Chapter 41

“And then what happened?” Greg’s eyes revealed he already knew. “I need to hear it from you.”

I shook my head as tears streamed down my face. “Please don’t make me say the words. I know I’m damaged goods. You don’t need to tell me I’m dirty. Stupid. Impure. I already know that.” I cringed as the awful memories pummeled by conscious mind. “I don’t know why Brad did what he did. When I said no, I meant no. I didn’t have any hidden agendas.” My voice shook as I tried expressing my pain.

“Who’s saying you did?” Greg probed further.

“Have a hidden agenda?”

Greg nodded.

“Brad says I baited him. Lead him on. Wanted it. After all, we were about to be married. Why else would I have shown up at his room that morning looking like I did?” I searched Greg’s eyes as he handed me a box of tissues. Taking one, I dabbed my nose. “Thing is, it was an innocent mistake. I wasn’t baiting him. I just didn’t think. But you don’t tell Brad he’s wrong, and you never tell him what he can or cannot do. He always gets what he wants.”

“Always?” Greg watched me weigh the frequency of Brad’s actions.

“Yes. Always.” I stared at my lap, releasing a slow sigh. “At the time, he was almost 200 pounds of pure adrenaline. There was no way of stopping him from taking what he wanted. With Brad on top of me, I kept reliving the flashbacks of being with Gavin and recalling the brute force that overpowered everything. Scary part, Brad was even more dominant and overbearing than Gavin ever was. His eyes were saturated with so much lust and greed. I didn’t stand a chance.” I drew in a deep breath. “Somehow he had managed to pin my legs, so I couldn’t move. When I realized I was trapped, I froze.” I bit my lower lip, embarrassed at how weak I sounded. “I didn’t want him to break my bones or bruise my body while he was manhandling me, so I tried talking him out of what he was doing. He wasn’t even remotely listening. I begged for him to stop, but he shushed me, telling me to be quiet. I’d never seen him so driven. So uncaring. I lost all hope of him not penetrating me the moment he told me it’d all be over in a minute.” I rocked back and forth against my anxiety, begging the raw memories to go away.

Greg watched as I self-soothed. “It sounds like Brad takes whatever he wants, whenever he wants, no matter the cost or the consequence.”

“I had no say the first time we had sex,” I affirmed. “It wasn’t consensual.” I wiped the wetness from my cheeks as more tears fell. “The entire time I was lying there, he didn’t look at me. It was like I didn’t exist. I was just a means to an end. Easy. Naïve. Trusting—until I wasn’t–but, by then, it was too late. My virginity was gone. Taken. And he didn’t even care. He’s never once shown any remorse, either.” I pressed my pointer finger and thumb against the bridge of my nose and tried to absorb the intense pain pulsing through my sinuses.

Greg’s forehead creased. “I’m sorry you were forced to go through something like that, but you need to hear me.” He waited for me to make eye contact with him. “It was not your fault. It doesn’t matter if you were in a committed relationship or if Brad was a complete stranger. If you said no, and he didn’t listen, he committed a crime.”

“But we were going to be married,” I tried rationalizing and excusing Brad’s behavior. “He’s not to blame for me walking into the bedroom where he was staying that morning. I was a grown woman. I could’ve gone out to the kitchen and waited for him. I should have gone to the kitchen and waited for him.” My emotions felt like a weighted rock in the pit of my stomach.

Greg shook his head. “I don’t care if you walked into that room wearing absolutely nothing but a pretty smile and your birthday suit. The moment you told Brad no, it was Brad’s job to end his advancements toward you. Plain and simple. It is that cut and dry.”

“But he’s a guy. I should’ve known better,” I insisted. “I created the temptation just by being there. That means I’m just as responsible as he is.”

