Prologue
She sat on the end of her bed; spent would have seemed inadequate to describe how she felt. She turned around and looked at the covers that lay in disarray. The pillows were bunched up against the wall, and one had wedged against it enough to push the bed out. She shook her head, wondering if it had been good for him. She dismissed that notion immediately. If he looked upset as he left, the look on his face hours before showed at least that he was satisfied. If he actually was satisfiable, that is. Nothing seemed to make him happy, despite any expression to the contrary.
“Why can’t you dress up more often?” he would ask, as if a nice pair of slacks and a pretty top were inadequate for a dinner at Outback. Nothing she did seemed to please him, even if he came back for more. And who really wants to get dressed up just to meet out of town for dinner, anyway. Even when she did wear a dress or a nice skirt suit, he would make a comment about her hair or her makeup. He was never at a loss for suggestions about what she could do to improve herself.
“You could stand to lose a little weight.”
“I can’t understand why you don’t wear something a bit more flattering.”
“Where did you get that dress?”
He never seemed to be interested in her answers; to say that she was insecure would have been not only an understatement but ironic as well, since nothing she could do or speak warranted his attention unless is was to provoke a complaint about how she looked or acted or spoke. Explanations were received as excuses and excuses were cast aside in favor of whatever he deemed she should do or say or even be.
“I…I’m…sssss….orrry.” She had lapsed sadly into long-banished habits.
“What? Come on…speak up,” he would demand, as if she was actually enjoying the stares and whispers when she spoke.
She tried not to, but her eyes once again fixed themselves upon the disheveled bedclothes. The impression, ever so slight, seemed to be the one thing to give proof that she wasn’t alone the night before. He beat his typical hasty retreat with only the vague smell of his soap and the dent in the pillow giving evidence to his presence….
She lowered her eyes to stare on her naked form. The one comfort out of all of it remained evident from when she was old enough to gain the wrong attention. But she still felt good about how her body…most of her body…had been formed. What would have been a grave disappointment for some became a treasure for her. She raised her hand and touched her right breast.
The clock radio woke up and began playing a song. She lay back on the bed; her legs almost dangling to the floor. Her head rested on the bunched-up comforter underneath. They hadn’t even gotten under the covers, and she had been forced to pull them from the side of the bed over her naked body. And even at that she had shivered all night; mostly from the cold, but some from the one next to her; turned away as if to leave her alone.
The music was almost hypnotic; the spell seemed to lower softly from above as it wove its magic over her.
Under your spell again.
I can't say no to you.
Crave my heart and it's bleeding in your hand.
I can't say no to you.
Who actually cared the least for her? He had an excuse; he was insensitive and selfish. She knew from the beginning that he only cared for himself. He made it plain that nothing was forever. Everything that he did and said was transient and shallow, and yet last night was another night where the predictable became acceptable. A night where even the barest of something was better than nothing at all.
She moved her hand down between her legs; even her own touch seemed to mock her as the numbness and electric embraced in accusation, as if she deserved nothing and got it. Ask and ye shall receive?
Shouldn't have let you torture me so sweetly.
Now I can't let go of this dream.
I can't breathe but I feel...
The song echoed her own thoughts, but in a distorted way. The words meant to speak of that fulfillment she hoped for instead mocked her as if good enough was merely adequate, if that. She never felt good enough; believing that she could never satisfy because she was false where demands were real. Woefully falling short of whatever anyone might consider merely acceptable.
No excuses. If he abused her, it must have been because she abused herself by allowing him into her bed time and time again. No reward, however deceptively enticing, was worth what she did to herself, but she indeed did it anyway. A dream that held onto her tenaciously by feeding off her fears. And no one to blame but herself. No one to step forward and nod and apologize for the neglect from the beginning that led to the abandonment of hope in favor of whatever the acceptable was. The long departed would never speak words of remorse over what was taken from her while what remained was unwanted and painful.
She touched herself again; wanting so desperately for the real to fade and the hoped-for to bloom. Nothing. Nothing to reveal her secret since it hadn’t been a secret for so very long. It just was what it was.
And no commitment to morph into demands for much more; life merely devolved into frustrated expectations for the impossible. Those frustrations would only lie on her side of the bed; unfulfilled wishes that were pushed aside like an unwanted touch of an arm draped across the one next to her. She pulled her hand up slightly and joined it with her other; palms facing down. Everything looked right. But nothing was right, no matter what she had believed. Magic only happens in books and stories and images on large screens in crowded halls.
And ironic that she could never receive from him the only thing he could give freely if with great reluctance; there would never be any fears over what happen to him because of what would never be for her. She sighed and moved her right hand to her left breast. Form over function some might say. She turned her head to the side and faced the dim light of the numbers on the clock; the only light in an otherwise darkened room. And no light for a darkened soul; shadows of doubt and shame cast over her like a smothering blanket. She began to sob; no modulation as her body began to shake the bed as yet another night of sad reminders of what could never be tore at her heart. And it was a morning once again of what would always be. She was only good enough.
Good enough,
I feel good enough for you.
Under your spell again.
I can't say no to you.
Crave my heart and it's bleeding in your hand.
I can't say no to you.
Denville Medical Practice, an afternoon in late October…
“Kara? What’s going on?” The woman wheeled her chair from behind the desk and scooted over; shaking her head with a half-frown. She wasn’t angry so much as disappointed that the girl… woman actually, was struggling so much with life that she appeared almost disheveled.
“Nothing.” Her voice was flat and nearly emotionless but for the slight sigh that literally escaped her lips. She looked away and shook her head slightly.
“Come on. Give!” Patti mirrored the head shake, but with a smile that invited and welcomed warmly. Apart from her brother’s family, Patti was probably the only person Kara felt safe enough with to open up. She kept quiet; even warm and welcoming can fail on occasion. Patti sidled closer; the casters of the chair squeaking loudly. Kara went to move away, but her chair was pinned against the built-in shelf on the wall behind her. Patti eyed Kara’s wrists; the bruises had almost faded away, but still gave enough witness to what shouldn’t have been.
“I’m fine, Patti. Just let it go!”
“Nope! I can’t! And I won’t.” The finality of the words was softened by the near sad expression on Patti’s face; evidence of stubborn care and commitment for her friend.
“You deserve better than this!” She pointed to the marks on Kara’s arms, but her words went deeper than that, so to speak, as she stared into Kara’s eyes. Windows to the soul? An almost vacant look seemed to glow dimly from behind her eyes but for the tears that welled up. A plea to keep trying…to keep asking; as if she needed help to speak the truth. Patti grabbed both of Kara’s hands gently and rubbed the backs with her thumbs.
