Conversations From Afar

bed before breakfast / 86

"The two of you? Will that be a king or two queens?" The woman behind the desk is frowning and I'm pretty sure she's about to ask for our marriage license instead of credit card.

"A king is fine." Cam replies, unruffled. I wander around the lobby as he fills out his information. It's very Victorian-themed, or at least that's what they're trying for.

"What time do you eat breakfast?"

"Mm... the last one? Nine." I'm glad, I hate getting up at eight.

"Here are your keys, it's up those stairs to the left, room 8. You can call the front desk if you need anything, but I leave in half an hour. Would you like me to help with your bags?"

"Thank you, I'll get them." He turns from the desk and drops the keys into my hand. "You unlock the door and I'll bring your stuff in, just the little bag right?"

"Right."

The staircase has a very fluffy green carpet and it makes soft shushing noises against my boots. I unlock the room alone and leave the door ajar for Cam.

I sit on the excessively large bed and kick off my shoes. The Breakfast Club.

How is it that a movie is my trigger, when I didn't even consciously realize it? Is it even? Can I even call it a trigger if I was never even raped? Just almost?

"It's hailing," he announces, shouldering his way past the door carrying my mini suitcase behind him.

I wasn't even raped. Rape. Raperaperaperaperape. So many people are raped, I should be thankful it didn't happen, not pandering on and on about almosts.

"Katherine." There's something about the way he says it soothes my stomach worrying. Like honey for a sore throat or something. "Want to talk about it now?"

"It's the Breakfast Club. It's the movie we watched before. It's so stupid, how does that even work? How is it that the mere mention of that stupid overrated movie trigger a dreamed dramatization of the almost-rape. Almost. It didn't even happen and I dream about it and it makes me feel scared even though there's no reason to be. I'm so pathetic. And the Breakfast Club, come on. And why am I even still remembering it? I thought I completely forget about it forever afterward, until with first dream. I don't remember exactly when it was, the next year or something."

Cam sits down.

"And it was like, it's not like... I just... I don't know? Like it was just normal until it wasn't. We just watched the Breakfast Club in his creepy soundproof basement then when the movie was off he started kissing me and climbed on top of me even when I told him no. And I fought him off, it's not like I was even a victim? At all? Actually maybe the credits were rolling with the song, I don't remember, why don't I remember?"

I feel so stupid. So, so stupid.

He's sitting cross-legged, listening intently with a carefully blank expression. I hate that expression; that expression is not for me.

"What are you thinking?" I ask abruptly, almost breathless and my heart is pounding and there's a bewildering amount of adrenaline in my system.

"Did talking make you feel better?" He asks. It makes me feel like an open wound.

"Not really."

"Are you scared now?"

"I don't know. No. I just feel jumpy and nervous and..."

"Just take a deep breath, okay?" I try to breath but I feel panicky and stupid and silly and there's no reason for this why is this happening. "Kat, Kat c'mere."

Then he's hugging me, tightly and it feels like he's holding me together. I'm half in his lap, half on the bed and his lips are close to my temple when he speaks: "This will help I promise."

"How?"

"It will calm your nervous system."

And it does. When it does, all I want to do is cry.

"This is so stupid." I say it into his neck. Right there he smells like laundry detergent and cologne and it makes my insides just as happy as the hug did.

"Kat, it's not stupid. You went through a traumatic experience - someone you trusted and thought was your friend tried to hurt you. What probably made it worse though was just pushing it down and not talking about it for two years. The movie reminds you of the day subconsciously and you go back there when you go to sleep. It's perfectly normal."

I curl my legs up until I'm completely in his lap, and he presses a kiss to my temple. "I wish I hadn't talked about it."

"Don't."

"What if I dream about it again?"

"I'll be here."

I brush my teeth first and half-heartedly wash my face. I've never been good at sticking to a skin care routine, why start now?

While he's in the bathroom I take off my jeans and slip my bra out from under my t-shirt. The sheets are cool against my knees and I ball the comforter against my chest with little comfort.

"Want to watch something?" He asks when he comes back out. He's not wearing a shirt.

"Like what?"

"I started Grey's Anatomy a couple of weeks ago." He retrieves the tablet from his bag and climbs into bed beside me.

"Okay."

I lean my pillow up against his side and hug it, resting against him. He holds the iPad in one hand and the other slides through my hair and comes to a stop at the nape of my neck. His fingers are cool and oddity comforting...

Everything about him is comforting, it's not even odd.