My skin reddened as the water continued to fall.
How many showers would it take to wash it all away?
I reached for a bottle of bodywash gel.
Popping the lid open, the clean, fresh scent brought back thoughts of Patrick. With the bottle still in hand, I squirted it upon a cloth. My hands were first and then my arms, scrubbing and scrubbing, I washed harder and harder with no regard for the abrasion to my skin.
A sob bellowed from my chest as I lowered myself to the tile floor, resting upon my knees as the scent of bodywash filled the glass stall, mixing with the hot spray and steam,
I’d failed.
It wasn’t enough.
It would never be enough.
The blood would never be gone.
Lying on my side, I pulled my knees to my chest.
Perhaps there was hope. Maybe if I lay under the hot spray long enough, it would go away.
“Madeline, fucking hell, what are you doing?”
My eyes and face ached as I looked up, watching as Patrick turned off the shower. Fully dressed, he stepped inside the steam-filled stall.
What was I doing?
The loss of the spray brought a sudden chill to my skin.
Wearing a t-shirt and soft sweatpants, he knelt beside me on the shower’s tile floor.
My head shook. “You’re getting your pants and shoes wet.”
Patrick reached for my shoulders and pulled me to his chest. “I don’t give a fuck about that.” His strong arms wrapped around me, bringing me closer. “Maddie girl.” He pushed me away to arm’s length. “Jesus, that water was scalding.” His blue eyes searched my skin. “Are you burnt?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head.
“Here.” He offered me his hand as he stood and stepped out of the stall. “Let me help you with a towel. How long were you in there?”
My weak legs wobbled as I stood.
Gripping his large hand for support, I steadied as cooling droplets trickled from my long hair. No longer warm, the opening of the shower stole the heat. My flesh covered in goose bumps. “I-I don’t know how long.” My teeth began to chatter. “I’m cold.”
Worry and concern swirled through Patrick’s blue orbs as he reached for a plush large towel and wrapped it around me. “Come with me.”
I didn’t follow.
First, I needed to see.
Prying my hands from the terrycloth cocoon he’d created, I lifted them, splaying my fingers. “I need to wash my hands.”
Patrick’s head shook. “They’re clean.”
“No.” Tears stung my eyes.
Had I been crying in the shower?
I couldn’t recall.
A lump formed as I tried to swallow. “No, don’t you see it? I can’t get them clean. And…you…”
My head fell to his chest as my wet hair dampened his t-shirt.
In one swift swoop, Patrick lifted me, cradling me against his strong chest, and carried me to the bed where I’d awakened. With the covers already tossed back, he laid me upon the soft sheet, and with the towel still around me, he lifted the blankets, covering me to my chin. It wasn’t enough. My chattering teeth wouldn’t subside, and now my entire body trembled to the point of convulsion beneath the newfound warmth.
Looking up at the man I loved, I saw his despair, knowing it was me who brought it. More tears came as his expression broke a piece of my already-splintered heart. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” he asked as the mattress dipped and he sat along the edge.
“I can’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“I don’t know how—I don’t remember how,” I corrected, “to be me.”
Patrick’s lips curled. “There’s no secret formula, Maddie girl. I’ve changed since we were first together. You have too. That’s what people do.” He reached out and teased a rogue strand of damp hair away from my cheek. “I want all of you.” His warm finger caressed my cheek. “Don’t hide anything. I promise I can take it.”
More tears teetered upon my eyelids and cascaded down my cheeks. “What if I can’t? What if I let it all out and it breaks me?”
“Then I’ll be here to help you pick up the pieces.”
My lip trembled as I noticed our open bedroom door. “Is Ruby?”
Patrick stood with a nod and walking across the room, he closed the door. “She is, but she’s asleep. I checked on her before I came in here and heard the shower.”
Taking a deep breath, I looked up at the ceiling. In the center was a stationary ceiling fan. “I don’t know where to start.”
“You don’t have to start tonight.”
I nodded. “If I don’t get it out, I’m afraid of what it will do. It’s building.” I struggled to breathe. “I don’t know why, but it’s all here, all at once like never before.” Closing my eyes forced out more tears. “I can’t get away from it.” My head shook. “Which makes no sense because I am away and so is Ruby.”
Patrick stroked my hair. “Do you want to let it out?”
I shrugged beneath the blankets. “If I let it out, I’m afraid of how you’ll see me, how you’ll look at me.” I snuggled under the warm blankets of Patrick’s bed. “I don’t know when I’ve been so terrified.”
He nodded as he pulled the t-shirt over his head, kicked off his damp shoes, and stepped out of the soft pants. Wearing only his black silk boxer briefs, Patrick started to lift the covers. “On or off?” he asked. The only light was the one on the bedside stand.
“On.”
After he settled upon the bed, he lifted my head and shoulders, wrapped his arm around me, and pulled me to his side. “Start wherever you can.”
My head buzzed with memories, a wasp’s nest of incidents I’d compartmentalized away were now alive. Individual moments in time swarmed, all vying to be released and all ready to inject their stingers.
I reached out to hold his hand as we had when we were young. Our one-room apartment came back to my mind. I let out a breath. “I had been sick after we moved into the mission and finally realized I might be pregnant,” I began. “One day, Kristine…”
Patrick
Two full days passed before Mason and I made our trip to the white-sand beaches of Florida. Though we’d planned for it to be earlier, I couldn’t leave Madeline. For hours she’d talk and cry, only to fall asleep and then wake with a start.
I refused to allow her to wake alone.
In the course of thirty-six hours, she took six showers. Not one of them was taken alone.
I should say that through each one and throughout the course of her purge, I took the high road and simply accompanied her in the shower for her safety and well-being, and held her in bed for support.
I couldn’t.
During her stories, Madeline equated sex with a form of validation, especially consensual sex. It turned out that more than once in her journey through memories, she not only wanted but asked for that validation.
“Please, Patrick. I need to know you still want me.”
Her fists would ball as she pounded the wall. “No, I wanted to say no.” Her tear-filled eyes would turn my way. “Not now. Please, I don’t want to say it now…I want to say yes. Make me feel…loved.”