Chapter 9. Amends
There were no words spoken between the mother and daughter for some time as Joyce enveloped Hope in her arms and held her as she cried. She was more than willing to give Hope whatever time she needed to decide what to do next.
"Can we talk?"
The words were spoken in a stammer, as Hope struggled to regain her equilibrium.
"Always," said Joyce. "Here, or in your room?"
Her daughter breathed out noticeably. "My room. I'm going to have a quick shower. Can you make me some cocoa?"
The request for cocoa reminded her of a time when Hope always opened up to her. Placing her hand on the younger woman's cheek she stroked it fondly. "Of course. I'll be up when it's ready."
Ten minutes later, she went up the stairs with two cocoas in her hands. Hope's door was open, revealing her sitting on the bed, against the headboard with pyjama shorts and a T-shirt on. Joyce handed her one of the mugs, placing the other on the nightstand and closing the bedroom door. She sat next to the younger woman and grabbed her mug, sipping from it.
"I messed up," said her daughter. "It was the best night of my life. We went on a harbour cruise, and it was really pretty and romantic. Then we went back to his place, and he was so good to me. He was a gentleman, making sure I was comfortable. He had some anxiety about it, and we slowed it down, but it was incredible. He said something that made me think that we could be together forever and then it hit me that I was doing it again. I was confusing a physical act with true intimacy, just like I did with Rafe, Kane, Adam, and Jack. Once the thought was there, I couldn't get rid of it and I had to leave, and he was understanding about it." She started to cry again. "He helped me find my clothes in the dark, then insisted he had to walk me home, and never said a word, didn't try to touch me, or try to change my mind. I hurt him. I know I did, and I feel terrible but if I ... if I ..."
She buried her face in her hands and wept, her anguish on full display.
"If you stayed, you were afraid it would end like those relationships did," stated Joyce, calmly. "You don't want that to happen with him because you have real feelings for him, feelings that he also has for you. Why do you think I was at the door, waiting for you?" Hope looked at her with red, puffy eyes. "He texted me that you were panicking and wanted to come home. He understands when things become overwhelming. All he was concerned about was you. Have you ever told him about the others?"
Hope shook her head. "He said he'll wait until I'm ready. Do you think I overreacted?"
"I can't say that because emotions are powerful things. You've been hurt, emotionally, physically, financially, and all of that has messed around with you in a major way. Whatever made you lose it tonight, happened after something that obviously affected your emotions."
"But it was good," cried Hope, "and I envisioned a life with him for a moment. Then the negative thoughts just took over."
Joyce took her daughter's hand in hers. This was going to be difficult. Hope's trauma was so deep and even though Joyce had cringed every time her daughter picked another variant of the same man who hurt her first, it was only when the story of that prom night was shared that she finally understood the common thread. All those men had taken something away from Hope, leaving an empty hole in its place. Now Bucky was there wanting to fill those gaps, and it was like her daughter was deliberately preventing that. I'm out of my depth with this.
"I don't have any magic words for you," began Joyce. "Maybe you should see a professional because I think your previous experiences have made you reluctant to risk breaking your heart again." She could feel Hope stiffen next to her and wondered if she had just triggered their usual way of dealing with sensitive issues. "I love you, so much. You're smart and beautiful and you're an incredible artist." She looked over at the self portrait of Hope. "When you painted that at 18, I was stunned at what you had accomplished. Now that I know about your prom night, I realize it was a cry for help that I didn't answer and I'm so sorry I failed you."
"You didn't," murmured Hope. "I wasn't ready to talk. You might be right about me seeing a therapist. My first instinct was to snap at you but it's true, I am afraid of being hurt again. Even though I know in my head that Bucky cares, I also know there are no guarantees. You didn't like Jack but compared to the men who came before him, he was alright, and at first, I was heartbroken when I found out he left me. I cried all night for him, then by morning I realized that just because he didn't abuse me, or try to fleece me, didn't make him any better. He still cheated on me, still lied to me, and I likely sensed it but took it because it was better than being alone."
"So, is it over with Bucky before it really begins?" asked Joyce. "Is that what you want?"
"No, I don't want it to be. He really is a good man." She looked down at her hands, then propped her elbows on her knees while she held her head. She gave out a stuttering breath. "I just need to step back for a bit and try to get my head straight. Do you think he's still up?"
"Probably."
"I'm going to phone him and ask for some time," said Hope. "It's for the best."
