, giving me a significant look.
"You can look, Flynn, you don't have to hide your blushing eyes." I stood and took a deep breath. I dropped my unbuttoned shirt to my waist, my arms still in the sleeves. Sela stood to take a look and so did Flynn. I've never shown him the scars. I just told him they were there.
"So, how long have you had your scars?" Sela circled me to view the scars on my back. "May I take pictures of your scars…to help me with your therapy?"
I nodded and stood quietly; my eyes closed while she took pictures. "I don't remember the first time I got one. I remember the last one happened before I turned four. There's an even dozen, five on my chest, seven on my back." I pulled my shirt on and buttoned it, not looking in their eyes lest I see pity there.
"Parent?" Sela questioned.
"My biological mother's pimp," I admitted.
"When did the abuse stop?" Sela has something open…must be my case file.
"She died of a drug overdose shortly after my fourth birthday. He came looking for her. I had been alone with her body for four days. He assaulted her dead body, searched the apartment for money or for things to pawn, beat me and left. The next thing I knew, the police arrived and took me away. I was dehydrated and malnourished. At the hospital I met Dr. Grace Trevelyan Grey – who would adopt me."
"Shock begins when we disassociate. We are confronted with an experience so stunning – our mind protects us and our bodies become autonomous. We are frozen in time. Our nervous system (which lacks the resources to cope physically, emotionally or mentally) fails us. We freeze or panic. Once the shock manifests in night terrors, a great deal of active therapy is required to find a solution. In my case, the combined shock of sexual assault and violence didn't manifest in inappropriate behaviors until I experienced puberty. My friend and I engaged in self-destructive behaviors once we became teenagers." Sela explained some basics which I did not know.
"How does TTT change that shock, dissociative state?" I refuse to dwell on my teenage self-destructive behaviors.
"Think of TTT as clearing the muscle aches and muscle memories from your body. As you clear away the protective layers of physical barriers…you experience a mental freedom you have never known before. If you don't work to clear whatever causes your night terrors, you prevent yourself from becoming healed. You may have coping mechanisms, but you will not heal."
"Flynn's giving me a look." I informed Sela.
She looked down at her watch. "Our meet and greet is almost up. I have a word of warning I share with new patients. I was massaging a PTSD patient when he had an episode. I was thrown across the room and received broken ribs. I realized I needed to learn self-defense. A man like you, a foot taller and more than 100 pounds heavier, can inflict a lot of damage on a woman my size. I took Krav Maga classes. I spar with several of my husband's female coworkers. People underestimate me because of my size, which they shouldn't. I might not put you on your ass in my first few blows, but I will inflict damage and I won't give up until I'm safe. I go for eyes, nose and genitalia to incapacitate you. You need to decide if that is an issue for you."
"I don't believe your knowledge of self-defense is an issue…" I shrugged.
"How about a game before you go? Flynn and your bodyguard need to play. The game is more fun if you have a dozen or more children playing," Sela reached in her pocket and waited for us to assemble in a circle. "The game is called Button, Button, Who's Got the Button." She flashed a small, yellow button with a sunburst pattern. "Hold your hands in prayer position – not too tight. I go around the circle, putting my hands in everyone else's hands one by one. In one person's hands, I leave the button, although I continue going around the circle so no one knows where the button is except for It and the receiver. Once I've gone around the circle, I say, Button, button, who's got the button? Each player in the circle guesses. Christian has the button or John has the button or…"
"Jason," Taylor replied.
"Or Jason has the button, or Sela has the button. Understand?" When everyone nodded, Sela continued. "Once the person with the button has been guessed, that person is It and starts a new round."
Everyone held out their hands, in prayer position and Sela began. She seemed pleased because I didn't shrink when she touched me, nor did I shrink when touching the other players. Handshakes are a breeze. Chest and back massages – I hope I learn to trust her. That's basically the tenants of TTT – trust, control and therapeutic touch.
XXX – 3PPOV
I watched Sir's parking spaces. Her car sits there, but one of his SUVs is gone. Is he working late…the time is after seven. Is she waiting for Sir like I used to wait? Mrs. Jones is gone for the weekend; I saw her leave. I slip into the staff elevator and enter Mrs. Jones' code. She didn't know I saw her enter the code the night she took me to the hospital. The penthouse is dark, with minimal lights. There is no staff in the security office. I use the CCTV cameras to scan all the rooms and halls in the penthouse, noting there is no light in the submissive bedroom. Did Sir take her somewhere? To buy clothes? On a date? Did Sir take her away for the weekend? Why does he want more with her? Why does he have pictures taken with her? I set the CCTV cameras in the security suite to fixed positions at the balconies.
