“My mother’s funeral was on a Thursday. He was there and gave me his condolences. I didn’t expect him to show up the next night, but he did. After he, umm, tied me up and stuff, he said he would be right back. This wasn’t unusual. He often left me lying there waiting for him. I think it was all part of the control.” I take a sip of water and continue, trying to get the words to come out right.
“Anyways, when he came back, he dragged something across my skin. I couldn’t see it because I was blindfolded.” I look back up to see Dr. Reynolds nodding. “The first time he struck me, I was so confused. I tried to tell him to stop, but he didn’t hear me through the gag. Or probably thought I was enjoying it. Either way, he didn’t stop. He only hit me a few more times, but it was enough to leave scars.” The permanent marks on my lower back are a constant reminder of what a fool I had become.
“So, you’re telling me that the day after your mother's funeral, the man that you had been having a sexual relationship with, who happens to be your mother's doctor and who is fourteen years older than you, shows up after he’s already tied you up, blindfolded you, and gagged you?” Dr. Reynolds asks. I nod. “And you’re telling me that you had consensual sex. You said, ‘Yes, I want this’?”
“Well, yes. I mean no. He never asked me if I wanted to be hit, but he never asked me when he tried something new on me as it was. He couldn’t have known.” I shake my head when I realize I’m defending him. “Afterwards, he told me that he thought the pain was a great way for me to get my mind off of everything that I went through the day before. It wasn’t until after he left that I realized what happened. I can’t believe how pathetic I sound.” Dropping my head in my hands, I shake it, frustrated with myself.
“No, it’s not pathetic at all, Charlotte. You said you realized what happened. What did you realize?”
“That he didn’t even ask me if I wanted it!” My voice rises as I tell her my epiphany. “He didn’t care about me at all. I realized that I was not an equal in our so-called relationship.” I wipe my eyes to prevent the tears from falling and give a sarcastic laugh. “God, I can't believe I was so stupid.”
“Charlotte, look at me.” She pauses and waits for me to comply.
“You are not stupid. You were a young, naive girl in an impossibly tragic situation. There is nothing wrong in looking for some comfort. I’ve told you before, you were not wrong. He was wrong. He was supposed to be there as your dying mother’s doctor, not a sexual partner. You were eighteen when you met him. You were manipulated into thinking he was what you wanted when all along what you needed was a support system.” She leans back in her chair and takes a deep breath. “What this man did to you, Charlotte, it’s one of the worst cases of narcissism I’ve ever seen.”
I copy her by taking a deep breath, as well, and then let the fury fly. “I never told him no. How can you continue saying I was manipulated when I know damn well I liked it! Up until the day I decided I was done, I craved it. I counted down the minutes until I would see him again. It was the only time I felt alive, the only time I didn’t feel alone or empty. I wanted it. Every. Damn. Time!”
“If you wanted it so bad, then why did you vomit after he left? Every. Damn. Time.” She raises her eyebrow in question.
“That didn’t start right away,” I snap defensively and get another tissue to wipe my eyes again. “I know, okay. I get it. I was young, maybe it went too far. But I don't think he manipulated me. How can it be manipulation when, after all this time, I actually miss him? Well, not him, per se. But what he made me feel. If he showed up tonight, I’m not so sure I would push him away. It doesn't make any sense because I realize now our relationship was wrong on so many levels. But it’s not like he beat me or anything, except for that night, and I don’t consider that getting beaten. Now I’m babbling; I can’t even get my thoughts straight.”
“Just because you weren’t beaten doesn’t mean you weren’t abused. I want you to think about that until next week, okay?”
I nod in agreement.
“We also need to address the loss of your sister and your parents.” I part my lips to argue, but she shakes her head. “We’ve already talked about this, the suppression of your feelings of loss. If you’re ready, we’ll talk about that next week, too, alright?”
“’Kay, thanks,” I mumble. “Sorry I yelled at you.”
“Don’t apologize for feeling, Charlotte. I think you’re really starting to heal, and that makes me happy.”
As I’m driving back home, I stop by the lake. I take off my shoes and drag my feet through the sand to my spot, the place where I first met Travis. Remembering that summer always brings back so many emotions. Looking back, I recognize the seventeen-year-old me didn’t know shit. She was naive and immature. There are so many things I would change about my life and the path I’ve chosen. I have remorse for lying to him, but regret? Nope. If anything, I wish I could have had more time with the man I hold on a pedestal.
It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him, and I was worried he would have changed. The intensity in his eyes, how he sees through every thick layer I’ve ever built, the way he makes me feel safe. My heart smiles when I realize he’s still the same man I fell in love with. Once he finds out what I went through with Todd, I’m not sure he’s going to look at me as the sweet girl he used to know. The thought of him leaving me like everyone else has me guarding my heart even more, because I don’t think I could lose him again.
I lay on a large, smooth, gray rock on the shore and close my eyes.
I wake up to the sound of my phone ringing and reluctantly pull it out of my pocket to answer. It’s a number I don’t recognize, so I swipe my finger across the screen and ignore the call, and then put my phone on silent. My heavy lids have no problem closing again, even in the cooler weather.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”
I wake to the sound of a very angry Travis and quickly open my eyes. As I take in my surroundings, I realize the sun is now setting. That’s another thing I love about living here, the sunsets. Nothing is more beautiful than watching the blazing bright sun fade into nothingness behind blue water. It’s indescribable. I have yet to see a picture that does it justice.
“Hey,” I mumble, sitting up.
“Hey? You’re sleeping on a fucking rock. Alone, Charlotte. What the hell is wrong with you?”
I tilt my head and see his jaw clenched and fists at his sides. His telltale sign when he’s pissed. He only ever calls me Charlotte when he’s mad at me. Apparently, today is no exception. My own anger builds quickly, and my refusal to be walked over again burns bright in the forefront of my mind. I will never let another man tell me what to do or be controlled. Ever. Including Travis. The initial shock of seeing him had me pliant, but not anymore. I vowed to be stronger.
Standing on the rock makes me taller than him, and I use that to my advantage. I plant my feet, put my left hand on my hip, and point down at him with my right, much like a parent scolding a child.
“Excuse me? What’s wrong with me?” Instead of letting him answer, I continue with my rant, “I’m an adult, Travis. I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions.”