She knew it was her trauma that held them back, that it was the walls between them, but in fifteen years she hadn’t figured out how to tear them down. Frankly, it was a scary prospect to even attempt to do that.Had she really even tried?Heidi racked her brain for moments when she had tried to break down those barriers, and indeed, she did find some. Not as many as she’d hoped, but she did remember times when she had tried to share with Ann what went through her mind half the time.
Usually Ann didn’t understand or didn’t sit with it long enough to try to understand. Biting back another sigh, Heidi focused on the food in front of her. Fifteen years was a long time to spend with someone she couldn’t effectively communicate with, but she’d never thought about leaving. According to Ann, she hadn’t either. Something about love and wanting to be together forever kept them from taking that final fateful step.
“Is your day busy?”
“Huh?” Heidi jerked her head up. “Oh, no, not really. It’s a quiet Friday for once.”
“That’s good. I’m going to be home late tonight.”
“That’s okay. I’m sure I can entertain myself.” Heidi hadn’t meant it to come off sad and depressing, but her tone was so melancholic it was nearly unavoidable.
Ann gave her a hard look, her gaze roving over Heidi’s face, and Heidi stared directly at her, challenging her to push the boundaries of what was going through her head, daring her to ask one simple question that might open her up. Ann cocked her head, still giving that hard look before closing her eyes and focusing on her already half-eaten sandwich.
Heidi’s heart fell. It was like that all the time. Ann scared to ask, and Heidi frightened to speak. How they would ever get past that she didn’t know. Perhaps this was how they would live out the rest of their days together, however long that ended up being. Heidi picked up her food and took another small bite, but her appetite was completely gone. Forcing herself to eat was not something she enjoyed, so she wrapped her meal up. She could eat it for dinner if Ann was going to be out—and they both knew what that meant.
“You’re not eating?” Ann’s brusque tone sent a shock through Heidi’s chest.
“Not hungry,” Heidi muttered, knowing if Ann truly was paying attention it would be a dead giveaway to the turmoil she was going through. She hoped Ann was distracted enough that it wouldn’t come to that conversation, but she could never be sure. Most of the time she could hide it, since they rarely ate together.
Ann eyed her suspiciously, but thankfully, she didn’t comment. Whether it was because she didn’t want to open that can of worms today or if she didn’t want to do it in such a public place, Heidi didn’t know, but she was thankful the inquisition ended rapidly. Ann went back to her own meal. “We should try to do a date next week.”
“I can come for lunch on Thursday, I think. I’ll have to check my calendar.”
Ann shook her head. “No, I mean a real date. One where we go out for dinner, spend the night together, dress up maybe.”
Heidi wrinkled her nose. “Dress up?”
“I don’t know. I miss you is what I’m trying to say.”
Pressing her lips tightly together, Heidi thought. Most often Ann said things like that when they’d had a fight or an argument or when Heidi had denied her sex. Suddenly the realization hit her. She had denied sex. She’d said no, and Ann had been in a piss-poor mood all week. This was a direct reaction to that.
Her heart sank. They could never work around this one problem, could they? She was always the problem in that area, and no matter how much Heidi tried to convince herself she wanted to have sex as often as Ann did, the fact remained, she just didn’t. Some nights—well, most nights—she preferred a good cuddle on the couch before a snuggle in the bed, falling asleep in each other’s arms.
Often there never seemed to be an end to Ann’s anger when Heidi said no, when she held her ground and her boundaries and didn’t give in to something she didn’t want. At the same time, it pissed her off, like Ann somewhere in the back of her mind thought she deserved sex, as if it was Heidi’s to give as a requirement of their relationship, which was vastly untrue. Heidi was obligated by nothing.
Flicking her gaze to Ann, Heidi held all the tension she had in her shoulders. “What time do you think you’ll be home tonight?”
“Late. Don’t wait up for me. I know how you like to get up early.”
Heidi nodded almost imperceptibly. “Right.”
Ann finished her meal and leaned in her chair. “I’m sorry to have such a short lunch with you, but I barely made it out of there as is.”
“It’s fine. I understand.” Heidi did understand, even if she didn’t want to. When would she become more of a priority in Ann’s life? It certainly didn’t feel that way most of the time.
Ann reached over the table and gripped Heidi’s hand, giving her a gentle squeeze before gathering up her trash and throwing it away. Heidi watched her walk away, her hips swaying as she went. Heidi longed for her, longed for the woman she’d fallen in love with, the one who tried, the one who she connected with. She couldn’t understand when that had stopped.
Heidi grabbed up her own food, carrying it out of the hospital to the parking lot where her car was. Getting in, she headed to work to finish out her day. She needed the distraction to be able to function for the next few hours before she went home to an empty house.
As she got home, the house felt emptier than ever. Heidi dropped her bag onto the near side of the couch as soon as she entered and flopped onto the cushion, not even bothering to take her jacket or shoes off yet. It was thirty minutes after five. She hadn’t heard a thing from Ann yet, which wasn’t unusual, especially if she was going to be out late. Staring at the blank television screen, Heidi finally let out the sigh she’d been holding in for the last half of the day.
Her head hurt. Herhearthurt. What were they even doing anymore, just playing house? Lila popped into her mind. Beautiful, young, confident Lila. What Heidi would give to be more like her, to have moved fully past her own sexual trauma into the realm of healing and wholeness. It seemed so easy for some people. She’d seen it with the kids she worked with. Some rebounded like nothing ever happened and others struggled daily, minute by minute, just to survive. What was the difference between them?
Reaching into her pocket, Heidi pulled out her phone, unlocked it, and skimmed to the number Lila had left in her call log. She could learn something from Lila—that much Heidi knew. Lila knew secrets to recovery and survival Heidi had never been shown. Sure, Heidi had met adult survivors before, but their trauma was never something they talked about, never something she shared about. It was typically a simple acknowledgement of what had happened once, a long time ago, never to be mentioned again.
Before she knew what was happening, she pressed her thumb on Lila’s name and number. The call connected almost instantly, ringing. Heidi barely had time to bring the phone to her ear before Lila’s sweet voice echoed over the line.
CHAPTER6