“Shut up, mother. Caroline’s my guest, my date. Let her enjoy her meal without gracing her with your passive aggressive bullshit for once in your God damned life, would you?”
I had never, ever heard Mark speak that way with anybody before in my life. Hell, I wasn’t even sure I’d ever heard him swear before. Going by the reaction of everyone else at the table, neither had they. Our mouths were open, eyes wide. Mark’s mother’s face had gone such a deep shade of red I was starting to worry she may have had a heart attack.
It took me a second to realize I wasn’t breathing as I waited with bated breath to see what else was going to happen.
Mark’s father was the first to speak.
“If it wasn’t for the fact that it would look bad in front of all our guests, I would kick you out of here so fast,” he told Mark in a low voice, nothing at all like the friendly, kindly old man I’d met earlier.
“Don’t worry father, I wouldn’t want to embarrass you,” Mark replied icily. “You know what? We’re leaving. The two of you have abused me emotionally my entire life. I’m not about to let you do it to Caroline as well, who deserves a hell of a lot better than this family.”
With that Mark suddenly stood up and took my hand. I stood up as well. He grabbed our soufflés and our spoons and I followed him out of the hall, all too aware that this time all the eyes in the room were on us. We had been seated at the front of the room, we had to pass by nearly everyone else to get out, but I didn’t notice. I didn’t care that everyone was staring. All I could think about were those last few words Mark had said to his parents before he stormed out.
That explained everything. That explained why he was always so furtive when it came to talking about his family, that explained why he was always so happy for us to talk about other things.
I hadn’t realized that Mark had gone through the exact same thing that I did.
My heart was crushed for him. I wanted to hold him close to me, to comfort him, to tell him it would be ok. For a parent to betray that trust that a child puts in them, for a parent to abuse their child, it’s one of the worst things I could possibly think of.
As soon as we left the room and found ourselves in the lobby of the hotel, Mark grabbed his hair with his hands.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry Caroline. I’m so sorry.” He kept repeating the phrase, over and over as he moved in circles around the room.
“Mark, it’s ok. Calm down, I’m here,” I replied, moving over to him and gently taking his hands in mine. He stopped pacing when he felt my touch and looked me in the eye.
“I’m sorry. That must have been humiliating for you.”
I shook my head. “Absolutely not. I had no idea you were emotionally abused by your parents, honestly, I really admire your strength for even being able to be in the same room as them. Come on, let’s go back to our hotel.”
Mark hailed a cab and ten minutes later we were in the room of our hotel. Mark took off his jacket and collapsed on the bed. I sat behind him and rubbed his shoulders.
“I’m here, if you want to talk,” I told him. “If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine too.”
For a minute I thought Mark was going to choose the second option, but then he got up and went into the suite’s living room. It was like I instinctively knew what he wanted me to do; I followed him over and sat down next to him on the couch.
“I just... I just couldn’t take it anymore, you know?” he finally said.
“I know. I know exactly what you mean.”
“It’s been so long. And it’s so hard. I mean, everyone always thinks I have the perfect life. I have money, I’m not bad looking, I’m constantly named one of America’s most eligible bachelors. But none of them know this secret, this horrible, terrible secret that I’m hiding inside. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy, but I couldn’t talk about it. Who was going to believe me? My parents are some of the richest, most respected people in the country. Besides, what can even be done about it? I’m an adult now, I have to take care of my own problems. There’s no one to tell.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” I replied softly. “I understand so much better than you know. Even when you do tell people, they don’t always believe you.”
Mark looked up at me, but I barely noticed. I was staring into space, my own bad memories coming flooding back to me.
“You’ve been through the same thing,” he finally said, and I nodded.
“It was when I was young. When I was figure skating. I didn’t know what it was at first. I mean, in school we always learned to be afraid of strangers, to be afraid of people that hit us, that touched us where we weren’t comfortable. None of that happened to me, but it still didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel good.”