“I’m not scared of you.”
“Then what?”
After she lets out a slow sigh, she finally reveals, “It makes me feel dirty.”
My forehead gently falls against hers, and I close my eyes, shaking my head. With my hands on her back, I feel the soft heaves, letting me know she’s crying. It infuriates me that he did this to her. That this is how she views intimacy. The last thing I would ever expect or want her to feel when she’s with me like this is dirty. Knowing that makes me sick to my stomach.
“Listen to me,” I say when I pull my head back to look at her. “That guy was a piece of shit, we both know that. He’s a sick fuck, and yeah, what he did and how he touched you was dirty. The disgust is beyond that. But that isn’t what this is. That isn’t us,” I try to explain to her. I pull her in tight, continuing, “I want to touch you and feel you. He made that something ugly for you, and I hate him for that. That he could take that away from us.”
“I’m sorry,” she cries.
“You have nothing—nothing—to be sorry for,” I scold. “He did this, not you. The way I want to touch you is nothing like that. I love you, and I want to touch you like this because it’s a way for me to feel close to you. It’s a way for me to love you and to make you feel that too.”
The tears run down the side of her face as she responds, “I want to give that to you. I do. I feel awful that I can’t, but I’m trying. I need you to know that I am trying.”
Wiping her face, I say, “I know you are. I see it. I’m not blaming you, but we need to talk about this so that I can understand.”
“I hate this,” she confesses and then buries her head in my chest.
“I know you do, and if I could do something I would. I just don’t know what that would be. But I love you, even the parts of you that you think are ugly. I love it all.”
31
“What the hell is this, Mark?” I call out from the kitchen when I open the box with the cake.
He’s on the couch, drinking a beer with Jase, and responds nonchalantly, “You put me in charge of the cake, so I got her a cake.”
“She’s turning twenty-three, man.”
“Yeah, I know. Trust me, she’ll like it,” he tells me with an exaggerated wink.
“There are fuckin’ rats in tutus.”
“They’re mice,” he corrects as I look back down at the cake that’s fit for a five-year-old. “It came with a free ‘Angelina the Ballerina’ ring,” he laughs as he holds up his hand to show me the pink plastic ring he’s wearing on his pinky.
I shake my head and laugh with them as I grab a beer and join them in the living room.
“You gonna give that to her?”
He smirks, saying, “No way, man. This is mine.”
We hang out and watch TV for a few minutes until Candace walks through the door. She gives Mark and Jase each a hug and kiss before I call her over and pull her onto my lap.
“I missed you,” I whisper as I run my nose up her neck and then tease, “Mmmm . . . coffee.”
She always smells like she’s bathed in a latte when she gets off work.
“I’m gonna take a quick shower. I’ll be back,” she says as she hops off of my lap.
I watch as she goes up the stairs, and as if we had planned it, my phone buzzes with a text from my mom letting me know she’s about fifteen minutes out.
“Did Candace find out about her audition yet?” Mark asks.
“Not yet. She should know tomorrow.”
“So what are you guys gonna do this weekend?” Jase asks as he takes a sip of his beer.
“My mom is only able to stay through tomorrow afternoon, so we will probably just lay low.”
We continue to talk about nothing in particular for a while when the doorbell rings.
“Hey, Mom,” I greet as I open the door.
She steps in and gives me a big hug, saying, “It’s good to see you, dear.”
“Donna?” I hear Candace call out from behind me, and when I turn to see her walking down the stairs, the surprised look on her face makes me smile.
“Candace,” Mom says, excited to see her.
“What are you doing here?” She is completely caught off guard, wearing her pajamas with her hair pulled on top of her head, as she gives my mom an excited hug.
“I wasn’t going to miss your birthday. But I’m a little disappointed that I had to hear about it from Ryan when you and I talk every week.”
I step beside Candace, shoot her a wink, and kiss her on the cheek.
“Sorry, I . . . I don’t normally do anything for my birthday, but I’m so happy you’re here,” she says and then hugs Mom again. “I can’t believe you drove all this way.”
“It’s a few hours, dear. Hardly a chore.” I watch as my mom takes Candace’s hand and walks over to Mark and Jase.
Candace introduces them, and I make my way into the kitchen.
“Mom, what do you want to drink?”
“A glass of wine will be good.”
“Me too,” Candace tells me, and I laugh at the memory of her drunk the last time she had wine with Jase, so I just have to tease her, asking, “You’re not gonna get drunk, slap my ass, and tell me how sexy I am, are you?”
“Ryan!” she scolds, completely embarrassed, and shoots a look towards my mom.
I laugh at her, knowing that she has nothing to be concerned about when it comes to my mom. She adores Candace, and the two of them have become quite close in the past couple of months.
I take a seat on the couch next to Candace as the three of us chat. I wanted to do something more for tonight, but this was probably the best idea. As we spend the evening relaxing and visiting over pizza, wine, and beer, I take in the fact that I have never had this before. At least not here in Seattle. I’m close with my family back home, but never felt that connection here, until now—until her. I’ve always known from the start that Jase, Candace, and Mark were tight. Just the three of them. And before I realized it, I’d become a part of that.
I’ve never had friendships and connections like I have with these people. I never wanted to. Even though they are all younger than me, when I saw the level of closeness and trust between the three of them, I saw what I had been missing. Candace made me want that—the connect. The commonality between us was something that was lacking in my previous friendships. For the first time since I moved here, the first time in the past ten years, I have people that I trust and care about.
It’s unfortunate when I think about it, but in a way, it’s Candace’s trauma that has bonded the four of us. I know we all love her in our own unique way, and at the root, there’s never been jealousy. Only three men that love this girl. And knowing that she has all of us gives me a level of security that I never expected to feel.
So we take this night, and like any family would, we laugh and eat cheap birthday cake straight from the box. Mom helps me clean up in the kitchen while Candace sits on the floor, cuddled into Jase, bantering back and forth with Mark, determined to get that plastic ring from him.
“I love her.”
I look at my mom when she says this to me as we load the dishwasher.
“She’s really something special,” she adds.
“Yeah, she is,” I agree as I watch her from across the room.
We finish up and wipe the counters down, and Candace asks as we walk back in, “Hey, you guys wanna watch a movie?”
“You all go ahead. I’m going to get some sleep so I’m rested for tomorrow,” my mom says.
Candace walks over and gives her a hug, saying, “Thanks again for coming, Donna.”
“How about we spend a little girl time tomorrow, just the two of us?”