Joyce took her daughter's one hand in hers and squeezed it then got off the bed. Taking the empty mugs with her she stopped at the door and smiled at her daughter. She knew it would be a difficult conversation for the pair, but it was good that she was dealing with it sooner rather than later. As soon as her mother left Hope texted Bucky, getting an answer back right away. She dialled his number.
"Are you alright?" he asked as soon as he answered.
"No, but I'm not panicking anymore," she said. "I'm sorry I wrecked our evening. What you made me feel was so wonderful, but my issues are worse than I thought. I think I need to deal with them before I can see you again." It became very quiet on his end. "Bucky, I don't want to end it with you. You're amazing and the way you made sure to get me home safely just proves what a good man you are. But I realize that I have been sending out mixed signals and I'm sorry that I've done that. It wasn't fair to lead you on like that."
"You didn't," he answered. He sniffed and Hope felt guilty that he might be emotional on his end. "For what it's worth what we did was really important to me. I wasn't sure I could be with someone without losing control. Thank you for helping me when I had doubts. I'll give you space but if you ever want to talk, I'm just a phone call away and I'll always answer."
"I will. You're still going to take that course, right?"
"Yeah, I plan to. I see the veteran's counsellor tomorrow at the college. You're still going to teach that art course?"
"Yeah. I'll throw myself into it. I'll get your screen done as well and maybe send Mom over with it." They were both quiet. "Well, I'll let you go. Once again, I'm sorry. I think I'm going to find a therapist to help me through this. What was the name of your therapist?"
She could hear him chuckle. "Dr. Raynor. Don't go with her. Take care, Hope."
"I will. Goodbye."
She hung up and placed her phone on the nightstand, then turned out the lights. For a long time, she laid in the darkness, reviewing what happened. At some point she fell into a restless sleep.
Bucky looked at his cell phone for some time, then turned out the lights and headed to the bedroom. He could hear the soft pad of Alpine's feet as she followed him. Flopping onto the bed, he waited for her to join him. A little while later she announced her presence by his feet and carefully positioned herself near him, grooming herself before bumping him in the face and curling up against him. Her presence was comforting.
Two weeks later
It was quiet in Bucky's apartment as he sat lengthwise on his couch, reading the first book of a series called Dune, while Alpine curled up at his stockinged feet. He had watched a movie by the same title on TV and had been intrigued enough to search out the books at the library. Part way through this first one he was considering buying it, impressed at how well it was written. At least reading got him away from brooding about Hope and he had done a lot of reading since that night. It hadn't all been for pleasure, as he was also doing his required reading for the anthropology course he was taking.
Sam had been sympathetic after returning to the apartment the morning after his date with Rachel, even inviting him to Delacroix but with the course starting Bucky didn't want to miss out on any sessions for his class. He was glad he chose to stay, finding value in learning about the evolution of culture from the Stone Age on. After the shock on their faces when he walked into the first session, his classmates had become used to his presence and he met a couple for beers after the first week of classes. His insistence on handwriting his notes amused his instructor and classmates, who relied heavily on laptops or tablets, but had also fostered discussions on the change of culture in the last hundred years. He was a living example of a man not living in his own time and he found their interest in how he lived in the 20s, 30s, and 40s was genuine. Based on these first couple of weeks he was considering attending regular college part time in September, thinking of taking a literature course along with political science, and a regular science course, although undecided about which one.
There had been a couple of coffee sessions with Joyce, who admitted that her daughter was pouring her energies into her twice weekly art course but had also sought out a therapist. The older woman told him that in Hope's free time she worked on the screen for Bucky's apartment, and it was close to completion. From the sounds of it, Bucky thought Hope was trying to keep from brooding about him. Tom, who went back to Boston after that week was returning in a day or two, as Joyce's next round of chemotherapy was starting, wanting to be there for her. She was in much better shape for this round, as her blood work didn't indicate anemia, and she wouldn't need a blood transfusion beforehand.
The sun coming through the window lit up the living room, confirmed by the plants that were growing well. Some of them would have to be transplanted into bigger pots, a task Bucky was putting off. When the doorbell rang, he bookmarked his spot in the book and lifted his long legs away from the sleeping kitten who didn't move.
"Don't get up, I'll get the door," he said, mockingly before striding over to the entryway. Opening it, he was surprised to see Hope there, holding a large paper wrapped package. "Hi. Um, I wasn't expecting you."
"I should have warned you first," she replied. "May I come in?"
"Yeah, here, let me take that from you." He took the package, feeling the hard edges through the paper. "Is this the screen?"
"Yeah, I finally finished it." She slipped her shoes off and followed him into the apartment, watching as he laid it on the table. "If you don't like it, I can make a new one."