Quietly I go to the safe. I need the media box of pictures he keeps as insurance, but the pictures are gone. Inside the media box is one file folder which holds NDA forms and contact sheets for his previous submissives. I laugh when I see my contact sheet. None of those assholes know where to find me and few care where I am. There is no other information. There is no information about Anastasia. WTF? I spot a few packets of money and help myself to one buried on the bottom of the stack with a $5K bank band. I drop the money into my new blue shirt, feeling the bundle settle against the waistband of the jeans Anastasia donated. There is a laptop, a phone, car keys and a jewelry box with diamond earrings. WTF? Did she return them to him, like a teenage girl who breaks up with her boyfriend? Sir doesn't do boyfriend/girlfriend stuff. I'm sure he warned her about the contractual sex. Perhaps they have ended already. I must think about this. I close the safe and wipe my off fingerprints, setting the dial back to zero. Sir has his rituals and habits.
I slip through the condo. Her room is clean, but unused. Her car is here but she is not. I open her dresser drawers and they are full of new, never worn lingerie. I open her closet which is full of new clothes, with tags. I spot two totes on the closet shelf and a large cross body bag. I know we are the same size…her discarded clothes fit like they were bought for me. I stuff the two new totes full of clothes and shoes. I shove underwear and stockings along with the money in the cross-body bag. I close everything, wiping down fingerprints and slipping down the stairs.
I use a CCTV to scan the parking garage and note no one is there. I turn one to the main elevator. No one is there. I lock the CCTV cameras on the balconies. I use a pair of panties to wipe off fingerprints. I take the staff elevator back to the parking level without being caught. I wipe down fingerprints again. I flatten myself against the exterior wall of the parking level, out of sight of cameras and slip out of Escala. If anyone sees me, I'm wearing her clothes. They will think I am her.
I stick to shadows until I get to a small park. I dump the contents of the totes and bag on a picnic table. I put the shoes and packages of stockings in one tote. I tightly roll all the clothes and stuff them into the other tote. I stuff rolled underwear into the cross-body bag along with the packet of money. I shove a $100 bill into the pocket of my jeans. I stop at a fast-food place for a quick meal and a bottle of water. I dismantle my phone, dropping the battery in one trash can and the phone in the next one. I'm off to the corner and catch a bus back to my motel.
I need to make plans…which means daily newspapers to see what is reported about Mr. Grey…Sir… and Anastasia. I need a burner phone with wireless access and an internet app to keep up on Google alerts and twitter feeds about him. I can use the computer lab at the library for free and there are lots of fast-food places offering free WIFI. That $5K, with the remaining funds from selling my car, will support me until I can approach Sir. We had a good time together before…if he gives me a second chance…I will make him happy again. I need him…I need to hear his voice; I need to feel his touch. I don't want to think…I want him to free my mind. He knows what is best for me.
XXX – CPOV
Email from Ryan to Grey: Interesting gossip at tonight's SIP drinks-after-work event. Roach's secretary revealed he had been in merger talks this week. She didn't know who he was meeting. Several people suggested Puget Publishing and Kavanagh Media. Several people discounted the rumor until one of the Finance people explained a future merger explained the cancelled trips to conferences and the mass recall of company issued credit cards.
Claire claimed everyone panics when they hear gossip about SIP being sold. They are worried their dirty little secrets will come out if a new company takes over. She hates Jack Hyde and two of the editors. She says they are sleaze bags. The two editors are married to each other. He's having an affair with his editorial assistant and she's having an affair with the head of IT. Claire says the IT support staff is sleeping with one of the guys from IT, but she takes long lunches in the Finance Director's Office on Friday. She says none of these people have heard the phrase about pissing in your chili.
Claire, Amber and Emily are concerned. Ana's thirty-day employee evaluation should have occurred today…and they are unsure the evaluation happened. Ana didn't reveal anything. She drove to work this morning, and drove to Montesano for the weekend. They think she will receive a bad evaluation, like previous interns. They are all upset because they don't want to lose Ana.
