I wrap my arm around Candace while she dries her tears with a tissue and answer, “As soon as I knew, I wanted to tell her, but I didn’t know how. Then I started thinking that if I did tell her, how much it would hurt her. She was in a really dark place at the time, and I was scared she would break. She hid a lot, but I always knew she was barely holding on. But it fucked with my head—a lot. I get these flashbacks. It used to only be of my childhood. I see something or whatever and my mind takes me back. But ever since that night she was attacked . . . it keeps playing back in my head.”
“What do you normally do when that happens?”
“Nothing. I eventually just snap out of it. But it kills me that I have that in my head,” I say before I turn to see Candace staring at me in disbelief with what I just said.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her.
“Were you aware that he has these flashbacks, Candace?”
“No,” she answers and then asks me, “So that’s how you see me?”
“No. I denied you were that girl for so long. I fell in love with everything I had in front of me. But when I found out you were that girl, the visions were just so conflicting because I don’t see you like that at all. I know it’s you, but I still don’t want it to be.”
She’s crying now, and I take her other hand in mine when I affirm, “That is not what I see when I look at you.”
“I don’t want that in your head,” she chokes out.
“I don’t either, babe. But these aren’t our choices, and I’ve told you before that I love you regardless.”
“It makes me feel disgusting.”
She takes a moment to settle her tears and take in a few deep breaths when Dr. Christman asks me, “What’s the biggest thing you feel you struggle with about Candace’s attack?”
Letting out a sigh, I tell her, “That I let her down.”
“How so?”
“I was inside and heard the commotion in the alley. I ignored it, figuring it was just people passing through, which happens occasionally. If I had gone out there, then maybe none of this would have happened.”
She sits back in her seat as she looks at Candace and asks, “Is it okay if I share some of the things we’ve discussed in our previous sessions?”
“Of course.”
Focusing back on me, she says, “One of the issues I’ve been working on with Candace is her feeling of blame. She believes that her behavior led to her attack, and she continues to hold herself responsible.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Do you see the parallel here?”
Looking at Candace, I see what Dr. Christman is trying to point out, something I guess I never really saw before. I’ve always thought it was crazy that she could think she was to blame, but in turn, she probably feels the same way about my thoughts.
“Yeah,” I answer.
“Neither one of you are to blame, yet both of you are holding yourselves responsible,” she says. “Did you know he felt this way?” she asks Candace.
I watch as she nods her head, saying, “Yes.”
“Just as Candace and I have been discussing, there’s no way you could have known what was going to happen that night, so you can’t hold yourself responsible for that.”
She says this, I get it, but I can’t accept it . . . not right now.
“Well, I want to be mindful of our time together, so I’d like to focus on Candace, simply because she’s the one who I have been working with. But going forward in your relationship, it’s important that you’re there to help support her as she continues to process and heal. Being aware of her triggers and knowing ways you can help her cope and push her are key.”
“I know that she shuts down and avoids. I like to get it out and talk, but it’s a challenge to get her to open up. I notice she’s been more willing since we’ve been back together this past week, but . . .” I let my words fall, but she picks them up when she says, “It’s very typical of trauma victims to shut down. Candace has expressed to me that when she opens herself up to emotions, she panics and feels like they’re going to flood her, and the loss of control is scary.”
I look to Candace and ask, “But what do you think is going to happen?”
She shakes her head before turning to Dr. Christman, and when she blinks, tears fall.
“Babe, I need you to tell me because I don’t understand.”
“Can you tell me why you can’t answer him?” she asks Candace.
She shakes her head as I move my hand to her back.
“Go ahead and take a moment, but I want you to tell Ryan what you have told me whenever you’re ready.”
I feel like we sit here forever in the silence when she eventually turns to me and takes a deep breath before revealing, “It feels like I’m losing control and that I won’t be able to handle it.”
When I shake my head, still unsure, she tells me, “In the moment . . . it feels like I’m going to die.”
I can barely handle her words and to know that this is how she feels. I pull her into my arms, thinking back to all the times she’s been so scared. The day she saw that dumpster, her nightmares, our fight, and so many other things.
As I keep her folded into me, Dr. Christman says, “I’ve been asking Candace to try and put herself in situations that will generally trigger these emotions but in a place where she feels safe. Trying to help her cope with living inside the emotions, feeling them and not shutting down. Understanding that even though it’s scary, the emotions will eventually lessen, and she’ll be okay. I think it’s important for you to understand how she’s feeling during these episodes so that you can help push her through them, but to also be aware of her limits. Also, encouraging her to talk about her attack will help lessen the power it has over her.”
I give her a nod of acknowledgement as Candace pulls away and sits back.
We talk a little while longer about how I can help Candace and discuss some goals as we move forward. Before we leave, we agree I will come in with Candace twice a month, but the rest of her visits will remain focused on her.
I was proud of Candace before, knowing she was doing this, but to actually sit next to her and listen to her makes me realize how much strength it must have taken her to do this on her own. Honestly, I don’t think she would have ever done this if it weren’t for us being apart. She had to do it alone and for herself. And just from that one session, I learned things about her that I never knew before. It helped me understand her in a way I wouldn’t have been capable of on my own.
