~ Emma
Neither Adrian nor I interrupt Nick as he recounts the events from the night of Amy’s rape. Watching him though, the way he struggles to get the words out as silent tears stream down his cheeks, is almost unbearable. I’ve never seen him in this much pain before, never felt the anguish that pours off him as he tells his story. And it’s only as he does, that I realise the full extent of what he’s been through, what he’s still going through now.
This is so much more than just grief and guilt. This is trauma.
Blunt force trauma.
When he’s finally finished he stands, pushes both hands through his hair and walks towards the full-length window on the far side of the office. He stops in front of it, stares out at the street below and even though his back is to us, I can see that this has been one of the most difficult things he’s ever had to do.
“You okay?” Adrian says quietly as he hands me the box of tissues.
I turn to him; see the concern on his face as I shake my head and realise I’m also crying.
He nods, as though he understands. “First time hearing this?”
I nod, not knowing what to say or why he’s so concerned about me when it’s Nick who’s the one struggling here.
“Why don’t I give you both a minute,” he continues, gesturing towards Nick as though telling me what I need to do.
I swallow, only managing another nod as Adrian gets up and quietly walks out of the room, closing the door behind him. I turn back to Nick, who’s still staring out the window, hands clasped behind his head. His body is tense, even though I’d expected him to be crumpling to the floor in exhaustion by now.
Taking a deep breath, I force myself to stand and walk over to him. I gently place a hand on his back and feel him stiffen beneath me before he releases a long breath. I step closer and slide my arms around his waist and press against him, resting my cheek between his shoulder blades.
Even like this, I can still feel the pounding of his heart, the deep breaths he continues to take, as though he’s trying to calm himself down. I say nothing in response; just hold him against me and hope that he understands.
Eventually he lowers his hands, scrubbing them down his face before turning in my arms so he’s facing me. I offer him a smile, which isn’t returned, before he pulls me against him, crushing me against his chest in a tight hug.
His heart crashes against my cheek now, pounding in a rhythm that’s too fast to even count.
I have no idea what to say to him, what words I can possibly offer that will be of any comfort right now. I’m not sure I ever fully realised the extent of his grief, at the huge amount of blame he places on himself for everything that happened that night, or the guilt he still carries for it all to this day.
“Nick?” Adrian asks and both of us pull back, surprised because we didn’t realise he was in the room again.
Nick looks at him but says nothing.
“You okay?” he asks, which seems like a ridiculous question given everything Nick’s just told him. Nick shakes his head and Adrian nods in response. “I know it’s going to seem like telling me all of that has made everything worse,” he says, gesturing to the couch. “But I promise you it hasn’t. Giving voice to these feelings, these fears and this blame, actually lessens their impact. It removes the power they have over you until one day, when you’ve said them many times, they will no longer seem as terrifying.”
Nick and I both sit down, my hand in his as he struggles to stay calm beside me.
Adrian watches both of us, saying nothing for a moment before continuing. “It’s only when we bury our pain and our grief that it continues to haunt us and hold us in its grip.”
Nick opens his mouth to speak, but the words catch before he clears his throat and he tries again. “If I’d never said those things to Zach,” he eventually gets out, the words husky and strained. “If I’d never been with that girl. If I’d just…if…” he trails off as his voice cracks with emotion. I slide closer to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as his head falls.
“Zach did this?” I whisper, immediately regretting it when I see Nick’s face contort in pain.
“Nick, I know you want to believe that you saying those things were the cause of all this,” Adrian says, ignoring my question as he leans forward slightly and speaks to Nick. “But it’s simply not true. Nothing you did or didn’t do that night caused those things to happen to Amy. That was all the choice and the fault of Zach, and Zach alone.” Nick shakes his head as though he doesn’t believe what Adrian is saying to him. “Tell me something?” he continues. “Did they ever catch him?”
Nick looks up now, meeting Adrian’s stare. “Eventually,” he says. “My dad, he’s…he’s a detective and…”
“And he didn’t stop until he’d caught him?” Adrian offers.
Nick nods. “He wasn’t officially on the case, he couldn’t be, but yeah. He made sure they got him.”
“And how did Amy feel when this happened?” he asks.