I saw Hyde in action, leering at every female in the place and invading their personal space. He's a walking sexual harassment or hostile work environment lawsuit waiting to happen. I made Claire sit between me and the wall in our booth to keep him out of her personal space. I like Claire and she likes me…but there's no spark. We won't be seeing each other very much longer. Is there more to learn from her?
Grey email to Ryan and Barney: I've forwarded this email to Barney. I need you to hang in there with Claire for just a few more weeks – at least until her birthday on August first. Buy her a nice gold bracelet and take her to a nice dinner before you end the relationship. I need to know if weird mail is coming to SIP for Anastasia Steele. Barney – I NEED those background checks on ALL staff at SIP before we announce the merger on July fifth. Work with Welch and Taylor but GET IT DONE.
Grey email to Max Roach: Max, yes, Ros and I will be at SIP on Tuesday, July fifth to announce the merger to the staff. Two meetings, at ten and at two. Until then, the information is embargoed.
XXX – Taylor's POV
We get back to Escala. Grey seems a little weary from tonight's therapy session. I conducted the background check on Sela Koch. Several ex-military staff with PTSD gave her glowing recommendations. Gail is visiting her sister for the weekend; Grey and I will be solo entities again. He gave nonessential security the weekend off.
Gail left prepared sub sandwiches and a six-vegetable salad for us for dinner. Grey goes to the home office to work. I go to the security office. For some reason, two of the active CCTV cameras are pointed at the balconies. I run them back and there is nothing but the antics of amorous pigeons. The cameras moved and froze in place, catching more pigeon sex than I care to watch. I run the tapes for the parking garage and catch sight of the lovely Gail as she leaves and our return. I will miss my woman over this long weekend.
I was supposed to have Sophie, but my ex decided to leave our daughter in San Diego for the summer with her parents. On a scale of one to ten – I'm a seriously pissed twenty. Not only do I pay Molly for Sophie's child support – I have to pay my lawyer to file interference with parental visitation charges against Molly. She'll have a good reason for her actions, other than she's a bitch. Perhaps her dad is dying – and I would feel bad because he's a good man. However, Skype doesn't make up for not seeing my daughter on Father's Day, nor the extended July Fourth weekend I was supposed to have with Sophie. If Sophie's in San Diego, I may not see her on my Wednesday visitation days nor on my one weekend a month. Perhaps I 'll file over one dozen interference charges this summer.
I lay offer odds I will have Sophie the last two weeks of August before school starts. Molly knows I get a pay raise every July first. Increasing Sophie's child support payment will be the first thing on her mind. I will pay for the pleasure of seeing my child. I know if I had a regular 9-5 job, I would stand a better chance of achieving full custody of Sophie. However, my current job provides for Sophie's private tuition, school uniforms and school supplies, her laptop and internet access, clothes, and medical, vision and dental. I don't regret Sophie for a second – but I will regret Molly for the remainder of my days.
July 2 – APOV
Dad is happy I'm home for the weekend and holiday. My weekend plan is batch cook for Dad. I plan to clean the house and work in the shop. I will enjoy the sunshine while completing garden and orchard tasks. Manuscripts will occupy my down time. I shopped before coming to Montesano and have ingredients to cook six casseroles which serve twelve each…Busy hands…calm mind. This batch cook session should tide Dad over until I return over Labor Day. I made take and bake pizzas for us and the Rodriguez men for dinner last night. I put work and life out of my head while we played poker last night.
I'm taciturn while we fish; I can't share my angst with Dad. I spent the last quarter of the day yesterday wondering when Elizabeth would call me to her office. I was relieved and yet spooked when I didn't receive my evaluation by the end of the day. I hope I'm rated meets standards. Despite Amber's warning Jack is never around when his interns are evaluated…he was present yesterday. Does Jack want to attend my evaluation? I can't appear too relieved to miss the New York conference when I receive my evaluation. Will we have an editorial meeting on Tuesday since half of us didn't go to New York? I'd better plan to wear a dress, just in case. I packed two totes full of manuscripts to take home to Montesano this weekend since Jack was away from his desk.
XXX
I almost burnt our breakfast pancakes and bacon because Christian dominates my mind. The bruises faded and disappeared; but my heart still feels pain. I don't think either of us really knew one another. Does Christian think about me…or am I just a fantasy he wanted in his RROP? I push those thoughts away, and don't dwell.
