by Davina Kaur
Content warning: Discussion of child abuse.
‘She was once most beautiful, and the jealous aspiration of many suitors. Of all her beauties none was more admired than her hair: I came across a man who recalled having seen her. They say that Neptune, lord of the seas, violated her in the temple of Minerva. Jupiter’s daughter turned away and hid her chaste eyes behind her aegis. So that it might not go unpunished, she changed the Gorgon’s hair to foul snakes.’
Metamorphoses Book IV by Ovid (A. S. Kline)
Megan is sat on her chair in her old classroom. She remembers it as if it was yesterday. The science posters they made about the structure of cells. A monochrome poster about the solar system and a colourful one featuring the periodic table. A multitude of chairs placed strategically to face the front where the teacher is supposed to stand. She’s by herself in the room to her fear and she looks down at her exercise book, which she’s scribbled in over and over again, a disparity of harsh pencilled lines. Then she feels a warm, tight grasp on her shoulder. He looks down at her work, hovering over her shoulder, his breath hot against her cheek. He leans back to brush his lips against her ear, ‘you don’t know what you do to me darling-.’
She flinches awake, she’s sweating, the back of her head soaked. She’s grasping at the sheets beneath her, making sure they’re real, making sure she is real. She senses the lump next to her, and reaches out tentatively, wanting touch. Alex looks at her with half shut eyes
and sniffles, she links their pinkies together, that’s all Megan can cope with. She looks at Alex’s sweet smile and tries to settle, quieten her breathing so as not to disturb her further, she wants to apologise, and Alex seems to sense it and says, “Don’t, it’s okay, just sleep.”
Megan tries, she really does. She syncs her breathing to match Alex’s, she puts headphones in and listens to a podcast, she counts sheep, she changes position, but nothing works. So, she gets out of bed – it’s 6am according to her phone – Friday, her first Friday off in a long time and she can’t even enjoy it. She knew it would be like this though, since she got the news last night, she runs her hand through her tangled hair and heads to the bathroom. Megan switches on the vanity light above the sink and tries her best to avoid looking directly at her reflection as she goes about her ritual of brushing her teeth and washing her face.
She knows, objectively, that she is attractive. Hot, Alex whispers, making Megan giggle. Drop dead gorgeous, the guy from the bar whispers behind her back. She knows this, she knows her sisters are too, they got their looks from their mother. Her father was never
traditionally good looking, everyone comments on it. ‘How did your mother end up with your father?’ Megan would always say, ‘I have no idea.’
Megan knows she needs to look in the mirror, she usually can, she usually enjoys it, but today is not a good day. Just look, goddammit, just look you coward. She forces her eyes to look in the mirror, she looks at her dark skin and her untameable windblown curls, her
nose is prominent on her face, not like the little button noses that are so admirable and wanted. Her cheeks are round, and her eyes shrink a little when she smiles, she tries to smile now and it looks painful, it feels painful. she was lucky enough not to have any acne scars and her pores are practically non-existent. So yes, she knows she’s attractive, beautiful even, she’s been told it by so many people in her life, it makes her sick.
She closes the bathroom door with a soft snick and passes the lump on the bed without a second glance. Normally she would crawl back into the bed’s warmth and stay there, but she knows she needs to leave the house. Her skin is humming and itching, she is keyed up. And if she stays still, she knows she will panic, cry maybe. Say something she doesn’t mean to say. And she’s been doing so well, so well and now it feels like everything is ruined. Sybille would say she is overstimulated, and she’s right.
She shakes her head and hurriedly brushes away the tears from her eyes and leaves the apartment before the lump on the bed moves and senses her absence.
Thank god she had taken a day off, all things considered, it was almost as if the universe had sensed it and thought this would be a great time to throw this at her. How thoughtful.
As she steps outside onto the bustling street, she has to swiftly manoeuvre past a group of screaming girls, screaming is an over exaggeration of course, just loud, Megan loves loud. She lives in a small apartment in the city, she had to compromise size for the price, living in a city is expensive but at least she doesn’t have to drive. Her walls are very thin, she can hear everything, there are always crowds of screaming people at all different stages of drunkenness. She loves it, hates the quiet. Quiet gives room for thought which gives room for bad things.
She couldn’t fall asleep without listening to a podcast or music for years, she’s only just been able to ease up and that’s only when Alex stays round, Alex usually sleep talks which is quite sweet. She was mumbling about pandas last night, and how she hopes they have enough bamboo.
