Jennifer's Surrender (32 page)

 
“Ok, here’s soap, shampoo, conditioner
and a razor, should you so desire. It’s a new one too.” He winked. “Fresh
towels are right here.” He patted on a stack of fluffy cream colored towels.
“I’m going to leave you now, but I’m going to leave the door cracked open so
that if you need anything, you can just yell, ok?”

I nodded,
“Thank you, Bill. I can’t—“

 
“Jen, I want to help you, in whatever way
I can. Ok?” I nodded. “Take as long as you need. I’ll be in my office which is
just off my bedroom.” Then he walked out, almost closing the door completely,
but leaving just a crack, just in case.

I took a deep
breath and walked over to the tub, leaning in to feel the water temp. It felt
perfect. Hot enough to wash all the grime off. I kicked off my shoes and socks
and slowly lowered my sweatpants. I stood up and gently pulled off my Henley.
Then I did something I shouldn’t have done. I looked in the mirror. I didn’t
even recognize the woman I saw. I had always been thin, but my ribs and hip
bones and clavicle were poking out. My hair was a ball of grease. But all of
that would have been ok. It was the bruises. They were all over my body. Most
were concentrated on my upper arms, a few around my breasts and more on my
hips. I assumed my backside looked just as bad, if not worse, but I wouldn’t
have the chance to look because suddenly I was falling backwards. I vaguely
registered my butt hitting the floor and then a dull thunk when my head landed
on the bath mat.

 
“Jen. Jen. Jesus, Jen, oh my God.” My
eyes flitted open to Bill crouching over me. It took me a moment to realize I
was buck naked. “Jen, what happened? Are you ok?” I wasn’t sure if he was
referring to the marks on my body or the fact that I had just fainted.

 
“I, um, I guess it’s a good thing you
left the door open. I think I fainted.”

 
“Yeah, I think you did too. But I’m not
talking about that. I’m talking about…” and then his eyes drifted down to my
body. I reflexively tried to hug myself out of shame. “Shhh, shhh, it’s ok,
it’s not your fault sweetheart, it’s not your fault.” He cooed and stroked my
hair as he, respectfully, kept his eyes on mine. “I’m going to pick you up,
Jen, and I’m going to carry you to the tub. I’ve already seen you, so there’s
nothing to try to hide, ok?” and he was right. What difference would it make
now. He had already seen me. More than that, so had half a dozen strange men. I
nodded and he slid one arm under my upper back and the other under my knees. I
put my arms around his neck and he lifted me like I was a feather.

He carried me
over to the tub and then slowly lowered me in, getting his arms and rolled up
sleeves wet. The water burned a little, but oh, it felt so good. He sat on the
tub looking down at me. He looked sad. I knew he was putting pieces together
about my body and my state of mind.

 
“Bill?” I asked softly.

 
“Yeah, sweetheart?”

 
“Would you stay here? While I bathe? I’d
feel better. And like you said, you’ve already seen everything.” He blushed and
nodded.

Then said,
“How about I sit over here, so you can have a little bit of privacy. But I’ll
be right here, ok?”

God, he was
such a good man. How did I go for such a bad one?

For a while, I
just closed my eyes and soaked. I imagined the water washing away all the
bruises, and it was a nice thought. Until I opened my eyes and was reminded of
reality. I told myself that bruises would fade. They wouldn’t be here forever. I
picked up the soap and started lathering myself. Thankfully, my holes were no
longer sore or tender. I took my time soaping every part of me twice. Then,
came the hair. But the minute I reached up behind me, I winced and Bill shot up
and came over.

 
“What is it, Jen?”

I sighed. I
was becoming more and more pathetic. “It’s ok, I’m fine. My, um, shoulders, my
joints, they’re just still really sore. It just hurts when I lift my arms to
wash my hair. Don’t worry, I can do it.” First he has to carry me to the tub,
and now it sounds like I’m asking him to wash my hair? I didn’t want him to
think I was totally helpless. But before I could reach up again, he was leaning
over me to grab the shampoo, pouring a healthy amount into his hands.

