“OW!” I screamed when I was suddenly pulled by my hair.
“What are you doing?” Alex yelled at me.
“What?” I screamed again, trying to rip my hair out of his grasp. I didn't know what was happening but I was scared to death of Alexander instantly.
“DROP IT, SADIE!” Alexander screamed in my face, as he pulled me up by my hair. Looking, I saw the nail file drop from my hand as he twisted my wrist.
“What are you doing?” I cried. But I was suddenly thrown into the shower by Alex who jumped in after me and landed on me. Panicking, I remember fighting as best as I could. I fought him even as the cold water poured down on me. I fought him hard, but just like before, I didn't win.
So I stopped fighting. I let Alexander Hamilton hold me down. Sobbing, I closed my eyes, turned my face to the wall, and I let him hurt me without fighting.
“Sadie? What's wrong, baby? Talk to me. Why did you cut yourself up? Why would you do that? Am I really so bad that you need to get drunk to be around me? Am I really so awful that you need to cut yourself? Please. Explain it to me, Sadie.”
God, I remember the sound of his voice that day. Even with my eyes closed, I knew he was crying. I could hear it in his voice. I could hear his pain and upset and it sobered me up as nothing else could.
And I was suddenly awake.
“It's not you, Alexander. And I know I say that all the time, and I know you must be sick of hearing the same thing from me, but it really isn't you, and that's why I don't make you go away. I should tell you to go away but I can't. I like you in my life, but I don't know how to be with you.”
“Be with me how? Sexually? Emotionally?”
“Both. Every way. I don't know. I love your voice, Alex. I love it, and I love how easy and light you are, but I don't know how to be with you because I'm not very good emotionally, or like mentally, in case you haven't noticed-”
“I've noticed,” he said so deadpan I choked out a laugh.
“I just don't know what to be with you,” I admitted once again. And it was true. I still didn't know what to be for him.
“I've told you this a hundred times- just be you.”
“I know, but that's such a stupid thing to say; no offense. Just be myself? I don't know who that is. So how can I be myself with you?”
“Okay, I have a question,” he paused until I nodded. “Am I the world's best non-boyfriend boyfriend?”
“Yes...” I admitted.
“And what have I done to you that was so bad in a year?”
“Nothing, but-”
“Nothing. I've done nothing, but given kisses and held your hand. I've never made a move. And I've never lied to you about it. I told you there were NO expectations this weekend, and I meant it. I told you, but you never believe me. So what else can I do?” When he looked at me and paused, I realized he actually wanted an answer.
“Just be patient-”
“Not good enough. I AM patient. What else can I do?”
“I don't know. Nothing, I guess.”
“Nothing? I can do nothing to stop you from expecting the worst, or waiting for me to screw up, or fuck you up, or hurt you, or ruin this relationship that I've tried to build with you? I can do nothing?” He asked again a little angrily.
“I don't know. I'm the problem. I have some stuff-”
“Believe me, I know you have some stuff, even if you won't tell me about it. Not good enough, Sadie. Tell me something. Give me one definitive example of what I can do to make you stop expecting me to hurt you. Tell me just one thing I can do, because I don't have a clue anymore. I've read the books on spouses and partners of victims of abuse. I've done the research and asked the questions. I've even watched Oprah, but nothing I do works with you. Time hasn't worked, and patience hasn't worked. Being a support system for you hasn't worked, neither has being just your friend. So tell me one thing I can do. I need to hear one thing, or you were right, this IS our last weekend together.” And when I gasped, he continued. “It is Sadie. This is it. I've spent a year trying to make you comfortable with me. I spent a year being your friend and waiting for you to realize you feel more for me than simple friendship. I've spent a year waiting for you to eventually love me back, but you don't love me back and I don't want to do this anymore.”
I remember to this day clearly the look on Alexander's face. It was a look of complete indifference and acceptance. I think he was sure I would simply agree to end things. I'm sure he thought I would tell him I couldn't think of anything he could do to make me love him. I saw in his eyes the acknowledgement of our end.