“I’m so worried about you, honey.”
She breathed out and paused. Kara blinked back her tears and turned away; still nearly silent while desperately wishing for a voice of her own. A marionette on her own stage, she was manipulated and pulled and pushed and even spoken for; silenced by the words of everyone but her own. Some without her permission, but many from one with her approval, as if in agreement, but more in helpless defeat. She opened her mouth but no words came out.
“I don’t know what to do, and I guess that’s going to have to be okay. But you need to know you deserve so much more than what he’s…. You don’t deserve to be hurt, Kara! I mean it. You’re such a good kid.”
Kara was nearly twenty-seven, but coming from a fifty-six year old grandmother of four, Patti’s words rang almost reluctantly true. Something remained inside her soul that sought to debate the truth of her own worth; as if by arguing she would prove the point every condemning word her parents uttered. Every act of abuse and every moment of neglect and every time her innocence had been stripped from her like being emotionally flayed.
And I'm still waiting for the rain to fall.
Pour real life down on me.
'Cause I can't hold on to anything this good enough.
Am I good enough for you to love me too?
Kara’s apartment, Rockaway, New Jersey, the following Monday…
There’s an old saying about forgetting what you look like after walking away from a mirror. Everything almost seemed lost as Kara’s self esteem faded quickly as she looked around her apartment. It was her apartment, wasn’t it? It was her name on the lease; her hard-earned cash paid the rent? But everything shouted ‘him’ instead of her. Even if he chose to dwell elsewhere, the décor reflected his taste. She almost felt like a bit player in her own life story but for the huge part she played in the latest act….
“You knew this wasn’t forever.” No sympathy at all; he shoved her rudely aside with his words as casually as he might discard an old jacket. She wanted to nod in agreement; she had never meant to fall in love with him, and yet here she was clinging desperately to each breath he exhaled; as if he might change his mind in mid-sentence.
“And don’t bother crying.” He spat the words out like a drill sergeant giving an order. She stood up and grew light-headed. Reaching over, she steadied herself by leaning against the doorframe to the bedroom. She looked back at the bed; the rumpled sheets the only evidence he had been there and a sad reminder that she had once again let him have his way.
“You gonna be okay?” It might have meant something if he had turned to face her rather than continue jamming his clothes into a large duffle. She went to reply, but there wasn’t any point in speaking to his back. Their whole relationship seemed to be based on that position; a way of ignoring her even as she cuddled against him every night. Things had gotten cold long before the season changed, and what should have been a place of warmth and refuge for both of them had become as icy as his heart.
He turned and faced her; the reluctance already spreading across his face, he stepped closer and kissed her. Too personal for a sad departure, but he didn’t really care about how she felt. He stepped away, shrugging his shoulders, as if it wasn’t his fault that he was insensitive and selfish. A moment later she was alone, still clinging to the doorway for support. She slid down slowly, her hands almost clawing at the wood until she sat awkwardly on the floor. One last glance at the empty bed and she dissolved into tears…
The Cameron home, Roxbury, New Jersey, Tuesday evening…
“K? Do you think you’d like to come over for dinner? Jimmy asks about his favorite Aunt all the time,” Jim Sr. smiled. Apart from him and his wife Nams, no one else in the family understood or accepted Kara since her transition. It would have made some difference had her mother been there for her, but with all the years of enabling the abusive behavior of Kara’s and Jim’s father, there had been such a gulf between mother and children that even sorrow and apologies failed to span. She felt a soft touch on her elbow; one of the few places she could abide sudden and unannounced contact.
“NgÆ°á»i yáªu? I know it’s been hard on you. Come over Friday and we’ll just kick back and relax.” Kara flinched ever so slightly, but enough to send a signal. Nams rubbed her arm. Kara was likely the only person in the world who didn’t know she was a sweetheart, but Nams kept after her.
“Maybe Sunday afternoon instead?” Kara forced a smile.
“Maybe. I don’t know.” She looked out the window, as if she could see all the way across town to her apartment. Maybe he changed his mind. She’d go home and find him lying on the couch watching TV. Comfortable.
“Honey? No worries; just think about it and let me know. Either way, you’ve always got a place here at our table.” It was almost a hybrid phrase; an amalgam of good and bad, since the truth of the words comforted with their concern while stinging from the reminder that their table was the only place of welcome in her life. She nodded reflexively even as she grabbed her purse.
“Tell Jimmy I’m sorry I missed his game?” She sighed. Too many good things were left wanting or unattended while she waited for mediocre to commit or at least give a vague notion of a promise to her life.
“Why don’t you come over Saturday morning; we can all go to Jimmy’s game together and maybe out to The Quiet Man afterwards? Or maybe Thatcher McGees? Our treat?”
“I don’t know…” She paused at the door. She shrugged before walking out the front door and down the driveway to her car.
“I’ll give you a call later in the week, okay?” Nams shouted out just before Kara pulled away. She walked back and into Jim’s welcoming hug.
“Nice try, Babe…” He kissed her forehead and stared out the front window as Kara’s car disappeared around the corner. A deep baritone sigh blended with a sad mezzo gasp.
“How did you turn out so good?” A reasonable question met with another sigh.
“I didn’t have to deal with nearly as much hurt as her. And what I did have to deal with I guess I was blessed, since she ran interference for me with Dad all the time. Took so much from him….” He bit his lip as tears fell.
“It’s not your fault, tá¬nh yáªu của em…" She pulled him close and kissed him.
“I know…it’s taken me this long to figure that out. Maybe she’ll figure out it wasn’t hers, either.” He kissed her back and nuzzled her neck before her arms became strong for him as he wept.
That Sunday afternoon…
“I’m so glad you came, K.” Nams hugged her sister-in-law with a hold that seemed to say so much more than just welcome; an infusion of appreciation and acceptance long over-due from other sources. Kara pulled back just a bit; the disengagement was attempting its daily insistence to remind Kara just how unworthy she was. Nams would have none of that, and held tight to Kara.
“Aunt Kara!” The loud cheer came from the stairs. Jimmy stood on the steps and waved as if he was cheering her on. He ran down the stairs and into her arms with a nice thud. She pulled him close.
“I missed you. You didn’t come to my game, but Mommy said you weren’t feeling well.” The boy was as forgiving and welcoming as anyone you might meet. Even at eleven, he was nearly as tall as Kara and stood a wee bit over his mother.
“I’m sorry, Jimmy. I promise….” Kara paused. She hated disappointing him, but her daily battle with depression threatened any activity beyond walking into the kitchen to grab a bite to eat; and that was when she remembered. It was hard, even with medication and therapy, but it still had to be pushed aside like any other roadblock. Even work was a struggle; albeit with some hefty support by Patti. She existed only to work, which fueled her existence, allowing her to work, et cetera, et cetera…..