Alex makes Megan’s stomach hurt. Usually it’s in the best way. The first time she saw her, her stomach was fluttering and spinning, and it excited her, made her have an unbearable smile on her face and pull out stupid jokes that made no sense because she was too nervous to say them right. But now it makes her feel sick. She hates herself for feeling that way with Alex, she doesn’t want to associate the bad with her. Alex is…there. She knows her, all of her and she doesn’t think she’s broken, or a monster, she makes her feel calm when her mind is racing.
She walks into Joyce’s, a twenty-four-hour cafe, it’s the sort of place where lots of construction workers would convene before their day on metal bistro chairs and plastic tables with blackened nails tapping on their coffee cups.
It’s the sort of place that sells a greasy bacon bap and where smoked salmon on bagels doesn’t even exist. Want a coffee at four in the morning? You got it. Want a fish finger bap at two in the morning? Sure! Do you just want to have a milkshake and a cry at eight in the evening? No one will judge you. Megan has added all those things to her Joyce bingo card, now she can add six-thirty, flat white at Joyce’s after a nightmare, two hours before her therapy appointment.
Megan walks past an old man whispering to himself; she stares at the back of his head at the bald spot reflecting the sterile light. He has an open chest in front of him and from what she can see it contains photos of trains, he is fingering them delicately with his withered hands and muttering to himself. Megan turns to the counter before she’s caught and taps her fingers against it. The elderly woman behind the counter holds up her finger to ask her to wait and she’s taking a steaming cup around the counter and to the old man, Megan watches as she places a motherly hand on his shoulder and leaves the cup with him, Megan smiles and turns away.
“Sorry, baby, what can I get for you this morning?” The woman’s apron was very dirty, and her hair was kept up with a pencil, Megan would love to learn how to do that. She wore no makeup and her eyes were warm and wrinkled, she smiled wanly.
“Uhm, a flat white please?” she asks, putting her hand in her coat pocket for the change.
The woman chuckles, “My grandson would say that means you have your shit together.”
Megan blinks.
“Ordering a Flat White,” she explains with raised eyebrows.
“Right! Got you.” Megan wanted to laugh, having her shit together is something that is not her forte, Alex would agree. That’s what she tells her every day, ‘get your shit together, get your shit together.’ But they’re always laughing when she says it.
She knows she’s being rude not talking to the lady and she was nice enough, but her brain wasn’t in it. She gives her the change with what she hopes is a pleasant smile and sits at the back corner on one of the metallic bistro chairs. It’s freezing and she doesn’t want to lean
against the back of it and feel the ridges of it against her clothes.
Her phone buzzes and she knows it’s Alex, she looks at the text; – ‘are you okay?’– She must have woken up to an empty bed. Her stomach clenches, and she feels an unfair flash of anger at Alex, for caring so much about her. She doesn’t want to reply but she knows
that would be a horrible thing to do. She doesn’t know what to type. She begins to type – ‘yes, I’m fine’-, but she deletes it quickly, she doesn’t want to fuck this up, and she doesn’t want to lie to her. She knows Alex deserves the truth. – ‘No, I’m going to see Sybille, I’ll see you soon.’
She waits for her response, staring at the three dots at the bottom with a growing abundance of nerves, why did she think coffee was a good idea? She had promised Sybille she would stop with the coffee or at least have decaf, but old habits die hard.
Her phone buzzes again, – ‘ok, I love you.’– Megan’s hands shake, and she drops her phone on the plastic table. She wants so badly to reply back, she wants to say – ‘I love you too, my life is so much better with you in it, -’ but she can’t, and she hasn’t been able to. She
knows Alex doesn’t mind, but Alex is an idiot, an amazing idiot, for being with her and for putting up with her. she said that. She said I don’t mind if you can’t say it back, but she wants to, she wants to wake up in the morning and kiss her and say those three words to her.
It frightens her, because what happens when Alex realises that Megan doesn’t have a lot to give?
*
Megan is sat on the chair in the office, it looms around her crowding in, the mahogany wood gets darker and darker as it crawls around her, consuming her, her legs are tucked one behind the other, and she’s swinging them slightly, she isn’t tall enough for her feet to touch the ground. She is next to her mother, a tall brooding figure who won’t even look at her. The headmaster staring at her from behind his desk, looking at her in shock, as if she was a creature, a monster. And him just behind, forever protected.