Greg shook his head. “I disagree. Let’s say, for a moment, you married the horniest guy in town. You still have the right to say no. It’s your body. He does not have the right to force himself on you.” Greg looked me in the eyes to make sure I heard him. “True love doesn’t demand another human to act against his or her conscience. In all aspects of the word, love is patient. Understanding. Respectful. Kind. You don’t ever have to second guess its motives. I can not say this strongly enough. Acting out fear is not love.”

I laughed, sniffling over tears. “You sound like 1 Corinthians 13.”

“Maybe so,” Greg extended a caring smile, “but that’s just me sharing with you the ethical and moral side of things. I’m sensing your focus is more on the technical aspect, so let’s look up the actual definition of rape.” He stood and pulled down an Oxford English Dictionary from a shelf on the wall and set it on his desk. Flipping the pages to the back of the book, he flattened the rippled top page and began to read. “Rape. Noun. Definition: ‘The crime, typically committed by a man, of forcing another person to have sexual intercourse with the offender against their will.’” I heard the words, but internal logic fought with their meaning.

Noting my blank stare, Greg stood again and pulled down a second book, this time The American Heritage College Dictionary, Third Edition. “Let’s see what this one has to say.” Rummaging through the pages, he once again located the word rape. “Noun. Definition: ‘The crime of forcing another person to submit to sex acts, especially sexual intercourse.’ Or, ‘abusive or improper treatment; violation.’” This time, the words resonated at my core, evoking deep emotions. Tears began pooling in my eyes.

“Look for yourself,” Greg instructed, pointing to the definitions he had just read. “Those are pretty solid sources which agree on the meaning.”

I didn’t say a word. I could hardly breathe.

Greg didn’t relent, though his tone remained kind. “Does this sound like what happened to you? Can you relate? You can’t heal from something you don’t acknowledge.”

I nodded slowly, blinking back tears. “Yes. I was raped.” The words barely came out above a whisper, disgust churning my stomach and choking my ability to reason. “That means I married my rapist. Who does that?” I wrapped my arm around my stomach, afraid I might vomit. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Greg lifted a small trash can from the floor next to his desk and placed it in front of me, concern filling his eyes. “Here. Just in case.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll be OK. I just can’t believe this is real.” I swallowed hard, forcing down the acid creeping up my throat.

Greg squinted, not so positive. “You sure you’re all right? This is a lot to take in.”

I nodded. “Yeah. It’ll pass. I just don’t handle stress well, that’s all.” Focusing on the air going in and out of my lungs, I willed the sensations to subside, but the words kept tumbling through my mind. I was raped, and I married my rapist. How does that even make sense? What was I thinking?

Greg measured his words, trying to break through my mental barrier. “Hope, you did nothing to deserve the grotesque violations committed against you. You are a victim here. You need to come to terms with that.”

I shook my head, shouldering the blame. “I’m too smart to be a victim. If I had thought things out, I would’ve known better than to ever step inside that room. I just acted without thinking. It was stupid on my part. This was my mistake.”

Greg reached across his workspace and retrieved the small stack of papers he had tossed onto his desktop earlier in our session. “I would like for you to take these home and have a look.” He handed me several photocopied handouts. “I think you’ll find some very useful information in there, and it may help you realize you are not alone. I will say this again. This was not your fault, and there is a way through it.” He pointed to the top page in my possession. “Many women, just like you, have found themselves in abusive relationships, not sure how they got there. There are resources out there to help you sort through the collateral damage and find support from others who have gone through similar situations.”

I scanned the heading. “What Does Abuse Look Like?” I shook my head. “But I’m not in an abusive relationship. Brad loves me. He takes care of me. He has a respectable job and provides for his family like a responsible father and husband. He hasn’t laid a hand on me. We’re just going through a rough patch, that’s all. We’ll get through it,” I objected. My inner voice didn’t sound so positive. I have to believe that. I can’t survive without him. He controls all our finances, and I don’t have a job, plus I have Calleigh to think of. I’d never make it on my own as a single mom. I have to make this work.