“I’ll make sure I’m at your next game.” She said with a half-frown.
“Don’t you want to come?” The boy pled. She shook her head; a wave of preemptive guilt nearly bowling her over. But she smiled.
“Sometimes I don’t feel good enough, honey.” Oddly, her turn of phrase spoke exactly to the problem. Everything she listened to…everything she had heeded and absorbed from her past and her present and even her anticipated dismal future made her feel inadequate to any task beyond work, which was a task in and of itself.
“Mommy says you take medicine. Does it help?” The boy smiled.
“Yes. Most of the time.” It would have been difficult if not downright impossible to admit that to any other human on the planet, but the boy was without guile, as they say, and his endearing smile enabled her to be herself, if that makes sense.
“I’m sorry you don’t feel so good, sometimes. Maybe I can come visit you when you’re not feeling well?” Jimmy put his head down; now who was feeling unworthy?
“Oh, Jimmy. That would be just great…wonderful.” She turned her head, feeling selfish and ashamed. Nams rubbed her arm and spoke softly,
“Cảm Æ¡n bạn…. I know how hard it is for you.” Nams hugged Kara once again before pointing to the kitchen. A moment later they were joined by Jim.
“Hey, sis.” At the words, Kara turned and faced him. Between Nams and Jimmy and Jim, her acceptance meter had registered ‘overflow,’ and she began to cry. Nams walked her over to the kitchen table and helped her into the chair. She put her head down on the table and continued to weep.
“Is Aunt Kara not feeling okay again?” Jimmy asked even as he put his head down on the table next to her, staring into her tear-stained eyes. She smiled weakly and grabbed his hand, squeezing it tight.
“No, Jimmy…. I think she’s feeling just fine.” Jim said as he rubbed Kara’s back. Nams smiled and nodded.
“Khá´ng sao Ä‘á¢u, Jimmy! It’s okay!”
Shouldn't let you conquer me completely.
Now I can't let go of this dream.
Can't believe that I feel...
Good enough,
I feel good enough.
It's been such a long time coming, but I feel good.
Completely Lost
Under your spell again.
I can't say no to you.
Crave my heart and it's bleeding in your hand.
I can't say no to you.
Kara’s apartment…a few weeks later…
“Hi…what? Oh… I don’t know what happened to your Giants jacket. No… wait…“ Kara clicked off her cell at the rude sound of the dial tone and sat down; looking around the apartment as if by doing a visual survey she’d discover he’d left the jacket there after all. And then he’d have to come over. The inventory proved more than merely disappointing. He had left his mark on her apartment like some stray dog marking his territory; walking away disinterested while the scent remained as a reminder of his presence.
She got up and went into the kitchen to make herself some cocoa. Another reminder of his departure shouted at her as she opened the cabinet door next to the stove; a favorite mug that they oddly both shared called attention to itself with the dark blue logo prominent and the memories fading all too slowly….
Sometime in the all-too-recent past…
And I'm still waiting for the rain to fall.
Pour real life down on me.
'Cause I can't hold on to anything this good enough.
Am I good enough for you to love me too?
“I think that…” she stopped in mid-sentence, noting once again that he paid little attention to her even when they shared the ‘fun’ of watching a football game. She had a tray of sandwiches and drinks; all in Giants’ blue party ware. She set the tray on the coffee table and sat down. His attention remained fixed on the TV. The doorbell rang.
“Oh…that’s the Pizza…can you get that?” He motioned toward the door without looking. She grabbed her purse and pulled out her wallet. A moment later she was sitting down at the table; the food she had so eagerly prepared was rudely shoved aside by the pizza box and he had dug into a meatball Parm sandwich. She thought about asking him for the money she had just laid out, but it wasn’t really a good idea.
“Didn’t you like what I made?” She practically pled. He barely glanced at her and not at all at the food.
“What…oh…sorry.” He barely said, before returning his attention to the game. She sat back, arms folded in a self-hug. He turned and looked at her.
“What?”
“I just went to a lot of trouble.” She hadn’t meant to pout, but her disappointment was almost glaring in the dim light of his indifference. He shook his head.
“You didn’t tell me you were making something special.” The fact that she had been in the kitchen all afternoon seemed to get past him somehow, but that was their relationship in a snapshot. But only almost a benign glimpse compared to the tableau of disdain and neglect and much worse, as she was about to be reminded.
“I did tell you…” She said as she got up and walked into the kitchen. The words were hardly out of her mouth when he got up and strode quickly to her.
“What? No…you’re not going to play that game!” Ironic considering the struggle she endured was much worse than anything the players on the TV went through. He stepped closer and grabbed her by the wrists, pinning her arms to the side. Once again she was reminded of how insignificant and foolish and unimportant she was in his scheme of things. He shoved her rudely against the kitchen peninsula.
“I’m going out!” He went to walk off, but that part of him that couldn’t help but take it further goaded him as he stepped up and glared.
“Please…” Her plea was never conciliatory enough and even less so at the moment; just the word set him off entirely and he slapped her head, sending a very loud bang against her ear as she fell to the floor. He grabbed her by one wrist and dragged her down the hall and shoved her into the bedroom.
“No…please…” She began to weep, almost like a disobedient child facing their father at the end of the day. The only stern warnings she had received, however, were the few remaining places in her heart that tried to shout about much worth she actually had; the louder voices of shame and insecurity drowned out any reason she had, and she gave up.
“Oh….please.” Her tone had changed and his mood slid sideways from anger into selfish indulgence as he grabbed her wrist and led her to bed. She closed her eyes and all the crying she did continued soundlessly as he had his way one more time. In a while she felt safe enough to open her eyes; she was left alone again. The apartment was quiet except for the sound of the TV down the hall; announcing the winner of the game, which seemed to suit the moment since in her own life she had lost once more…..
The present…Roxbury, New Jersey…The Cameron home…
“You must value yourself, Em Gai. You’re much too precious.” Nams stopped short of telling her anything else. The last thing she needed was guilt; something to which she gravitated all too easily to begin with. Encouragement was the best way to go, and no one could be more encouraging than Nams. Kara nodded slowly, but she seemed unconvinced. It was true that she needed to realize just how precious she was, but it would take someone else to convince her of the truth of her own infinite worth.
A few months later…Kara’s apartment…
Kara sat on her couch with her legs tucked under her; the strains of an Irish tune came from the computer speakers on the small desk pushed into the corner. The room seemed comfortable if much less full since Tony had taken his TV away when he finally moved out. It might have not seemed fair, since she really paid for most of it and he did have another, much newer one in his own place. But she didn’t miss it; music and quiet suited her much better than the constant blare of crime dramas and sports updates.
