I guess I did sleep because I woke up to Joanie struggling against me.
"Let go."
I did immediately thinking that she maybe thought I was hurting her or wasn't all awake yet or something. She sprang out of the bed and started pulling clothes out of her dresser and closet.
"I am going to be so late. I can't miss this class."
"Joanie," I said getting up and tugging my jeans back on. "You need to rest right now, honey."
She just kept trying to get dressed and winced a few times when she moved. He really did a number on her. I left the room and found Sherry in the kitchen.
"Can she make up for missing today?" I asked.
"Thursday class," she answered thinking, "Dr. Helvey just does lecture on Thursdays so as long as she has someone she can get notes from and I know she does because they have a study group, she should be fine. I can help her with anything she doesn't understand. I aced that class last year."
I went back in the room to see Joanie sitting in front of her dresser looking into the mirror attached to the top of it and crying. It looked like she had tried to cover her eye with makeup but had little luck.
"Stay home," I said, "I'll call Al and stay with you."
"You can't miss work," she said.
"Yeah I can actually."
I hardly ever called off work in fact I had only ever called off once before and I was running a pretty high fever when I'd done it and I worked through my lunch a lot of days. Stuff like that earns you a lot of leeway with a boss, especially when you work for a guy like Al Hunter. I called and told him that there was an emergency and I needed to stay with Joanie and I'd fill him in later. He sounded worried but he didn't ask questions.
Joanie came out of her room and into the kitchen as I was hanging up the phone.
"Al sends his love and this," I said as I hugged her. She smiled but it wasn't a real smile.
I got her to sit and then I made some coffee and exhausted my cooking abilities with toast and eggs. I sat across from her.
"It was Stan, wasn't it?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Sweetie," I said as soft as I could. "Why didn't you tell me about all of this?"
She looked at her plate and seemed perfectly content to just push her eggs around with the corner of her toast.
"Things make sense now," I said, "I thought maybe you were thinking about breaking up with me or something. But he was trying to make you feel bad about yourself again. I guess maybe it was working a little."
She looked up at me then and just stared at my face for what seemed like forever.
"You could've told me still though," I went on, "He's a creep. He's no better than my dad no matter what grades he gets or what kind of car he drives. You really could have told me."
"Please don't be mad at me," she said.
"What on earth could I be mad at you for?"
"I was afraid to tell you," she said, "Afraid of how you'd react. Afraid you'd find out everything I did with him. Afraid you'd do something to him you couldn't take back and I'd lose you."
"I'll admit," I told her, "I'd love nothing more than to beat the snot out of him right now. Actually I'd love to kill him but I know what I stand to lose and I won't do anything that might take me away from you. As far as what you did, what he made you do; I have a pretty good idea."
I could see her cringe at that. I think maybe on some level she knew that I had been around the block enough times to know what all a man and woman can do without doing that. I didn't like the idea that anyone touched Joanie like that before me but what bothered me more was that I knew she hadn't wanted to.
"I'm so disgusting," she said.
"I don't think so," I told her.
"You need to look closer then," she said as she stood up and right there in the kitchen dropped her skirt and pulled her top over her head so she was just standing there in her bra and panties. "See this?" she pointed to the bruises on her ribs and the ones high on the insides of her thighs. "And these?" and she lifted her chin so I could see those finger marks.
"This is what I am, James! This!" and she pointed last to the teeth marks on her breast.
Given her state of undress and what she'd just been through I wasn't sure it was right to touch her, much less do what I was about to do but I didn't know how else to go about this. I crossed over to her and first kissed her swollen eye. I got on my knees in front of her and placed a kiss on each bruise on her stomach and ribs and then I stood and kissed all ten little bruises on her neck. Finally I gently kissed where that jerk had bitten her. She stood completely still as I did all this but I could hear her cry a bit more with each kiss I placed on her body. When I had finished I looked her in the eye and in true Joanie form she held my gaze though I'm not sure she saw me at all through her tears.
"You aren't wrong a whole lot," I said never wavering from her eyes. "But this time you are. You are not these bruises. You are not the things you did before you met me. You are not a pair of ripped panties or a torn blouse. Those are things that were done to you, things that happened to you but they aren't you. I told you what my dad did to me. I looked worse than you but I wasn't those cracked ribs or that broken arm."
And then she crumbled. Have you ever seen footage of a building being imploded? It was like that, like whatever was inside of her that was holding her up was just gone. I tried to catch her but I was too slow and she just crumbled to the floor. I sank to the floor next to her and held tight while she cried and hit at me.
"Why do you bother? I am so horrible. I brought this on myself. Just look at me now, I just drop my clothes."
"You sound like Bubbe Goldman talking," I said.
"Well, maybe she's right," she said, "Maybe if I acted right then I wouldn't have these things happen to me."
"This was not your fault," I said softly to her.
"Screw you."
"This was not your fault," I said again.
"Shut the hell up!"