“Abuse is more than just being physically aggressive,” Greg responded. “Do me a favor. I want you to take just a minute and think, then tell me one thing. When is Brad ever wrong? Give yourself a second and really mull it over. When has he ever said ‘I’m sorry’ and actually meant it by changing his behavior?”

I laughed at the ridiculous notion of Brad apologizing. “Never,” I answered. “He’s told me numerous times, ‘If I’m wrong, I’ll tell you I’m wrong. I don’t have a problem saying I’m sorry.’ But, come to think of it, Brad has never actually admitted to being wrong. Ever. He’s only apologized for making me mad at him, not actually sorry for the behavior itself.”

Worrisome lines creased Greg’s brow. “So, how did the encounter in the guestroom affect your interactions with Brad after having nonconsensual sex?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Arguing? Fighting? Withholding affection?”

“All of the above.” My dignity took a beating when placing our relationship under a microscope. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but before we got married, Brad had me feeling grateful he was choosing to stay with me instead of ending our engagement. He convinced me no one else would ever want me. After all, I was damaged goods. Sad thing is, I believed him. I bought the lie. He even convinced me he was doing me a favor.”

“Oh, how so?” Greg seemed genuinely intrigued with this peculiar detail.

“Brad knew I believed in the sanctity of marriage—actually, I still do. He explained that by marrying me, he was preventing me from ever having to explain to another man why he wasn’t my first. In this way, he was doing me a service. How thoughtful, right?”

Greg pinched his lower lip, trying to keep his reaction in check. “Were there any other red flags you remember before getting married?”

I thought a moment then nodded. “Yeah. At least one.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Curious, yet afraid to speak, I stood frozen in the doorway leading outside to the restaurant’s private, manicured gardens. Who is this bombshell beauty crashing our rehearsal dinner? I wondered. And how does Brad know her? They look awfully cozy. I watched as Brad stood in front of a mystery woman, enamored by her presence. Gorgeous blonde hair flowed halfway down her back. Flawless, fair skin radiated youth. Her long legs and petite figure postured close to Brad, provocative and alluring. The closeness between them seemed familiar and intimate, her low-cut, cobalt blue blouse and skin-tight, black miniskirt captivating his attention.

“Brad?” I plastered on smile, stepping onto the terrace.

Turning several shades of pink, Brad quickly distanced himself from the seductive figure, straightening his shoulders and clearing his throat. Like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, he tried schmoozing his way into my good graces. “Sweetheart! There you are. I’ve been looking for you.” His quick response came across panicked and insincere. “Have I introduced you to Amanda, yet?”

My eyes widened, hairs prickling the back of my neck. “Amanda? The Amanda?” Like your ex-girlfriend, Amanda? I blinked back shock, still wrestling with Brad’s odd behavior. “No. I’m sorry. We haven’t met. Nice to meet you.” I extended my hand, offering a cordial greeting.

“Hope, Amanda. Mandy, this is Hope, my beautiful bride.” Brad wrapped a possessive arm around my waist, drawing me to him as I shook her hand.

“Welcome to our li’l party,” I smiled.

“Thank you for the hospitality,” Amanda answered. “I hope my being here isn’t a problem. I almost didn’t come, but Brad’s mom insisted I stop by and congratulate you in person when I talked with her on the phone the other day.”

I can see why Brad’s attracted to her, I thought. She’s not only pretty, she seems genuinely nice, too. I shied from Brad’s hand on my hip, suddenly feeling like an object or showpiece, instead of his beloved fiancée.

“Of course, you’re welcome.” I pushed past my discomfort.

Brad’s face made a curious expression. “Mom never mentioned talking with you.”

“Oh, that.” Amanda shrugged. “I called to ask for one of her famous recipes, and we got to chatting. You know how she is. Loves to talk, especially about her golden boy.” She flashed a pristine row of teeth. “That’s how this evening came up. She’s so happy for the two of you! But I never committed to coming, so that may be why she didn’t say anything. Probably wanted to surprise you.” An awkward silence followed.