Dad and I attended two estate sales while the Rodriguez men collected the remainder of Jose's exhibition. I tested Dad on taking and downloading pictures. I tested him on retrieving files from his phone. He purchased almost four dozen pieces, and seven surprise bundles which are hidden in large, wrapped tarps. Dad dropped me back at the house in Montesano and transported his purchases home. I built a spreadsheet for Dad's business and will teach him how to use the spreadsheet with the ledger as backup. I tweak the inventory database by adding sheets for supplies, projects to do and projects done. I kept myself busy to avoid thinking about Christian.
I make spaghetti and meatballs for dinner, with garlic bread and salad. The recipe for the meatballs is the same one I use for mini meatloaves and for rolled meatloaf. I make a quadruple batch of the mix. After I bake a sheet cake plan of meatballs, I bake a sheet cake pan of mini meatloaves and a sheet cake pan which holds two rolled meatloaves. The guys finish unloading trucks after dusk. Dad laughs at the second pot of spaghetti on the stove. He knows I will make baked spaghetti casserole which he can eat with his mini meatloaves. I fill the crockpots with ingredients for marinara sauce which I need for assembling casseroles tomorrow.
After dinner the Rodriguez men turn on a Mariners' game. Dad updates his business inventory and finance spreadsheets while keeping an eye on the game. I do dishes, clean the kitchen, and feed the freezer. I shower while the guys are distracted. I sequester myself with manuscripts and my laptop. My Do Not Disturb sign, hanging off the doorknob of my room, guarantees a quiet night. Before falling asleep, I read chapters of manuscripts and completed synopses.
XXX – CPOV
Between laying on the beach, sailing and scuba diving, Ros fine tunes the logistics for the move of SIP to Grey Annex. I receive an updated logistic report from Ros at two and at eight. She includes an estimated technology list for Barney, an estimated furniture list, and suggestions for the move. She knows where we can donate the older office furniture to charities for an excellent tax break. She recommends Elliot examine the building over the weekend. He can recommend work to be completed and the value of the building.
Taylor spent his day recertifying at the range with pistols and shotguns. He's in a mood…and I'd bet his ex-wife's name is prominently displayed on his targets. I know he discussed the situation with his lawyer. His lawyer plans to bargain holidays and tax status with the ex-wife in exchange for not filing custodial interference lawsuits. If the ex-Mrs. Taylor argues, Taylor is ready to make changes to his life and seek permanent custody of Sophie. I don't want to lose Taylor as my chief CPO. I'm tempted to interfere and buy the girl from her mother…but out of respect for Taylor, I will not interfere until he requests my help.
July 3 – APOV
I passed on fishing this morning to bake batches of breakfast muffins. I'll freeze what the guys don't eat this weekend. I start laundry early and hang loads to take advantage of the morning breeze. I love the smell of bed linens which have been line dried. I check the tomatoes in Dad's garden. They need July's sunshine to grow and ripen. Fresh grown tomatoes are another of my favorite smells. In between making muffins, I open the windows to air out the house. I clean the living room, dining room and my bedroom. I boil eggs and potatoes for making potato salad for tomorrow. I brew three gallons of sun tea.
The guys store the boat and clean fish. With this weekend's catch, we'll have fish to grill for the Fourth of July. Over breakfast, José wants to talk summer plans. He is anxious to spend time with me in Seattle or Montesano. I refuse to commit myself to weekend summer plans. I finally state I can't make any plans until I know the outcome of my employee evaluation. I reveal I'm not required to attend the New York conference this week because things are in limbo at SIP.
Dad quirks an eyebrow and the table goes quiet. This isn't the situation I wanted either…I don't feel like being badgered. After breakfast, the guys hang Dad's picture of Kate and me over the fireplace mantle. I compliment José, which eases some of the tension between us. He gives me the sun ray picture which I store in the closet until I gift the picture to Mom for Christmas. Maybe I'll gift the picture for Mother's Day next year. Maybe I'll leave the picture in the closet until I stop feeling guilty about Christian attending José's exhibit.
The guys go out to the work shop. I turn the music up and busy myself in the kitchen. Meatballs, meat loaves and rolled meatloaves are separated into individual meals and frozen. I assemble Baked Ziti with Sweet Italian Sausage, Ground Beef Manicotti, Mostaccioli with Spicy Italian Sausage, Rigatoni with Pepperoni Bits, and Caprese Chicken with Penne Pasta. The fans are set to exhaust the heat of the kitchen. I clean the dishes as I go along…singing and dancing around the kitchen to the oldies.