Instead of going back to the loft, we decide to take the rest of the afternoon to relax, and we head to Fremont to grab some coffee at Peet’s before roaming around some of the antique shops. We don’t talk about what was said. Although it seems Candace is feeling needy with me, I let her be. She never takes her hand out of mine as we drift aimlessly in and out of the different shops, simply enjoying each other.
The past couple of weeks have been disappointing for Candace. She’s been trying hard to include Kimber in our lives, but she continues to have a crap-ass attitude with me. I’d never say anything to Candace about it, but she sees it, and it upsets her that her friend has been shutting me out.
Candace realizes that too much has changed in the past year and they’ve simply grown apart. She’s been sad, thinking about the what-ifs and wondering how it would have been different if she would’ve just told her about the attack instead of hiding it. But what’s done is done, and people grow apart. I have with Gavin, but along the way we’ve made new friends. Candace now has Mark and has also been getting together with Mel and Traci, and I’ve befriended Mark and Jase and even become closer with Max, who I continue to spend more time with.
Now as we drive to my mom’s, Candace is sleeping. We invited Mark and Jase to come as well, and they plan on driving down later this afternoon. We thought it would be fun for the four of us to get away since everyone has been so busy with their new work schedules, and we haven’t spent that much time together.
Candace has been avoiding my mom’s attempts to talk on the phone. I understand her apprehension about it, and I know she’s a nervous wreck about seeing her, so I’m glad she’s finding some relief from the stress as she sleeps. It’s a good thing that Jase and Mark won’t be there until later, giving the three of us time to talk privately and hopefully help ease Candace’s embarrassment.
When I pull up to the house, I run the back of my hand down her arm. Rolling her head to me, she slowly opens her eyes.
“We’re here,” I quietly say, and she turns to look at the front of the house, letting out a soft breath. I hop out of the car and walk around to her side, helping her out. Placing my hands on the sides of her face, I tell her, “I love you.”
I take her hand and walk her inside, calling out, “Mom.” We head back to the living room, and my mom is already making her way to us.
“Candace!” she squeals, not even acknowledging me, and I have to laugh when she pulls my girl into her arms.
I’m relieved to see Candace smile. I went ahead and told my mom a few days ago that Candace is aware that I told her about the attack because she was starting to wonder why Candace wasn’t returning her calls.
“I’m so happy you’re here,” she beams and then turns to me to give me a hug. “How was the drive?”
“Candace slept most of the time, and there was a ton of traffic.” Cannon Beach is a hot spot for the summer, let alone the Fourth of July.
“Well, I’m glad you two made it safely. When will Jase and Mark be getting in?”
Candace lets me do the talking while she stands close to me, holding on to my hand. “Jase texted me a while ago, so maybe five hours or so with the traffic.” Wanting to get Candace alone for a moment, I tell my mom, “We’re gonna take our bags upstairs. We’ll be down in a couple minutes.”
Closing the bedroom door behind me, I sit with Candace on my bed. “Babe . . .”
“I hate this,” she lets out as she falls back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
“Just talk to her.”
“What do I even say?”
“Come here,” I tell her as I tug on her hand and draw her up to me. “Just like you and I have been doing, just talk. Clear the air.”
When she nods, I offer, “You want me to go with you?”
“Yeah,” she says, and then I pull her off the bed, not wanting her to stew on this any longer. I give her a soft kiss before taking her back downstairs.
Walking through the house, I find my mom in the study, sitting in one of the chairs, flipping through a book.
“Hey, Mom.”
“That was quick,” she says as she closes the book and sets it on her lap while Candace and I take a seat on the couch.
“I think we need to talk,” I tell her and then look at Candace who’s holding my hand with both of hers, keeping her eyes fixed on them.
“Has Ryan told you about his father?”
Candace looks up to my mom, answering, “Yes.”
“So, I’m sure he also added me to that equation as well.”
When she nods her head in response, my mom begins talking and opening up to her about things she hasn’t even talked to me about.
“Richard was a horrible man who would beat me on a nearly daily basis. I have scars to remind me of it every day. When he drank, the fights would get even more violent. At one point, I had become pregnant, but I never told him. I was too scared,” she tells Candace, and I stare at my mom in horror because I never knew this. “I saw what he was doing to Ryan, but at the time I was so terrified of the man, that I never defied him because I feared what he would do to me. But he eventually found out about the pregnancy. He was furious, dragging me by the hair all the way up the stairs and then kicking me in the stomach over and over.”
She stops talking to catch her breath as she begins to cry, but I can’t move because I’m in shock. It isn’t until I hear Candace let out a shaky whimper that I turn and see her tears as well.
“After he was done with me,” she continues, “I couldn’t move because the pain was just so excruciating. And then he threw me down the stairs. I knew I couldn’t go to the hospital. He never would have let me get away with it. It took almost four days for me to miscarry my baby.”
