Salvation (16 page)

“T
ell me about Gideon,” Dr. Jones said, in her normal light, professional tone. It was nine o’clock on a Saturday morning—the following morning—but she looked as composed and pulled-together as always.

My shoulders stiffened. “What about him?”

“Just tell me about him. You just said you went back to the elliptical because you were upset about his not coming over last night, so I wanted to hear a little more about him.”

“I’ve talked about him before.”

“But you’ve never told me what he’s like. What kind of a man is he? What’s his background?”

I frowned. I’d talked enough about Gideon for the last few months that she should know what he was like by now. But it was a safe enough question that there wasn’t any point in refusing to answer it. “He’s from Nebraska. He calls his family “meat-and-potatoes” type people. He’s really close to his parents—a lot closer than I ever was to mine. I don’t think he really understands why my dad and I don’t have a better relationship. He’s never said so, but I think he blames my dad for it.”

“What does he blame him for?”

“For working all the time. For not making more of an effort with me. It’s nothing he’s ever said. It’s just his expression whenever I talk about my dad. And I think he’s angry with him about that business deal that...that got me targeted.”

“Does he always think in black-and-white terms that way?”

I thought about this for a minute. “Yeah. I think so. Right is right, and wrong is wrong, and people should do right. He is kind of that way. But he isn’t narrow and judgmental about it. He holds himself to higher standards than he holds other people. His dad was a sheriff, and I think Gideon knew all his life that he would go into law-enforcement too. He majored in Criminal Justice in college and did all kinds of internships so he could get into the FBI. I think he’s always been really focused on his career.”

“To the exclusion of other things?”

“I don’t know. I mean, he’s never been married. He’s never talked about having a serious girlfriend before. I’m sure he dated a lot, but I don’t think he was ever serious about anyone.”

“Until now?”

I shifted in my chair, since I knew exactly what she was asking. “He’s dating other women.”

“I know that. But he was serious about you, wasn’t he?”

“I don’t know. He was interested. I don’t know how serious he was.” I didn’t like that she’d used the past tense about Gideon’s feelings for me. However irrational, the past tense really upset me.

“Last month, you were taking the whole thing pretty seriously if he was just casually interested in you.”

I was starting to get emotional, but I tried to keep my voice calm. “Yeah. I took it seriously.”

“And you still think he was wrong about wanting a romantic relationship with you?”

I swallowed hard, hating the sound of that past tense again. “Yes. He was wrong about that.”

“You really think you couldn’t love him?”

“Yes, I could love him,” I snapped, trying to control a sudden surge of frustration. “I can’t have sex with him, though.”

“Do you want to have sex with him?”

I blinked. “I just said—”

“You said you
couldn’t
have sex with him. I was wondering if you even
wanted
to have sex with him.”

“I...I don’t know.”

“Because if it’s something you want, then we can work on it. But maybe it’s not even something you want.”

“I...I don’t know. I
can’t
want it.”

“Does that mean you’re incapable of wanting it or that you
do
want it but don’t think you should?”

“I shouldn’t want it. But I don’t really know if I’m capable of wanting it either. Any time I even test out that part of my mind, the demons go crazy. I just don’t think I can be that girl again.”

“What girl?”

“The girl who has that part of her life.”

“Do you
want
to be that girl?”

“I don’t know.” I sighed when I saw her looking at me with raised eyebrows. So I amended, “Of course I do. Of course, I want to be that girl again.”

***

T
hat evening, I went into the city to have dinner with a couple of my friends. I was determined not to fall into a downward spiral, so I didn’t want to brood by myself all weekend.

I didn’t call Gideon, and he didn’t call me.

My friends met at Julie’s, who lived near my old apartment. And near Gideon. But I didn’t let myself think about that fact.

I tried to socialize as best I could and managed to stay a couple of hours at Julie’s—long enough for dinner and some gossip. The other girls were still going strong at nine o’clock, but I just couldn’t stand it anymore. I was anxious and upset and emotional, and I couldn’t seem to get it under control.

