Any Day Now
Page 79
It took her longer to tell him all about the day with the police than it did about the actual assault, but she didn’t leave anything out. At least not intentionally. It was a lot of conversation, a lot of questions. Connie got up from the living room chair to get them bottled water from the refrigerator. He leaned his elbows on his knees, hands clasped to keep control. He scowled and even growled at times.
“You thought you saw him?” he asked.
“Several times but I was never sure. I thought he was a nightmare mirage,” she said. “I thought I saw him in Iowa and I actually chased him down and grabbed his arm. It was like temporary insanity—I had to know. It wasn’t him. Up close it didn’t look anything like him. A bunch of times I thought I spotted him and held my breath, but when he turned I realized the guy didn’t look that much like him.”
“Every time?” he wanted to know.
“I’m pretty sure the man I saw in Colorado Springs really was him. And I think the man who went to my parents’ farm was him. Connie, I think he’s around. I think he found out where I am. Maybe not exactly where, but approximately. The police told me to be very observant and very cautious.”
“I don’t know very much about rape victims and what they go through,” he said. “We made love. If there was anything wrong about that, I couldn’t tell. If you don’t like the way I touch you or hold you or—”
She shook her head. “You were the first since and it was nice. It was epic,” she added with a smile. “The rape counselor said I’d know when I was ready. For a while right after it happened, when I ran to the farm, I was a mess. I couldn’t sleep or eat. I slept with my shoes on! Couldn’t leave the house after dark and even at the house, I’d have these major anxiety attacks. When I did go out in daylight, like to drive to work, it was the country. I could see for miles. I could see no one was following me. Then I went into treatment and they got me set up in some counseling groups. I stayed in one after I was out of rehab, living in a kind of halfway house. I got stronger, very slowly. I even took some self-defense but probably not enough. But I have PTSD, there’s no question about it. I can’t park in a garage again. I can’t even go to the car wash. I can’t even think about going to the movies—there could be someone behind me in the dark. But I can walk on the trails behind the Crossing. In daylight. And I like it inside my little cabin, but I admit, before Molly came along I used to stack things in front of the door. I get freaked out at the weirdest times. I like to get up before the sun’s up and have coffee with Sully but that walk from my cabin to the store...it’s a very long walk. I usually jog.”
“Oh baby,” he said, stroking her arm. “They need to find him, lock him up...”
“You think that’ll take care of everything? I’m sure there are other psychopaths out there. I’m going to be afraid forever.” She swallowed. “I want to be free of him. He took away my tears. I can’t cry anymore. I haven’t truly cried since...”
“Come here, Sierra,” he said, pulling on her hand. She let herself be drawn onto his lap. “I’m proud of you,” he said. “But will you let me take care of you a little bit?”
“What can you do?”
“I can’t take the fear away but I’ll do anything you ask.” He pushed her hair back and kissed her neck. “Anything.”
“I wanted to tell you,” she said. “I always intended to. If all this is too much of a load for you, let’s decide now.”
“It’s not,” he said.
“I’m pretty screwed up,” she said.
“That’s the thing—you’re not. I know people who haven’t been through half of what you have who are wrecks. You’re so strong.”
“Stubborn,” she said. “That bastard is not going to get any more of my head.”
“You didn’t tell the police when it happened,” he said.
“I didn’t then, no. I wonder if I was in shock. I went to the doctor, I ran away, I stayed petrified until...until rehab. I went into rehab because he couldn’t find me there. That’s the only reason I went—I fully intended to ride it out for a month while I thought of how I’d press on. I had no intention of giving up alcohol. I had no intention of changing my life. It all started because I was so afraid of him.”
“They’re going to find him,” he said.
“They’re going to want me to testify against him and I’ve been saying for a year and a half that I won’t. That I can’t. But I don’t think I’ll ever be free until I face it head-on,” she said. “I don’t know if I’ll get through it, but I think I have to try.”
“I’ll be right there,” he said. “A lot of people will be right there. You have a lot of fans.”
“Oh, Connie, I’m such a load...”
“Don’t worry about me. I have pretty broad shoulders.”
“I missed you so much,” she said. “I love you, you know.”
“I know,” he said. “You didn’t even have to tell me.”
“How could you know?”
“Oh, I must be psychic,” he said with a smile. “Or maybe you treat everyone like you treat me?”
“I might give you some priority,” she said. “Because you’re good to my dog.”