I turn to look at Nick, see the anguish on his face deepen. “It was too late,” he says. “She was already gone by the time it happened.”
Adrian nods, but says nothing more. Nick buries his face in his hands now as though it’s all too much. I wonder how much more of this he’s going to be forced to relive today, how much longer Adrian is going to put him through the torment of rehashing the past. Even though I know he’s right when he says burying it will never solve anything, there’s a part of me that just wants to let Nick do exactly that.
It’s wrong and I know it, but I also know it’s a form of protection, a coping mechanism. That the only way for Nick to be able to deal with everything that happened, everything he blames himself for, is to bury it so deeply that he can pretend it doesn’t actually exist at all.
Even if he carries the scars of it with him everyday. Not just in the words he has inked on his skin, but the connection he still has to his sister that can never fully be taken away from him.
“I think that might be enough for today,” Adrian eventually says.
I nod and Nick all but collapses against me.
“Before you go though,” he adds, looking at both of us. “Do me a favour?” I nod and both of us turn to Nick whose face is still buried in his hands. Adrian keeps looking at him, even as Nick all but ignores him. “Don’t walk out of here and not talk about what’s been said,” he says. “This isn’t the only place we need to be having these conversations and it’s important that both of you talk to each other as well.”
I nod, wishing it were as simple as that. Nick is silent and Adrian stands, as though he doesn’t expect a response. I pull Nick up with me and after I arrange his next appointment, we head downstairs and out on to the street.
It’s dark when we get outside. Adrian giving us late appointments so that I can still come now that I’m back at work. We skip the coffee shop though and head home. When we get there, Nick walks straight into the bathroom and showers, as though he needs to wash all the things he said and all the things he admitted to, away.
I leave him in peace and instead reheat some leftovers for dinner. When he finally walks into the living room, I’m sitting on the couch waiting for him, a plate of pizza on the coffee table.
“You must think I’m a total arsehole,” he says as he sits down. His face is weary with exhaustion and what might be resignation. His eyes are bloodshot and red too, as though more tears have been shed in the privacy of the shower.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Why would I think that?”
He half laughs and runs a hand through his wet hair. He hasn’t tied it back like he normally does and the tips of it reach his shoulders, leaving wet patches on his t-shirt.
“Because of where I was,” he says, his voice cold as he watches me. “Who I was with and what we were doing.”
I stare back at him, wondering why of all the things that were said tonight that this is what he’s worried about. Adrian was right before, about us not talking about anything, and as much as I know he’s asked us to do exactly that tonight, I get the feeling this isn’t why Nick is saying these things to me now.
I shake my head, unsure how to respond to this.
“I don’t even remember her fucking name, Emma,” he says, his fingers curling into a fist as they rest along the back of the couch.
“Why would you?” I ask, knowing this isn’t even about her. “After everything that happened,” I continue. “I’m surprised you could remember your own name.”
Nick offers me a wry smile as though he appreciates the effort, but doesn’t actually believe what I’m telling him.
“Makes you think differently about that night we met though, I’ll bet?”
And for a second, despite me knowing this has nothing to do with me either, his words still sting. I know he was a different person back then, he had to have been. What happened with Amy changed him, in so many ways, because there’s no way something like that couldn’t change him. And I’m not judging him for how he once was or what he did or who he was with. I’m not judging him for who he is now either, none of that bothers me.
“Why would you say that?” I ask.
But even as I do, memories of my own reactions from the night we first met float to the surface; my antagonism of him over the bar and his job, or my reaction to his tattoo, and my refusal to stay and let him explain it to me. My anger even, when he finally did track me down at work and then my fear after that first night we slept together. Back then I had thought he was that kind of guy, even if I now know differently.
Nick shrugs. “Because we almost hooked up that night.”
“But we didn’t,” I say.
“But we almost did.”
I stare back at him, wondering why he’s pushing this. “What are you trying to say?” I eventually ask, as a ripple of fear curls through me.
He shrugs again. “I don’t know,” he says, even though I can tell from his eyes that he does. “That I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to bail, that’s all.”
“What?” I ask as that fear now extends, radiating throughout my entire body.