Candace’s grip on me is tight as I watch my mom wiping the tears from her face. I never knew that had happened to her. The secrets that these women keep are horrific, and I’m at a loss for words.
My mother keeps her eyes on Candace when she says, “We both have secrets, dear. And that’s the secret I have always held on to . . . until now.”
When Candace’s cries start to break through, I wrap my arm around her as her tears roll down her face.
“Ryan told me that you were embarrassed, but you have nothing to be embarrassed about around me. I have your darkest secret, and now you have mine.”
She stands and walks over to sit next to Candace, and I let go of her as she turns to my mom and hugs her.
“You are an amazingly strong woman,” my mom says to her as she pulls back to look at Candace. “Watching you get through this year with everything you had to go through with the attack, your parents, and with Ryan . . . I don’t know if I’d be able to come out of that with the poise you have. It’s been eighteen years since I lost my baby, and it wasn’t until just now that I was able to finally say it out loud. I’ve held on to it for all these years, and then I look at you . . .”
She takes a moment as she begins to cry again, before adding, “You are everything I wish I could have been. I see you with my son, and how you’ve opened your heart to him even after what happened to you. I’ve never been able to do that since Richard died almost eleven years ago.”
Candace doesn’t even need to speak, and I love my mom for what she just gave my girl. Gave it in a way that Candace didn’t even have to talk because I know she was so nervous about what she would say. The two of them cry together, and at this point, I give Candace the space I feel she needs to spend time with my mom and talk without having me around. I kiss the back of her head before I leave the room and go outside to the beach to digest everything I just heard.
When Jase and Mark arrived later that day, we spent the evening grilling steaks out back and hanging out on the beach. Candace told me, that after I left, she and my mom were able to talk for a while. And seeing them now, in the kitchen, cooking breakfast, they seem closer than ever.
“Hey, Mom, where are your binoculars?” I ask after we eat.
“They’re outside on the table,” she says when I grab Candace’s hand to take her out to the beach.
“Where are we going?” she questions.
“I wanna show you something,” I tell her as we walk outside.
Picking up the binoculars, I walk her down towards the water, and when I look through the lenses, I spot what I want to show her. I hand them over and instruct, “Here. Look over there to that sea stack. I want you to look carefully for anything bright orange.”
“Okay,” she draws out slowly as she holds the binoculars up to her eyes. “There, I see . . . oh my God!” she squeaks out, and it’s cute as hell, bringing a huge smile to my face. “Look! There’s so many of them. What are they?”
Wrapping my arms around her from behind, I rest my chin on top of her head, telling her, “Puffins.” She keeps looking at them as I say, “Every year around this time they nest over there on Haystack Rock. That’s why we can’t shoot off fireworks because they come here to mate, and it would scare them away. This is the only place on the coast where it’s not legal.”
“They are so cute.”
I lean down and press my lips into her soft neck, taking kisses when she drops the binoculars and turns in my arms to face me. The wind kicks through her hair as the sun casts a glow on her face.
“Are you happy?” I ask. Her smile tells me she is, but I want to hear it.
“I never thought I could be this happy.”
She runs her hands behind my neck and brings me
into her, kissing me intently, but the moment is short-lived when we hear Mark say, “Break it up, kids.”
“What are you guys doing?” Jase asks as they walk over to us.
Candace holds out the binoculars and tells him, “There are puffins out on that big rock.”
“Give me those,” Mark says as he snatches the binoculars out of Jase’s hands and starts searching for the birds. “There they are,” he mumbles before telling Jase, “We should totally get one.”
Candace laughs while Jase says, “Dude, it’s a bird.”
Handing the binoculars back to Jase, he says, “They look like penguins. Haven’t you ever wanted a penguin for a pet?”
I can’t control my laughter as I watch the two of them.
“No,” Jase answers in exasperation. “Who even thinks like that?”
“I do. People have that shit for pets.”
“Who?”
“I dunno, just . . . people. I’ve seen it on TV,” is Mark’s pitiful explanation as the three of us laugh at him. He turns to Candace and tries to get her to back him when he says, “Why are you laughing? You once told me you wanted a pig for a pet.”
“What?” I question through a burst of laughter.
Turning to me with narrowed eyes, she defends, “Not like a gross barn pig. A domesticated micro pig.”
“What the hell is that, babe?”
“They’re these tiny little pink pigs. They say they’re cleaner and smarter than a dog. You can even litter train them.”
She says this in complete seriousness, and she looks adorable doing it, but that doesn’t stop Jase and I from laughing at her and Mark for their choice in pets.
Slapping my arm, she scolds, “Stop laughing at me,” with a hint of a smile.
“Just so you know, we’re not getting a pig.”
“You don’t even know what they are. You’ve never even seen one.”
Looking over at Jase for support, I call out to him, “Dude, Jase, are you hearing this?”
“It makes more sense to get a pig than Mark’s desire to snatch up a wild bird just because he’s thinks they’re cute,” he says with a chuckle while shaking his head.