The catharsis seemed to be working, no doubt. "Girls hate it when I talk about this stuff." He paused and ensured that we weren't making eye contact. "I still love Katy, Effie. I'm always going to feel something toward her. But I think it's because I never got to close the door with her, never got to really say goodbye. It's just something that lingers, a feeling that won't go away."
It made me think about how different things had been with Timothy. We had ended everything officially, signing the figurative paperwork and then physically moving apart. And then Timothy moved here and then attacked me. I guess the two situations couldn't be more different.
From what I could gather, it was the potent cocktail of chaos, uncertainty, and his parents' behavior that made this so difficult for him. He would always wonder what life would be like had Katy lived, and rightfully so. I was fairly certain we wouldn't be sitting here together if that had been the case. I didn't entertain that thought any further, nor did I need to.
"The grief," he said, pausing to sip his wine, "motivated me to write. It motivated me to master my craft. So one way or another, I feel like I owe a lot of my success to her."
He was describing an absolute tragedy, one that definitely tore me up a little too. "It's okay, Jack." All I had in me was that stupid platitude. I really wished that I could say something to change his life instead of the things that everyone says. Oh well. I was honest, even if I was just being predictable.
"I've never told anyone I was dating the whole story. I swear. That was really hard for me." He poured himself some more wine and took a tentative sip. "I wanted to be totally honest with you for some reason. My relationships haven't been that serious since Katy."
I stood up and hugged him, doing my best to comfort him. "Thank you for telling me. It really means a lot, seriously."
Jack raised one eyebrow. "You don't care about what I said? It doesn't bug you?"
Although it would probably made any woman a little jealous to hear that her man had a thing for someone else, this just wasn't anything like that at all. It surprised me that he was so concerned about not hurting my feelings.
"You were honest. It's a rotten situation. You're not a robot or something. You feel." I was just talking, but it sounded like I had really worked on my speech.
"When Timothy lunged at you, I heard that phone call again. I was talking to Katy's parents, listening to them sob on the phone, reliving that horrible moment. I punched a mirror and then cried for over an hour straight. I wouldn't recommend it."
"The crying or the mirror-punching?" I glanced down at his hand, concerned that I hadn't noticed him breaking a mirror this time around. Thankfully, it was free of any fresh marks.
He laughed, lightening up for the first time since our session had begun. "Neither. They're bad for your health. I couldn't play guitar for two months."
"Crying will do that to you." I gave him the most sarcastic smirk I could muster. The alcohol had definitely loosened me up, but not so far that I was wasted.
"I wish the high school counselor would have told me that. Some practical advice would have been nice." Jack was lightening up on his end, but I still wasn't totally done yet. "At least I know not to attack my ex-girlfriends. I did learn that."
Although Timothy was far from redeemable in that moment, I still felt motivated to speak the truth. "He was never violent with me, Jack. I swear. Tim yelled sometimes, but he normally kept his cool much better than I did." My reflections seemed to perplex Jack. Rightfully so given today's events. I wasn't sure why I felt the need to defend Timothy. I guess because I thought it would assuage Jack's fears.
We cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher. I wanted to deal with the clean up since he had cooked, but he refused.
"Don't run it yet," he said, my hand on the button ready to start it. "We need to take a shower. And that means we need water."
"Are you sure?" I let out a quiet laugh. "About the water?"
"I've never needed a shower with water more in my life. C'mon."
A shower sounded like heaven, actually.
***
The water washed our troubles away. My hair had been on the floor of a New York City coffee shop, so I figured the cleaning was for the best.
Jack washed my hair and body for me, his efforts so delicate and concise. I gave in, allowing him to take his time on my body. It was just one of those little things that I swore would make me join the water and head straight down the drain. I held together and returned the favor, the difference in our heights making it slightly more of a challenge for me.
There was nothing but silence between us, the only real sound the ebb and flow of the water as the streams struck the bottom and then faced interruption from our bodies as we moved.
Jack had broken down in front of me after coming to my rescue, and I just didn't know how to feel about it. God, I felt like we were moving quickly, no doubt. He had admitted his desire to be honest with me, admitted that he hadn't ever told another date that haunting story from his past.
A full emotional portrait of Jack was painted before me—and I was more smitten than ever before despite my intent to remain guarded.
Why is it that we resist our feelings when they become so clear to us? Giving in made me feel warm and loved,