"This was not your fault," it was becoming like a mantra to me and I think I was using the words as much to calm me as to get through to her.
"Stop it."
"This is not your fault."
"Damn you!" she yelled, "Stop saying that!"
"This was not your fault."
"Stop," she said through her choking tears and I was sure I was getting through to her at that point.
"This was not your fault."
She didn't say anything else, just clung to me and cried. I pulled her onto my lap and there we sat for so long I don't even know how long it was. I'm sure we were a sight but Sherry had a full day of classes and labs so there wasn't anyone to see. But there I was in my jeans and t-shirt holding tight to this woman in her under things on my lap just rocking her and rubbing her back while she cried. Part of me still wanted to kill him or at least kick the crap out of him but the most important thing I could do for everyone was what I was doing which was taking care of my sweet Joanie.
Now it might have seemed we sat there forever or something close to it but she did eventually stop crying and look up at me.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you what was happening," she said.
"I wish you had," I confessed, "But I know you were trying to handle it in your own way."
I kissed her nose and then said, "Now would you please put your clothes back on before your roommate gets home and thinks the worst of me?"
She laughed at that, a real laugh. But she did stand up and grabbed her clothes off the floor and then headed into her room. I followed to make sure she was alright. She pulled a pair of jeans out of a drawer and then a t-shirt. They were baggy on her and I wasn't sure if she was putting on baggy clothes because she was afraid of looking too feminine-I understand that some women are like that after something like what happened to Joanie-or if the bruises just made her other clothes more uncomfortable. Either way, I didn't care. I knew what her body looked like and that I could wait until she was ready to offer it to me again.
"The day is yours," I said, "What do you want to do now?"
"I think I just want to lie down and read," she answered, "You don't have to stay unless you want to. I'm horrible company right now."
"I don't want to leave you alone," I said, "And I always want to stay. I'm only leaving if that's what you really want me to do."
She smiled at me, "I didn't really want you to go even when I screamed at you to leave."
"I know that now," I told her.
We settled onto her bed and she hauled out some textbook that she needed to catch up reading in and I pulled something off her shelf just to keep me busy. As I read, I absentmindedly twirled my fingers in her hair and soon I could hear her deep even breathing that told me she was sleeping. I knew she needed that more than she needed to get that reading done. It had been after three when I got her to sleep and we were up by seven and then there was all the crying she had done that morning. My sweet girl was just all tuckered out. I rolled toward her thinking that sleep sounded like a darned good idea too and we napped like that for a few hours. Sometimes there is just nothing better than falling asleep with the person you love safe in your arms. I knew at least in that moment that no one was going to hurt her.
We woke from our nap and Joanie just cuddled deeper into my arms pressing her head into my chest. I was finally getting past the panic that had seized me when Sherry had called me the night before. I finally knew she was safe even if she wasn't all okay. At least she could be okay.
"I'm here," I said knowing that somehow that brought her comfort. "I've got you. You're safe."
"I was so scared," she whispered.
"I know you were," I said and I did know. Stan wasn't that big of a guy but he was bigger than her and if he came out of nowhere like I was sure a coward like him would, she wouldn't have had much chance. She fought and I was proud of her but I've been jumped a few times and you aren't fighting from anything other than confusion and panic.
"I don't just mean last night," she explained, "I mean the last few weeks. I was scared of him and that he'd try to do what he did but then I was scared of you and for you and I don't know."
Her words all came out in a rush and it took a minute for me to understand all she said.
"Scared of me?" I asked, "You mean scared of what I might do to him?"
She shook her head against me and cried even harder. I was hurt and a little mad but I was learning a lot about how to deal with people, especially female people so I pushed all that down and spoke calmly.
"Why were you scared of me?"
She shook her head again and I wanted to yell at her that she couldn't say something like that and just clam up but I knew that wouldn't do a bit of good. I told you I was learning. I took a deep breath and tried to remember that she was in my arms and so she must have gotten over her fear.
"Please," I nearly begged, "I need to know this."
She pushed away from me to sit up on the bed. I hated the empty feel of not holding her but I sat up too and just looked at her and waited. She took a deep breath and opened her mouth and then closed it again and started all over. I don't know how many times she tried to start saying what she needed to say but finally she got words to come out.
"I was afraid you'd be angry at me. I was scared you'd wonder why some of the things I did with him, I don't do with you and I was afraid you'd want me to," she paused and collected herself once more and I just stayed quiet. Staying quiet is an important skill and I wasn't good at it then and some will say I'm still not but I do know most of the time when I should keep my mouth shut.
"I thought you might not want me or that you'd think I was a floozy. And I guess I knew this was wrong but a part of me thought you'd become like him. I know you wouldn't but I was so scared, even getting a hug from daddy made me feel creepy."
"You know I won't hurt you, right?"
She nodded and then spoke once more, "And I was afraid of this."
"What do you mean by 'this'?"
