Geno told Stef about Nos.
He gave up his secret name.
It ought to have felt like selling his soul. Instead, it felt like he had gifted his greatest treasure to Stef. Entrusted it into his hands. A surrender so solemn, it bordered on holy. A vulnerability that left Geno free.
I am letting you hold the most elemental part of my being. If anything happens to me, it’s on you.
The broken bond once connecting him and Carlos now regenerated and attached itself to Stef. Not filled with stars, but with winged horses holding strung bows at the ready. Protection instead of sympathy.
I trust him.
He felt a weird guilt that he wasn’t bonding as intensely with any of the other residents. He supposed he didn’t have to, but it bothered him.
“If I had to pick anyone I identify with,” he said to Stef. “I guess it’s Jeff and Chaow.”
“Why?”
“Because all the other guys in my group therapy were raped by someone they knew. Me, Jeff and Chaow, we were raped by strangers. Not that it makes a… See, now I sound like an asshole.”
“We’re talking about how you feel,” Stef said. “Not what is or isn’t, not how it sounds. All right? We’re identifying emotions. Not labeling them as good, bad, moral, twisted, right, wrong. Emotions don’t hold onto adjectives that way.”
Geno’s eyes flicked toward the ceiling. “If you say so, Finch.” The tone was flip but beneath the dismissive snark, he fiercely believed the things Stef said. It gave him courage to try to explain what he meant.
Being in an environment with other men who’d been raped did help. It helped in that it didn’t hurt him. Their company and affinity didn’t shame him. He trusted their compassion and empathy. “I know, man” from the circle of chairs wasn’t lip service. They knew. Some of the guys had been humiliated by police and dismissed by doctors. Some had family who denied the rape happened, others had friends who declared it wasn’t rape. They knew how the personalized shame could become crippling when others carelessly, or even deliberately validated it. Making themselves the victim for having to hear your twisted, made-up story.
Men like you are the reason we need rape hotlines in the first place. You sick piece of shit.
All the residents had a Ruby of some kind. Someone who was supposed to help but didn’t. All the men at EP respected Geno’s ordeal and his recovery, and he respected theirs. Especially Pablo, who’d been raped with a broken mop handle and still wore a colostomy bag. He probably would the rest of his life. He talked about it freely, but he only laughed about it with Geno. Much like Geno and Chris Mudry had the privilege of making dead mom jokes, he and Pablo could make bag jokes. It was their bond.
But none of it helped. It didn’t fix anything. It didn’t make a tangible difference.
A micro-betrayal on top of all the mini and maxi ones.
I just want to be a normal guy. Nothing about my life will ever be normal again.
“Normal means ordinary, right?” Stef said. “So what’s the opposite of ordinary?”
Geno thought a moment. “I don’t know. Special?”
Stef nodded. “Or extraordinary.”
“Or bizarre.”
“Does bizarre ring true?”
Geno said nothing.
“Think about it,” Stef said. “It’s true nothing about your life will be normal. But it doesn’t mean you’ve been branded a freak.”
“Just a victim,” Geno said.
“Or a survivor.”
Not for the first time, Geno thought about the numbers on Micah Kalo’s arm. Surviving on the illusion of his own spit. The extraordinary lengths gone to survive. “I guess.”
“It also means whomever you choose to love or be with in the future is going to be an extraordinary person as well.”
Geno snorted. “To deal with my shit.”
“To earn your trust and have the privilege of dealing with your legitimate shit.”
“How do you always keep your glass half-full?”
“It’s easier than leaving it half-empty.”
Geno exhaled heavily. “I can’t just… La de da, I was raped but life is beautiful.”
“No. You were raped and parts of your beautiful life were taken away from you. You were raped and your life is different now. But it doesn’t mean your life is diminished or disqualified. It doesn’t make you any less deserving of a beautiful life.” Stef leaned forward a little. “Does it?”
Geno’s eyes burned and his throat squeezed around the answer.
“It sounds like an obvious question,” Stef said. “But it’s valid. Do you deserve it?”
The tears dripped down Geno’s face.
“Do you deserve a beautiful life?” Stef said.
Geno nodded.
“You didn’t deserve what happened to you and you do deserve a beautiful life. You deserve an extraordinary person whom you can trust with your heart and your soul and your body. And trust with everything that hurts and scares you, too. Do you believe it?”
“Yeah,” Geno said, thinking, Right now, that person is you.