Inside of You (Jessa & Paxton #2) (25 page)

“I know, beso. What’s done
is done. You can’t be her anymore because you know how it all ended. What he did to her was wrong. And it wasn’t fair. She never did anything to deserve it but he left her anyway. You can never be her but she is still there, buried inside of you. And I know it hurts to remember her, but I don’t think she deserves to be forgotten. I think she deserves to be acknowledged. And she has me- the guy who never met her but cares about her anyway. Who…” I want to say who will never leave her, because I never will, but I’m understanding that that’s not something that Jessa can accept so I just say, “who thinks she sounds pretty kickass and would like to get to know her.” The corner of Jessa’s mouth lifts at this and I smile even though tears are flowing out her closed eyes. 

“So what do you want her to know, Je
ss? Do you want to make sure she never trusts or loves anyone again? So that she never has to feel the pain of having that love taken from her again?”

“No,” she whispers.

“No. Because she deserves to be loved. She’s got her whole life ahead of her and you don’t want her to live it alone, never knowing love again. So what do you want her to know, if you could tell her that her father was going to leave her one day what would you say after that?”

I stare at Jessa as she shakes her head, like she
doesn’t have an answer.

“Y
our dad is going to leave you and…” I probe.

“
He’s not coming back, he’s never coming back and you need to let him go. You need to move on. He was weak and he ran from his shame. He didn’t deserve you and you need to move on.”

“And can she do that, Jessa? Can she take the situation for what it was and come to terms with it an
d move on?”

“Yea
h. I think she can.”

“I think she can too. I think she’s smart enough to understand that he was just one person in this world and he was selfish. But there are good
people out there too, people who will love her. Like her friends Nat and Emily and her mom. Her mom might be weak and broken hearted, but she loves her. Everything she does is for Jessa. To make sure she still has a stable life.”

“
Yeah,” Jessa agrees.

I take a deep breath. I think we are getting somewhere with this little exercise, but I have no idea how to turn that shit with Coach Benson into something positive or even manageable. But I have to try.

“Can you do this, beso?” I ask her.

She sucks in a lungful
of breath and then lets it out slowly. “If you’ll help me, Pax.”

“I’m gonna try beso. I’m gonna do everything I can.”

“Me too.”

“Okay. It’s your freshman year of high school.
You’ve been lost since your dad left. You don’t know who you are without him and without your sports. You miss playing so you decide to try out for the basketball team and, not only do you make it, but you’ve made Varsity and you’re excited. The adrenaline that pumps through your body when you are competing is back and you feel right, like it’s what you are supposed to be doing. Is that right?” I ask her.

“Yea
h.”

“Can you feel it?”

“Yes.”

“And Coach
Beson is impressed with your skills. For the first time since your dad left you feel like someone cares about your success as an athlete as much as you do and you want to make him proud. Every time he points out your strengths, every time he smiles at you or cheers for you, every time he sits you down and tells you that you are talented and he cares about your future, you love him more. You need him more. Does that sound right?” I ask, managing to keep my tone even.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Do you remember needing him, caring about him, like he was your coach, maybe like a father, but not as anything more than that?”

“Yes. I wou
ldn’t have ever thought of him as anything more than that. Not then.”

“So there is another girl in you. A naïve girl who trusted that her
coach’s interest was pure. That he really cared about her future and her athletic ability. She had no idea that he saw something more in her. That he was thinking about her in a way that a coach, a teacher, a grown man with a wife and children, should never think about a fifteen year old girl. She had no idea that all of his promises and support were just part of his seduction of her. She trusted him and he took advantage of that trust. Do you remember her?”

Jessa’s face tightens and her head is shaking. “I don’t know.”

“You want to believe that he had your best interest at heart? That in the beginning he really was trying to help you?”

“Yes,” she whispers.

“Imagine going back to that school, sitting in the bleachers on that first day of practice when the fifteen year old you walked onto the court for the first time. You are nervous about being there without your dad. It’s clear that you are still vulnerable. Can you picture that?”

“Yes.”

