“Well. Good night.”
She nodded, and I left.
Chapter Ten
Liya
Jay’s footsteps were silent save for the squeak in the foyer when he put his shoes on. The front door opened and closed.
Sitting up in bed, I called out, “Jay?”
Nothing but silence.
“Jay?” I asked louder, only to be met again with the quietness of my apartment.
My head hit the pillow as my thoughts mulled over the events of the night. Mike. I was going to beat his ass the next time I saw him. He owed me fourteen hundred dollars for those shoes.
Who was I kidding? Shoes came and went. They were replaceable and dispensable. But for the first time in years, I’d placed myself in a situation that had scared me half to death. Several years ago, fifteen-year-old Liya had been trapped in Mukesh’s house, convinced that she had done something wrong to provoke his crude behavior. Worse than that, she’d worried she’d done something wrong by exposing him to her parents. Ever since, I stepped into a position of power with boys, and then men. Things never went further than my realm of control, and most times, they never went far at all. I required full control. At all times. In all things.
I am not a whore, Mike. Not even close.
I was a woman who had physical, consensual relationships, and I was not ashamed.
No matter how strong I tried to be, I was not that strong. I could hit a man and cause damage, but I wouldn’t have been able to fend Mike off if he tried hard enough. My mental state was not barricaded enough to withstand another situation.
Stupid tears, hot and messy, cascaded down my face as my vision blurred. Hopefully Jay had really left, because if he knew how I turned over, curled into a ball, and cried into the pillows, I would never be able to save face.
Men should not have control over me.
Men should not have control over me.
Men should not have control over me…
Despite the mantra, my chest heaved as I hyperventilated, and hot tears drenched my face. But the turbulent whorls of weakness and sadness evaporated as I screamed into my pillow. By the time I rolled onto my back, wiped my face dry, and cleared my throat, I had gathered myself. My breathing calmed. My temper, my pulse, and my shaking calmed. I combed my fingers through bedraggled hair.
No man was worth tears. Especially a fading blip like Mike.
As I lay in bed, effortlessly moving between anger and depression, I kept glancing at my phone. I tried to be a strong woman, I swore I did, but being a victim of something did not make me weak. Right?
Asking for help or comfort did not make me weak.
My brain told me to shut up and keep this to myself. But that had to be a residual impact from what happened years ago. Because Dad had said it to me. Girls who get assaulted or harassed usually placed themselves in that situation. Why was I alone with a man?
I punched my pillow in its fluffy gut. “Effing screw you, Dad.”
He was wrong.
I snatched up my phone and called Reema.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” she asked in a scratchy, sleepy voice.
“Something has to be wrong?” I asked, hating that my voice wobbled.
“Yes. It’s late. Are you drunk? Do you need me to pick you up?”
I clenched my eyes, and tears streamed down my face. God bless her sweet heart. She wouldn’t ignore my phone call or get irritated if I had been drunk and needed a ride.
“No. I’m home.” The words slipped out with a shudder.
“What happened?” Reema asked, sounding fully alert.
“I had a bad night,” I almost sobbed. “I know it’s late, but…”
Fabric rustled on her end of the phone, and I knew she’d shot out of bed. “Preeti is studying in the living room. I’ll get Sana. We’ll be right over!”
About half an hour later, she’d texted that she was unlocking the door, which I was grateful for. I didn’t want to descend into a panic attack, giving Mike power by fearing that he was breaking into my safe space.
I never felt more overwhelming love for my girls than when we came through for one another. Reema, Preeti, and Sana crawled into bed with me with a solemnness in their eyes.
Sana, without a word, popped open a tub of my favorite Blue Bell ice cream and handed me a spoon first. We quietly gave one another a half smile as I scooped out some sweetness, letting the cold melt on my tongue.
Reema turned on the TV and joked, “Netflix and chill?”
The following morning, I dressed to cover any scratches. In the privacy of the bedroom, Preeti examined my ankle and wrapped it. My ankle was bruised and swollen and hurt to walk on, but it didn’t look too bad.
For the next week, I would have to say goodbye to skirts and high heels and hello to dress pants, compression wraps, and flats.
It took forever to hobble from my car to the building, cross the hall to the elevator, then down another hall to my office, but I made it to work bright and early Monday morning. Mike worked in the building down the street, and we’d run into each other often during lunch. He wouldn’t dare show his face near me again, but if he did, we’d get some crucial things settled. My resolution to face Mike was so vehement within me that I wished Mike would cross my path. I banished any lingering fear and anxiety. I was ready.
Since we had our Jay-led corporate meeting today, I went straight to the boardroom, took my time sitting down, and sighed as soon as I displaced the weight from my ankle. It throbbed and thrummed, and I couldn’t help but slip off my shoe and gently massage the slightly swollen area. Maybe Wendy could bring ice to my office later.
This moment of peace and tranquility at work was alien. Although nice, it didn’t last long. The door opened and Jay walked in, his head down as he read his tablet, a briefcase in the other hand. He wore the hell out of a dark gray suit; tailored lines and expensive fabric that enhanced his physique.
He dropped his briefcase at the end of the table and looked up. He half smiled, but it seemed nothing but sincere.
“You’re here early,” he commented.
“Took my time. Didn’t want to give you a reason to call me out in front of everyone.”
“Ah. That first meeting was probably not my best moment.”
I arched my brows and poked. “You have best moments?”
He laughed. “Ouch. You seem to be in a better mood. How’s the ankle?”
My body warmed, recalling how he’d seen me all frazzled and out of it last night and, to boot, had taken care of me the way he did. “It still hurts, but not as badly.”
“Broken?”
“Preeti says it’s sprained. Nothing serious.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Gratitude hung on the tip of my tongue, but Jay nodded and went about setting up. The fabric of his suit stretched across his back as he scribbled a few things on the whiteboard beside the PowerPoint display. He had broad shoulders and a wide back that tapered at his waist. When he reached up to draw a line over the top of his words, his suit jacket arched up and tugged against a very nice backside.
I bit my lower lip and glared at the notes on my tablet. What was I doing?
Within minutes, the awkward silence dismantled as the rest of the attendees filed in. The meeting went on as planned, and Jay revealed the extreme situation we were headed into, but most of us had guessed it was coming. Or in my case, knew because he’d told me.