Dad and the guys go for a supply run at the hardware store. They return with hardware and a variety of sandwiches, chips and sodas. Paper plates and napkins make my life easier. We talk about the tarped projects. Dad says someone disassembled furniture, probably with a plan to strip, sand, stain and reassemble. He says one of the projects is an armoire which someone painted in emerald green enamel. Once the parts are stripped of paint, Dad will check the condition. If the wood is battered more than Dan can restore, he'll fill and sand the dents. Then he'll paint the armoire in a decorator neutral cream.
Tonight, the guys will have a smorgasbord of casseroles to taste test along with a tossed green salad. I punch down the rising bread dough. I'll bake ciabatta bread for dinner and garlic knots to feed Dad's freezer. I do dishes as I go along so the guys won't be overwhelmed with dish duty when dinner is over. The casseroles will cool in the refrigerator tonight. Tomorrow, I'll cut them into individual portions, and freeze. If I stay busy…I won't think about Pasta ala Vongole.
XXX – KKPOV
I send Elliot to spend the day with Christian. My cycle is a bitch this month, compounded by jet lag. The truth is…I've been around Ana too long. I prefer to do something useful and productive instead of dwelling. She doesn't sit still when she's agitated or vexed. She may appear composed, and disguise her feelings…but her silences don't mean her brain is not engaged. I tweak the furniture placement in my suite. Ana washed, folded and hung clothes. Dresses are separated on one rack, blouses on another, skirts and pants on another. My bed has fresh linens and the bathroom has clean towels and a loaded linen closet. Ethan transported crates of my winter clothes to Mom and Dad's house. I need to do laundry and the wine isn't chilling as fast as I would like.
Ana organized the condo while I was in Barbados. The living room and dining room are rearranged and functional. I like the chocolate browns velvet throw pillows which replaced the old leopard print ones. The kitchen cupboards and refrigerator are filled. Ray assembled balcony furniture, replaced doors, built organizational units, and painted walls. The bar armoire and bistro tables are well placed. I checked the units Ray built in our storage area. Part of me feels guilty because Ana and Ray settled us in the condo while I lazed and worked on a tan.
Obviously, there are things to discuss when Ana returns to the condo. Things other than the new printer in her bedroom…other than the new furniture in her room…other than the new bed linens and blackout drapes…other than the charger for a smart phone…other than new clothes in her closet. Christian's jacket is gone from her bedroom door. How long has Mr. Moneybags been gone from her life? There are four quarts of ice cream in the freezer…along with half a dozen take and bake pizzas. We're definitely having a girl talk.
July 4 – APOV
My alarm radio plays Africa by Toto… I seek to cure what's deep inside, frightened of this thing that I've become. Irritated, I slap the alarm off. I take a briskly cool shower to clear my head…but there is a Christian Grey civil war exploding in my head and in my heart. My head says I don't need his fifty shades of fucked up. My heart pines for him. I don't want to think about Christian…so I concentrate on things to accomplish today. If I keep a running list in my head…will it keep Christian out?
The guys return from fishing; they clean and secure the boat. Today's catch is cleaned, ready to grill for dinner. I dress for getting some sun in a halter top and denim shorts. I pull my errant hair into a ponytail. We attend the pancake feed at the Fire Station followed by the Fourth of July parade. When we return home, the men work in the shop.
We're back after fishing, pancakes and parade, and one circuit of the VFW yard sale. I want to work off some angst in the shop. I've been busy paint stripping an old armoire and sanding its splintery drawer runners. However, my sanding task in Dad's workshop this morning took on a rhythm… Chris-tian… forward…back… Chris-tian… forward… back… Chris-tian. I finished my sanding task and told Dad I needed to play in the kitchen. He waved me off without explanation. I assemble potato salad and marinate chicken to grill.
XXX – CPOV
The sky is blue, the ocean is blue…Anastasia's eyes are blue. Sailing on The Grace is one of the best things in my life. I ponder my situation. Flynn advised I need to be comfortable with my family. He meant I should attend more family outings and events without slipping away at the first possible moment. I must learn to be more amiable and flexible with my family. I'm glad Elena didn't crash the family sailing date. I don't want to endure another secret conversation about meeting her potential submissives.