I had to get away. Go home.

So I made up an excuse of a headache and left, walking the couple of blocks to where I’d parked my car. I was terrified of the walk down the sidewalk alone at night, but it was better than working myself up into a breakdown by staying and pretending to be happy.

I passed a club on the way to my car. It was really loud—the music blaring out from inside—and there were people hanging out in front of it, including groups of guys who, in the darkness, looked kind of rough to me.

I was already nervous, and I crossed the street so I could walk past the club from the opposite sidewalk and then crossed again farther down to reach my car.

I’d seen that club a zillion times when I used to live in the area, but it made chills of fear run up and down my spine now.

I was so nervous I was panting with it as I caught sight of my car. I sped up to a power-walk so I could get to it more quickly.

I whirled around with a gurgle when a voice called from behind me, “Diana! Diana!”

I knew the voice though. It was Gideon. And there he was, approaching me from across the street. He wore khakis and a black dress shirt.

He was with a pretty, little brunette who was smiling and clinging to his arm. She wore a little blue dress with thin straps, despite the fact that it was a cool-ish autumn evening.

I tried to steady my breathing as he approached, so he wouldn’t know how nervous I’d been. He was frowning as he got close enough to speak in a normal voice. “What are you doing out here alone?”

And, for some reason, the question was like a stab through my chest, that he clearly thought I was some delicate flower who couldn’t even make a three-block walk to her car at a time of the evening when there were plenty of people around. “I was at Julie’s,” I said, forcing a smile. “I’m just heading home.”

He was still frowning as he studied my face, but I turned away from him and looked at his companion instead. “I’m Diana.”

The girl grinned brightly. “I’m Maria. It’s nice to meet you. Have you known Gideon long?”

I knew exactly what the question was intended to do. She was fishing for information about who I was and what my relationship was with Gideon.

“We’ve been friends for a few months,” I said, forcing a friendly, casual tone. “What are you all up to this evening?” I shifted my eyes over to Gideon and then quickly back to Maria.

He didn’t answer, but she said, “We went to dinner at Gallagher’s, and now we’re just...hanging out.”

I knew that phrase for what it was. That after-dinner time on a date when you figure out whether you’re heading back to someone’s place for sex.

I swallowed hard and forced back the sick feeling. I think I said something appropriate, but I have no idea what it was.

The more I looked at Maria, the more I recognized her expression. She was happy. Excited. On the edge of thrilled. She had that I’m-on-a-date-with-a-fantastic-man-and-it’s-going-really-well look.

I’d seen that look before. I might have even had it myself from time to time, in a previous life.

And I hated her. I
hated
Maria, even though she was nothing but sweet and friendly. I hated that she got to be with Gideon when I would never have him that way. I hated that she could wear such a sexy, little dress when I always had to wear long sleeves. I hated that she was still clinging to his arm, as if she was claiming ownership of him. I hated how he was standing next to her instead of next to me. I hated it so much it felt like my hands were shaking, and I had to clutch them around the strap of my purse.

I hated that she was that girl—the one I could never be again.

Gideon hadn’t said much, and I could feel his eyes searching my face. So I had to hide it. It was so important that I hide my reaction from him. He’d been having a good time with Maria. She might have been who he was with yesterday evening. And, no matter how much it ripped up my heart, I wasn’t going to stand in the way of this for him.

I grinned so widely it felt like my face would crack. “There’s a great cupcake place a couple of blocks down that way. You should check it out.”

He’d brought me a cupcake once. When things were different.

“Ooh, that sounds good. Can we do that?” Maria gazed up at Gideon beseechingly.

I felt my stomach churn, so knew I had to get away. “I better get going, since I have a long drive. I hope you all have a great evening and enjoy the cupcakes.”

Then I pointed myself toward my car and clicked the lock open. I stumbled as I tried to get in, and I felt sobs tightening in my throat as I closed the door and locked it.