“But you are not her, you are you, up in the bleachers watching her. The girl on the court is younger than everyone else and Coach Benson sees this – he sees that she is young and vulnerable and nervous. And he knows that her father left her. From the bleachers you can see that he is paying more attention to her than the rest of the girls. He is watching everything she does. He keeps her after practice so he can talk to her. What is he thinking? As you sit on the bleachers looking down at him, what is he thinking?”

“I don’t know,” she answers again, the pain still on her face but she is no longer shaking her head.

“Okay. Let’s skip forward to the night in the hotel room when he had sex with that girl.” Jessa flinches at my words but I manage to keep my own disgust under control. “Let’s even try to imagine that all along he did have her best interest at heart and he did want to help her. But as they spent more time together he started to feel like he was falling in love with her. That he could have a relationship with his fifteen year old student. That he loved her enough to leave his wife and his children and start a life with her. Can you imagine that?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because that
doesn’t make sense. He couldn’t have ever felt that way about her. She was only fifteen. He couldn’t have loved her like that. He couldn’t have seen a future with her.”

“No, he couldn’t have ever really felt that way. So what did he want from her?”

“He wanted control. She was weak and with her he could be strong. She would give him what he wanted because she didn’t have any one else and she needed him and he knew that.”

“So he
threw away all of his hopes and dreams for her future, all of the nurturing he had done over the year, for one moment when he could have her body?”

“No. He never cared about that. He never wanted to help her.”

“He never did care about her. From day one it was a game to him. From day one he got off on the fact that he could control her, that he could get her to trust him and he knew that in the end she would be his for the taking.”

“Yes.”

“So now this girl has gotten fucked over by the two most important men in her life. They both left her. Neither of them loved her how they should have. Neither of them took care of her like they promised her they would. And it wasn’t her fault. She didn’t deserve it. Look at that girl on that bed. The one that Coach Benson is having sex with. Look at the girl who is throwing away all of her trophy’s and awards, all the proof of her achievements.  Is it time now? Time to tell her to never trust or love anyone again? So that she never has to feel the pain of having that love taken from her again?”

“Maybe,” Jessa says.

“Look at her, Jessa. Look at that girl. Is that what she deserves? Nothing. To go through the rest of her life alone, never trusting a man enough to know what real love feels like? Is that what you want for her?”

“No.”

“No. So you tell me. Tell me what you want for her.”

“
I don’t want her to give up on herself. I want to tell her that she shouldn’t change who she is for any man. She is too young to make that decision. She’s too young to feel all of that hate and pain.”

“
Right. She didn’t know enough to decide that every man in the entire world only wanted one thing from her. She didn’t know enough about love to see that the best kind of love is not the desperate, mind consuming kind that comes from a lover. She made herself forget that there is another kind of love out there that is safe and stable and caring. A kind of love that would protect her and change her mind. A kind of love that is strong and not easily broken.

“
That girl, that broken girl has been making your decisions for you. Ever since that day that she threw away her trophies and her achievements. She has been in control. You need to take that control away from her, she’s too young to be making all your decisions for you. Can you do that?”

Jessa has frozen
in front of me – her body and her face; she’s not even breathing. I’m not breathing either. And then she lets out a breath of disbelif and shakes her head slightly. “Yes. I can. I can take the power back from her. I can change those decisions she made. The decisions that she made during the worst days of her life, a life that she chained herself to on that day. I can let that go. I want to let that go,” she tells me as her eyes open. They are so clear. So crystal clear and so beautiful.

“If it makes her feel better, you can tell that girl that right now there is a boy who is hurting just like she is. And that he, like her, has given up.
He’s lost his dad and he knows that the one woman who should have loved him unconditionally never loved him at all.  He knows he’s never going to get the love that he needs. And that right now he is making a choice too, just like her. He is accepting that he doesn’t have any control. That nothing is up to him and trying to hold onto love is not worth the effort. He is choosing to not care anymore… to never get attached to anyone again. For the next few years he’s going to be pissed off and depressed and he’s going to hurt people and he’s going to hurt himself. Just like she is going to do.

