I was taken aback by the words she had expressed, surprised that she had finally decided to confide in me and unsure how to continue with my questions. I didn't want to scare her. I wanted her to continue releasing the words that she had tried to bury down deep. It was as if she had finally found the key to unlocking them, and once they were set free, there was no stopping them. She looked at me and seemed just as surprised as I was by her declaration.
She hadn't been lying when she told me it wasn't what I thought. However, I wasn't wrong when I had expected to hear some horrid story of child abuse. Only it wasn't the kind of abuse I was anticipating. In some ways, it was worse.
"Is that when you were moved to foster care?" I finally decided to continue with my questions. I hoped she would continue answering them; we finally seemed to be making headway.
She shook her head and then answered. "No. That wasn't until I was eleven."
"And that is why you have the fears that you do? Even after all this time?" I tried to keep my expression blank so she wouldn't stop. I feared if I showed her how I was feeling, I would scare her away. But I also felt fear. It was just a different color than hers. I had discovered so many shades of fear during my years as a surrogate, but this was the first time I was actually experiencing any of them myself.
"It's not something that you can easily get over. Don't get me wrong, I wipe and clean myself now, but it still makes me uncomfortable."
"How were you able to have sex both times?"
"I paid them."
Air was stuck in my lungs as I tried to speak. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "How?" I couldn't believe she was divulging her secrets. On one hand, I was ecstatic; on the other, I was bathed in panic.
She rolled her eyes, dismissing either my question or my disbelief in her confession. "Easy. I found ads on Craigslist and called them."
"So you paid someone to take your virginity? Do you know how dangerous that is?" I realized I was sounding more like a father than a confidant, but I couldn't seem to stop myself from continuing. "There are vicious people out there that use that as a way to victimize people like you. Why would you do that?"
Tears slipped down her cheeks as she turned away from me. "It's easy when I don't know anyone. I don't have friends, Cade. I don't socialize with people. I don't drink, so it wasn't as if I could've picked a guy up at a bar. I don't go out to meet anyone. And I felt desperate to make these feelings go away."
She curled into herself, hugging her waist with her arms and cried. I watched as her small shoulders shook with her silent cries. Ivy was going to be harder to treat than I had initially planned. And that was because I related to her more than I wanted to admit.
My arm came up around her shoulder unexpectedly. Even more unexpectedly, she leaned into me. I suddenly felt beads of sweat form on my back beneath my shirt. I tried to ignore the feeling, but the more I tried to block it out, the more I could feel my shirt sticking to my skin. Within seconds, I went from comforting Ivy, to an intense desire to find comfort of my own. My own painful thoughts swarmed around me and I felt myself unable to push them back deep within. Why was I having such a hard time controlling this?
She must have sensed it, my building panic, because she pulled back and looked at me. Her hands held both sides of my face as she forced me to keep eye contact with her. "Breathe with me," she said softly as she began to take exaggerated breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth. It wasn't until I began mimicking her actions-it was either that or pass out-before I realized what she was doing. By following her lead and taking in a deep breath through my nose, and then releasing it between my lips, I felt relief as my lungs finally expanded.
"What the hell?" I asked out loud, not specifically to her.
"A panic attack," she answered as if I hadn't already known what it was.
I hadn't had a panic attack since I was a kid. There was no reason as to why I had one then. The look in her eyes told me she thought it was because of what she confessed. But I knew it wasn't. At least I didn't think it was. All I knew was that I had to get out of the heat of the sun. I had to find a cool place to go.
"I think maybe we've had enough for today," I said, standing up and avoiding her gaze.
"No. I don't want to be done for the day. I've told you more than I've ever been able to tell anyone, including the long line of shrinks I was forced to see for most of my life. I need you to fix me. Please, don't abandon me right after I told you all of that." She was almost hysterical as she pleaded with me. It was hard to see her so desperate and vulnerable, showing her obvious fear of abandonment.
"I don't know how smart it would be for us to continue." Did I mean for now or forever? Did I mean smart for her or for me? I didn't know. All I knew was that it was not in my best interest to be around her. The need to escape her presence was so great, but at the same time, I also knew that I wanted to be around her. I was clearly confused.
"Why? Because you had a freak out? It was a panic attack. I have them all the time. You seem to be a caring man. It seems as though you care for your patients. You want to help them and you are interested in their success as much if not more than they are. And that includes me. I don't look at you any differently for letting my fucked up past affect you in that way. It merely shows you care. Please, don't give up on me yet."
There were so many things flooding my head at the very moment. Her words-so desperate and frantic, pleading with me not to walk away-affected me in a way that made me want to never leave her. She was right about that. It would have done her more harm than good if I dismissed her after making her tell me something so horrific. That was the only thing she had said that held any truth. Aside from that, I could still feel the fabric of my shirt clinging to my skin, suffocating me. The heat in the air that hadn't been noticed until that moment surrounded me, sucking me in, and making my stomach turn. Darkness started to take hold of my eyes and I knew it was only a matter of time before I would fall to the ground. It had only happened once before, but I knew it was happening again.
"I have to get out of here," I stuttered as I moved to get away.
I felt my feet drag on the grass and I knew I was swaying my steps like a drunkard. It didn't matter to me, though. I only cared about one thing, finding air-cool, clean air. The need to find an escape was so great it overwhelmed me. I felt desperate for it. Ivy was witnessing my breaking point, and I was sure she would come to her own conclusions about me, making it easier to break off the client/patient relationship between us. She would decide on her own that I was in no shape to treat her. And I was okay with that. It took a huge weight off my shoulders and kept me from being the bastard that refused to treat her after listening to her open up her heart and soul to me.
I found my way to my car, even though I was unsure of how I actually got there once I was sitting inside. I closed the door and pushed hard on the button, starting the engine. Once the cold air blasted from the vents and hit my face, the haze surrounding my brain began to slowly lift. I leaned my forehead against the steering wheel and then cradled my head in my hands until I had two fistfuls of hair between my fingers.
What had I done? I had asked the same question to myself the night before after fucking Alyssa. I was losing it. I was very quickly losing all of my control. The control I had prided myself on all of these years. The control I had learned at a young age. And the only thing I could assume as to why it was happening was because of Ivy. It hadn't started until after I had met her. But she was quickly creeping into my head, invading my entire system, and I was quickly spinning out of control.
Once I felt some semblance of normalcy return, I leaned back in my seat and noticed Ivy standing in front of the hood of my car. She held my briefcase in her hand, but she was looking away, squinting her eyes against the sunlight. She looked so peaceful standing there, as if she wasn't a woman being haunted by the abuse at the hands of her mother. Looking at her now, I didn't see a person surrounded by a terrifying past or someone that isolated herself from the rest of the world. I saw someone that held the ability to tear me apart. I saw someone that could ruin me. But more than anything, I saw someone that needed me. Was it possible that I also needed her?
Before I could reach for my door handle, she turned her eyes back to me. She shrugged her shoulders, pulling my briefcase up higher on her chest, and let a small smile cross her lips. I could tell she wasn't sure what to do. I could see the insecurity in her eyes as she stared at me through the windshield and tried to put on a brave face.