“I’m an arsehole, Emma,” he says, thumping his chest with his fist. “I’m the arsehole who was busy fucking some meaningless girl while his sister was getting beaten and raped by the guy I’d provoked in the first place. I mean it really doesn’t get much worse than that, does it?”
He’s breathless by the time he finishes, his chest heaving as though just getting these words out has been a monumental effort for him. I don’t know what to say to him either, what explanation I can possibly offer to convince him that I don’t see him as being at fault for what happened to Amy. That I’m not judging him for whatever it is he thinks he did that night.
“Look,” he continues, taking a deep breath. “I’m sure this, all this,” he adds, waving a hand between us, “is a lot more than you ever bargained for. And all I’m saying is I’d…I’d get it if you…if you wanted to leave. That’s all.”
All of the air leaves my lungs in one giant rush so my chest feels like it’s collapsing in on itself, crushing my heart beneath it. I feel my hands start to shake, my fingers curling in on themselves as though I can somehow make it stop.
“Is that what you want?” I whisper, my voice shaking.
Nick stares at me, watching me for what feels like forever. “No,” he eventually chokes out, shaking his head.
I swallow hard. “Then why are you trying to push me away?”
Now it’s Nick exhaling hard, running another hand through his hair as his eyes close. “I don’t know,” he says. “Because you deserve so much better than this, Emma.”
I reach for the hand that’s still curled in a fist on the back of the couch. Prying his fingers open, I slide mine over his palm, encircling his wrist.
“I think you do too,” I whisper, brushing a thumb across the beginning of the ink.
He shakes his head as though he doesn’t believe me. “I tried to fight it, you know?” he says, opening his eyes.
“Fight what?”
“Wanting you. Being with you,” he says, offering a half smile. “That night in my bar, when I asked you to stay, I knew it was a mistake. That it was going to ruin me.”
“I was going to ruin you?” I ask, as a lump lodges itself in my throat. I can feel the tears forming, but as much as he’s hurting me with everything he’s saying right now, I know I have to let him continue.
“Yeah,” he says nodding. “I didn’t deserve you. Didn’t deserve to be happy after everything that had happened. I’d been so strong too,” he adds. “Never again breaking my rule about hooking up with a customer.” He stops, his eyes closing again as he takes a deep breath. “But then you walked in,” he whispers, his eyes opening as his fingers encircle my wrist now. “And I couldn’t help myself,” he adds, shrugging a little as he offers me a smile, almost in apology. “I wanted you so badly, even though I didn’t understand why and I knew I didn’t deserve you anyway. Still don’t.”
“Nick,” I breathe out as I slide over and into his lap. I can see he is struggling to keep it together now. That this confession he’s made is slowly pulling at something inside him and unraveling. I have no idea how long he’s thought this, whether he’s always thought it, but as he pulls me against him, wrapping his arms around me and burying his face against my neck, I know that regardless of how long, it is all very, very real to him.
“I’m not that guy anymore, Emma,” he says, his words pleading as though he needs me to believe them.
“I know you’re not,” I tell him, my arms tightening. “Even though there’s nothing wrong with who you were back then anyway.”
I feel his body shudder beneath mine. “You are more than just that night,” he says. “More than that girl ever was, or the ones who came before her.”
I nod against him, unable to get any more words out as he slowly falls apart in my arms. This is different to the night he pulled me from the bathtub. That version of him, that pain…it was shock, disbelief and confusion as he slipped into an almost catatonic state at what he thought he’d walked in on.
This right now though, this feels like anger, punishment and regret, raw guilt at all the things he can’t change and the ways that makes him feel. And even though I know it’s good for him to get these words and thoughts out, it kills me to see him struggling like this.
“We’ve always been different,” I eventually say, my words a whisper against his ear. “I know that, and I think deep down, you know that too.” Nick nods, his body still shaking a little. “I’m not going anywhere, Nick,” I add, knowing that it’s this fear that’s driving this whole confession. “I promise you.”
Nick finally lifts his head and for the second time today, I see tears streaming down his face. He cups my face in his hands now, his eyes searching mine as though he’s looking for answers and trying to believe me.
“I’m not bailing,” I whisper.
Nick nods once before crushing his lips against mine where I can taste the salt of his tears and the desperation as he kisses me.