My Dear Stranger (26 page)

 
“Are you okay?” I heard a female ask from behind me.  Lifting my head off the side of the toilet seat, I was humiliated looking at a waitress from the restaurant.
  “Um, yes.  I'm fine.  Sorry about all this.  I'll be fine in a minute,” I said as another gag hit me.  Turning for the toilet bowl, I gagged again, but thankfully didn't throw up in front of her. “I'm leaving in a minute.  Sorry...”
  “Do you need any help getting to your room?”
  “No.  I'll be fine in a minute.  Sorry.”
  “Is your boyfriend going to hurt you?” She asked quietly.  And I remember knowing what she thought of Alex.
  “No.  He's not really my boyfriend, but kind of.  And no he won't hurt me, but he
is
leaving me which hurts.  But I deserve it,” I admitted to a total stranger.
  “Has he, ah, raped you before?  Because that's not okay, even with a boyfriend,” she stated to my back, ramping up my humiliation to a degree I couldn't have known existed.
  “No.  He's never hurt me, and we don't do that.”
  “Sex?” She asked me with surprise.
  “Yes.  We don't have sex.  So he won't hurt me that way.”
  “Then why did you yell that in the bar?  Everyone heard you, and a few customers asked that we check up on you.  You can tell me if you're scared.  My Manager sent me in here and he won't let you get hurt, I promise.”
  I remember trying to stand, as she grabbed for my elbow until I was steady.  Leaning against the stall wall, I looked at her, straight in the eyes and confessed, “Alexander has never hurt me, and I don't think he ever would physically, but I hurt him all the time because I can't talk to him, or be normal, or be what I should be with him.  Did you see him?” And when she nodded, I followed up with, “Did you think he was good looking?”
  “Very,” she answered.
  “He's very good looking, and he's so good to me and nice and really fucking patient with me and all my bullshit, but I just can't be with him like that, even though I want to be, I think.  Sometimes...”
  But I had lost her, I could tell.  She was no longer sympathetic, but confused and I knew the questions that would follow, so I walked away from her and made my way to the sink.  Looking in the mirror as I washed my hands, I was disgusted again.  I had vomit on the right side of my face, and my hair was matted with it on that side of my head.  My skin was the sunken sallow shade of Sadie past, and I looked a little like death again.  I didn’t look like the kind of woman an Alexander Hamilton would be with.
  So scrubbing my face, I wiped off the smeared mascara and finger brushed my teeth with nothing more than water, all while the waitress stayed silently beside me.
  “I'm fine, you can go now.  Please tell your Manager I'm sorry for the mess at the bar, but I'll be leaving the hotel soon.”
  “Are you sure?” She asked again, and I remember wanting to scream in that moment.
  “Yes,” I snapped, as I stumbled toward the washroom door.
  Once I was in the lobby, I stumbled outside for a smoke.  Asking a stranger for one was awkward, but mine were hidden upstairs in my luggage and I really needed one for my nerves.  I knew I had to go back to our room just for a minute and I hoped Alex wouldn't be a jerk about it, but I needed a smoke first. 

 
Smoking, I thought of nothing but Alexander.  I hoped he wasn’t too mad at me and he would just let me in so I could at least get my purse before I left.  I hoped, though I had little faith left.
  After my smoke, I made my way upstairs again shakily.  I remember knocking on the door, and I remember the relief when Alex did answer the door to me.  But after the relief came upset when he just stood there looking at me indifferently while waiting for me to speak, I think.
  “I just need my purse.  I'm sorry to bother you.”
  “It's no bother,” he replied somewhat automatically. 
  And it hurt.  I remember wishing his indifference didn't hurt, but it did.  He walked away from the door at that point and sat in a chair near the window while browsing at the seminar pamphlets we had grabbed from the front desk.  Ignoring me completely, I walked in, grabbed my suitcase off the desk and wheeled it into the bathroom.
