“Enjoy it? How could you enjoy it?”
“You just imagine the rapist is someone you like.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“At least you’ll live.”
“I couldn’t do that,” I’d said.
She’d laughed. “I could,” she had said. Then she had looked at me so seriously that it took my breath away. Gone was her impish little smile, a smile I knew Mother wasn’t fond of seeing because I never had such a smile.
“You look like you have indigestion,” she would tell her. “Stop that.”
“You could do that?” I’d asked Haylee.
“Yes, Kaylee. You see, there are really big differences between us despite what Mother believes, deep differences.”
“I agree,” I had said, nodding. “Vive la différence,” I’d added.
Her impish smile had popped and disappeared like a soap bubble. “Yes, vive la différence.”
Remembering that short but disturbing discussion about rape, I wondered if I could do it. Could I imagine that Anthony was someone I really liked?
My body tightened even more as his hand stirred again and moved up to my right breast. He cupped it, his thumb touching my nipple, and then, as if my breast had caught fire, he pulled his hand away and turned onto his back. I hadn’t breathed the whole time. Now I gasped and tried to swallow the scream that was stuck in my throat. He was moving his hand over his own body, moaning as though it was my hand.
“I love you,” he whispered. “I really love you.”
A shocking thought went racing through my mind: Just as he hears what he wants me to say and sees what he wants me to do, he feels what he wants me to feel about him. It was almost as if it really didn’t matter if I was here or not, and to me, that was the most alarming realization of all, because in the end, he wouldn’t see my pain or hear a cry. He might not even notice if I didn’t eat or drink. My death might come as a total surprise.
The tension in my body exhausted me. Despite my determination to stay awake, I dozed on and off. Maybe I just didn’t want to hear him or see what he was doing. I did turn onto my side so my back would be to him. The morning light that penetrated through the gaps in the boards on the windows seemed to tiptoe its way through the dim basement apartment to the bed as if it was afraid of being discovered.
I heard him get up, but I didn’t turn. I cringed in anticipation, but he didn’t touch me or speak to me. I could hear him putting some cat food into Mr. Moccasin’s dish and giving him some water. He spoke to the cat, complimenting him on how well behaved he was. I think he said it loud so I would hear. After that, he went out and up the short stairway.
I sat up and quickly located the nightgown I had been wearing before he’d brought me his mother’s clothes and put it on. Then, despite what I had planned, I got myself some water. My throat was painfully dry. How was I going to go on a hunger strike if I couldn’t even begin? I felt utterly defeated. I returned to the bed and sat staring down at the floor. Minutes later, he returned. I heard him enter, but I didn’t look at him.
“Well, you’re up,” he said. “I hope you’re feeling better. Got to learn to control that happiness. Ma used ta say too much good time leads to bad times.”
I still didn’t look at him.
“However, since you were so excited about our anniversary dinner and so happy to be here now, I decided you didn’t need that chain,” he said. “I want you to really feel at home.”
I turned in surprise as he approached me. He was stark naked. His skin looked sunburned red, and he had a good-size scar on the right side over his ribs. There was no embarrassment in him. I tried not to look. Haylee liked to show me pictures of naked men because she knew how it embarrassed me.
“Get used to it,” she had said. “Hopefully, you’ll see more than one.”
Anthony was smiling and holding up the key to the cuff locked around my ankle. I didn’t say a word. He knelt down and unlocked it, taking the chain away and curling it up under the hook in the wall.
“That’s better, huh?”
I nodded softly.
“So. Let me get dressed and make you some oatmeal. I think your stomach will appreciate it. And some coffee, of course.”
I didn’t move.
“What a night,” he said as he crossed to his side of the bed. I heard him dressing. “It takes time. Falling deeply in love takes time, but we’re well on our way. You’ll find me a patient man. We both know what we want, so it’s not going to be hard.”
“What do we want?” I asked, turning to him when he stood up to button his shirt.