'Why are you trying to change me?' Anastasia asked.
'I'm not. It's you that's changing me.' I replied.
After my unforgiveable conduct that morning when Ana rejected my touch…I considered the consequence of my actions. Yes, Anastasiasaid she loved me. Yes, she said I would never touch her that way again. In the week after her departure from Escala…she must have felt physical pain. I knew what I was doing when I laid out that precise pattern of strikes. Her punishment was intended to bruise and hurt for days. Was Anastasiafrightened of me because I punished her? I email this thought to Flynn. I don't want to discuss the thought with him, yet. But the thought will resurface some day when I'm mentally kicking myself.
The water was indolent today...waves lolling and rolling. Elliot says the water looks like Jell-O shots topped with whipped cream. I don't want to think about lolling and rolling and whipped cream…because Anastasia comes to mind. A part of my anatomy is on full alert…my penis seems to be autonomous lately. I scold myself, I'm not fifteen years old. I need to regain control of my body. What I really need is a conversation with Anastasia. I own SIP; I will take care of Anastasia whether she likes it or not.
"Mia," I called down to her. "Come talk to your favorite brother," I stuck my tongue out at Elliot. He was too busy slathering sunscreen on Katherine to argue with me. I won't look, I won't think about Anastasia sailing on my boat, I won't think about rubbing suntan lotion on her pale, perfect skin.
"What do you need, my favorite brother," Mia teased me.
"Mia, I've been thinking about some things you said at Coping Together. I want to discuss a business proposition with you." I grinned, but she knew I was serious.
XXX – 3PPOV
"Did you see him?" José Senior paused while scraping a layer of paint off an old dresser.
"Annie's stalker at the pancake feed and the parade?" Ray applied paint remover to two identical bookcases. "I saw him. When I centered on him, he moved and shot pictures of her one o'clock."
"What was at her one o'clock at the pancake feed?" José Senior frowned.
"Camouflage clown entertaining the twin toddler boys." Ray set the timer for the paint remover to react. "Her one o'clock at the parade was the National Guard float."
"Have you seen him before?" José Senior cleaned the last layer off the top of the dresser to reveal a cherry wood top. Why people painted over real, vintage wood would always perplex Ray and him.
"No, and I'm torn. I don't know if Annie's being stalked by Grey or someone else." Ray reached for a printout of tasks for both the dresser and the bookcases from his printer. "I met her boss. He reminds me of Officer Oily when we were in Air Cav at Fort Riley."
"The one who gave Carla and Marta the creeps," José Senior remembered.
"Yeah, the one who liked threesomes with NCOs and their wives," Ray responded. "This guy is a corporate creeper. I wore my 'Don't touch my tools or my daughter.' t-shirt. I told Annie the moment she felt uncomfortable, unsafe or harassed to let me know. Hyde overheard our conversations. He blanched and walked away. At least he wasn't on the street watching her ass when I picked her up."
"Do you know why someone, other than Grey, would track her?" José Senior began scraping sides of the dresser.
"Annie had dinner with her roommate, Ethan Kavanagh. Seattle Nooz outed her as his date and as the mysterious brunette in the WSUV picture – according to Carla. I think people are trying to figure out who she is and her connection to Grey." Ray slipped task lists into plastic sleeves to posted the on the work bulletin board.
"Do you think she's in danger?"
"I know people like Christian Grey have stalkers, which is why they have close protection officers. I don't want Annie hurt because one of his stalkers is delusional about their position in his life." Ray reached for paint scrapers and soft cleaning cloths before the timer sounded.
"Speaking of power tools, when we're done scraping paint, let's clean one of the supply sheds. We can add some inventory to the spectacular database Ana created." José Senior suggested.
XXX – 3PPOV
José watched Ana all weekend. She hadn't lost more weight since he saw her at the exhibit opening. However, she hadn't regained what she lost either. Ray kept passing food in her direction in case she wanted a second helping of something. Her meals over the weekend included plenty of comfort food. José missed seeing Ana a few times a week on campus. Hell, he missed everything about her. He missed hanging out; he missed the occasional pizza and beer. He missed meeting her for lunch when she worked at Clayton's Hardware.