Bucky peeled the paper off, astonished at the finished product. It showed a wave crashing onto a sandy shore, immediately transporting him to a beach, the sounds already resonating in his head.
"I like it," he said. "It's beautiful. Thank you."
She smiled softly. "You're welcome. I should go as I just wanted to drop it off."
"No, please, stay a bit." He lifted the screen off the table then placed it around the cat litter box as Alpine sat up, suddenly interested in the decorative item. "Would you like some tea or coffee?"
"Tea would be nice." She folded the paper up as Bucky put the kettle on, then put it in his recycle bin. "How have you been?"
"Started my class," he said, as he took a couple of mugs out of the cupboard. "I'm really liking it. Apparently, because of my background, I offer a unique perspective on the cultural changes that can happen in a hundred years. I'm going to go part-time in September. How is teaching?"
"Good." She smiled, her face becoming animated. "I didn't think I would really like it, but it's been rewarding seeing people explore their artistic sides. Many of them have never tried anything like it and they get so excited when something they do comes out looking better than they expected. I think a few will take more art courses. They've already confirmed that I'll be a part-time instructor in the first session." She became quiet for a moment. "How are you really?"
He came over to the table with the two mugs, then went back to the fridge for milk, placing it on the table then sitting across from her.
"I miss you," he admitted. "I feel like I pushed too hard to speed things up."
"You didn't." She placed her hand on his. "You were following my cues." Her eyes became glassy. "I started seeing a therapist and she suspects I have a form of OCD that manifests when I'm in a relationship that's going well. Basically, I sabotaged what we had because I believed I didn't deserve it, didn't deserve someone as good as you. It never really occurred to me before because my previous relationships were all wanting in some way, enough that I thought I deserved what I was getting from them. She's encouraged me to try to salvage what we have, because I need to hear and believe that I'm worthy and you were ... are a supportive person." A shaky breath came out as she looked at her tea. "I understand if you don't want to."
Bucky stood up and offered his hand to Hope, helping her stand. Gazing steadily at her, he caressed her face, then kissed her tenderly on the forehead.
"I want to keep seeing you and taking this relationship as far and as deep as we can," he murmured. "When I started second guessing myself that night, you were so kind and understanding. You took the pressure off of me, and what we did after felt right and so incredible. I realize now that I probably triggered you when I said forever, but I meant what I said. When I'm with you I feel like I have a future and that's something I didn't feel for a long time."
He enclosed her in his arms, one hand supporting her head and the other her lower back. They stood like that in the quiet of his apartment, the only sounds audible were the hums of life outside his window. Somehow, from there, they ended up on the couch together, with Bucky spooning behind Hope. There was no sexual intent, it was just being close and quiet. Then Hope gave out an audible breath.
"I want to tell you about Rafe. He was the first man I ever thought I loved. There were crushes before in high school, unrequited but Rafe actually reciprocated, for a while."
"Okay, I'm listening."
"You know what memes are, right?"
"Yeah."
"There's one showing a couple walking then a pretty girl walks in the other direction, getting the attention of the guy while his girlfriend looks at him with horror. The stock picture it's based on is called the disloyal boyfriend." She let out a short breath. "That was Rafe, my junior year boyfriend. When we were alone, he was attentive and romantic, and I thought he was it. He was a senior and asked me to move out of the dormitory and move in with him, off campus. My decision making must have been too slow or maybe it was just how he was, but he started being disloyal to me. We'd be out on a date and a girl would flirt with him and he would flirt right back in front of me in a very blatant way. When I would bring it up, he'd gaslight me; saying that I was incapable of understanding he was just being polite or funny, or I was seeing too much into it. We would go out and he would look at every girl that passed by, then say something like I should have my hair like hers, or maybe I should wear what she was wearing so that I kept his attention on me. Somehow, it was always my fault that I wasn't good enough."
"Did you move in with him?"
"No, thank goodness for that," she answered. "I came home for Christmas, and we made plans to connect and meet each other's parents. He was from the Bronx." Bucky grunted, making Hope smile. "I know. Can't trust anyone from the Bronx." She snuggled into his arms as he nuzzled into her neck. "That feels nice but you're distracting me."
"Sorry," Bucky whispered. "I'm listening."
"We made plans to meet up then he was going to take me to have dinner with his family. I got off the subway at the stop we were meeting at and went up the stairs, looking for him. He was kissing another girl, like really kissing her. Then they broke apart and held hands for several minutes but were still intent on each other. It was obvious they were saying goodbye. Then she left and he leaned against a pillar, checking his watch. His eyes met mine and he knew I had seen him. I just ran back down the stairs and got on the next train, didn't even care where it went. He never came after me, never phoned and when classes began in the new year, he never tried to get hold of me. That was it. We were over."