She tilted her head and listened as the music filled the place with a heretofore missing peace in her home; a recent appreciation for her own needs courtesy of a very good support group and a great therapist. The sound of guitars and flutes and singing was interrupted by a loud chime; a left-over ‘feature’ of her older apartment. She stumbled a bit as she got up; her legs had fallen asleep after nearly an hour of calm and content solitude. Instead of a persistent chime, she heard a soft rap against the door jamb.
“Excuse me,” the young man spoke almost apologetically through the door. Kara opened it to find a slight figure standing back down the front steps of her landing. It was almost as if he sought permission to approach. She smiled, albeit nervously and her expression urged him forward.
“Hi. My name’s Phillip Petrovik.” He paused and smiled, but looked somewhat nervous; almost mirroring her expression.
“Oh…sorry.” She stuck out her hand and grasped his. Almost weak but still firm enough, his grip loosened and he put his hand to his side.
“Kara Cameron?” Her name as a question; he hadn’t even mentioned why he was there. He smiled again.
“I just moved in next door. I heard music coming from your window.”
“Oh, gosh. Let me go turn that down.” She went to step back but he waved his hand.
“No…please. Dervish, right? I like the band. My mother told me my birth father was from Sligo, so it must be in my blood. I guess the sound drew me over here?” He blushed. She feared her own complexion matched his considering the heat that her cheeks gave off. She looked at him. Nothing at all like Tony. He was almost…what was that word her mother used to use? Fey?
“I just put on some hot water. Would you like some tea?”
“That would be fine except I’ve got to run off. I just wanted to say hello.” His voice was pleasant; almost soothing and certainly not loud. She blushed again; she found herself measuring every man against the template she seemed destined to use in every relationship. If she had to put a word to it, she’d be sorely pressed to say anything other than feminine, but Phillip seemed so much different than any man she’d ever known; and this after only a few moments of acquaintance.
“It was very nice to meet you, Ms. Cameron. Gotta go!” He backed down the steps and practically ran off around the corner, giving her no chance to say goodbye. And she wondered as she walked back into her apartment why that was so disappointing.
A few weeks later….
Under your spell again.
I can't say no to you.
Crave my heart and it's bleeding in your hand.
I can't say no to you.
“No, Tony. I don’t want to go out.” Kara shook her head; a phone call after three months without any contact at all.
“No…don’t come over here, either. No… I don’t hate you.” God knows she had reason enough to be very hurt and maybe even justified in hating at least their relationship. Old ghosts pulled her guilt strings, but she had come so far so fast that even hating him would be a step backward.
“No, Tony. Please don’t call me tomorrow.” She wanted to, but she still was at least weak enough and her recovery so new that she couldn’t say the word ‘never.’ Even that made her feel guilty, but at least she could mouth it as he went on about how sad and lonely he was. His other girlfriend had left him, from what Kara had heard. She almost felt sorry for him until she realized that he probably treated the other girl no better than he had treated her; albeit without the extra manipulation and guilt associated with not being a ‘real’ girl.
She wondered, much more lately in fact, just what he had seen in her when he had more than several relationships with real girls. But that was just another ghost yanking her strings once again; that marionette on her own stage thing she and Lana talked about only the other day in therapy. And even as the thought came to her he was his old self on the other end of the call.
“No. Yes I miss you.” She shook her head; a morsel thrown to someone with no care for her needs.
“No. It’s not good for me to see you. You hurt me, no matter what I do, and I can’t let that happen anymore.”
It wasn’t an event; his behavior was his selfish choice, but in a way she was right. It was entirely up to her what and whom she allowed into her life, no matter what they did or didn’t do. Lana had her visualizing some things that would let her reinforce what she was learning about herself. She imagined looking up to see giant scissors cut the strings that held her, but instead of going from a supported droop, she saw herself standing straighter and with much more strength than she could have ever imagined only a few months before. She noticed that a few seconds had gone by and she could hardly recall what he had been going on about. She smiled at him across several miles of airspace and spoke at last.
“Goodbye, Tony.” No epithets or clever signoff; she was content to just say goodbye, since goodbye said exactly how she felt and thought and knew. It was finally over.
A late quiet Saturday night a few weeks later…
It had been only a few months since Tony had moved out and only a few weeks since the phone call that sealed her fate as his EX-girlfriend. Even her friends in recovery would be quick to remind her that getting into another relationship so soon was at best ill-advised. Still, she found herself daydreaming about Tony, or at least a guy who might be as cute as he was. Or even just someone to hold her at night; no matter what the afternoons and mornings might angrily visit upon her. But just as much as she needed to avoid Tony, she needed even more to avoid the old Kara. It couldn’t be about looks alone or charm; that had gotten her into trouble too frequently in the past. She heard Lana’s voice in her head.
“Now Kara? What does that say about you?” She nodded at the picture in her head of Lana’s smile and nod; a welcoming face that made her words easier to hear.
“Sorry.” She apologized and smiled at the notion before continuing.
“I got myself into trouble.”
She could almost see the look of relief on Lana’s face. Whatever choices Kara would make would be hers entirely to own and either enjoy or learn from whatever disappointment they held. She heard a car drive up in front of her apartment. It must be Phillip. She found she had been thinking a lot about him lately; a throwback to a perceived need to be with someone. It wasn’t wrong to want to be with someone, but she wanted to get to the place where she didn’t require someone. She got up and looked out the window, but instead of Phillip, she saw a fairly tall young woman on his landing. The woman sorted through the keys in her hand and unlocked the door to his apartment and entered it.
To say that she was disappointed would be an understatement, and for more than several reasons. She found herself once again longing for that scorpion-like arrangement she had with Tony; the sting of betrayal was bearable if only he would hold her once again, and that was a bit disheartening. And of course she felt disappointed in her reaction; hadn’t she put those needs behind her? Wasn’t she on her way to recovery? A small bump in an otherwise fairly navigable path, to be sure, but who doesn’t want to get better?
But the biggest disappointment was an odd feeling of guilt over finding herself left out of a relationship she hadn’t yet started; as if by some destiny or kismet, she was meant to be with someone just like Phillip. And why did she feel drawn to someone so unlike Tony? Someone who didn’t really fit any impression of what she felt she needed. And even with that, she still felt she needed him; badly, as a matter of fact. And that made her feel most disappointed in herself.
And the last thing she wanted to do at that point was the one thing she knew how to do better than anyone she knew; an artisan of sorts in a very well organized guild that specialized in self-pity. She walked back to the couch and hit the remote on her CD player before falling back in a wave of defeated tears, feeling completely lost.