So panicking at the thought of losing Alexander, I said the exact opposite. “Can you touch me a little?” I barely whispered.
“Are you kidding me?” He asked rather abruptly.
“No. I just thought if you touched me a little, I would get used to it and maybe like it and maybe I'd get better or something.”
“Now?” I remember nodding and meaning it. “I can't. You're still drunk and emotional. You've hurt yourself and all I want to do is bandage up your arms because I've been watching them slowly bleed this whole time, sitting in the tub with you soaking wet and freezing. So please don't take this the wrong way but I really don't want to touch you under these circumstances. I'm not looking for a pity fuck, Sadie. I want you to want me too.”
“I think I do,” I answered automatically.
“Well, let me know when you actually want me, not when you think you want me and we'll revisit this conversation.”
And that's when I knew my words had blown the conversation. I had made Alexander feel insecure and I hated myself for it.
“Can I tell you something, Alex?”
“I really wish you would,” he answered sadly looking away from me.
“I think you are very good looking, and so does a waitress from downstairs. And that isn't a pity compliment, I promise.”
And then he looked back at me. I remember he looked at me until he slowly smiled at me. Waiting for him to speak, he surprised me with his lack of a humorous comeback, but he was smiling at least, which I would take. I hated a sad, confused, or disappointed Alexander.
“Are you staying here tonight?” He asked me bluntly.
“If I can.”
“I want you to.”
“Okay... Can I get out of here and change?”
“Of course. I'll change out there,” he said while standing away from me in the shower.
45 minutes later, I was warmed from a HOT shower, mostly sober, while dressed in leggings and a long T-shirt. I was also sporting bandaged arms after Alex had knocked on the door when my shower ended. He had looked at me in my towel, looked at my arms and handed me the band aids which he must have bought in the gift shop downstairs, and then he left me alone to continue.
When I exited the washroom, Alex was still dressed lying on top of the bed watching TV. Smiling at me, he quickly jumped up, passed me and entered the washroom for his own shower.
10 minutes afterward, he joined me in the bedroom wearing sweats and sat back down on his side of the bed.
“Would you lie down with me,” I remember asking nervously, and he answered a somewhat breathy 'yes...' as he lifted the covers and crawled in beside me.
“Sadie. You can never drink like that or cut yourself again with me. You have to talk to me and tell me you're freaking out so I can either try to help you or so I can leave you alone, because I don't ever want to see that again, okay?”
“I’ll try,” I agreed as my words hung there in the silence of our room. They just floated around us like a promise. Or maybe like a pledge, until the silence was broken by Alexander.
“Try hard.”
And I heard the warning in his gentle tone. I knew I would lose him if I ever made another mistake like that again. I heard the implication, and I understood the warning. So I decided I would.
“I promise I'll try very hard...” I whispered.
And that was it. I fell asleep immediately, wit
h only Alex's hand touching my hip as we each lay side by side in the bed.
*****
And I remember how fun that weekend was. The cooking seminar was brutal. The Chef said things I had never heard in my life, and even Alex shrugged a few times when I asked what the hell was going on. We did our best; though Alexander's best was way better than mine, and we learned a few neat ways to prepare everyday foods.
Overall, Alexander took the classes seriously, with little bouts of humor between us here and there, and he helped me when I burned my hand on a handle that was scorching when I lifted the pot from the grill.
He was wonderful. And the second night, we slept side by side but a little closer, until the third night we were officially spooning each other.
I remember being wrapped in his warmth and loving the feeling of it. He was warm and I was warmed by his presence.
When we drove home Sunday night, Alexander was humorous but tired. He admitted he hadn't slept well, to which I let him know I had slept very well. Smiling at me, I think he liked that response. I think he liked that I slept well in his arms, even if he didn't sleep well in the process. But when I asked why he didn't sleep, all he said was, “it's exhausting sleeping beside someone you want, when you can't have her.” And I quickly dropped the conversation.
