Guilty

Ch-20

The law does not punish us because we break the rules. The law punishes us because we have dared to go against it, the supreme power in the land. Only men of law have the power to break it.

Walter Benjamin's words on mythic violence came to my mind. It was an odd piece of information, something the Professor used to say. Lately, I was remembering my time at Harvard more and more, perhaps in relation to the case, perhaps because I was spending more and more time with Nate in my office.

"For the hundredth time, Professor, go home.", I pleaded to him because no other option was working with him.

He set the magazines down on the table, his head in his hands. He rubbed at his red eyes. His hair was dishevelled and he looked tired.

I was done with this shit. I kneeled in front of him and in my five inch stilletoes and pencil skirt, it was an admirable feat to be achieved. I didn't think about how natural it felt to kneel in front of him. I took his downturned face in my hands. I was going way past professional boundaries with no rational explanations to myself. When it came to him, I had few boundaries.

"What the fuck is going on with you, Nate? Spit it out or get out of my office!"

"I... . I don't have a home. I...I.. can't sleep. I can't eat. It's horrible, okay. This thing... it just keeps playing in my mind, of being violated. It's worse than being strung naked in public. I don't know what I did. I don't fucking know!", he almost screamed, his voice hoarse.

"It's my private shame, put in front of everyone. It was supposed to be easy, one night with a stranger in a different country. It was supposed to make me forget about y-", he cut off abruptly.

"Forget about what? ", I prompted him.

He didn't answer.

"Tell me the truth, Nate. Tell me the goddamn truth, now. "

"YOU! IT WAS SUPPOSED TO MAKE ME FORGET ABOUT YOU."

Suddenly, the room felt tighter, more oppressive than it had felt a moment ago. My throat was dry, swallowing became difficult. I stumbled back away from him, landing flat on my back, my legs gaped.

Suddenly he was in between my stretched legs, on his knees.

"I didn't do this, Sultana. I just need you to believe me. I can have the whole world against me but not you. I cannot fight against you. "

"Don't change the subject, Nate! How was it supposed to make you forget?"

He sighed and sat back on the sofa. I didn't get up from the floor. My legs didn't have any more strength left.

I kept waiting by his feet.

"I was in New York. For the first time in five years, I was this close to seeing you. I could go by your office, show up to your door and grovel to you to take me back. I would have begged until my voice was gone, but I couldn't. You had told me not to. You safe-worded. I had to respect that. How many fucking times did I wish for a chance to make things right?! And the one time....the one time....I had that chance, I had no courage to break my promise and see you, to watch you from afar, as I had been cursed to. So, I got drunk, too drunk to think straight, because my mind is a traitor. My mind and my heart. They won't stop drowning in you. "

And with that he eviscerated my heart again. He drove a fucking blade over the freshly healed cuts and bruises. He destroyed me as he always did.

He was crying in to his palms. He looked so small then, so defeated by the world.

"I couldn't stay awake, Sultana, I fucking wouldn't have been able to... It's just... I don't have... a chance to explain anything to you. You look at me... you look at me all wrong."

"I do not Nate.", I stated struggling to maintain composure.

"YES! YOU DO", he accused. "You don't believe me, Ms. Shahnaz. No more than the next person."

And he was right. I didn't. My heart would not listen.

"How do I believe you, Nate? ", I challenged, my hands gripping his collar. We were so close that our noses almost touched. We waited frozen in time, breathing each others' air. I was panting and he was too. His hand snaked upto my face moving over my cheek as if disbelieving that he could touch me. His hair fell in front of his face, tickling my nose. This close to him and I could believe anything he said, any yes any no. It would not matter.

How long had I yearned for this searing touch, this connection?

"I don't know, Sultana... I don't know.", he whispered and I moved back, slowly releasing the death grip on his collar.

"Chandni...", he whispered. "Chandni"

Chandni meant moon, in Hindi, my mother tongue. It was also what my mother used to call me. It had been my safe word and now he was saying it. I shut my eyes, taking a deep breath.

He needed space. He wanted to move away from me and so did I. I sat on the floor, with my silent cries, my screaming heart and unanswered questions while he stepped out of the room.