Waiting for the Rain to Fall
And I'm still waiting for the rain to fall.
Pour real life down on me.
'Cause I can't hold on to anything this good enough.
Am I good enough for you to love me too?
A few weeks later at the Cameron home...
“Oh, honey. It’s okay.” Nams patted Kara on the back as she sat down at the kitchen table. She placed a mug of Lemon Zinger in front of Kara and smiled.
“We don’t need to fix anything, Em Gai…. No need to fix you, okay?”
“I’m right back where I started, Nams. I feel so defeated.”
“I understand. You don’t want to go backward with all the progress you’ve made? But what about it makes you feel defeated?”
“I thought I had this all behind me…like I had moved on.”
“Kara, honey? Do you think your brother and I have everything fixed about us?” Nams looked around; the kitchen, while in pretty good shape, still was a bit in disarray.
“You’re so together.”
“I don’t think your brother would agree with you on that.” She laughed at what almost seemed a self-deprecating statement until she added,
“We’ve been together for some time, but I don’t think we’ve quite yet arrived.”
“But….” Kara paused and looked out the kitchen door window, as if she could see all the way to her own place; a mental walk up her own steps to stand next to her friend’s doorway, so to speak.
“You’re upset because you didn’t want to fall…”
“I’m not in love, Nams!” Kara almost snapped her reply. She shook her head slightly, but it would be awfully hard to convince Nams if she couldn’t convince herself. Nams nodded in agreement; not at the statement but the knowing behind the words.
“He’s not like anyone you’ve ever known… I get that. You know I looked on line and as hard as I tried I couldn’t find that rule book that says you can never fall in love again. ” She paused and laughed softly.
“Your nephew is pretty savvy when it comes to that. Jimmy says you can pretty much write what you want. Maybe we can come up with a new website? Kara-wiki? That almost sounds Polynesian.”
“You know what I mean. I just got strong enough to say no to Tony. I feel like I’m retreating….losing ground.”
“You know that’s a good way to look at it; like you’re in a battle? Do you think Jim and I don’t take our own steps sideways or backwards? “ Kara’s eyes darted to the mantel over the fireplace in the living room. Nams hadn’t wanted to make Kara feel guilty, but at the same time, she had to know that being self-aware and self-centered were two different things. Kara placed her hand over her mouth to stifle a sob.
“My baby was such a blessing. She would smile and laugh even though she never saw a thing. I think it was that she loved when I sang to her, you know?” Nams nodded slightly and smiled at Kara; it was okay to feel bad and feel scared and defeated, but feel special in a lonely way was not only wrong but didn’t help her at all.
“I’m so sorry. I’ve been so selfish.” Kara shook her head and began to cry softly.
“NO, Em Gai…not SO selfish, but a little selfish. “ It was as critical as Nams would ever get, but it wasn’t bad but a good thing to remind Kara to center herself.
“When Kim was born we rejoiced. And when she died we rejoiced at the gift we had been blessed with even if it was just a little while. But we still cried and got sad and confused and even a bit angry at why God would allow that to happen.” Kara stared at her and squinted a bit; trying to fit what Nams said into her prism, wanting to see what she needed to see.
“You were hurt and scared and lonely and confused for so long with Tony. And now that you’ve moved on you want everything to be the way it’s supposed to be, right?” Kara put her head down slightly and nodded; almost a shameful pose. Nams reached over and lifted Kara’s chin slightly.
“There isn’t a ‘supposed to be’ that you can just call up or arrive at, baby. It’s a process. Jim and I had to walk through our grief even as we still wanted to be grateful….not for what happened to our baby, but in the midst of our grief we wanted to rejoice over her life. And we have, but it wasn’t something that just happened. And you?” Kara went to lower her face once again, but Nams held her chin firmly.
“No….don’t be ashamed for being human. After what Tony put you through?” It was true that Kara had allowed Tony to have his way in a manner of speaking, but years of verbal abuse from her father over merely trying to be herself had left her ill-prepared to resist the treatment she received from Tony. It was almost like a sad relay where Tony had taken the baton from her father’s ghost to complete the race to ruin Kara’s self-esteem.
“But now you find yourself wanting to love again and you feel like you will make the same mistake?” Kara nodded as tears spilled into the mug of tea.
“It’s a good thing to want to try again. To want to be loved and to love. And to love and be loved well. Don’t ever feel bad about that, honey. Okay?” Kara nodded again; the reluctance seemed to be lifting with every word that Nams spoke.
“I…. I think he already has a girlfriend.” While she didn’t stress the word ‘girl,’ Kara already was falling into that comparison snare she seemed to be unable to resist. Nams picked up on it anyway.
“The key is ‘already’ if there’s any key at all. It’s not you if there’s already another girl.” Nams did stress the word another; that need for Kara to know how much she fit in, no matter how she felt.
“Maybe the best way to deal with this is to talk to this young man?”
“Oh I couldn’t….” Her face grew red. Nams stroked Kara’s cheek, wiping away a few straggling tears with a gentle touch.
“Don’t feel you HAVE to do anything. If you want to talk with him, all well and good. But nothing is so necessary unless you wish it to be so or find it needful, yes? I have an idea?” Kara looked up and tilted her head; almost dreading what Nams might plan.
“We’re having some friends over for dinner after church this Sunday… sort of a pre-Christmas thing. Nothing special but the food and company, you know?” Kara nodded. Dinner prepared by her sister-in-law always promised to be special in that regard.
“You can ask the young man to dinner; as a way of making him feel included? If he says he has a girlfriend, then you invite her along as well. Unless that would be too much?” Nams looked serious for a moment until she began to grin.
“I’m sorry for teasing. Just ask the boy if he’d like a nice meal. Thai and Vietnamese and Scots-Irish with some very nice people. If he can’t…he can’t. But you’ll never know unless you ask.” Kara sighed.
“What, Em Gai?”
“What if he says no? I don’t know if I could take that?”
“I suppose you have to ask yourself… which is harder? Knowing or not knowing.” Nams turned her head slightly while still keeping eye contact; almost a question in her gesture that went beyond the words. Kara looked away.
“You do know that in your life there’s no right or wrong when it comes to how you feel? That if it does hurt too much to know? You don’t have to do anything other than please come over on Sunday no matter what? Just to be with people who love you?” Kara nodded and tears began to fall once again. It wasn’t a poor substitute; Nams understood completely that being loved by a good man trumped dinner with family every single time. But she also understood that Kara needed support.