 
“Lean back.” He said, and really there
was no point in me arguing. His big strong hands started massaging my scalp and
oh God that felt good. Even my scalp had been sore from my hair being pulled
this way and that. He slowly, gently kneaded my head, applying pressure to
pressure points I never even knew existed. The shampoo smelled like lavender,
clean and fresh, and I could tell there was a good lather going.

 
“You know, if you ever decide to give up
agency life, I think you could make it in a hair salon.” I said.

He chuckled,
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” He lathered a bit more and said softly, “I’m
glad you still have your sense of humor.”

Before I could
even think about my response, the words just came out, “I’m just damaged. Not
broken.” I don’t think I realized that until I said it. But once I heard the
words, I knew it was true. And then Bill had to one up me.

 
“Well, I still think you’re perfect.” I
stilled and thankfully, he broke the moment and said, “Ok, rinse.” I didn’t
hesitate to dunk my head back and let all the shampoo was out of my hair. When
I came back up he motioned over to the other end of the tub where there was a
hand held faucet, “Come over here beautiful. Let me rinse you this way to make
sure it’s all out before we put the conditioner on.” I smiled and slid to the
other end of the tub and turned around and leaned my head back. He aimed the
nozzle at my head and, with his other hand, made sure all of it was out. Then
he grabbed the conditioner and lathered me up with that, and we repeated the process.
When we were all done he asked, “more tub time or are you turning into a
prune?”

 
“Prune.”

 
“Ok, we’re going to get out slooowly.” He
said as he held out his hands. I grabbed on and pushed up till I was standing.
Then slowly put one foot over and then the other till I was on the bath mat.
Bill wrapped me in a fluffy towel and led me to the toilet to sit. Then he took
the other towel and dried me. I was about to protest, which he obviously sensed
because he said, “Until I know you can stand on your own two feet without
puking or fainting, I’m not going anywhere. So just keep still till you’re
dry.”

 
“Yes, Sir.” And the minute the words were
out of my mouth my stomach dropped. “It’s just a figure of speech, Bill. I
don’t mean to imply that you’re my…”

 
“Jen, I know. It’s ok. I get it. Now stay
here while I get a comb.”

He took care
of me like I was an invalid. And I guess, to a certain extent, I was. Before we
left the bathroom, he held me while I brushed my teeth. God that felt good.
 
Then he walked me to his bed and sat me
down. “Wait here. I’m going to get your clothes.” I just nodded. He came back
with the bag and dressed me. Actually dressed me.

When he held
out the bra I shook my head. “My shoulders are too sore and you’ve already seen
the girls anyway. I’ll just take a tshirt if it’s ok with you.” This time his
smile wasn’t one of a caretaker, but one of a man. And that made me feel a bit
more normal and less pathetic.

 
“Ok, bath. Check. Clean clothes. Check.
Teeth brushed. Check. All right missy, now we’re going to get some food in you
and this is not open for discussion. What do you like on your pizza?”

 
“Just cheese. Or margarita style. Can we
also get a chopped salad, no meat?” he was obviously surprised that I actually
wanted to eat.

 
“Margarita pizza and chopped salad, no
meat. Coming up.” I listened as he ordered, then he said, “since you’re, um, a
little less than mobile right now, we’re going to eat here and watch some
mindless action movie. Then you can go to your bed. But until you get food in
you, I just don’t want you walking and fainting, ok?”

I nodded. He
handed me the remote and then went into the office until the doorbell rang. As
I lay there waiting, I realized something huge. This, what Bill was doing,
this
was taking care of someone, for the
sole purpose of care-taking. Not to make sure someone was ok after a ‘scene’ or
to play mind games of ‘here’s punishment, but it’s not so bad because it’s
followed up with after-care.’ This was just because of genuine caring. It was
such an important realization for me I think understanding that might have been
one of the ah-ha moments that helped me recover.

We ate and
watched some movie with lots of running and special agents and explosions and
silly action. I wanted to eat, but after just a few bites, I realized that
after going days with nothing, I would, like everything else, have to ease back
into normalcy. Once he cleaned everything up I curled up under the covers and
dozed off. I woke up when he clicked the TV off.

 
“Do you want to stay here tonight, Jen?
Or do you think you can make it down the hall to your room?” he asked tenderly.
I didn’t want to move.

