Just Joe (15 page)

"Shut up, Bill."
Joe's voice was frighteningly soft, emphasizing the anger he was fighting.

"Aw, come on, Joe.
The guys want to hear about sweet little Mattie."

"Shut up before I
make you shut up." The flat warning brought instant silence to the rowdy
locker room as Joe's teammates sensed the danger brewing between the two men.

"My goodness,"
Bill marveled, still obliviously having fun, "this one's really got you by
the b—"

"I suggest you do
what Joe told you to and shut up, Bill." It was Freight Dumbronkowski's
voice that halted Jackson's obscene comment, and all eyes turned to him.
"Before I get it in my mind to remove your vocal cords myself."

Bill Jackson, a
six-foot-four, 240-pound defensive end, paled at the comment. "Hey, listen
Freight, I didn't mean nothin'by it."

"You never mean
anything, Bill. Why don't you just keep your mouth shut until you do."

"Sure, Freight.
Sure," Bill agreed quickly, backing away. "Joe, I'm sorry about what
I said. I was just joking."

Joe unclenched his teeth
long enough to mutter a reluctant, "That's okay, Bill. Just don't—"

"I won't," Bill
agreed fervently, shooting a quick glance toward the hulking shadow of
Dumbronkowski.

The normal roar of the
Conquerors' locker room resumed as Bill Jackson left the room. Joe's eyes met
Freight's questioningly.

Freight's response was
quiet. "There are some things a man doesn't joke about."

Joe smiled a little.
"Yeah."

Freight turned and left
the room to pass that comment on to Bill Jackson, and Joe once again
concentrated on his shoe laces. He stared at them intently, but he was
remembering yesterday.

He had gone to see Dr. James
Wright because he wanted to help Mattie. Dr. Wright was a psychologist, a noted
sex therapist. Joe needed to know how to stop Mattie's hurt, how to make her
stop blaming herself for wanting love.

Joe sat facing the calm
direct gaze of a man barely five years his senior and began steadily, "I
have a friend who was sexually abused as a child."

"Sexual abuse is very
traumatic for a child," Dr. Wright murmured with professional
expressionlessness.

"It also makes it
damn near impossible to attain any kind of physical intimacy again," Joe
stated flatly.

"Is that the problem?
Are you afraid to get close to anyone?"

Joe's eyes met his
blankly. "Dr. Wright, I'm not—"

"I'm not making any
judgments. You are actively seeking help. Hopefully, what we discuss here can help
you—''

"Doctor, my friend's
name is Mattie," Joe broke in quietly. "She's very special to me. I
don't have time to play games."

Jim's expression showed
chagrin, and he smiled self-mockingly. "Sorry. Occupational hazard. When
you said 'friend' I assumed..." he said, sighing. "Tell me about
Mattie."

"It will go no
further than this room," Joe stated flatly, a threat evident in his tone.

Jim did not take offense.
"Of course not."

In a grim, harsh monotone,
Joe relayed the bare facts of Mattie's childhood.

"It's not as uncommon
as we would like to think, this sexual abuse of children," Jim remarked
softly when Joe had finished.

"I know that
now," Joe's voice carried a violent condemnation. "You should see
her, Dr. Wright. She's afraid to get close to anyone or anything. It's as if
she expects it to turn on her, to hurt her."

"And you?" Jim
probed. "Is she afraid to get close to you?"

"In the beginning she
was. Even now, sometimes I say something that triggers off something in her
head and she runs."

"But not
always?"

"What?"

"She doesn't always
run from you. I mean, she trusted you enough to tell you about her childhood.
That's a huge step for her to take. It's the first step on the road to dealing
with the trauma."

"Is it?" Joe's
face softened amazingly, his eyes bright.

"Healing is a slow
process, Joe. Sometimes it's almost imperceptible. The most important thing you
can do is to be there. If she wants to talk about it, listen to her. Sometimes,
it's going to be damn hard to hear. Don't shut her out. Don't push her for more
than she's ready to give."

Joe nodded abruptly. This
was nothing that he hadn't known already.

"This foster
father—" Jim began.

"He's dead." The
words were imbued with a vicious satisfaction. Mattie would never know that Joe
had tracked her foster father down to the South Texas town she had grown up in.
Joe had gone after the man blindly, driven by the pain he saw in Mattie to
punish him for the misery he had caused. Finding him dead had not erased the
hatred, but Joe felt a certain grim justice had been served.

"You would have hurt
him if he had still been living, wouldn't you have?" Jim read the
implacable hatred in Joe's face, making his question more a statement.

Joe didn't even blink.
"That twisted excuse for a man didn't deserve decent behavior from
anybody."

"Well, that's a
remarkably honest answer," Jim commended him bracingly. "Be as honest
with yourself now, Joe."

"What do you
mean?"

"I believe you when
you say that you are Mattie's friend. But I also believe that you want a lot
more from her than friendship."

Joe was silent, his jaw
tight.

"Joe—"

"Can you teach me how
to need less from her?" Joe broke in harshly, his eyes fierce.

"No," Jim
admitted softly. "I can't. Maybe, just maybe, you can learn to
accept
less."

"I want...so much. Do
you think she'll ever be able—"

"I think," Jim
answered, "that you care for her enough to put her needs above your own. I
think she's let you closer than anyone else. Maybe that will have to be
enough."