"This being uncomfortable and you afraid to touch me; I thought when you kissed my body this morning that I was wrong and there wouldn't be the awkwardness. But here it is. You're so careful when you touch me I'm not even sure if you're afraid I'll break or too scared yourself to get dirty by touching someone like me."
"The first one," I said guiltily.
"I don't need your pity any more than you needed mine."
I don't know what possessed me to do what I did then and if I had thought about it, I would have thought better of it. I took her face in my hands and kissed her. I know the last guy who stuck his tongue in her mouth uninvited got bit for it but I took that chance. Her eyes flew open for a moment and I know because I was peeking to see if I was about to get bit or kicked somewhere sensitive but then she closed them and kissed me back. Well, at that point I let my desires take over. I still could have and would have stopped if she'd said to or even acted like she wanted me to. I did keep watching her face and a couple of times I thought I saw fear there but then she would pull me toward her and urge me on.
Afterward I wanted to ask if she was okay but I had a hunch that would make her think of the awkwardness again.
"I missed you," I said, "I missed that."
"Me too," she said and I heard the waver in her voice.
I, of course jumped to the wrong conclusion. "Was it too soon? Did I hurt you?"
"No," she said and I thought I might be in trouble but she didn't seem to mind me being a little worried. "This is just the most normal I have felt in weeks."
"So you're not scared of me anymore?"
"No," she said and kissed me, "I would say I am safe as a kitten right where I am."
We lay that way for a while just feeling good remembering how nice it was to feel our bodies so close together.
"Do you still have dinner at Emma's on Thursdays?" she asked.
"Yeah," I replied.
"Do you think she'd mind an extra at the table?"
"Honey," I said smiling at her and running my fingers up her back feeling the goose bumps that formed at the touch. "You're not an extra, you're a bonus. I think she'd love another woman there."
She got up and collected her clothes but traded the jeans for a simple skirt and the loose fitting shirt for a blouse. I watched as she quickly ran a brush through her hair and pulled it into a tail and then shoved her glasses on. She looked in the mirror.
"I'd wish for a turtleneck to cover these bruises but then there's still the eye to deal with," she said sighing, "I think it's hopeless."
I got up and pulled my own clothes on and smoothed my hair with my fingers.
"What do you want to tell Emma?" I asked, "You know Al and Sam will be there too."
The air seemed to go out of her right then as she thought about what she would say and how she would say it.
"You can tell them anything you want and I'll back you up," I offered, "As long as it wasn't me that hit you in your story."
"Well," she said with resignation, "I guess it ought to be at least some version of the truth."
She turned to me and took my hand and we headed into the city.
No, things are not all better...it takes a lot longer than that to get over something like what she went through and Jimmy will find that out. But it's also not unrealistic to resume certain activities quickly if one is in a stable and trusting relationship and has the feather in her cap of having preventing the attacker from achieving his goal. Trust me on this. But she's not going to be all okay for a while.
I wish I could say that Jimmy's going to be the perfect understanding boyfriend while she gets through this healing process but he's not. I've yet to meet the man who is and that's nothing against them because I understand where he's coming from which is good because 30 chapters of Jimmy's POV it would get weird if I changed now-so I won't.
Not sure exactly what happens as far as Stan...if she might press charges or if her father's connections or even Sam's connections can just make it clear to Stan to stay the (bleep) away from her. I don't know if she can even bring herself to tell her father. It's hard to keep telling the story over and over. It's like after a while you wish you could just make a mass announcement to everyone you have ever known or might ever know just to get it over with and then when it's people you love then you end up consoling them instead of the other way around and it just gets so exhausting to keep going through it. I would understand if she didn't press charges or anything. I know I have had one request for Jimmy to really beat the living snot out of Stan and not much would give me more pleasure but then the authorities would have to get into it and then Joanie's dad and if she doesn't want all that, he might be cool enough to go along. Or his temper might get the better of him. I just don't know.
I think I have had one of the worst days ever. Really. And it's not one thing it's just one of those everything piled on all at once sort of days. This chapter was less than cooperative and then I had conferences at both of my kids' schools and we made it to both but I swear all the teachers at both schools could just get together with a recording and hit play when we walk in the room. "He doesn't hand in his work" I mean I think that was about all I heard tonight. So then we get home and it's late and we're hungry and cranky because we're hungry and neither kid had good conferences. I throw togehter food and we eat while my Tigers spontaneously combust right there on the field. We are down 3-1 in a best of seven series. Coming back and winning is not unheard of but it's pretty rare. Then I don't even get my normal quiet time because one kid had until midnight to write an essay for history and e-mail it to his teacher. I'm the essay proofreader. Finally I could sit and edit this chapter and get it posted here but really I would love to be crawling into bed and testing a theory that a few hours of sleep might get rid of this migraine but I have to write a letter to the history teacher which is kind of an extra credit thing for Ben. (insert Jeff Goldblum voice circa The Fly) help...me...-J