“Tell her
that one day she will meet him and he will know that all the love that’s been missing in his life is inside of her. Tell her that when she meets him she needs to accept his love and that he needs her to love him back. That if she can find a way to do that then they will both finally know how good love can be and they can start making up for those years that they lost. Together.”

Jessa’s crying silent tears and I’m doing the same thing. “It was always us
, Pax. It was always supposed to be us. I was always waiting for you. I’m ready. I’m ready for us. I can let them go and I can let you in,” she tells me, wrapping her arms around me and burring herself in my neck.

In that moment I feel so much hurt and relief and happiness. I can
see us- everything we’ve been through. I can see the paths that our lives took and how it all led to here, to right now at this moment. I would do anything to change what that sick motherfucker did to that girl. But Jessa did what she had to to survive, just like I did. And this is who we are. This is how we ended up. And I wouldn’t change who she is. Jessa is perfect. And with her in my arms I feel whole.

“Let me see what you got on, beso,” Paxton calls from outside my dressing room in a Walmart in Henderson, Nevada.

“Pax, they’re t-shirts. I don’t really need a second option,” I tell him
, laughing.

“Get your bikini on. I want to see.”

I don’t really need to try the t-shirts on but I’m stalling. Walmart is not my usual go-to when I’m shopping for a vacation wardrobe, which is kind of what this whole road trip thing is turning out to be. But trying on bikinis anywhere, with that nasty little strip of paper in the crotch, is bad enough and somehow it seems worse in a Walmart. I put my own clothes back on and scoop up the shorts, tanks, t-shirts and bikinis and open the door.

“
Wha… you didn’t let me see?”

“It’s adorable, Pax. You’re going to love it. Trust me,” I tell him, throwing the clothes in the shopping cart.

“You didn’t try it on, did you? You’re scared you’re going to contract an STD from Walmart.”

I stick my tongue out at him because he’s right. He’s always right. He nabs it with his teeth and laughs as I try to push him off of me. When he lets my tongue go I ask him, “What about you? Are you going to model some speedos for me?”

“In your dreams, beso. I got plenty of shorts at home,” he says, his face lighting up.

I smile at him. When I first suggested that we go to Venice I
could tell that Pax wasn’t crazy about that idea. But now that ‘I’ve got my shit straight’ for the first time in my life, Paxton can’t stop talking about getting there and having his friends and family meet me.

We’re only
a few hours away but Pax couldn’t handle his one dirty outfit anymore so we stopped at Walmart for supplies and to get me a wardrobe fit for California.

Paxton grabs our shopping cart and tells me to, “
Get on”. I grab the bar and put my feet on the undercarriage. Pax pushes the cart with his foot before jumping on with me. People stare at us as we roll down the aisle laughing like idiots. Like kids. I feel free. Exactly how I have felt ever since Paxton held me on his lap and made me come to terms with my past and with what Dan Benson had done to me. I don’t know if free is how I’m supposed to be feeling. Maybe I should feel stupid for not seeing the situation for what it was, but Paxton was right – I was young and I was vulnerable and I chose to see him as my lover instead of my rapist. I can forgive myself for that. Part of me feels like there should be a new hate taking up space in my heart but there isn’t. I’ve spent enough energy hating him and hating myself for what happened between us, I don’t want to do it anymore. But once I finally understood what he had done to me there was a new fire inside of me.

Paxton and I stayed
in Colorado the next day mentally recuperating. I spent the day in his arms, purging anything that was lingering inside of me about Coach Benson, and about my dad too. As nighttime fell, the pain that lingered inside of me was not for myself, but for the girls that may have come after me. I knew that it was finally time to tell someone what had happened. I knew I had to tell my mom.

Breaking news like that over the phone was not ideal, but I don’t know if I could have done it face to face. It was hard to say those words out loud to her because, although our relationship has deteriorated over the last eight years,
I always understood that she never quit taking care of me, loving me the best that she could and being my mother. I had to tell her that her daughter, the one that she had made sure had a normal, safe, stable life, was raped by her coach… by her teacher. The conversation that followed was, obviously, hard, but it was the first time in the last eight years that I felt like I was connecting with her. There was passion and fear and anger and love in her words and in her voice. She was opening up to me and it felt good. It felt like I had my mom back.  