"If—if it...
happens—" Joe's face darkened with embarrassment "—is there a
certain...method, a... position?"

"If it happens,"
Jim suggested succinctly, "experiment."

Joe ran a weary hand over
his face. "Easy for you to say," he muttered. "What if I hurt
her? What if I frighten her? What if she can't...?"

' 'You tell me, Joe. What
if you can't establish a physical relationship with her? What will you do
then?"

"I'll always be her
friend." The words grated past a rusty throat. "I'll always need to
be close to her."

Jim regarded him
compassionately. "And will you be able to handle that? Close, but never
close enough?"

Joe answered with grim
self-knowledge. "Better than I could handle a life without her at
all."

"I'd like to meet
her," Jim said quietly. "Maybe I could help her. Sometimes it's
easier to open up with a stranger."

"I'll try," Joe
promised softly. "I'll try for her. But..." he shook his head.

"If she
can't
give
you what you need from her..." Jim began.

"Then I'll be
back."

Jim Wright met his eyes
questioningly.

"For those lessons on
how to accept less."

Now, back in the locker
room, Joe tightened his shoelaces and got to his feet. It was time to talk to
Mattie, to tell her about his visit to Jim Wright. Pray God, she didn't see it
as a betrayal of her trust in him.

"Ryan."

Joe stopped and turned to
face Coach Rusky in the now-empty locker room.

"One thousand for
skipping practice."

The perfect end for the
perfect week.

Hours later Mattie watched
Joe prowl around her small cottage like an expectant father and knew that
something was wrong. Joe was not a restless man. He had the unique ability to
be still and completely at peace with himself and the world. Now he looked as
if a war were being fought inside of him.

He had moved to her
bookcase now, glancing at the various titles and fumbling through the small
ornaments that decorated the shelves. The Mattie of three months ago would have
been threatened by the invasion. The woman today was only worried about his
restlessness, and sighed when he latched onto a framed photograph and inspected
it closely.

"What's this?"

Mattie rose from the sofa
to look over his shoulder. "It's a picture of a puppy," she told him
a little self-consciously.

"Did you take
it?" Joe turned to probe her eyes intently.

Mattie, a little unnerved,
turned away. "Yes, I took it."

Joe's eyes turned back to
the picture of the young English sheepdog. "Was he yours?"

"No. I never had a
pet," Mattie answered flatly.

"Then why...?"

"Look, I saw this
puppy on the street one day, I thought he was cute, and I took his picture.
That's all," Mattie told him defensively, her shoulders hunched.

"Then rushed home and
framed the picture," Joe finished softly, his eyes darkening.
"Mattie, there's no shame in admitting that you liked this puppy."

Mattie said nothing and
Joe pressed on. "Why don't you get a puppy of your own?"

Mattie stiffened. "It
wouldn't be practical," she told him. "I'm gone all day, and a puppy
like that would grow up to be huge and he'd probably run away anyway—"

"Mattie," Joe
broke in gently, putting the picture down to cup her face and force her eyes to
his. "Why are you afraid to care for anyone? Even for a pet?"

"You know
why..." she began huskily, her lips trembling.

"Yes," Joe
sighed. "I know why. You're afraid that in caring for something or
someone, you give them the power to hurt you. But Mattie, don't you see,"
he pleaded softly, "you've already let yourself care about me. Do you
think I'm going to turn on you? Do you think I would ever hurt you?"

"No! Joe, I know you
wouldn't hurt me. But it's still so hard!"

Joe's thumbs moved
caressingly against the soft skin of her jaw, soothing her fear. "Mattie..
.I skipped practice yesterday."

Mattie blinked, unsure
where this was leading. "You did?"

"Yes. I went to go
see a doctor. His name is James Wright."

Swift fear colored her
eyes silver. "A doctor? Joe, are you sick? Is there something wrong?"

Joe drew a steadying
breath. "Jim Wright is a psychologist, Mattie. He specializes in sex
therapy."

Mattie searched his eyes
in silence, then pulled away, turning her back on him.

"Mattie..."

"You went to talk to
him about me, didn't you?" she demanded in a hard little voice. "You
told him about..."

Joe sighed. "I didn't
give him your address, if that's what you're thinking. Mattie, I went to see
him for my sake."

"For
your
sake!"
she turned to face him incredulously, her eyes hurt.

"Yes," Joe
repeated slowly. "For my sake. After what you told me—"

• Oh, now I see," Mattie
broke in bitterly, driven by pain and not believing a word that she said.
"You were so disgusted by what I told you, having such a hard time dealing
i the fact that I was someone's... toy—"

"Hell, yes, I'm
having a hard time dealing with it!" Joe exploded. "Aren't you? I'd
like to kill that man for what he put you through. I hurt for you,
Mattie," Joe said, his voice breaking achingly and his eyes burning.
"I hurt for
you,
not for me. I want to help you. That's why I went
to see Jim Wright. I thought he could teach me what to do, what to say to help
you heal."

"Oh, Joe,"
Mattie breathed, her eyes bright with tears and her lips trembling.

"Is it so wrong
to...care about you this way, Mattie? To want to help you? Can you really blame
me for that?"