When he dropped me off at home, he walked me up, deposited my luggage inside, gave me a spectacular kiss and left. He said he'd call me the next day, and I was relieved. I wasn't ready for a full on relationship with him, but I wasn't ready to let him go either.
CHAPTER 24
The following weekend, in the middle of May, Alexander came over on the Friday and cooked us a wonderful dinner. Everything was delicious and lovely. We were funny, okay, he was funny, but I got a good one in once and a while. And the evening felt light and I was happy.
I hadn't had another drink since the weekend before in Toronto, and though I still smoked like a fiend when Alexander wasn't around, I found myself smoking less and less outside on my balcony, so that it wouldn't bother him in my apartment.
After dinner, I excused myself to go have a smoke, and Alex nodded as he cleared the dishes.
Sitting on my little lawn chair, I remember how full, and good I felt. I remember the world was looking up for me. I actually felt it. I felt closer to Alex and I wanted to keep getting closer to him.
I remember turning my head and seeing him smile at me through the balcony door while I had been smiling absently looking around my balcony. I felt a little stupid sitting there with a smile on my face, but I couldn't help it. Everything felt good that night.
“I'm spending the night, Sadie. Chain smoke if you have to and take your time. Go relax in the tub if you want. Do whatever you want. Talk to me or don't. But you promised me you would try really hard, and I'm holding you to that promise. Okay?”
Shocked, I remember nodding silently.
“I'm spending the night here. But it doesn't mean anything will happen, it just means something might happen. Either way, I don't care. I just want to spend the night here with you. Okay?” But all I had was another nod. “Say okay, Sadie.”
“Okay,” I croaked while shaking. And then he left me alone on the balcony.
However long later, I don't know; my mind likes to remember hours passing, as the evening turned to night, Alexander walked out the door and unfolded the other lawn chair to sit beside me.
“What's going on?” He asked. But like a mute, I still had no words so I just shrugged. “How many cigarettes have you smoked?” A pack? Half a pack? I couldn't tell, so I shrugged again. “Would you like to come in? It's a little chilly out here. You could have a shower to warm yourself up?”
“Okay,” I said, practically bolting from him on the balcony. I remember diving for the door, and hitting the screen a little too hard with my forearm. I remember stumbling like an idiot trying to get away from Alexander.
Running for the shower, I grabbed a huge towel from the closet on the way, and slammed and locked my bathroom door. Running the taps, then the shower overhead, I waited for the warmth.
Once in the shower, I did my ritual. I shaved my legs and underarms, and scrubbed my body with pumice. I washed my hair and scrubbed off my makeup. Again, I was on autopilot. I remember thinking, why am I not thinking about what this means. I remember being surprised that He hadn't entered my thoughts. I remember being confused by the ease in which I was accepting this situation with Alexander.
When I cleaned between my legs, I remember thinking of my vagina. I still had hair there because He liked it, but I wondered if Alex did. I knew it was the norm now to have it bare, but I didn't think I was ready for that. Actually, I knew at the time I wasn't ready for that. But the more I obsessed with my vagina, I decided a close trim was in order. And so I did. Not quite bare but definitely much less hair, I found myself shaving for Alexander. I shaved myself for Alex instead of keeping it full for Him.
And when that strange reality hit me, I remember laughing in the shower. I remember the strange awareness of my vagina and who I was grooming for, which seemed like a good sign. If I was wanting to make Alexander happy, who was HERE, instead of for Him, who wasn't- I was pretty sure I had made the right decision.
Afterward, I learned I was in the shower for over an hour. Alexander told me that a week later. He told me he let me stay in there, but that he had paced in a frenzy in the hallway, stopping to press his ear against the door listening for a sign of anything bad. He told me the visuals of what I could be doing to myself nearly made him insane.
