The Only Exception

CHAPTER 25

Dinner never got made, and I slept in my own bed that night. I faked a migraine soon after our fight, and Trey didn’t stop me from leaving. I woke up for work the next day and tried to put everything in the back of my mind, but Melanie could read something was wrong the second that I walked through the door.

“Whoa, you look like hell.”

I rolled my eyes, putting a stack of foam coffee cups behind the counter. “Thanks, dear.”

She shook her head. “I’m serious. I heard about all of that shit that went down at Trey’s parents, but I didn’t think it would hit you this hard.”

“It’s not his parents. It’s his politics; that’s the problem,” I muttered.

“Is it his politics, or how you feel about his politics?”

“Don’t start.”

Melanie held her hands up. “No, listen, hear me out. I know how you feel about some of the sticky subjects, but maybe if you finally went and talked to a counselor, you wouldn’t let these things bother you so much.”

“I’m fine. I don’t need to go back to a counselor,” I muttered.

“Really?” Melanie arched a brow. “Then tell me you aren’t still carrying the mace in your purse. Tell me that you didn’t stalk Trey’s Facebook account to make sure he wasn’t anything like that other guy. Tell me that guy isn’t the reason that you transferred here and anytime he’s brought up you change the subject.”

I gripped onto the counter; my breath coming out shallow and ragged. She was right. About all of it. It had been months since I’d seen a counselor, and even though I thought I was getting better by seeing Trey, last night proved maybe I wasn’t fully healed.

I hated to admit it, but her words struck a chord. My argument with Trey wasn’t just about buying condoms, it was about my own fear that I would be in the same situation as I was at Taylor. That I would be stuck, afraid and alone. If I was ever going to get past those fears I had to get help.

“Is it okay if I take the rest of the day off?” I asked.

I looked up and Melanie nodded. “Do what you have to do.”

***

Student Health Services was right behind the student center. I only had to walk outside a few feet before I was actually at the building. It was a newer structure with three floors. The first floor was the place everyone went when they were sick and usually got sent home with a mask and a ZPack, the third floor was administration, and the second floor was my destination.

I stepped off the elevators and faced a bulletin board full of inspirational posters with messages like ‘Hang in there’ and ‘It gets better’. Yeah, that was easy for the stock art photos to say.

There were a few offices and a lot of windows, but it was the room at the end of the hall that I was the most interested in, Student Counseling Services. I opened the door to be greeted with the warm fall scent of baked apple pie and pumpkin. They must have burned candles to make it not feel so sterile. The whole waiting area looked different than the rest of the building. Instead of fluorescent lights and linoleum floors, it had dark brown carpet, beige painted walls, and different microfiber sofas covered with throw pillows around the room.

A woman in a white lab coat sat behind a desk at the far wall, and I slowly made my way up there. She smiled and looked at me from behind a giant pair of wire-rimmed glasses. “And how can I help you?”

“Um, does the rape survivors group still meet here?”

She gave me a warm smile. “It sure does. Every Tuesday at four. Are you interested in signing up?”

I nodded, slowly. “Yes, ma’am.”

She pulled out a small tablet and pressed a few buttons on it with a stylus pen. “If we can just get your information in here, then we’ll get you all set.”

“Thanks.” I smiled. It was my first step in a new direction, and I was ready. Ready as I would ever be at least.

***

I stayed around the student center and Student Health Services until four finally rolled around. I could have tried to get in to an appointment with a counselor beforehand, but I wanted to give the group a try. I saw a poster for it when I first transferred, but never wanted to admit to myself that I needed it. After talking with Melanie, I knew it was finally time. If I wanted to keep my relationship with Trey, I had to do it. I couldn’t keep having meaningless arguments with him or have him punch out a guy every time I freaked out. But mostly, it was for me. I needed the closure. I couldn’t keep all of my fears bottled up inside. I needed help.

I checked in at the front desk at exactly four and a short, Asian woman with a black pixie cut came to the door. “Are you Monica Remy?”

I nodded.

She extended a pale hand. “I’m Loretta Jones. I’ll be leading the group. Come in.”

I followed her through the door and down a small hallway. She opened a door directly to our left that was lit by two small lamps in opposite corners. Four girls sat in folding chairs in a circle, a box of tissues sat on the table in front of them; already being used. Their eyes all followed mine as I entered the room.

“Ladies, this is Monica, and she will be joining us today,” Loretta said with a warm smile and took a seat in the circle, so I took the chair next to her. “Now you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, but this is a safe zone. We aren’t allowed to talk about anything that was brought up here in our discussions outside of this room. We are just here to listen.”

I nodded. I wasn’t ready to talk. I just wanted to get a feel if it was right for me. Maybe hearing other people’s stories would make me feel better.

Loretta spoke again. “We’ll just give some introductions and then everyone will give a brief little tidbit about why they are here.” She turned to the girl to my right who had dark, glossy hair and even darker rings under her eyes. “Leslie, why don’t you go first.”

“I’m Leslie,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper. “I’m here to deal with the anger from my ex-boyfriend, and his using sex as power over me.”

Loretta nodded and the next girl, with the brown braids, spoke. “I’m Jessica. I’m here because my female best friend raped me.”

My eyes widened. I didn’t want to show my shock, but I’d never actually heard of female-on-female rape.

Jessica snorted. “Yeah, that’s the reaction I usually get.”

I shook my head and waved my hands in the air. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

Jessica smiled. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve learned to live with the reactions.”