I thought maybe she would try to brush the whole situation under the rug – want to pretend like life was neat and orderly and manageable like she has been doing since my dad left, but it’s not the reaction I got – not at all. The next morning she
and Dean went the River Bluff police department to talk to the sheriff, who happens to be Dean’s brother, and were able to file the necessary reports on my behalf and I was able to give my statement over the phone – one of the perks of living in a small town and being related to the local authority. The wheels are turning and I’m just praying that at the very least, Dan Benson will have his license taken away from him and will no longer be allowed anywhere near a school again.

As far as Paxton and I go, things are much less complicated.
Paxton is mine and I am his and this is our life. And I can accept that. And yes, there is still the possibility that some day he won’t be mine, but at least I am making my own decisions now. At least my life is up to me. And I can see what Paxton can see – that living in fear of the past and the future is no way to live. Especially when everything in the present is so perfect.

He rolls us to the
checkout, almost crashing into the old man in front of us in line. The man and the cashier both give us dirty looks but Paxton doesn’t seem to notice. He’s rummaging through the candy by the register, throwing a box of Sweet Tarts, my favorite, and three Snickers bars, his favorite, into the cart. I didn’t know what Paxton’s favorite candy was before this road trip, but I can now tell you that when given a choice between all the food and beverages at a gas station, Paxton will choose Snickers bars; Coke from the fountain machine; hot dogs that have been rolling around under a heat lamp for hours and a can of Pringles.

I know all kinds of weird things about him now that I would have nev
er thought to ask. For instance, I now know that, despite the fact he will let our bedroom in Chicago become a hazardous wastes zone, disorder in his,
This Is A ’68 Dodge Charger,
is not acceptable. Or, the fact that if his underwear are dirty he has no problem going commando. I also know that he’s one of those hoarders who will gank every free thing from the motel room, even the coffee filters. And he knows the lyrics to every song on every station on the radio, no matter what the genre, and will sing them at the top of his lungs if he feels like it.

I’ve also learned that Paxton, the one who live
s on the road, is uninhibited and silly and for sure my best friend yet. Or maybe that’s just who Paxton is now that there is nothing standing between us.

Paxton pays for our stuff
, ditches the cart and then wraps his arm around me and leads me to the parking lot. Every time we get out of the car the weather is a little warmer and I’m excited about heading south. I stare at his badass black car and tell him, “I miss driving. Since I left for Chicago I’ve driven like three times and the furthest I went was two miles up the road to Emily’s in my mom’s minivan.”

“Are you trying to suggest I let you drive my girl?”

“You
r girl?”

“Yea
h. My baby,” he says with pride.

“Really? I
think your car looks like a badass grown man. I had no idea it was a baby girl.”

“All cars are girls, kid.”

“I want to drive her,” I tell him veering towards the driver’s side of ‘her’.

This is the most tense I’ve seen him look since he broke me down and st
arted to help me build back up. But he throws me the keys and I catch them, the smile returning to his face. “Really? I mean… Really? I was just fucking with you, babe.”

“It’s just a car, kid,” he tells me, getting in on the
passenger’s side.

I get in on
my
side and close the door. “Oh my god,” I say excitedly, bouncing a little in the seat as I get the key in the ignition.

Paxton laughs un
der his breath. “If you wanted behind the wheel so bad, you just had to say so, kid.”

“
Pax… you don’t let people drive her.”

“You’re not people, beso. You can have anything you want,” he tells me,
stripping off the Venice Ink shirt he took out of my suitcase and has been wearing for the past couple of days. I stare at his skin like I always do when it’s exposed – his lean, toned body, the way his stomach flexes as he reaches down into a Walmart bag to pull out one of his new t-shirts. He grabs the one with the 45 RPM on it, which is the least offensive one in the bunch by far. He pulls it over his head, running his hand through his hair before turning to me. “You gonna get out of those filthy clothes?”