"What an ass," said Bucky. "How did you take it?"
She shrugged. "Heartbroken at first. We hadn't said I love you to each other but in my limited experience I saw only the good things until the bad things became too obvious to ignore in retrospect. The gaslighting took a longer time to get over. I thought I wasn't good enough for anyone for a long time. I didn't do more than occasional dates for the next four years and I sabotaged all of them."
"What do you mean?" He shifted a little behind her, tightening his hold on her.
A sigh escaped her lips. "I would jump on the most innocent of comments and turn it into self-criticism. If he didn't like pizza, then I was no good for him because I did. That turned into finding the littlest thing wrong with the guy. Like, his laugh was weird, or he chewed food funny ... stuff like that to justify why I didn't go out with him again. It was me finding things wrong before I got emotionally involved. Apparently, it's another thing people with relationship OCD do to protect themselves from being hurt." From behind he could see her lips tremble and he kissed her shoulder, but she spoke in a whisper. "It's what I kind of did to us. I tried to sabotage us because making love with you was the best thing I had ever felt, and it was too much for me to handle that you would want me forever."
She began to cry and rolled over to face him, burying her face in his neck. Holding her closely, he rubbed her back and murmured softly to her.
"It's okay, you're here now and that means something, right?"
She sniffed a few times, prompting him to fish inside his pocket and pull out a folded cloth handkerchief, which brought a short quick laugh out of her, that he was still very much a man of his time. Taking it, she dabbed at her eyes then wiped her nose, keeping it in her hand.
"I am here," she replied. "I'm trying to make amends. I know that's kind of a dirty word for you, but I want you to know about what made me like this. Rafe was the first, but he wasn't the only one who broke my heart. The rest are going to have to wait until another day. May I come by another time when I'm ready to tell you about the next one?"
"I'd like that," said Bucky. "Is that the only time we're going to see each other? I'm liking this very much."
He gestured to how they were snuggled up on the couch, which brought a smile from Hope. She wrapped her arm around his waist and pressed her head against his chest, listening to the sound of his breathing. Alpine jumped up onto the arm of the couch, then went up to the back, sitting just above them. Carefully, she stepped down, so she was between them and settled in, her purr vibrating loudly.
"Someone wants in on the action," noted Hope. "I'm glad she's not jealous."
"She does like you. Sam, not so much."
"Oh no, he must not have been happy about that."
Bucky shrugged. "He'll get over it. Have you talked to Rachel since that weekend?"
She smiled. "Yes. She really likes him. Said they've been texting and video calling." She looked up at him. "What does Sam have to say?"
"Same. They stayed up talking for a long time that Saturday night. He wants to see her again when he's back in New York."
"I'm glad. After the nightmare of a marriage she had, she needs a good guy in her life. I thought I was the only one with an abuser until I reconnected with her." Bucky frowned a little, waiting to see if Hope would elaborate. She realized what she said and placed her hand on his cheek. "I'll tell you about him, I promise. Just not today, not when I'm feeling good about myself and us again."
"Fair enough," he answered. A cell phone rang, with a traditional ring. "That's mine. I'll call them back."
Hope moved to get off the couch, disturbing Alpine, who jumped off and glared at her, then sat in the middle of the floor to groom herself.
"It's alright, I have to go anyways," she said. "They're giving me an office, a shared one. I'm meeting with my office mate at 11. I also get a studio space, where I can prepare samples for the syllabus."
Bucky rose from the couch just after her and took her hand in his as they stood facing each other. Looking each other in the eyes, she caressed his face, then he kissed her, their mouths meeting tentatively at first. He had missed the taste of her, more than he thought possible but now that she was in his arms again, it felt right. It must have felt good for her because when they ended it, she smiled and touched his cheek.
"Damn, you're such a good kisser," she whispered. "Maybe I can ..." She shook her head, stopping herself from saying anything more. "Too soon."
"We can just make out," he responded, guessing what was holding her back. "I missed having you close."
"Small steps," she answered. "I trust you but I'm not sure about myself."
He smiled sadly, then held her once more, before letting her go to the door. They didn't say goodbye, but he knew he would see her again soon. Whether it was here or at her mother's place didn't matter to him. As he watched her walk away down the street from his window, he knew he was in deep. I can be happy with her, and I can be the man she needs. If that meant giving her the time and space to work through her issues he would wait. She was worth it.