I watched as they walked down the block. Their backs were to me now, but I could clearly see how Maria kept gazing up at Gideon, in a way that was probably alluring. And, as I watched, Gideon put his hand on her back to guide her out of the way of an oncoming couple on the sidewalk.

His hand didn’t linger there, but still. They looked like a couple. They
should
be a couple.

Gideon and I could never be a couple.

I sat in the car shaking for a long time. I didn’t turn it on. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to drive if I did.

I kept sitting there, thinking about how Gideon deserved someone like Maria and not someone like me.

Because someone like me couldn’t ever be intimate with him. Or anyone. Couldn’t ever let anyone touch her. Ever again.

And something strange happened then. It was kind of like the night when I took all the pills. Or all the times I’d battered myself on the elliptical.

It was like something foreign, alien, overtook my body, making decisions for me. And the part of me that could think clearly was only watching it happen from a distance.

I wanted to be normal. I wanted to do normal things like wear revealing clothes, be close to a man, let a man touch me. I needed to be that person, despite everything.

I never made a conscious decision, but I was getting out of the car. I was wearing a thin cashmere cardigan, but I took the cardigan off, so I just had a black tank top on with my jeans.

I took out my ID and some money, slid it in my pocket, and then locked my purse in the trunk. I know I did that, although I can’t actually remember doing it.

I’m not even sure how I got there, but I ended up in that club.

The loud, pulsing, crowded, chaotic club.

I was too out of it to be nervous. I was too out of it to be
anything
.

There was only this. The throbbing in my ears, my head, my toes. The music might as well have been blaring opera. It had exactly the same effect, hammering my mind until I couldn’t think at all.

I could just do. And I
was
doing it. I was being the person I wanted to be. The girl who could do normal things.

Like go up to the bar and let a stranger buy her a drink.

Like go with him to the dance floor and dance, surrounded by people, by faceless bodies who were moving in the way she wanted to move.

Like let the stranger put his hands on her, even though it made bile rise in her throat.

Like gyrating her hips in time with his and pressing even closer to him, since that was having fun, being wild, being free.

Like running her hands up and down him until it was obvious to him what she wanted.

Like letting him whisper a suggestion in her ear and then agreeing to it.

Then this girl, who couldn’t be me, walked with the guy to the back of the club and out a door into the alley behind it.

The little part of my mind that could still function was watching with horror, with disgust, with mortified shame, at what this body was doing. But that weak, little part of my mind couldn’t stop it.

The girl let the stranger push her up against the wall, trapping her with his body. Her head and lungs were burning so much she couldn’t breathe anymore, but it didn’t matter. She was doing this. Doing everything she thought she couldn’t do. Letting this man put his mouth all over her neck, stick his hand down her top, slide his fingers under the waistband of her jeans.

She was doing it, and nothing about it felt good. Everything about it hurt and horrified and sickened her. But she wasn’t going to stop because this was all that was left for her.

He was rubbing his groin against her, grunting like an animal, and starting to unzip her jeans when a voice broke into the fog.

“Get away from her!” The voice was loud, authoritative.

The guy jerked in surprise and looked back over his shoulder. “Get the fuck out of here.”

“I said get away from her. Take your hands off her.
Right now
.” The voice was closer, angrier, louder, brutally intimidating.

The guy backed away, revealing the angry speaker was Gideon.

And that was it. The girl became me.

I almost gagged as I kept feeling this guy’s hands and body all over mine. I made a gurgling sound and covered my mouth with my hand.

“Who the hell are
you
?” the guy said, looking angry and like he might be ready for a fight.

Gideon pulled out his credentials and gave the guy an icy cold look.

The guy blinked. “Hey, I wasn’t doing anything. She wanted it. She came on to me. I’m telling you, man, she wanted it.”

For the first time, Gideon slid his eyes over to me. I knew what he saw. A pitiful, disgusting, shameful failure. “No, she didn’t.”