Alexander confessed he thought he would eventually find a bloodied mess in the shower. He told me he was scared to death that entire hour, making deals with himself that he would barge in every fifteen minutes, but then he would hear me put something down, or the shower curtain move, or he heard me laugh, and he kept himself from busting down the door. Barely.
Alexander admitted that my hour long shower, preparing myself for him, was the longest hour of his life, and he was an absolute mess while I was in my shower.
When I was finished, I brushed out my hair, scrubbed my teeth, wrapped myself in the huge towel, and then realized I didn't have any clothes with me, so I panicked some more.
I remember opening the door. I remember the steam following me into the hallway. I remember Alexander leaning against the opposite wall, and I remember his face. He was totally stressed out, I could see it.
“What's wrong?” I asked, but he didn't speak. Instead, Alex leaned toward me, looked at my arms, and then to my horror lifted my towel to my upper thighs only, thankfully, and dropped the towel with a burst of breath. And that’s when I realized he was checking me out, and he didn't trust me at all.
Offended, I whispered, “I promised to try, Alexander.”
“You're right. I'm sorry, Sadie. Please forgive me?” And I pretended that I did.
When he walked past me into the bathroom, I left him and went to my room to dress.
Looking in my drawers and closet, I realized I was at an absolute loss again. I knew what I wore for Him, but this was Alex. I knew what nightgowns He liked, but I had no idea what Alex would like. Then again, I realized I didn't think I wanted Alex to like what I was wearing because if he did, I remember thinking I was giving him permission to do whatever he wanted to me.
When I heard the shower end, I decided quickly. Jumping, I grabbed a pair of leggings and another long t-shirt. In my struggle to be quick I forgot to wear underwear, but at least I was covered by black leggings. Panicking, I threw my towel in the corner of my room and then I stood shaking not knowing what I was supposed to do.
But Alexander did.
Standing in my bedroom doorway with only a towel around his hips, Alex stared at me until I found myself covering my chest with my arms. Staring at Alexander in a towel was too much for me. Alex was tall and lean and muscular, and clearly took care of his body, unlike me. Staring at Alex made me feel weak, and little, and plain. So I lowered my head, because I couldn??
?t look at him anymore. Looking at Alexander was just too hard for me.
“Remove the pants, Sadie,” he said with a gentle smile, and unbelievably I did.
Standing back up, I crossed my arms over my chest again and tried to breathe. There was something entirely different about Alex in that moment. He was looking at me differently, and I felt different about him.
“Come here,” he whispered, and unbelievably I did.
When Alex turned us and sat on the edge of my bed, I remember the fear and the shaking, and the sudden need I felt. It was so intense for me. I actually felt the pull of need deep inside me, and in that intense moment I wanted Alex to touch me.
When he placed his hands on my hips, he squeezed gently, and then rubbed my hips as if to warm me. Looking down at him, I watched him watching me.
“Tell me to stop.” But I didn't. “Tell me when you panic, Sadie. I need to know,” he begged. But I didn't tell him I already was, kind of. I was panicking, but I was needy too. So I said nothing.
Alexander then moved his hands slowly down my hips, across my pelvis until his hands slid into the junction of my thighs, but he didn't stop there. Moving still, he stroked my inner thighs, until he stopped at my knees.
Holding onto me, he asked, “Who are you thinking about?” And I answered immediately.
“You...” I moaned.
“Tell me when you don't think of me. I want to know. Okay?” So I nodded yes.
Leaning forward, Alex made his way to my left foot, and lifted it onto the bed beside him. Quickly grabbing his shoulders for extra support, he held the back of one thigh, while his hand stayed on my foot beside him on the bed.
“Lift your shirt to your waist,” he rasped. And instantly I did.
Knowing what he was seeing, I remember wanting to flee. Knowing he could see all of me right in front of his face, I wanted to pull my foot away and retreat. Knowing he could see the scar running down my hip made me want to close down, but I didn't. Unbelievably, I stood still while he looked at my body.