Heather
It’s been three days since Grant noticed my scars in the sauna. Every time I think about it, I can feel his eyes locked on mine. I can see the expression on his face—part confusion, part hesitant anger—and feel the old shame and embarrassment rise up in my throat.
He wasn’t judging me. I know that much, at least. But his quiet shock and the familiar questions were still more than I could deal with that night.
So I ran.
I ran out of the sauna like my hair was on fire. I ran upstairs and locked myself away in April’s room, using her as an excuse to get away from the questions and the feelings that were threatening to overwhelm me.
Grant hasn’t brought it up since then, thankfully. Not once. Not even a meaningful look or a carefully worded question designed to circle back to what he saw.
I should be relieved. I am relieved. But that initial embarrassment I felt hasn’t gone away, and my own frustration with myself has only grown since then.
I’ve just finished taking a shower, and I can hear April getting ready in her bathroom, on the other side of the wall from mine.
“Are you almost ready, sweetheart?”
“Yeah,” she calls back. “Should I wear shorts or jeans?”
“Whichever will be more comfortable. The weather will be nice enough for shorts.”
She’s still having a rough time at school, so I promised her a trip to the Denver zoo—just the two of us—if she worked hard and made a good grade on her weekly math quiz.
She ended up with one of the highest scores in the class, and I’m glad, but I would’ve still taken her even if she’d had one of the worst. I think we both need this little escape more than either of us is willing to admit.
And of course that makes me think of Grant again.
For all the work I’ve done, the therapy I’ve been through and the fact that I counsel abused women on a daily basis, I was still unable to admit to him that I used to be with a man who abused me.
Not that Grant has given me a single reason to think he likes me as more than a friend, or that I have an obligation to put on a good face for him. In all honesty, I shouldn’t care what he thinks about my past or how I justified my decisions back then.
But I do care. I care what he thinks about me, and I don’t know how to shut down that part of my brain.
Maybe that’s part of the reason why I panicked in the sauna. I sure as hell can’t afford to mess this situation up.
Not when April is still having a rough time in school and I’m still settling into my new position at work. This is the best opportunity I’ve ever had to find somewhere safe and nice for us to live, and then build something better for both of us.
The last thing I need is to complicate things by getting involved with our temporary landlord.
“Mom!”
I jump at the sound of April’s voice. I’ve been so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t hear her coming, but now she’s standing inmy bathroom doorway with her hands on her hips, fully dressed and clearly impatient.
“You look cute, sweetheart,” I say, offering a smile as I shoo her out of the doorway. “Just give me five minutes and I’ll be ready, okay?”
“You asked if I was ready like ten minutes ago.” She’s giving me the same exasperated look I usually reserve for her when she’s dragging her feet. “I’m ready to go and you’re just standing there staring at nothing.”
I can’t even argue because she isn’t wrong.
“You’re right. I got distracted. Give me five more minutes—for real this time—and then we can go.”
“Five minutes?”
I look down at myself, still in my towel with my hair dripping wet and my makeup not even started, and have to laugh.
“Let’s make it ten, just to be on the safe side. How about if I make it up by taking you to breakfast on our way to the zoo?”
“Yes!” She pumps her arm in the air and does a little victory dance. “Ten minutes, and I’m watching the clock!”