 
“If it’s ok with you, Bill, I’d like to
stay here, with you. Just sleeping though.” I felt I had to be clear about
that.

He smiled and
nodded, “Jen, I wasn’t implying anything other than sleep.”

 
“I know, I just, after everything, I just
need to speak up for myself, I think.”

He smiled
again and said, “I’m glad to hear that. Now, you should know, I’ve been told I
snore, but I think those are just exes out to smear my reputation.” He said and
winked.

 
“I’m pretty sure I could sleep through a
bomb exploding, so I’ll be ok, thanks.”

He helped me
to the bathroom one more time, though my legs were a lot more steady now that I
had some food in me. I peed and brushed my teeth again. And then made it back
to bed all on my own. Woo hoo! When he came to bed he was in a tshirt and
boxers. He gave me a soft smile and then turned out the light and got under the
covers.

Once it was
finally dark I said, “I’m not sure what I would have done if you hadn’t come
along, Bill.”

 
“It doesn’t matter, because I did.”

 
“Thank you, Bill.”

 
“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” He said and
we laid there for a couple minutes in silence.

Then I asked,
“Bill?” I heard an ‘mmhmm?’ “When I eventually am ready to come back to work,
is it going to be weird that I’m lying here in my boss’s bed?”

He chuckled
and then said, “Right now, I’m Bill, your friend who’s taking care of you. When
we are back at the office I’ll be Bill your boss. No one needs to know about
any of this.”

 
“Thank you, Bill, my friend.”

 
“Now, go to sleep.”

It didn’t take
me long to fall asleep. I woke a couple times to Bill’s snoring. He wasn’t
kidding, he did snore loudly. I chuckled to myself and then drifted back off.
When I woke in the morning, he wasn’t there, but I could hear the sounds of him
yelling in his office behind a closed door. Bill never yelled. Whenever he was
upset at the office, it was more of a quiet disappointment that spoke volumes.
So to hear him actually yelling was odd. It didn’t take me long to guess who he
was yelling at. I didn’t want to hear the conversation, but it was just one
more way that Bill was taking care of me. So, as upsetting as it was, knowing
that Sir, er, Stephen might be giving Bill the gist of what put me into this
state, I was glad that he was so upset and defensive of me.

When he opened
the door, I thought about feigning sleep, but he didn’t deserve that.

 
“Um, sorry if that woke you.” he said,
still clearly worked up as he put his hand through his hair. He was still just
wearing boxers and a Tshirt and when he lifted his hand up to his head, his
tshirt rode up ever so slightly to show me a sliver of skin. I shouldn’t have
let it affect me the way it did, but I couldn’t control how my body responded.

 
“That’s ok, I didn’t hear what you said,
I, um, just heard the tone.” He nodded and I continued, “And I think I can
figure out who you were talking to.” He nodded again, biting his lip and
shuffling a bit, clearly uncomfortable with whatever it was that he heard.
“Will you tell me what he told you?”

He looked at
me with such sad eyes. As much as I appreciated his care, I didn’t want his
pity. “Bill, please don’t look at me like that. Please don’t feel sorry for me.
I don’t think I can handle that.”

 
“I’m sorry, Jen, but I can’t help it. How
can I not feel badly for you after, after…” he just trailed off.

 
“Bill, what did he tell you?” I had to
know.

 
“He just gave me the broad strokes. I
didn’t need details to fill in the rest.” He alternated between looking at me
and looking at the floor.

I had just
started feeling like I was going to be able to move forward, like I had Bill’s
support, and now, now I felt like he not only pitied me, but was disgusted with
me. I chided myself for so quickly going from one man’s control to another’s,
even though they were so different.

 
“Got it. Ok, I’ll just get my stuff. You
can take me home.”

 
“What?!” Bill was angry. “What are you
talking about?!”

 
“It’s ok, Bill. I get it. You’re
disgusted with me. I don’t blame you…”

 
“You don’t blame me? Jen, what are you
talking about? I’m not disgusted with
you
.
I’m disgusted with Stephen and his friends. Jesus, do you really think I’d
blame you? The victim?”