The next two girls had similar stories about dealing with date rape at parties and then Loretta spoke. “I’ve been a psychiatry grad student here for two years, and my rapist still haunts my dreams. I chose to lead this group to help other women to survive. There are some days I don’t want to get out of bed because all I can think about is him. There are days that I won’t even let my husband touch me. But then there are days, mostly the days that I come to this meeting, that I know I’ll survive.”

Survive.

That’s what my counselor always said back home. I wasn’t a victim. It wasn’t my fault. I was a survivor, and to be a survivor I had to go on living. I could go through the motions of life and pretend like everything was fine, but deep down I was just the scared little girl that was always tapping my bag to make sure my mace was there. I was able to get my story out to Trey, and it felt like a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders. Now it was time that I told someone else; the other survivors.

I felt the tears brimming in my eyes, and I let out a deep breath before I spoke. “I’m here because I transferred to Central to run away from the guilt I felt after I was raped. It never solved the problem. It just made it worse.”

It was the first time that I’d admitted it out loud, and finally the weight that I’d been carrying felt like it was lifted off my shoulders. I was going to be all right. I hoped.

***

After a lot of tears and a box of tissues, I felt like I could finally breathe again. But I also had a grumbling in my stomach and knew I was starving. When I got up to my apartment door I could hear Sam laughing. Great, I didn’t want to have to deal with her and Mac being stoned on the couch.

But when I opened the door it wasn’t Sam and Mac, but Sam and Trey. I was surprised to see Trey sitting on the chair and Sam on the couch, laughing and slapping her knee.

“Um, what the hell is going on?” I asked.

Sam gasped and stood up. “Oh, hey! Trey had been coming by all day looking for you, so finally I just let him in. He was just trying to convince me that I’m a closet conservative. He’s actually kind of funny.”

My eyes trailed to Trey. He stood up slowly, straightening out his collar. He didn’t look like my usual put together conservative. He had a sadness in his eyes I’d never seen.

Sam knocked us out of our trance with a loud, throat-clearing huff. “And on that note, I think I’ll leave you two alone.”

She grabbed her purse off the counter, and I heard the door slam behind us, but I didn’t watch her leave.

“Hey, Mon,” Trey said, taking a few steps toward me.

“Hi.”

He put his hands in his pocket, taking another step in my direction. “Look, about last night.”

I lifted my hand up. “You don’t need to say anything. I was out of line. I freaked out, and I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, finally making it across the room, so that he was standing in front of me. “No, I was wrong. I was an insensitive jerk. Sometimes life isn’t all about what is politically correct. It’s about what’s right. And what’s right is that I love you, no matter what happens. I overreacted about the condoms. If it’s something we are both ready for, then there is nothing wrong with being prepared. Even if my father is the spear header for abstinence-only education, that doesn’t mean my politics have to align with his. If you care about someone, there is no reason not to use precautions, so you don’t get put in a situation in which you have to make a choice. And I care about you, Monica, and want to make these choices together. I don’t want to lose you. You bring out the best parts of me, and I don’t want to be without you.”

He put a tentative hand to my face, running his fingers through my hair. “You’re the most amazing woman that has ever walked into my life. After all the shit you went through at Taylor, you still put up with me. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but obviously someone is smiling down on me if you say that you’ll still keep me around.”

I swallowed hard. “I love you too, Trey. I want to make this work.”

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine with such passion I thought I would melt underneath them. I tilted my head back, parting my lips ever so slightly, letting his tongue slide in between them. He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling my body against his. I wanted to forget about the world. To forget everything except for Trey.

He kissed me with a fire like no other, as if he were afraid that breaking the kiss would break us. I found myself gasping for breaths of air. His fingers were urgent, running through my hair and down my back. Then his hands were on my butt, lifting me off the ground and pulling my legs around him. He carried me all the way to my bedroom, his kisses more pleading with every step. Kneeling down, he pushed me back onto the bed, crawling on top of me and kissing down my jaw and to my neck.

I wanted him so bad. Every part of my body was aching for him, wanting to push it farther. But I couldn’t. There was still a part of me that was broken and unprotected sex wasn’t going to fix it.

I grabbed his face, stopping our frenzy before it got any farther. “Trey, I’m not sure what’s gotten into you, but I’m not going to have sex with you right now.”

His breathing was heavy and ragged. He took a few shallow breaths before he finally spoke, his gaze locked on me. “I’m not trying to make you do anything. Just waking up without you, made me realize how much you meant to me. I don’t want to lose you again.”

I shifted so that I could prop my elbows up and rest my body underneath him. “You’re not going to lose me if we don’t have sex.”

I saw it in his eyes. I was so worried about my own fears for so long that I didn’t even think about Trey’s. I had voiced his exact fear. He didn’t think he was sexually up to par for me. I thought I would lose him because of sex and my opposition to his father’s politics, and he was afraid he would lose me for the same reason.

“I hope not,” he said, pushing a stray strand of hair out of my face.

I kissed his lips gently. “We both have to get over our fears. No more politics, no more fighting, or worrying so much. Let’s just enjoy each other.”

“Sounds like a plan, Miss Remy.”

I smiled. “But there is one more part to this plan.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And that is?”

“Kiss me like you mean it, Mr. Chapman.”

And he did; his smile evident with every peck on my lips. We may not have been perfect. We may not have agreed on the same things politically, but together we would get over our fears. And falling asleep in his arms was better than anything I could have ever imagined.