  And sitting on the edge of the tub, I remember my confusion.  My head still spun, and I was totally drunk still, but at least the humiliation had subsided somewhat because I didn't know what to do about leaving.  I could call a cab to take me to the train station, or to the greyhound station, but I was nervous.  I didn't like walking around in the dark by myself, and certainly not in this town.  I was insecure here at best, and adding in the fact that I was still drunk, desperate, alone, and confused, spelled absolute disaster for me emotionally.
  Reaching for my purse, I wanted to know how much cash I had on me because I needed to do something.  I needed to figure this out.  I needed to get myself home so I could be alone again.  I needed something to stop all this stuff in my head all the time, because the pressure was building, and the pain was intensifying, and the memories were swamping my brain and the constant mistakes I made were hurting Alexander which was killing me.  And the constant thoughts of Him were driving me insane so I needed to figure something-
  “OW!” I screamed when I was suddenly pulled by my hair.
  “What are you doing?” Alex yelled at me.
  “What?”  I screamed again, trying to rip my hair out of his grasp.  I didn't know what was happening but I was scared to death of Alexander instantly.
  “DROP IT, SADIE!” Alexander screamed in my face, as he pulled me up by my hair.  Looking, I saw the nail file drop from my hand as he twisted my wrist.
  “What are you doing?” I cried.  But I was suddenly thrown into the shower by Alex who jumped in after me and landed on me.  Panicking, I remember fighting as best as I could.  I fought him even as the cold water poured down on me.  I fought him hard, but just like before, I didn't win.
  So I stopped fighting.  I let Alexander Hamilton hold me down.  Sobbing, I closed my eyes, turned my face to the wall, and I let him hurt me without fighting.
  “Sadie?  What's wrong, baby?  Talk to me.  Why did you cut yourself up?  Why would you
do
that?  Am I really so bad that you need to get drunk to be around me?  Am I really so awful that you need to cut yourself? 
Please.
  Explain it to me, Sadie.”
  God, I remember the sound of his voice that day.  Even with my eyes closed, I knew he was crying.  I could hear it in his voice.  I could hear his pain and upset and it sobered me up as nothing else could.
  And I was suddenly awake.
 

 
“It's not you, Alexander.  And I know I say that all the time, and I know you must be sick of hearing the same thing from me, but it really isn't you, and that's why I don't make you go away.  I should tell you to go away but I can't.  I like you in my life, but I don't know how to be with you.”
  “Be with me how?  Sexually?  Emotionally?”
  “Both.  Every way.  I don't know.  I love your voice, Alex.  I love it, and I love how easy and light you are, but I don't know how to be with you because I'm not very good emotionally, or like mentally, in case you haven't noticed-”
  “I've noticed,” he said so deadpan I choked out a laugh.
  “I just don't know what to be with you,” I admitted once again.  And it was true.  I still didn't know what to be for him.
  “I've told you this a hundred times- just be you.”
  “I know, but that's such a stupid thing to say; no offense.  Just be myself?  I don't know who that is.  So how can I be myself with you?”
  “Okay, I have a question,” he paused until I nodded.   “Am I the world's best non-boyfriend boyfriend?”
  “Yes...” I admitted.
  “And what have I done to you that was so bad in a year?”
  “Nothing, but-”
  “Nothing.  I've done nothing, but given kisses and held your hand.  I've never made a move.  And I've never lied to you about it.  I told you there were NO expectations this weekend, and I meant it.  I told you, but you never believe me.  So what else can I do?”  When he looked at me and paused, I realized he actually wanted an answer.
  “Just be patient-”
  “Not good enough.  I AM patient.  What else can I do?”
  “I don't know.  Nothing, I guess.”
  “Nothing?  I can do nothing to stop you from expecting the worst, or waiting for me to screw up, or fuck you up, or hurt you, or ruin this relationship that I've tried to build with you?  I can do nothing?” He asked again a little angrily.