I, unlike him, ha
ve a suitcase full of clothes. But I’ve pretty much been living in my sweats and either a tank or a t-shirt because even after Paxton and I worked things out and I no longer had to cover up my body, I still didn’t feel the need to show it off. After the revelations he helped me see - the changes I made in my life after I slept with Coach Benson- I kind of don’t want to put a dress on. Maybe it’s because I started dressing like that because of him, or maybe it’s just because I want to be comfortable in the car. After our Walmart trip I’m kind of thinking it’s option A because, although there was nothing close to sophisticated in that store, there were a few decent sun dresses and tank dresses, but I didn’t even consider trying them on. “You want me to strip down in the Walmart parking lot?” I ask him.

“No?”

“No.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Let’s get out of here then. Get on fifteen south and stay on it. When it ends we’ll be in
LA.”

“How long is that?”

“About four hours,” he tells me with a smirk because he knows what I’m thinking and the thought of being in these clothes for four more hours is making me itch.

“Give me something to wear,” I tell him.

“You’re going to let me choose?”

“Really, Pax, the options are pretty limited. You can’t really fuck with me.”

He pulls out a pair of jean shorts, ripping the tags off before handing them to me. I get my sweats off and pull them on and reach my hand out for the white t-shirt he’s holding. I hold it up and see that it says,
What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas
. “Super funny, Pax,” I tell him. “Too bad we never even made it to Vegas.”

“We’re close enough. And the shit we did in that hotel last night qualifies as criminal.”

Because he said that, I prop myself up on my knees and slowly pull my tank top over my stomach, teasing him like I did last night with my lap dance. I shimmy out of it before pulling it between my teeth and throwing it at him. He lunges for me but I stop him. “You forget so quickly, sir. You can look, but you can’t touch.” I push my hand into his face and he falls back into his seat.

“Keep it up and you’ll be able to tell your friends you got nailed in a Walmart parking lot.”

I pull my Vegas shirt on and pull my sunglasses over my eyes. “You keep it up and you’ll be able to tell your friends you pissed your girl off and she drove your ‘baby’ into a Walmart,” I tell him, adjusting my seat and shifting the car into reverse.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t,” I agree. “I can’t believe I’ve been spending so much time with her and I didn’t even realize that she was a baby girl. I feel awful. Does she have a name?” I ask him as I pull out of the lot.

“
I considered it… giving her a name. She deserves one. But I bought her right after I left you in River Bluff and yours was the only name running through my head.”

“So…
Jessa Jr.?”

“No. Hell, no. She don’t get to have your name. I was thinking Lilly.”

“As in Lillian… my middle name?”

“
Yeah.”

“
Aww, that’s sweet. I like it. And you know, there is such a thing as a black Lilly. I think it’s perfect.”

“Black Lilly,
” he says thoughtfully, testing it out.

I get us onto the freeway and then I gun it, letting out a squeal of excitement. The sound of the engine and the vibration of the road are exhilar
ating. I keep my foot on the pedal until we hit seventy five and then I let us coast.

“She’s fun, huh?” Paxton asks me, his han
d settling on my naked thigh.

“Everything is fun now, but yea
h, I like her.”

“Maybe we’ll have to get her a sister.”

“I never thought muscle cars were my thing. I always wanted a ’64 Datsun pickup or a ’56 Nash Metropolitan convertible. I was a sucker for cute vehicles with teal and white interiors and white wall tires. But maybe I’m a sucker for big powerful engines in badass cars with girl names.”

“The things I don’t know about you…” Pax muses.

“The things I let myself forget…” I muse back.

“So you’re into classic cars?”

“I don’t know. I was. My dad used to bring me to this big car show at the State Fairgrounds every year and it was one of my favorite things,” I tell him, willing now to remember all the things that belonged to my dad and I. “I was obsessed for a few years. Not only with the cars, but with the music and the movies. I was in love with James Dean and I wanted to be Doris Day. The only music I listened to for two years were the Beatles, the Beach Boys, the Mamas and the Papas and my Golden Oldies cd’s,” I tell him, smiling to myself. It’s sad how much of me I let myself forget just because it was attached to him. But every time I have a memory of who I was it feels like I’m reclaiming another piece of me. “What about you?”