24. but.

TWENTY-FOUR

: BUT.

HARLOW

I didn’t anticipate jumping the gun and getting Shep’s number, but something came over me while sitting in the living room with his mom talking about my first few sessions with Robin.

After I left the shop Saturday, I called Laura that night. She told me she went ahead and spoke with Robin and she was right. Robin did want to see me back to back, so we talked about a potential schedule for me and she got it all booked. Following my practices in the week ahead, I would go straight to therapy at 6:00 PM for an hour on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

Laura coaxed me into meeting her at her house Monday then we rode together to the office which sat just on the edge of town. It wasn’t really out of the way and I didn’t mind having the support. I didn’t know what to expect, but the cozy little cabin that had been renovated into a business space truly shocked me.

At the end of that first appointment, Laura was there waiting, then we went back to her house where she made me tea and we talked about how I felt. This became sort of the routine for the week.

She was also kind enough to offer her support through paying for these first couple visits until I was ready to talk to my parents about what was going on. Letting her help me like that pained me, but I also knew that there was no chance in hell I was going to ask my parents for the money or try to use my insurance.

In the past, if I’d tried to approach my parents about needing help for things, my dad was willing to listen, but it was Mom who always shut it down. It was like there was a lack of sympathy for me and maybe it was because she had spent most of it on Margot when she went through what she did in high school. Did that make it any easier? No. I was only in eighth grade when it happened, and then when I started high school, I felt like I was on my own. The years of my life where a girl needs her mom, I hardly have any memories with mine. We lived in the same house but it was like she was a ghost.

It’s probably a huge reason why I’ve taken to Laura the way I have. As much as I want to act like the shit with Mom doesn’t affect me anymore, I’m just a girl who wants to feel the love of a mother.

Trying to juggle swimming, school, and now secret meetings has been no easy feat, but with Laura’s help and Lennon’s quiet support of whatever I was doing with Laura this last week, I’ve found a new sense of courage to start putting myself first. Except with Beckett.

Today’s meeting with Robin was the first one where we finally started to talk about our relationship. While our other two meetings had more so been about my life growing up—what experiences I had, how I got along with my family, and then just talking about some of the things that were weighing on me—today, Robin finally switched lanes.

“So tell me, when was the first time Beckett laid his hands on you?” Robin spoke with a softness to her voice that mirrored Laura’s and made me feel like I could tell her anything.

“I guess at our date party a little over a year ago.” At first, my answers to Robin’s questions were always direct-short and sweet-but that slowly changed as she helped me find my words.

“And what caused this?” She peered at me over the frames of her glasses that rested on her nose.

“I was late. But I also wasn’t dressed appropriately?” My voice rose at the end almost like it was a question, because there was an uncertainty I hadn’t truly addressed yet as to why Beckett did snap that day.

“I see. Can you walk me through the events of the night?” Her voice showed a slight edge to it, but if the woman was angered by what I was telling her, she was really good at keeping her face neutral.

I gave her the cliff notes version of the date party and a few times I did see her face wobble when I mentioned the way he spoke to me and how it made me feel. I was shocked that I was so comfortable telling Robin all of this, but then again, her being a stranger gave me the space to speak freely.

She told me when we first met that she is mandated by the state to report if I’m in danger, but that it’s also hard to know when you’ll be in danger when you’re already in an abusive relationship.

When she first used that phrase, “abusive relationship,” my stomach soured. Was that really what I had found myself in?

“Now, do you and Beckett have a sexual relationship as well?”

Her question pulled me from my thoughts but also took me by such surprise that I sat there with my mouth gaped open before I could process that I needed to answer.

“It’s okay if you’re not ready to talk about that,” she continued.

Stammering, I finally pieced together a sentence that was coherent at best. “Ye–well–some…no.”

She nodded her head and set down her notebook next to her on the arm rest of the couch.

“It’s important that you know we don’t have to talk about everything right away. However, it might be useful for you to see the different ways Beckett has mistreated you so you’re able to recognize it in the future.”

“But I don’t want there to be a future,” I rushed out as my stomach dropped.

“I know and I’m so proud of you for wanting that this quickly, but ? —”

There was that dreaded word: but .

“—abusers are able to manipulate their partners into feeling like they need to stay. You mentioned you’ve felt this way before, correct?”

Abusers? Is that really what we’re calling Beckett now?

Feeling overwhelmed, I shook my head before resting my face in my hands. I wasn’t dumb to think that a few therapy sessions and I’d be ready to tell Beckett to piss off and walk away, but I also didn’t think the truths Robin was sharing with me would make me feel so powerless.

Working up some courage, I finally answered her question. “Yes, we’ve had sex. Only a few times, and it’s been a while.”

Robin went on to talk about the role sex can play in my situation. She also went back to the details I gave her about Beckett showing up with gifts and flowers after the date party. She said that was an act of “love bombing.” A term I had never heard before, but she explained was a form of psychological and emotional abuse in and of itself as it creates doubt in the victim’s mind and makes them question their feelings towards their abuser.

By the time our session was over, I felt more defeated than when I had walked in. As I exited her office door, Laura was sitting there as usual with an expectant look on her face. When I didn’t meet her smile with mine, she rushed over and cradled me into her arms.

A soft cry erupted from me as she stroked my hair, whispering, “One day at a time. You’ll get through this.”

She asked me to wait and then popped into Robin’s office, talking for a few minutes. I told Robin I was comfortable with her discussing our sessions with Laura and signed the release form for her to be my personal representative.

It was on the car ride back to her house she broke the silence and told me that I should consider letting Shep in. Not because he was her son, but because he had shown genuine care for me, and Robin agreed that a good first step in making any progress would be to let people in.

I told her I would think about it, as a different thought popped into my head.

“Do you think it’s bad?” I started.

“Hm?” Laura acknowledged me but kept her attention on the road.

“Do you think it’s bad that I haven't told my own parents about this? Would they be upset if they knew someone else’s parent was involved, and not them?” I sighed and slumped down into the passenger seat.

“That’s an interesting thought,” Laura started then paused for a second. “I think if I was in their position, I’d just be happy my daughter was talking to someone. I haven’t met them, but I’m sure they’re lovely and their true desire, as is any parent’s, is for their child to be safe and happy.”

I chewed on her words until we pulled back up to the house. We walked inside and she went to get the tea started. After a few minutes of talking over my session with tea and some snacks, I made up my mind and asked her for Shep’s number.

My phone buzzes and pulls me out of my thoughts and I realize I’ve been sitting at Lennon’s vanity with the mascara wand in my hand for who knows how long. I push it back into the tube before picking my phone up and reading a text from Lennon that she’d left my dress hanging in the bathroom after she steamed it.

I still have plans to meet Beckett before the formal for dinner because of the panic-ask a few weeks ago, but there is no part of me that wants to go. Especially after today’s session. I thought about canceling but, again, I don’t want to poke the bear.

I finish getting ready, smoothing down my hair and grabbing a purse Lennon left out for me. As I slip into the yellow dress, a flush of nerves rises up. Thankfully, I told Beckett I would just meet him at dinner and drive myself because I had a doctor’s appointment earlier. He couldn’t be bothered and I was thankful for that.

Once I feel like I have everything in place, I get in my car and head to the restaurant. I think for a second about doing something out of the ordinary. I don’t care anymore about worrying what the consequences might be. I don’t want to spend this drive to dinner lost in thought about all the things that’ve been weighing on me lately so I press the green button on my CarPlay screen and wait expectantly as the line rings.

“Hi, Harlow.”

“Hi, Shep.”