“If you stay home, at least give us a call?” It was as close to pushing as Nams would get. And Kara was now at a point where a pre-Christmas party with her brother and sister-in-law beat a pity party at home. She smiled and nodded as she wiped her tears with her sweater sleeve.
“Good. And who knows, honey? Anything can happen, yes?”
“Yes…” Kara sighed and smiled; hoping almost desperately that Nams was right.
Later that week....
Kara sat on the couch with her legs curled up beneath her; another opportunity to stumble if she had to rise quickly as she felt the tingle of ‘sleep’ in her legs. Patricia Cornwell’s latest sat open and face down on the armrest after several chapters of diversion gave way to daydreaming. She heard a car drive up and rose cautiously. Her legs held up under her and she walked quickly to her front window. The same girl she had seen a few weeks earlier was at Phillip’s door.
She noticed the girl fumbling with the keys, and a moment later the girl had dropped them into a snow pile on the side of the landing. The girl stepped off the landing and reached in, but was having little success. Kara shook her head at the thought that crossed her mind even as she stepped to her door. She opened it and stepped onto the landing.
“Hello? Need some help?” The girl didn’t look up but shook her head no.
“I’m Kara…Kara Cameron.” She paused, waiting for the girl to respond. She walked closer and placed both hands on the iron railing, leaning over.
“And you’re?” She hadn’t meant to be abrupt, but her voice seemed to rise at the end, almost indicating a demand. The girl didn’t look up once again, but spoke softly.
“I….I’m …. Valeriya….” Her voice, already soft and quiet, seemed to fade in an almost embarrassed fashion. The cold might have caused her cheeks to redden at that moment, but Kara knew shame when she heard it.
“Would you like to come in for some tea?” She held her hand close to her body and waved; almost like a little girl inviting a friend for playtime. The girl shook her head no even as she seemed almost triumphant in finally locating the missing keys. The girl walked up the steps and brushed quickly past Kara; once again fumbling with the keys. Kara looked at the girl…Valeriya... She was about the same height as Kara and from what she could see even in the shadows her face seemed pretty in that fashion of eastern European; perhaps Russia or Ukraine? But with no accent, she had to be second or third generation.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come in?” The girl barely looked up as she shook her head; maybe a bit more emphatic than the question called for. Kara placed her hand on the girl’s arm softly.
“That’s okay…maybe another time?”
“Maybe….” The girl said as she finally got the lock to open. She pulled the key out but dropped it once again; this time on the mat in front of the door. She reached down and retrieved it, but as she rose she nearly bumped heads with Kara, who had leaned over a bit. As she pulled back, her face was lit by the porch light and she blinked. The look was unfamiliar, but the face wasn’t. Kara touched the girl’s arm once again; causing her to pull back in an almost fright. Kara tilted her head slightly and stared at the girl until it dawned on her why the girl looked so familiar. She spoke; almost with a reluctance over what she might learn.
“Phillip?” The girl’s eyes widened and she bit her lip. Her eyes welled with tears and her face, already red from embarrassment, almost glowed hot. She pushed Kara’s hand away; not as a rude gesture, but rather a need to feel less shameful as she spoke.
“I….I’m so sorry….” With that the girl opened the door and stepped inside, closing it quickly but in an almost gentle manner. It was as if the door closed off any opportunity for Kara to speak, but even still, she knocked on the door and spoke .
“Phillip? Phillip? Please?” Her plea was gentle and almost a whisper. She could hear sobbing from the other side of the door. She stood on the landing and shook her head. Shame was no stranger to her, and certainly she could understand in so many ways what might be going on in the heart of the girl on the other side of the door; she had been on that other side all too often herself. She spoke once more.
“Phillip? Please? “ She knocked gently on the door and stepped back. A few seconds passed; what felt like a sadly discouraging eternity until the door opened. The girl stood and looked down at her feet but spoke.
“Va…..” She stammered even as the tears flowed. Kara smiled in welcome.
“Valeriya….” She finally completed as she put her hand to her face. Kara stepped closer and pulled the girl onto the landing and into a gentle hug. The girl offered no resistance and put her head on Kara’s shoulder; weeping. Kara stroked the girl’s hair and hugged her tight. She wanted to say something clever or casual; a long-held if relatively ineffective defense mechanism to help distance herself.
But nothing inside of her agreed with that any longer; she wanted to be close, if only for Phillip’s…for the girl’s sake. But also, for her own sake as well. What came to her oddly enough was something she had come to treasure as a gift from her best friend … her sister-in-law.
“Tá´i ở Ä‘á¢y” As much as she wanted to say so many other things, Valeriya needed to know at that moment that Kara was there for her, no matter what. She held the girl who continued to weep.
“Shhhh….shhhh….Tá´i ở Ä‘á¢y.” She smiled and kissed the girl’s cheek. Clever or not, something else came to her that would need no translation in the midst of a gentle hug.
“Tha mi ‘tuigsinn….” Something her Scots-Irish grandmother would say; that need for connection since only her brother Jim and her grandmother understood why she didn’t just want to be Kara but needed to be Kara. Just as much as maybe that very interesting and beguiling young man before her needed to be Valeriya? She understood.
“Tha mi ‘tuigsinn….shhhhh….shhhh.” And of course, especially after her talk with Nams, the last thing she needed was to get involved. But something deep inside her didn’t believe that at all and she spoke from her heart.
“Tha gaol agam ort….” Not selfish at all…well, maybe just a little, but giving and hoping and believing, she spoke exactly what needed to be said for them both.
“I love you!”
Under your spell again.
I can't say no to you.
Crave my heart and it's bleeding in your hand.
I can't say no to you.
Under Your Spell
Shouldn't let you conquer me completely.
Now I can't let go of this dream.
Can't believe that I feel...
A short while later Kara sat on the couch nursing a cup of Sleepytime. Phillip sat next to her; almost half-drag, since he had removed his wig and had changed into a set of sweats that Kara had retrieved from his bedroom. He held a wet wash cloth in his hand to ‘clean up,’ though most of his makeup had already washed away with the cascade of tears that still fell off his face. Kara put her hand on his arm.
“It’s okay…really.” The words seemed to have little effect as the young man continued to cry; the hurt or whatever it was went too deep for a mere assurance. She shook her head and then looked up with an expression that seemed to be a meld of ‘here goes’ and ‘dear god in heaven, help me.’ She pulled him slightly back against the couch and leaned close. Romance might have been in the air, but it was healing and wholeness Phillip needed at that moment. She kissed his cheek; the almost chalky residue of his makeup tasted odd, but not unfamiliar to one who had shed her own share of tears.
“Listen, okay?” She pulled back and framed his face with her hands; almost like a mother trying to get the attention of a hysterical child. He blinked and nodded; the tears continued but the sobbing ceased.