Mostly, José missed his chance with her. If he had planned better, Ana would not have drunk so much that night. He wouldn't have needed liquid courage to tell her how he felt. But she drunk dialed Christian, who stopped José from getting the one kiss he thought would change Ana and his lives. Now she would never be his. While she didn't discuss her feeling with him, obviously, Ana wasn't over Christian Grey.
XXX – APOV
"Is every girl crazy about a sharp-dressed man?" José watched me while I cooked. The radio is on Dad's favorite classic rock station.
"If you're asking me, I prefer jeans and chambray shirts. Dad spoiled me on how real men dress. A pretty face don't make a pretty heart…" I concentrated on the apple pies I'm baking for dessert.
"If that's a comment about you from someone, I'll beat the fucker up for you." José offered gallantly.
"No just a musical observation." Today the classic radio station seems to be messing with me. Lots of songs with poignant meanings. I needed cooking to distract me from thinking about him. Cold things are chilling; grill items are prepped. The ingredients for two batches of homemade ice cream wait in the refrigerator. I know Christian likes pancakes, but does he like grilling dinner? I like my simple life and I like puzzles. However, Christian's too complicated to figure out.
Dad's number one rule is no headphones or earphones while working in the shop. He says you have to hear the sounds tools make. His prove-his-point-story is about a man wearing earplugs whose circular saw blade broke in half and imbedded itself in his chest. The guy was gone before he reached the shop door. Dad won't let me wear earbuds in the house because if he yells for help, I must be able to hear him. So here I am…being tortured by Dad's favorite classic rock radio.
Red, white and blue motif paper plates and paper napkins – red room of pain. Gordon Lightfoot, Sundown: I can see her lying back in her satin dress, in a room where you do what you don't confess.
In between the songs stabbing at my heart are American-motif and patriotic songs. The songs of my youth spent on military bases with Dad are mixed with echoes of military marching band music coming from somewhere on Lake Sylvia. They must be testing the music for tonight's fireworks.
José shares a picture of Kate sailing with the Grey family on Christian's boat. I try not to notice Christian at the helm of the boat while looking at Kate's pictures. He's wearing a white shirt with rolled up sleeves, jeans and deck shoes. His copper hair gleams in the sun. Kansas, Carry on My Wayward Son: On a stormy sea of moving emotion, tossed about, I'm like a ship on the ocean.
José emailed Kate a picture of our camping picture mounted on Dad's fireplace mantle. He offered her a copy for her parents. She wishes us both a wonderful Fourth of July and asks José to tell Dad and José Senior hello and thanks them for their service to our country.
I smile at her kindness. José scowls, thinking my happy smile is because I saw a picture of Christian. "That was kind of her. Our dads will be pleased because she remembered them." I smile again to let him know I'm happy about her comment. I email Taylor at greyhouse dot com, thanking him for his service. I wonder if Christian had a good time with his family today. The man needs friends and freedom from Botox Bitch. José does not ask if I contacted Kate or Christian.
Berlin…Take My Breath Away – there's no breath control play on Christian's hard limits list.
Bon Jovi…Living on a Prayer – Thomas Tallis, choral music on our last night in the playroom.
Poison…Every Rose has its Thorn – Two dozen white roses congratulating me on my job.
Eagles…Take It to the Limit – The fundamental purpose of this contract is to allow the Submissive to explore her sensuality and her limits safely, with due respect and regard for her needs, her limits and her well-being. He disregarded my need to understand him. You can't tell me that belt was regards for my well-being.
Thompson Twins…Don't Dream It's Over – until Christian quits visiting my dreams, we will never be over.
Foreigner…I Want to Know What Love Is – I haven't had the best examples…and classic British literature is not a guide.
Steely Dan…Rikki Don't Lose that Number – so many numbers with Christian…firsts…his phone number…the security code for the Escala garage…the security code for the Escala penthouse elevator…fifteen submissives…six belt strikes…$24K for Wanda.
REO Speedwagon…Keep On Loving You – You should've seen by the look in my eyes, baby. There was something missing. You should've known by the tone of my voice, maybe. But you didn't listen. And I meant every word I said…yeah…you'll never touch me like that again…and I'm falling in love with you.
The doorbell sounds, covering my slam of a cupboard door as I try to shut down memories.
"Ray is in the woodshop," José tells the guest at the door. I watch as José takes the guest to the work shop. Our guest wears a white shirt and jeans…like Christian in the picture. He holds himself straight and tall…like Christian does. His sandy blonde hair is shaved high and tight, with tousled curls on top…Christian has copper curls. Our guest must be one of Dad's VFW friends, who came early. We invited half a dozen of the single vets to come for barbeque and fireworks. I set apple pies on cooling racks.
