“Thank you.” I don’t know why that was my response but I was grateful and for years had regretted confiding in Jess some of the things I had because ultimately it had put a divide between her and Mike and ultimately drove a wedge between her and him.
“How did Mike respond to your friendship with Jess?”
“He wouldn’t bad mouth Jess as such, but he would point out that she was trying to make decisions for me and that she was jealous of what we had but also that my world didn’t revolve around her anymore.”
“And was that an accurate summarisation by Mike?”
I hadn’t thought about this for years and now that I was, my view was slightly different to how it had been. “It was, kind of, or at least I thought it was at the time. Jess and I were super close and no matter who else came and went it was me and her. She was confused about her sexuality, not that I realised it at the time, and as such she experimented, but didn’t feel ready to commit to a label or lifestyle meaning she had no real committed relationships and I was focused on my career, we both were, so we were a match made in heaven, until we weren’t anymore.”
“Until Mike?”
“Yes, until Mike. Mike’s evaluation of Jess was accurate to a point, but I was blinded to the other side of things, that she could see things in Mike that were dangerous for me, those pesky red flags I refused to acknowledge beyond fleeting seconds of recognition.”
“What happened after that night, when you told Jess what had happened between you.”
I let out a loud and long hiss. “She hated him. She wanted me to go to the police because she felt I had been assaulted.”
“And what did you think?”
“I don’t know, not really, but I didn’t see it as an assault, I mean he was my boyfriend and I hadn’t been opposed to having sex with him, God, I’d even dressed for it, plus it was that fantasy thing . . .” My voice trailed off.
“Danni, we are all but out of time, however, what I need you to do before our next session is to think about that question again – what did you think? There are no wrong or right answers, however, I want you to think about it beyond what you initially thought.”
“Okay.” My voice broke on that one word because I wasn’t sure that I wanted to go back to that time, but not because I wouldn’t be able to answer the doctor’s question, but because I feared I might, and the answer today, was going to be very different to the one I gave Jess. Poor Jess. All she had ever done was to support me and ultimately I had let her down, badly.
* * *
With my visitto the counsellor over, I walked away feeling a little relieved. I hadn’t really wanted to see him, or anyone. I didn’t need to talk over this, keep trawling over the shit show of the last five years, or at least I didn’t think I did, until now. Counselling hadn’t been my decision. I had actively resisted it when my family, once they became aware of the things that had happened between me and Mike, suggested it. It was a nice doctor at the hospital who had got through to me and made me see that I had unresolved issues that I needed to address and resolve in order to move forward.
Not ready to go home, and with no work to go to, I decided on a little retail therapy. The local shopping centre was about a fifteen minute walk and as it was a fine day, I felt more than happy to take a steady stroll.
There was nothing I wanted to buy, but I always enjoyed window shopping. After an hour or so and a pitstop at a coffee shop, where, with a latte and sticky bun I gave some thought to the counsellor’s question and went back to how I actually felt that night. Jess had known how wrong it was and that at best I had been coerced into doing something I hadn’t consented to and at worst had been raped. When she had used that word,raped, I had lost my shit with her. Told her she was jealous because she was alone and lonely and would never find what I had with Mike . . . I really hoped that was true because nobody, least of all Jess should have to endure that. I had refused to even allow rape to be an option in my mind. I paused now to ask why that had been and I wasn’t entirely sure; I loved Mike, thought I did, but not in aI will die without youkind of way. Looking back, I could be neutral and see it for what it was. Mike had made me dependent on him, telling me that without him, I was nothing, that nobody else would love me like he did, that nobody else would even want me. He never said those things in so many words at the start, but he got the message across loud and clear and as time went on, his words had been more direct and blunt. He hadn’t loved me. I wasn’t sure he knew what love was or how to show it appropriately. He’d wanted to control me, and then break me with no intention of putting me back together, and he had, but I wasn’t broken any longer, a little damaged maybe, but not broken because I had put myself back together.
So, back to the question. How had I felt that night? Hurt, sad, scared, but there was more. I’d felt like a victim, not that I knew what of, but now I did. I had been the victim of a sexual assault and because it had been at the hands of my boyfriend I hadn’t been able to see it at the time. I still wasn’t ready to go as far as rape, because, well, I didn’t know why, but at least I was finally acknowledging what had happened regardless of any label it was given. It hadn’t been my fault, it hadn’t been okay, or a sexual fantasy that hadn’t lived up to my expectations.
CHAPTERTHREE
NOW
Several weeks passedand I was opening up more and more to the counsellor, and although the revelations of those sessions haunted me in the days between, the appointments were helpful and I finally felt as though I was getting somewhere in ordering and processing the events of my time with Mike.
Today, entering the office, I had no clue what we’d be discussing but knew it would be beneficial in my life moving forward.
After a few pleasantries we got down to it.
“How long is it now since you saw Mike?”
“Two years.” The answer is tinged with surprise and it was twofold because it meant it took me over three years to escape him and another two to come anywhere close to truly functioning.
“And in the last couple of years, have you seen anyone?”
I heard the question and understood it, and yet, I was confused by it. I wanted to answer literally, that yes, I had seen lots of people in the last two years, every day I saw them, in fact, I was seeing him right now, but that is not what he meant. What he was really asking was had I been on a date, had a boyfriend, a relationship.
I shuddered. “No.”
“Do you imagine dating again, marrying maybe, perhaps even having children one day?”
It was a reasonable question and I wasn’t yet thirty so everything he asked about were realistic possibilities, and yet, the thought of it made me feel hot, sweaty and nauseous.