“I’m going to get you some pepper spray,” he said. “And one of those alarm buttons they advertise on late-night TV. It’s loud enough to bring down buildings.”
“I have pepper spray. But I’d really like one of those alarm buttons.”
“You thought you saw him?” he asked.
“Several times but I was never sure. I thought he was a nightmare mirage,” she said. “I thought I saw him in Iowa and I actually chased him down and grabbed his arm. It was like temporary insanity—I had to know. It wasn’t him. Up close it didn’t look anything like him. A bunch of times I thought I spotted him and held my breath, but when he turned I realized the guy didn’t look that much like him.”
“Every time?” he wanted to know.
“I’m pretty sure the man I saw in Colorado Springs really was him. And I think the man who went to my parents’ farm was him. Connie, I think he’s around. I think he found out where I am. Maybe not exactly where, but approximately. The police told me to be very observant and very cautious.”
“I don’t know very much about rape victims and what they go through,” he said. “We made love. If there was anything wrong about that, I couldn’t tell. If you don’t like the way I touch you or hold you or—”
She shook her head. “You were the first since and it was nice. It was epic,” she added with a smile. “The rape counselor said I’d know when I was ready. For a while right after it happened, when I ran to the farm, I was a mess. I couldn’t sleep or eat. I slept with my shoes on! Couldn’t leave the house after dark and even at the house, I’d have these major anxiety attacks. When I did go out in daylight, like to drive to work, it was the country. I could see for miles. I could see no one was following me. Then I went into treatment and they got me set up in some counseling groups. I stayed in one after I was out of rehab, living in a kind of halfway house. I got stronger, very slowly. I even took some self-defense but probably not enough. But I have PTSD, there’s no question about it. I can’t park in a garage again. I can’t even go to the car wash. I can’t even think about going to the movies—there could be someone behind me in the dark. But I can walk on the trails behind the Crossing. In daylight. And I like it inside my little cabin, but I admit, before Molly came along I used to stack things in front of the door. I get freaked out at the weirdest times. I like to get up before the sun’s up and have coffee with Sully but that walk from my cabin to the store...it’s a very long walk. I usually jog.”
“Oh baby,” he said, stroking her arm. “They need to find him, lock him up...”
“You think that’ll take care of everything? I’m sure there are other psychopaths out there. I’m going to be afraid forever.” She swallowed. “I want to be free of him. He took away my tears. I can’t cry anymore. I haven’t truly cried since...”
“Come here, Sierra,” he said, pulling on her hand. She let herself be drawn onto his lap. “I’m proud of you,” he said. “But will you let me take care of you a little bit?”
“What can you do?”
“I can’t take the fear away but I’ll do anything you ask.” He pushed her hair back and kissed her neck. “Anything.”
“I wanted to tell you,” she said. “I always intended to. If all this is too much of a load for you, let’s decide now.”
“It’s not,” he said.
“I’m pretty screwed up,” she said.
“That’s the thing—you’re not. I know people who haven’t been through half of what you have who are wrecks. You’re so strong.”
“Stubborn,” she said. “That bastard is not going to get any more of my head.”
“You didn’t tell the police when it happened,” he said.
“I didn’t then, no. I wonder if I was in shock. I went to the doctor, I ran away, I stayed petrified until...until rehab. I went into rehab because he couldn’t find me there. That’s the only reason I went—I fully intended to ride it out for a month while I thought of how I’d press on. I had no intention of giving up alcohol. I had no intention of changing my life. It all started because I was so afraid of him.”
“They’re going to find him,” he said.
“They’re going to want me to testify against him and I’ve been saying for a year and a half that I won’t. That I can’t. But I don’t think I’ll ever be free until I face it head-on,” she said. “I don’t know if I’ll get through it, but I think I have to try.”
“I’ll be right there,” he said. “A lot of people will be right there. You have a lot of fans.”
“Oh, Connie, I’m such a load...”
“Don’t worry about me. I have pretty broad shoulders.”
“I missed you so much,” she said. “I love you, you know.”
“I know,” he said. “You didn’t even have to tell me.”
“How could you know?”
“Oh, I must be psychic,” he said with a smile. “Or maybe you treat everyone like you treat me?”
“I might give you some priority,” she said. “Because you’re good to my dog.”
“I’m going to get you some pepper spray,” he said. “And one of those alarm buttons they advertise on late-night TV. It’s loud enough to bring down buildings.”
“I have pepper spray. But I’d really like one of those alarm buttons.”