  “I don't know.  I'm the problem.  I have some stuff-”
  “
Believe me,
I know you have some stuff, even if you won't tell me about it.  Not good enough, Sadie.  Tell me something.  Give me one definitive example of what I can do to make you stop expecting me to hurt you.  Tell me just one thing I can do, because I don't have a clue anymore.  I've read the books on spouses and partners of victims of abuse.  I've done the research and asked the questions.  I've even watched Oprah, but nothing I do works with you.  Time hasn't worked, and patience hasn't worked.  Being a support system for you hasn't worked, neither has being just your friend.  So tell me one thing I can do.  I need to hear one thing, or you were right, this IS our last weekend together.”  And when I gasped, he continued.  “It is Sadie.  This is it.  I've spent a year trying to make you comfortable with me.  I spent a year being your friend and waiting for you to realize you feel more for me than simple friendship.  I've spent a year waiting for you to eventually love me back, but you don't love me back and I don't want to do this anymore.”
  I remember to this day clearly the look on Alexander's face.  It was a look of complete indifference and acceptance. I think he was sure I would simply agree to end things.  I'm sure he thought I would tell him I couldn't think of anything he could do to make me love him.  I saw in his eyes the acknowledgement of our end.
  So panicking at the thought of losing Alexander, I said the exact opposite.  “Can you touch me a little?” I barely whispered.
  “Are you kidding me?” He asked rather abruptly.
  “No.  I just thought if you touched me a little, I would get used to it and maybe like it and maybe I'd get better or something.”
  “Now?” I remember nodding and meaning it.  “I can't.  You're still drunk and emotional.  You've hurt yourself and all I want to do is bandage up your arms because I've been watching them slowly bleed this whole time, sitting in the tub with you soaking wet and freezing.  So please don't take this the wrong way but I really don't want to touch you under these circumstances.  I'm not looking for a pity fuck, Sadie.  I want you to want me too.”
  “I think I do,” I answered automatically.
  “Well, let me know when you
actually
want me, not when you think
you want me and we'll revisit this conversation.”
  And that's when I knew my words had blown the conversation.  I had made Alexander feel insecure and I hated myself for it.
  “Can I tell you something, Alex?”
  “I really wish you would,” he answered sadly looking away from me.
  “I think you are
very
good looking, and so does a waitress from downstairs.  And that isn't a pity compliment, I promise.”
  And then he looked back at me.  I remember he looked at me until he slowly smiled at me.  Waiting for him to speak, he surprised me with his lack of a humorous comeback, but he was smiling at least, which I would take.  I hated a sad, confused, or disappointed Alexander.
  “Are you staying here tonight?” He asked me bluntly.
  “If I can.”
  “I want you to.”
  “Okay... Can I get out of here and change?”
  “Of course.  I'll change out there,” he said while standing away from me in the shower.
  45 minutes later, I was warmed from a HOT shower, mostly sober, while dressed in leggings and a long T-shirt.  I was also sporting bandaged arms after Alex had knocked on the door when my shower ended.  He had looked at me in my towel, looked at my arms and handed me the band aids which he must have bought in the gift shop downstairs, and then he left me alone to continue.
  When I exited the washroom, Alex was still dressed lying on top of the bed watching TV.  Smiling at me, he quickly jumped up, passed me and entered the washroom for his own shower.
  10 minutes afterward, he joined me in the bedroom wearing sweats and sat back down on his side of the bed. 
  “Would you lie down with me,” I remember asking nervously, and he answered a somewhat breathy 'yes...' as he lifted the covers and crawled in beside me.
  “Sadie.  You can never drink like that or cut yourself again with me.  You have to talk to me and tell me you're freaking out so I can either try to help you or so I can leave you alone, because I don't ever want to see that again, okay?”
  “I’ll try,” I agreed as my words hung there in the silence of our room.  They just floated around us like a promise.  Or maybe like a pledge, until the silence was broken by Alexander.
  “Try hard.” 
  And I heard the warning in his gentle tone.  I knew I would lose him if I ever made another mistake like that again.  I heard the implication, and I understood the warning.  So I decided I would.
  “I promise I'll try very hard...” I whispered.
  And that was it.  I fell asleep immediately, with only Alex's hand touching my hip as we each lay side by side in the bed.