Fiona
My relationship with Bash wasn’t something I considered fast, not that I had much to compare it to. With fall approaching, it had been well over six months since the first night we met—the night I rescued Charlie. In the beginning, our contact was minimal, but after my attack, Bash’s presence became a staple in my life. A constant I was hesitant to embrace.
Gradually, over the past few months, he had shown me that he wanted to be a part of my life and wanted me in his. Even though I was still a bit uncertain about my relationship with Bash, hesitant to let him further into my life, the truth was we had already crossed that boundary.
By the time our first official date had taken place, he was an integral part of my life. Seeing him, talking to him, made me happy. The more time we spent together, the more comfortable I felt.
It was absolutely terrifying to feel dependent on someone else for those emotions. I wanted to be ready, I wanted Bash, but there was a part of me that was still terrified it was all going to disappear.
After I found out about the background check, I quickly started spiraling down, letting my biggest insecurities overtake me. As soon as I was alone and the file was in my hands, I was mentally packing up, locking my emotions and feelings down,trying to do whatever I could to stop the heartache and feelings of betrayal.
Then he showed up, literally bursting through my door and not stopping until every wall was dropped between us. That night was the first for a lot of things. Years of anxiety, judgment, and shame came pouring out of me.
This thing between Bash and me was becoming something so much more than I could have ever imagined or expected for myself. That night changed everything, propelling me further into foreign ground with no maps or navigational assistance.
Any notion I had of holding some of myself back, trying to keep myself safe to prepare for heartbreak, was thrown out that night. The sex was unprecedented. It wasn’t because it was my first time; it was because it was with Bash. It was unplanned on many levels. When I first woke up, I took a moment to bask in the unfamiliar feelings, stretching out my body, feeling twinges in muscles I had never used before.
Then reality washed over me as I realized we hadn’t used a condom. I had been on the pill to regulate my periods since college, so I felt we were safe on that front. When Bash woke up, I broached the awkward topic, knowing it would bother me to no end.
Hearing he was clean and tested regularly was a relief, just like I assumed hearing I was on birth control was for him. He insisted on showing me his clean bill of health, not wanting any doubts between us.
Baring ourselves to each other, in every sense of the word, soothed something in me that I hadn’t known existed. I wanted to belong to him, but I wanted to mark him as mine as well. Physically and emotionally, we had moved to another level in our relationship.
That just left one thing for me to take care of so we could all move forward. It took me a few days, but after that night, I knewI wanted to set the record straight. So, I decided to sit down with both siblings, take control, and get my story out.
Thinking back to that day was difficult. I could still remember what it felt like as I looked at Charlie and Bash seated at my small kitchen table, waiting for my next move. Charlie looked hesitant, unsure of what to say or do. My first instinct was to reassure her, but I needed the conversation to happen first, needed her to understand why what they did was wrong.
As I took the empty seat across from the two, Bash slid a mug of coffee over. Stalling a bit, I slowly took a sip, enjoying the burn of the hot beverage. I was both apprehensive and hyped up at the same time. Finally, it was time to put them out of their misery and get the conversation started.
“I’m going to tell you about my life, my childhood. I want you guys to know, to understand, what it was actually like for me. You can ask questions when I’m done. That sound good to both of you?” I asked, studying their different responses. Charlie was wary, whereas Bash was clearly struggling with discomfort.
“I don’t like this. You don’t have to do this, Fee,” he said.
“Actually, I do. Because what you did was unacceptable. I need you both to understand that you violated my privacy. You took away the opportunity for me to share with you in an authentic way and on my timeline. Now, I feel like I have to clear the air. I need my story to be the one you hear and remember.” I paused long enough to make sure they were paying attention before launching in.
“I don’t have social media, and haven’t spoken to anyone from my hometown in eight years. I have never been concerned about my parents finding me. I was always a drain on them, nothing more than a burden. I don’t have anything they want, and it would cost them too much, both mentally and fiscally, to try to find me, which you would know and understand, had youspoken to me directly.” They both looked equally chastised, but that only offered a sliver of satisfaction. We weren’t done yet.
“My childhood was not good. My parents sucked, growing up was hard, and I don’t like talking or thinking about it. I’m glad I had a roof over my head, but that’s the only thing my parents did for me. Both were addicts and alcoholics. They would drink, shoot, or smoke anything you handed them. Because I grew up with that, I have never and will never do drugs.
“The only positive I can say is that, more often than not, they were passed out so hard I could move around the house without disturbing them. I honestly didn’t think about my parents that much growing up. All my focus was on Jackson. My earliest memories are of him taking care of me.
“From as far back as I can remember, Jackson always had different odd jobs he picked up for cash. Most of the time, he would take me along with him, reluctant to leave me alone with our parents. I didn’t understand why at the time, but I loved spending time with him. I used to sit in a red wagon, folding the newspapers as he pulled me around his morning route.
“The neighbors were wary of us. To them, we were just two dirty kids from the trailer trash couple down the road. Jackson was good enough to hire to mow their lawns, but they never let us inside, never offered us food or drinks. I remember when Jackson got a job after school, and his manager rejected the idea of me coming along. The separation, that I wouldn’t get to spend time with him anymore, was devastating.” I stopped short as telling the story became harder, more emotional.
“I heard him, with the neighbors, asking them to take me in for the afternoons. None of them wanted anything to do with me. It didn’t matter how quiet or clean I tried to make myself. We were still considered a liability to everyone in town.
“I always knew how people thought about us, but up until then, I’d never really felt like I was trash. Jackson made sureto tell me often how important and smart I was, that those people didn’t know what they were talking about, didn’t know us, and the whole lot of them were judgmental idiots. He made me feel special, like I was worth something. He really was the best big brother. When no one wanted to watch me, it made the realization of how people really saw us hit me much harder.
“Anyway, he tried to prepare me, teach me as much as he could, so I didn’t have to rely on my parents. Jackson taught me how to cook. Nothing special, but heating up cans of soup, how to make pasta. That sort of thing. At the end of every week, we would go grocery shopping. The days we weren’t in school were the hardest food-wise. He always let me pick out the meal he was going to buy, and never complained when the only food we got for a week was mac and cheese.
“There were days we went without food or money, resorting to rummaging through neighbors’ trash bins or taking coins from the fountain in the town center. We did what we had to do, and I was lucky that Jackson was there to take care of me, keeping an eye out when I was too young to know what to defend myself from.
“It wasn’t a good life, but I wasn’t molested, and I wasn’t beaten every day. It was hard. We struggled, and I knew early on that we had to take care of ourselves. I left as soon as I graduated, and I haven’t looked back.” Reaching the last talking point on my list, I let Bash and Charlie have the floor.
“Feel free to ask any questions,” I said as the siblings looked at each other. Bash was the first to speak up.
“Your father ever put his hands on you?” he asked through gritted teeth.