“I’m not upset for starters, so let’s just get that out of the way.” His eyes widened in disbelief; happily in a way, since the unexpected acceptance calmed him almost immediately. Kara took the washcloth from his hand and began to wipe his face slowly and carefully; another motherly gesture that arose from someplace deep inside her in her own pleasant surprise.
“Why don’t I put the kettle on again and you and I can have a nice talk over tea.” She didn’t wait for a response but grabbed the mug and walked into his kitchen and poured it out. A few minutes later the electric kettle clicked ‘done’ and she returned with two fresh cups; Earl Grey this time along with the sugar bowl and a half-pint of milk she had found in the fridge. He took the mug and placed it against his forehead.
“I know that hurt,” she said, gazing at his face. Crying can be physically painful.
“What would you like to do now? Would you like to talk? I see you’ve got a Celtic Woman CD cued up in your player. We can just listen to music.” Soon the strains of ‘O Danny Boy’ mixed softly with the clinking of teaspoon against porcelain. He stared at her almost in amazement. She looked back at him; her face had taken a quizzical appearance; asking without words what was going through his head.
“I…. you just said ‘we.’” Of course she had; they were sitting on his couch and she was merely exploring what might be helpful or at least not so bad to do after the cry-fest she had just witnessed.
“I….” He looked away. She took a quick sip of her tea before placing the mug on the coffee table. She reached over and gently tugged his chin; turning his face once again toward her.
“Go ahead…” She paused; the name ‘Phillip’ had been on her tongue, so to speak, but she continued in an entirely unexpected direction.
“Valeriya is a nice name…. Tell me a bit about yourself.” She smiled, remembering a similar conversation she had with her brother years ago. His gentleness had made it easy for her to speak her own name for the first time, and she hoped that gentleness translated well at the moment. She smiled as warmly as she knew how; a welcome expression on a day that would have felt cold even if it was a hot summer night. Phillip nodded and looked down; that mixture of collecting thoughts and not wanting to make a fatal confession. She patted his arm.
“Valeriya, please?”
“I…I’m sorry.”
“No need, honey.” She realized even as the word escaped her mouth that it was the first time she had blessed anyone with such a personal endearment. And a blessing it was; his …her face seemed to relax and she spoke.
“I…I’m not like most girls like me.” She shook her head and Kara realized at the use of the word ‘me’ that Valeriya didn’t know about her. Instead of pushing past the declaration, Kara just nodded like the good friend she hoped she would become, allowing Valeriya to tell her story.
“I don’t understand. Like you?”
“I’m ….I’ve wanted to be a ….sort of….” She put her hand to her face in embarrassment; talking about it was difficult enough in general; her own story was of course personal but from her point of view almost wrong.
“Sort of? You look like a girl. You…. Sound like a girl….sounded like a girl just now…. What else, honey?” There was that word again; inserting itself in the best place possible for them both.
“I’ve been seeing a therapist. She says I’m perfectly okay with how I see myself. But she’s supposed to say that, right?” Actually, while a good therapist will never say you’re wrong, neither will they necessarily agree with you unless they believe it will help or it’s apparent that what you say is truly part of who you are.
“What do you think is wrong?” The emphasis made the word less threatening and the accompanying smile gave acceptance. The girl looked away.
“What if I don’t want to…oh damn….” Her voice trailed off and she began to cry once again; silently but with enough red in her cheeks to once again indicate shame. Kara took another sip of tea and smiled; that warmth that enabled the girl to continue.
“You feel you have to be a certain way to be…as a girl?” Valeriya nodded.
“And how would you be if everything was okay….if nothing was wrong?” While she didn’t understand, Kara did remember every bit of what her own therapist had drawn from her when she was in transition. That in being oneself, there really quite wasn’t a right or a wrong despite what others might perceive one to be; only that permission we all seek from ourselves to proceed down each of our own paths in a way.
“I don’t want….” Kara followed Valeriya’s gaze downward to her lap. She smiled; an expression that evoked a sob. She once again placed her hand on the girl’s arm.
“No…it’s okay. I think I understand and it’s okay. It must be okay since it’s what you want…what you need?” The girl nodded but continued to cry.
“I think there’s something you need to know about me.” Valeriya’s head tilted in anticipation but countenance remained low and nervous.
“I’m not quite like you, but much more than you know.” She lowered her own gaze and stared at her lap.
“I started out with even my name being a bundle of confusion; my mother insisted on the Welsh but my dad was adamant about Scot-Irish, so instead of Ewan she named me Ian.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Your mother and father….” Kara paused as the girl’s face seemed to sadden. She remembered something about a stepfather; something she’d ask about shortly. She continued.
“They named you Phillip….right?” The girl nodded, without any reluctance.
“But inside?” Kara patted her chest.
“In here, you always knew you were Valeriya, right?” Another nod with only a bit more animation.
“We just are walking different roads to the same destination, right? You and I…we both are doing what needs to be done to be who we are. Nothing wrong about the approach since it is just what each of us need. A very few of their sister-travelers might disagree; believing that each has to be a certain way to fit in; even in an ostensibly accommodating group of people such as theirs. Valeriya seemed confused. She looked down once again, which earned yet another soft touch under chin.
While Kara didn’t understand about girls like Valeriya, which in itself was almost an elitist view, she didn’t care at all but for the hurt the girl obviously felt. What she really didn’t understand is how anyone who struggled for acceptance the way they did would withhold it from someone else. Women…. Any permutation of expression thereof; it didn’t matter what any woman was to Kara; only whom she aspired to become and how Kara could be her friend in that journey.
“You went through a hurt in your childhood?” Don’t we all? Trauma and disappointment and grief are not restricted to those of us who are different.
“Your step-father?”
“Oh….no…” The girl’s face grew even redder though it had been a dark pink throughout their conversation; unnecessary shame will do that.
“I….Daddy is a great guy. I think….I know he and Mommy are why I’ve been able to move forward...he was so good to us when he came along." She paused remembering how sad she and her mother had been.
"When I told them I was so scared they’d push me away. Daddy did….physically just a bit when he hugged me. He said…’Oh yeah…. I can see that.’ It…. “ The tears came again, but these weren’t shameful at all. A mother AND a stepfather.... a father who believed in her as much as they ever had with their son. And now?
“That is so precious.” Kara could hardly hear the girl’s story without thinking of the sad neglect and abuse she received from her own father. She smiled and noticed her own face had gotten warm. She swallowed; perhaps the only time in her life she would ever feel truly jealous; the moment passed quickly as she put her hand on the girl’s knee.
