table.
‘I’m knackered.’ I cradle the
mug in my hands, staring at the froth and chocolate sprinkles on
top. It’s hot and creamy, and it reminds me of Mum making it for me
when I was a kid. For some reason the sprinkles make me smile.
‘What do you do on your day
off?’ he asks. ‘Do you get to relax at all, because I’m not
surprised you’re knackered. You start at stupid-o-clock in the
morning and don’t finish until late.’
I almost laugh. I can’t tell him
the truth. I usually hibernate in my flat and end up with a panic
attack because I’m there alone, and all I think about is Theo
coming to get me, which makes the lock-checking and sitting there
staring at the door a million times worse.
‘Um…I usually catch up on
housework and stuff,’ I lie.
He takes a sip of chocolate.
‘You know I mentioned about ways you can get rid of anger?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you want to try it tomorrow?
Even if you don’t realize it, anger’s a big emotion that people
who’ve suffered this kind of trauma have to cope with. Except
usually it’s directed at themselves and not the people who deserve
it.’
I know all about the anger, how
it feels like a coiled serpent inside, wanting to lash out and bite
at a second’s notice.
‘What did you have in mind?’
‘We could go to the gym. I’ll
show you how to hit a punch bag.’ He pauses. ‘Then maybe we could
get some lunch.’
‘I’m not sure. I don’t really
like crowds.’ But the thought of not being alone on a Sunday inside
my flat for once is so tempting. It makes me feel more positive,
and that’s what I want to be. Positive Grace. Happy Grace. Carefree
Grace.
‘I can understand that,’ he
says. ‘But I’ll be with you.’
And somehow, that’s enough to
make me say, ‘Yes. OK.’
We sit in silence. I like the
way he doesn’t ask me about the book and the journal. He doesn’t
pressure me. But I don’t want him to leave yet, so I tell him
anyway.
‘I read the book you gave
me.’
‘What did you think?’
‘I think you were right. That
woman was so strong and courageous.’
‘So are you.’
I shake my head. ‘I don’t feel
strong.’
‘You will. It doesn’t happen
overnight.’
‘I think…’ I trail off, not
quite sure what to say. Again, he doesn’t prompt me to speak. He
sits there and waits patiently. Always patient. ‘I think it helped.
Reading about how she put her life back together. It gave me hope
that I can do the same.’
‘Hope is the antidote to fear.
Having hope and faith in the power of women survivors will lessen
the fear you feel.’
‘Thank you,’ I say again, even
though I’ve said it so many times lately it’s as if I’m stuck on
repeat.
‘You don’t have to thank me.’ He
shrugs, as if it’s nothing.
But it’s not nothing.
What he’s doing for me is so
huge I can’t even begin to describe it.
22
BEN
I wait outside the gym for her
on Sunday morning. I’ve been up since five a.m. giving the punch
bag in my flat a good seeing to. I didn’t suggest she come to my
place to do this. Being alone with me on my territory is probably
too much, too soon, and it seems like we’re making progress, so I
don’t want to frighten her off.
I can’t wait to see her again,
though, and it scares the crap out of me. Even though she’s not
‘officially’ a client of mine, I’m probably breaking so many
counsellor-client rules I can’t even imagine.
As she parks her car and gets
out, all those thoughts vanish.
She approaches me with hesitant
steps. When she gets closer, the first thing I notice is she’s
wearing less makeup. Today, she’s only hiding behind mascara and
lipstick, none of the thick eyeliner and eye shadow she’s worn
before. She doesn’t need any of it, to be honest.
‘Hi.’ She gives me a wobbly
smile.
‘You look great.’ I give her
what I hope is a killer smile in return, my gaze roaming over her
face. I’ve only ever seen her in her uniform, and today she
‘I’m knackered.’ I cradle the
mug in my hands, staring at the froth and chocolate sprinkles on
top. It’s hot and creamy, and it reminds me of Mum making it for me
when I was a kid. For some reason the sprinkles make me smile.
‘What do you do on your day
off?’ he asks. ‘Do you get to relax at all, because I’m not
surprised you’re knackered. You start at stupid-o-clock in the
morning and don’t finish until late.’
I almost laugh. I can’t tell him
the truth. I usually hibernate in my flat and end up with a panic
attack because I’m there alone, and all I think about is Theo
coming to get me, which makes the lock-checking and sitting there
staring at the door a million times worse.
‘Um…I usually catch up on
housework and stuff,’ I lie.
He takes a sip of chocolate.
‘You know I mentioned about ways you can get rid of anger?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you want to try it tomorrow?
Even if you don’t realize it, anger’s a big emotion that people
who’ve suffered this kind of trauma have to cope with. Except
usually it’s directed at themselves and not the people who deserve
it.’
I know all about the anger, how
it feels like a coiled serpent inside, wanting to lash out and bite
at a second’s notice.
‘What did you have in mind?’
‘We could go to the gym. I’ll
show you how to hit a punch bag.’ He pauses. ‘Then maybe we could
get some lunch.’
‘I’m not sure. I don’t really
like crowds.’ But the thought of not being alone on a Sunday inside
my flat for once is so tempting. It makes me feel more positive,
and that’s what I want to be. Positive Grace. Happy Grace. Carefree
Grace.
‘I can understand that,’ he
says. ‘But I’ll be with you.’
And somehow, that’s enough to
make me say, ‘Yes. OK.’
We sit in silence. I like the
way he doesn’t ask me about the book and the journal. He doesn’t
pressure me. But I don’t want him to leave yet, so I tell him
anyway.
‘I read the book you gave
me.’
‘What did you think?’
‘I think you were right. That
woman was so strong and courageous.’
‘So are you.’
I shake my head. ‘I don’t feel
strong.’
‘You will. It doesn’t happen
overnight.’
‘I think…’ I trail off, not
quite sure what to say. Again, he doesn’t prompt me to speak. He
sits there and waits patiently. Always patient. ‘I think it helped.
Reading about how she put her life back together. It gave me hope
that I can do the same.’
‘Hope is the antidote to fear.
Having hope and faith in the power of women survivors will lessen
the fear you feel.’
‘Thank you,’ I say again, even
though I’ve said it so many times lately it’s as if I’m stuck on
repeat.
‘You don’t have to thank me.’ He
shrugs, as if it’s nothing.
But it’s not nothing.
What he’s doing for me is so
huge I can’t even begin to describe it.
22
BEN
I wait outside the gym for her
on Sunday morning. I’ve been up since five a.m. giving the punch
bag in my flat a good seeing to. I didn’t suggest she come to my
place to do this. Being alone with me on my territory is probably
too much, too soon, and it seems like we’re making progress, so I
don’t want to frighten her off.
I can’t wait to see her again,
though, and it scares the crap out of me. Even though she’s not
‘officially’ a client of mine, I’m probably breaking so many
counsellor-client rules I can’t even imagine.
As she parks her car and gets
out, all those thoughts vanish.
She approaches me with hesitant
steps. When she gets closer, the first thing I notice is she’s
wearing less makeup. Today, she’s only hiding behind mascara and
lipstick, none of the thick eyeliner and eye shadow she’s worn
before. She doesn’t need any of it, to be honest.
‘Hi.’ She gives me a wobbly
smile.
‘You look great.’ I give her
what I hope is a killer smile in return, my gaze roaming over her
face. I’ve only ever seen her in her uniform, and today she
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