XXX
Doobie Brothers, What a Fool Believes: The sentimental fool don't see, trying hard to recreate what had yet to be created. The classic rock radio station announced the Doobie Brothers are scheduled to play at the closure of the Walter Reed Army Medical Center Hospital at the end of the month. José Senior comments he had been there once and had seen the Doobie Brothers in concert once. He and Dad finish grilling everything so we can eat.
Everyone takes turns cranking the ice cream maker. After we eat dessert and clean off the table, the guys play cards and I clean the kitchen. I like watching Dad with friends, having a good laugh. Dad hands out several pairs of combat arms earmuffs before the start of the fireworks. We watch the fireworks display coordinated by. Dad's very careful with the younger vets and ensures no one experiences PTSD from the fireworks display. I sit away from them, on the back porch steps with José, watching the explosions of color against the night sky. The Montesano VFW has typical Fourth of July fireworks over Lake Sylvia – lots of red, white, blue and gold with military marching band motif music.
The men are very gallant, thanking me for the wonderful dinner. José and José Senior hug me goodbye at the end of the night. I enjoyed making Dad happy and making everyone feel welcome. Dad sends me off to bed while he closes down and locks up the house. Tomorrow will come too soon. I pack everything tonight, setting my suitcase and totes aside for a fast get-away in the morning.
I lie in bed, wondering what I am doing. I managed to disappoint Mom, again. She is not pleased Christian and I are no longer a couple. She's accessed Kate's Facebook page and knows Kate went sailing with the Greys and attended the family barbeque. She said Christian looks miserable without me in the pictures on Kate's Facebook page. I want to know how she can determine his feelings from pictures of his back. He was facing away in the only picture I saw. Mom tells me I need to quit overthinking the situation. She guarantees there will be plenty of fireworks between Christian and me if I step up my game and show him I'm capable of providing everything he needs. Really MOM? You don't have a clue about what he thinks he needs and if Dad knew…he'd use Christian for target practice.
Mom urges me to use Kate and Elliot to keep myself apprised of Christian's schedule and activities. She recommends I keep bumping into him. She urges me to buy feminine lingerie and designer perfume. Geez, more damn fashionista advice. She feels Christian is ready to quit his solitary lifestyle and settle down. She advises a man of Christian's caliber won't be single for long and if I don't act soon...I won't be the one sharing his billionaire lifestyle.
Mom, although she's an incurable romantic, is not a stupid woman. She's not intentionally mean. She's beautiful, bright and talented, which are several of the adjectives Christian and Kate use to describe me. I know I inherited those traits from Mom. But I feel like our universal translators break when our views are incompatible. I let her talk until she exhausts the subject, because she certainly does not hear what I say. Parental deafness? I really need Mom to quit acting like Mrs. Bennett from Pride and Prejudice. Christian is a wealthy man who IS NOT in need of a wife…he needs a therapist…and the expensive charlatan doesn't get my vote for the job.
I'm glad Dad understands me. My love life is not something he can fix; he understands I need time to think about my life. How long will my heart wait for Christian? The thought of being with anyone but Christian is foreign to me. He was the only one who ever made me want…need…a man's touch. I do not regret losing my virginity to him. He was worth the wait. But I can't give Christian what he thinks he needs. That truth hurts my heart more than anything else.
When I set the alarm, Sarah McLachlan sings, "give us a tantrum and a know-it-all grin, just when we need one when the evening's thin. Oh you're a beautiful…a beautiful fucked up man." from Building a Mystery. Enough! I'm setting all alarms to buzzers. Instead of listening to radio stations when I drive, I'll listen to audio books or NPR.
XXX – CPOV
Striker's crew sent pictures of Anastasia's weekend. They inform me the Rodriguez men were in Montesano all weekend. José brought the two exhibit pictures with him. Striker's team identified pictures of her hugging various classmates from her 2007 graduating class in Montesano. Striker revealed Anastasia was invited to join the planning group for their fifth class reunion. I gave Striker marching orders to obtain a copy of her senior yearbook and to research all 89 members of her graduating class. He just submitted preliminary investigations for all SIP staff on Friday. This new research order will keep his crews busy.