Instinctively, the lawyer in me came out, at his answering a question with a question.
Just then, something Dr. Winston mentioned about vulnerability popped into my mind. “Vulnerability is difficult, and it should be,”she’d said.“We aren’t meant to trust our hearts with everyone, but you won’t ever know who’s right if you never try. You only know you can trust someone when you show them all the broken parts of you, and they treat them with the care and love you deserve.”
“I was ashamed,” I admitted. I ran my hand through my hair, as I slowly brought my eyes up to meet his.
“Tell me.”
“About Ethan?”
His jaw clenched, and he nodded.
My chest cavity filled with air as I inhaled and prepared myself to tell the full story of my past relationship.
“I met Ethan the summer before I started law school. He was starting his third year at Georgetown and was helping a professor with his 1L class. We lived in the same building not too far from campus. I moved to D.C. the summer before classes started to get out of Houston after the debacle with my ex and former best friend.
“Anyway, I met him, and he was smooth and funny, always the life of the party. We clicked, but I’d told him I wasn’t ready for a relationship. I confided in him about my ex. He said we could be friends and when I was ready, we’d take it from there. Over the next couple of months, we hung out. He helped me get used to the demands of law school. We had a solid friendship, at least I thought we did. He even told me about his poor relationship with his father. One night during the second half of my first semester, we were hanging out alone at my place, and um, things changed.”
I didn’t feel the need to go into details of the night Ethan and my relationship went from platonic to romantic. I looked up at Xavier to make sure he was following me. I watched as his jaw tightened, but I decided to keep going.
“After that, we were inseparable, and he started to change. At first, it was just comments about guy friends or classmates whom I talked to outside of class. Asking who they were, why was I talking to them, things like that. I didn’t think much of it. Actually, I enjoyed it. I thought his extra attention was just his way of showing how much he cared for me. I was young and naive.
“The end of my first year, I moved in with him. He’d gotten a job at a prestigious firm in D.C. Once I moved in was when things got worse. He would make comments about what I wore, insisting that I change to something different before we went out. One night after about two months of living together, he came home from work pissed. I was supposed to go out with friends to dinner. He insisted I cancel my plans. When I refused, he grabbed my arm, squeezing it painfully and twisted it behind my back until I begged him to let go. He refused until I agreed to cancel my dinner plans. I woke up the next morning believing the previous night had just been a dream until I felt the soreness in my arm. I had a ring of purple bruises around my forearm in the shape of a handprint.”
I paused, drawing up my legs into the chair, pulling the T-shirt I wore over them and wrapping my arms around them. I blinked a few times, trying to clear my vision from the sheen of tears that’d gathered. I couldn’t look at Xavier. I already felt the heat of his anger radiating from his body. I knew if I looked at him I wouldn’t be able to keep going.
“He swore he’d never do anything like that again. He’d just been having a bad day and wanted to spend time with me. To make up for it, he bought tickets to see one of my favorite artists who was on tour. He was so gentle for weeks afterward. I thought it was just a one-time thing. But exactly one month later, we got into an argument about the way some guy was looking at me at dinner. I didn’t even know the man, he was some random guy at a restaurant, but Ethan swore I knew him, or at least enticed him somehow by the dress I wore. When I told him he was acting ridiculous, he backhanded me. That was like an out-of-body experience. I’d never been hit before. Neither of my parents had ever hit me as a kid.
“I lay on the bed after it happened, cupping my face looking up into Ethan’s un-remorseful eyes. I know I should’ve left then or the first time, but I thought it was my fault. If I hadn’t talked back, if I wasn’t so disrespectful, if I hadn’t done whatever I did to elicit the attention of other men…if, if, if. That’s what I truly believed, so time after time I made excuses for Ethan. Every time I used makeup to cover my bruises I’d remind myself that it was my fault. That cycle went on for close to two years.”
“What changed then?”
I almost jumped, remembering Xavier was there. I’d gotten so lost in saying my story out loud.
“Gabby finally found out what was happening. For more than a year, she suspected something. Even told me how much she didn’t like Ethan. But I would lie and rave about how good he was to me. Anyway, one time she saw some bruises on my wrist, and she just knew. She didn’t even ask, just offered to let me move in with her. Of course, I lied and refused. I had a little over one semester to go in law school, and I rationalized that once I graduated and started working, things would get better between us.”
“Gabby and I got into a big argument. She insisted he’d never change and told me that I needed to leave or run the risk of him killing me. I told her she was irrational. It got really ugly.”
“Is that why you two stopped speaking?”
My eyes ballooned, and I gave him the screw face wondering how he knew that.
“The time I stopped by the place you shared with him in D.C., you mentioned that you and your best friend weren’t talking when I asked why you were home on a Friday night.”
My jaw dropped. “How…? I can’t believe you remembered that.” I recalled the time he’d stopped by with my favorite pumpkin scones.
“I remember a lot. Like the way he looked at you when he came home and saw me there.”
I nodded and stared down at my cloth-covered knees. I remembered that too.
“Did he…?”
I closed my eyes, wishing I didn’t know where he was going with the beginning of that question. But I knew, and nodded. Yes, after Ethan walked in on Xavier and me, he went into another rage. I was black and blue for weeks after that night.
“Son of a bitch!”
I jumped as Xavier yelled and slammed the table with his fist at the same time. I heard the scraping of his chair against the hardwood floor, and my eyes popped open. He stood up from his chair with so much force that it fell to the floor.
“I’m going to fucking kill him,” he snarled through clenched teeth. He paced back and forth seriously looking like he was going to kill something.