“So, how long are you in town for? Or do you live nearby now?” Brad’s voice held curiosity.

“Just visiting my folks,” Amanda responded. “Mom took a fall and broke her hip a few weeks ago. Dad keeps himself busy at the office. I’m here trying to make life a little easier while Mom heals and gets back on her feet.”

“That’s thoughtful of you,” Brad replied. “You’ll have to make sure to give them my best.”

“I will.” Amanda batted her long lashes and clutched her metallic black purse to her waist.

Gently touching Brad’s bicep, I slowly ran a finger down his forearm. “Hon, Mandy’s our guest now. Have you offered her a drink?”

“Where are my manners?” Brad straightened his shoulders and stared intently at our visitor. “What may I get you? A glass of wine, perhaps? Or a seltzer?”

“Water will be fine,” she answered.

Strange. We’re not serving alcohol tonight, I thought. Wrangling up a smidge of sarcasm, I tested Brad’s presence of mind. “I’ll take a hint of Merlot while you’re at it.”

Brad turned and planted a quick kiss on my cheek. “You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” I eyed Brad curiously. He knows I’m joking, right? I’ve never had a drop of alcohol in my life. This isn’t new news. Did he even hear me?

“Whatever my bride desires,” he smiled, brushing the tip of my nose with his finger. “I’ll be right back.”

As Brad disappeared through the same doorway I had entered, I motioned for Amanda to join me at the edge of the garden. “Please, have a seat,” I offered, sitting on a concrete bench.

“Thank you,” she obliged, sitting near a collection of potted tropical plants. “We don’t have much time, so I’m going to make this quick.” Her silver-colored stiletto heels tapped anxiously against the brick pavers as she glanced around to make sure no one else could hear her. “I know this is going to sound like a strange question—especially since you barely know me,” she started, “but, do you love Brad? I mean, do you really love him?”

Oh, here’s the reason you came tonight, the revelation hit me. You’re here hoping to win him back. I get it now. My pulse began pounding in my ears, knots forming in my stomach. This can’t be happening. I swallowed hard. “Of course, I love him,” I answered in a calm voice. “I wouldn’t be marrying him if I didn’t. Why do you ask?”

Amanda ignored my confusion, her unease deepening. “I know this sounds personal, but I need to know. Do you and Brad generally get along or does he ever get angry at you?” Her eyes begged for my honesty.

“We’ve had our share of spats, but nothing unusual or concerning,” I assured her. “What are you getting at? You’re starting to scare me.”

Amanda hesitated a moment, but a greater purpose moved her forward. “Listen carefully,” she instructed. “Brad isn’t who you think he is. Don’t get me wrong. He’s a very lovable guy when he’s getting what he wants, but take away his control, and the situation can become volatile very quickly. He’s a master at hiding this side of himself, so you may not have even seen it yet, but it’s there. Not only is it there, it’s real, and no one should have to live with that the rest of their life. That’s why I had to let you know. That’s why I’m really here. I had to warn you.”

My mind began to swim with questions, flashing back to the morning Brad raped me. But the wedding, all the planning, all the money. What would people think? I can’t call it off now. My thoughts fought for rectification.

“I don’t have names,” Amanda continued, “but I’m pretty sure I’m not the only girl who’s ended up on the wrong side of his anger before you came along.” Her eyes darted to the doorway then back at me, her desperation increasing in intensity. “I know your wedding day’s tomorrow, and I don’t want to spoil any of these special moments for you, but I couldn’t let you make one of the biggest decisions of your life without first letting you know what you’re getting yourself into. Your life isn’t a game, and you’re not his possession, but Brad will be the first to argue that. Please don’t lose yourself in his warped idea of intimacy and love. I know I don’t know you, but I guarantee you, you deserve better than Brad. Every woman does.” She dug a piece of paper out of her purse and tucked it into my hand. “Please feel free to use that number if you ever need to talk. I’d be happy to share my experience with you. I guarantee you haven’t heard the real details surrounding our relationship or why I walked away from Brad when I did.”