“I can see that.” She echoed the words of the girl’s family. It dawned on her why she was drawn to Phillip, now Valeriya, in the first place. That universal idea that we all are one in a way; the boy still remaining deeply nestled safely within Kara. The girl struggling to emerge in Valeriya.
And every other bit of them; that idea of being created both male and female as it says somewhere. Her attraction to Phillip hadn’t changed so much as become defined as she viewed the girl she had loved from only as far off as her front door landing. She found her face growing hotter and she imagined her complexion probably mirrored the girl who sat next to her on the couch.
“I’m….” She paused; now it was time for her to be embarrassed, but only in a small way and for perfectly understandable reasons. She found herself staring at Valeria’s eyes. She had known Phillip for weeks now and had seen him on a fairly regular basis; if only to say hello on their shared entryway. But in looking at the girl, she noticed for the first time that her left eye was nearly a sea green while her right eye was much bluer; an oddity that was more than attractive to her. She placed her hand on Valeriya’s cheek; Kara’s smile seemed to evoke a smile right back and she noticed the girl had a small scar at the left edge of her mouth that became more pronounced with her half-grin.
“I…May I…” Now it was time for Kara to look down, almost ashamed. She wanted to be supportive; no more and no less, but that attraction she felt all along was now suddenly becoming almost magnetic. Valeriya tilted her head once again in question. The soft hand yet again pulled the girl’s face upward and she saw that Kara had begun to cry.
“Wh...why are you so sad?” She stammered. Kara looked down slightly and shook her head.
“I….you….” Was all she could get out before Valeriya leaned closer and kissed her; tentative and almost reluctant at first, she lifted her hand to touch Kara’s neck as she pulled the girl into an embrace as she kissed Kara’s cheek. The lips touched softly as she began to cry on Kara’s shoulder. Kara turned her head slightly and spoke softly.
“No….shhhh….no….it’s alright….it’s ….” She would have continued but a loud jarring bang outside the door broke their embrace. It was next door at her apartment. She rose quickly and ran to the door and stepped out on the landing. Her own front door was ajar and she could hear loud cursing inside…. Tony. Without thinking she stepped through the doorway. Tony was standing in the middle of the living room. He appeared to be drunk and he was looking around in desperation.
“There you are,’ he spat, as if it was up to her to be available her own apartment. He strode quickly and pulled her in for a rude kiss. She went to pull away but he held fast, gripping her hands and pushing her arms to her sides; pinning them much like how he had done many times before. She struggled and he kissed her again. She tried to speak but he took on hand and clamped it tightly over her mouth. Her continued struggles earned a rough push downward.
“Tony, please.” She managed to speak two words before he slapped her hard. He raised his hand once again, evoking the same two words as she wept.
“Tony, please?” He shook his head, as if wanting to be left alone and not hurt was unreasonable. He pulled his head back, ready to strike again but heard those two words once again, but this time from the doorway.
“Tony? Please?”
Valeriya stood in the doorway, shaking like the proverbial leaf, but with a countenance up until that moment seen by no one. The girl who only moments before had been timid and ashamed seemed strong. Her look seemed to be completely incongruous for the moment. Soft features and a soft figure underneath grey sweats with dark stockings peeking out from the pants legs. But the look on her face was anything but soft.
What was that old saying? Indiscretion is the greater part of stupidity? Tony turned and started walking toward Valeriya and stopped abruptly as her left foot struck his knee just below the joint, sending him to the floor. He went to stand up and another kick to his head stunned him. He rose once more just in time to see a combination of flashing lights; some from the patrol car outside and some from the twinkling of concussive stars as he fell back onto the floor unconscious.
The squad car pulled away, its lights illuminating the living room from the front window silently; no siren since the police were in no hurry now that the emergency had passed. Two women stood in the middle of the room. Kara held a plastic ice block against her face and stared out the window before turning to Valeriya. The girl was shaking again and the tears had returned. One might have assumed it was the moment of release now that everything had passed. Some might believe the regimen of whatever was helping her along on her journey might have been the cause.
Neither was true, since she was and had always been a person to cry easily for whatever reason. And since her journey was to be a bit circuitous and with different ‘stops’ along her way, she took nothing but vitamins and supplements. Nothing external for the most part, but she still wept uncontrollably.
“I….” She stammered. She looked down at her feet and her shoulders almost convulsed. Kara squinted in confusion until she recalled feelings from her own not-too-distant past. Incongruity. Walking over to the window, she pulled down the blinds, blocking the outside from unwanted intrusion. She walked to the door and locked both the doorknob and the deadbolt above, further insuring what little safety the apartment provided.
“Come here, okay?”
She held out her hand and escorted the girl to the couch. Before the girl could sit, Kara put her hand out in request for her to say still. As the girl looked at her in confusion, Kara knelt down and proceeded to remove the sweat pants, revealing completely the dark hose beneath. She gently helped Valeriya sit down before pulling off her sweat shirt, revealing a simple ecru bra; only a bit of lace with wide straps. Valeriya shook her head but Kara smiled and nodded.
“You need to be all you, honey. There’s no need to ever hide again.” She leaned closer and went to kiss the girl; Valeriya pulled away as if the moments they shared only a short while before had never taken place, and not from want or need, but from renewed shame. Kara touched her cheek softly, duplicating in one second the tender acceptance they had shared but for one more gesture as she whispered, remembering a phrase Nams had taught her,
“There…Vừa phải…Just right!”
“Ohhh.” Valeriya sighed as Kara placed her hand beneath the soft padded fabric of her bra, touching a small but sensitive nipple. Kara kissed her neck and ear, further evoking sighs mixed with gentle sobs of relief.
“Now…where were we?” Kara said as she pulled back just far enough from the girl’s face to drink in once again those odd but beautiful eyes.
“Oh yes…. I remember.” She spoke finally before pulling the girl into the first of thousands of loving kisses.
In days of old, knights in shining armor would rescue damsels in distress; cruel imprisonment or evil foes or dragons. In that moment two damsels began the long journey of rescue from the past as each saved the other from the imprisonment of the expectations of others and from the evil foes of shame and fear and the dragons of past hurts. Two damsels no longer weak or incapable or insecure, they would become each others saviors; distaff knights whose only armor was the faith and love they shared for one another. No longer merely good enough, the love they would share was finally more than enough. It indeed was just right!
Under your spell again.
I can't say no to you.
Crave my heart and it's bleeding in your hand.
I can't say no to you.
Shouldn't let you torture me so sweetly.
Now I can't let go of this dream.
I can't breathe but I feel...
Good enough,
I feel good enough for you.
The End
Good Enough
Words and music by
Amy Lee
As performed by
Evanescence
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=19V-GhZlDGU