I shook my head, unnerved by this new information. “He’s never really talked about you, but he did say that he left you, not the other way around,” I admitted. “He also claimed you cheated on him.”

“Figures,” Amanda sighed. “He lives in his own reality. I never cheated on him. Ever. But he’s a master at distorting the truth and dishing out lies. You’ll find that out soon enough, if you haven’t already. He’s also great at pouring on the charm.” She looked me in the eyes. “Don’t worry. You’re not the first person who’s fallen for it. The man is good at reading and then playing people.”

As if on cue, Brad sailed onto the patio with a drink in each hand. “Ahh. My past and present finally meet,” he attracted attention to himself. “I hope I wasn’t gone too long.” He noted my furrowed brow, handing me my drink first. “Everything OK? I brought you some cranberry juice. I know how you like it.”

I accepted the beverage, taking a sip and forcing a smile. “This isn’t what I asked for, but thank you. We’re good.” Amanda looked at me and nodded, accepting the second glass from Brad.

“I really don’t want to keep you from your guests,” she announced, standing and smoothing the creases from her skirt. “I’m afraid I’ve already taken enough of your time.” She smiled at me, a sadness reflecting in her eyes. “It was nice meeting you, Hope. I’m really glad we had a moment to talk. Remember what I said.” She then looked at Brad, bolstering his ego. “You picked yourself a good one. Make sure to take good care of her.”

“You know I will,” Brad beamed, sliding his arm around my shoulders as I stood.

Amanda set her glass on the bench, clinking it against the stone. “I wish you both the best, and I hope your wedding is everything you’ve always dreamed it would be.” She made eye contact with me, then lowered her gaze. Gracefully stepping past us, she exited by the garden gate.

“That was an unexpected surprise,” Brad remarked, watching her leave.

“Really? You didn’t know she was coming?” I sounded skeptical.

“I had no idea,” he confirmed. Laughing at my insecurity, he tapped on the wrinkles creasing my forehead. “These aren’t necessary, Babe. You’re making something out of nothing. I’m completely over her. I’m all yours. You know that, right?”

“But, is she over you?” I ignored his disregard for my emotions, feeling justified for my irritation. “Ex-girlfriends don’t just show up at rehearsal dinners uninvited.”

An endearing smile surfaced on Brad’s face as he tucked a stray hair behind my ear. “What did she say that has you all riled up? Tonight is supposed to be a happy occasion.”

“For starters, she questioned our love—asked if I truly love you,” I disclosed.

“Well, do you?” Brad traced the outline of my left cheek, tilting my chin upward, toward him.

I stared into his eyes. “Yes,” I whispered.

“Then there’s nothing to worry about. She’s probably just jealous. After all, I chose you.” Scooping my face into his hands, Brad gazed lovingly into my eyes, sealing the moment with a kiss. “Was there anything else?” I shook my head. “Then let’s get back to our guests.” Picking up Amanda’s glass from the bench, Brad laced the fingers of his free hand through mine and guided me back inside to our family and friends.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Wow! Reliving what you experienced then and knowing what you’re dealing with now, I’d say you have a lot to sort through.” Reaching the end of our session, Greg motioned to the papers in my hand. “Why don’t you take the handouts I gave you and look over them at home. We can discuss any questions you may have during our next session. In the meantime, know I’m always here, and I’m open to meeting with both you and Brad for couples’ therapy, if you think that would help.”

I laughed in derision. “Are you crazy? Brad won’t set foot inside this office. He already thinks my visits here are a total waste of time and money. He will never admit he’s part of the problem. The problem is me—all me. You either fix what I bring you or things will remain broken. Brad won’t have anything to do with you.” I scooped up my purse and headed to the door, feeling desperate and abandoned.

Greg’s words followed me out into the lobby. “My offer still stands.”