Then she’s in a car, with her, and the woman has a pencil skirt, a tight blouse, her hair pulled up in a pony tail, sharply behind her head, regimented, her eyebrows furrowed, her eyes green and piercing, her mouth in a scowl. She looks at her with malice in her eyes, her hands clutching the cheque tightly, as if that’s the only thing stopping her from strangling her. But even that’s not enough, and Athena reaches for her and she can’t recoil from her touch, she can’t scream when she digs her nails into her bony shoulder and draws blood, bleeding through her school uniform. She cries and cries and then Athena bares her teeth and stuffs the cheque into her sobbing mouth-
“Baby?”- Megan recoils, the car swirling away and making room for light. She leans back away from the woman from the counter, shaking, she’s knocked her coffee over and it’s splattered on her phone, the woman holds up her hands in placating way. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”
Megan grabs tissue from the holder at the end of the table and starts dabbing at it hurriedly, but she can’t see because she’s crying now. The hands on the shoulders are back, and her shoulders are shaking and she’s sobbing. She stays still as the woman shushes her gently and takes the tissues from her hands and places them to the side of the table and with a quick spritz of a cleaning spray and a tea towel it’s gone, even her phone is clean. She’s sniffling now and wipes her nose on her sleeves. She looks around, the old man is gone and its brighter outside. How long has it been? She checks her phone, it’s eight fifty-nine.
“I’m so sorry.” She’s saying again looking at the woman. The woman shakes her head and smiles at her. It’s a real smile, a genuine one, as if it doesn’t matter, as if this happens all the time.
“It happens darling, don’t worry about it.” She reaches out and clasps her hand on hers shaking it slightly. The touch is kind, not like Athena’s, sharp and scarring.
“Thank you, but I need to leave,” Megan whispers apologetically.
The woman doesn’t even flinch, “Of course baby, but anytime you need anything, Joyce’s is always open, we don’t judge here.” Megan tries to smile, and she picks up her phone which has a missed call from Sybille, and she tucks in her chair and watches the woman leave. She makes the decision to leave a twenty-pound note on the table before she leaves.
She didn’t even ask the woman’s name.
*
Megan is in the classroom again, the door is locked, as usual.
And he’s there with his sea green eyes and warm toned skin and grey hair, his hands are strong as they stroke her arms, “Do you know how beautiful you are?”
She’s sat on his desk, but he still looms over her, “I love you my beautiful darling.”
He kisses her cheek, and she hums in the way he likes. “Athena is nothing in comparison to you.”
He kisses her and she responds, her eyes are open and she’s looking at his closed eyes, she doesn’t know what she’s doing, she just follows him. She wraps her arms around him, her school blazer bunching uncomfortably around her shoulders. He releases her lips and moves down to her neck mummering in between, “When you’re sixteen we will get married and honeymoon in France.”
She reacts the right way and moans the way he likes, “No one will love you like I do Megan, no one.” And he’s right, no one will love her like he does. She tilts her head back and looks at his name on the door, ‘Mr P. Raymond, Year 7 Tutor.’
*
She’s outside Sib’s counselling room and she opens the door climbing the stairs. The place was very neutral, that’s how she describes it to Alex, beige, beige and beiger, but it’s practical, not jarring. You can’t hide anywhere and distract yourself from what you are about to say. She loves Sib. It’s so strange to say you love your therapist, but she does, she understands her and if it wasn’t for her, she might not be alive right now. Not that she would tell her that.
Sib has a kind smile. The idea of going to a therapist always frightened her, she always thought it would be so clinical, a woman with glasses writing notes and saying she was broken and prescribing her drugs just to get her out. But Sib is the type of woman to pass you tissues and to make you hot chocolate with a few marshmallows in it. She had the type of warmth you could wrap yourself up in and she could rock you in her arms.
So yes, she loves Sybille.
Sybille was the one who led her to talk about Mr P and Athena, and the consequences. She didn’t even flinch at the late-night phone call last night, begging her for an appointment this morning.
“Thanks for seeing me, Sib,” she says, curling into her spot on the sofa. Sib smiles at her, and brings her cup to her lips. She had offered hot chocolate, but Megan thought she was going to be sick.
“Of course, Megan, I saw the news story and thought this may be the opportune moment for a visit.”
Megan smiles a little and itches her brow, “Yeah, you could say that.”
“How have you been, Megan?”
“I’m losing time again and the nightmares are back.”
Sib puts her mug down and clasps her hands together on her lap, she is wearing a ring on each finger, they look heavy and chunky.
“The nightmares and the losing time may have been triggered by the news you found out last night, we can use this session to discuss coping mechanisms to make sure you are centred if you should ever lose focus and time. Would you like that?”
Megan nods affirmatively and doesn’t offer anything else, she knows Sib will lead her into talking about it.
“Can you tell me about your nightmares?”
Megan doesn’t want to, but she needs to speak it aloud in this room. “It’s about Mr. P and what he did to me, and his wife Athena.”
“Okay, you haven’t had these dreams for a very long time,” Sib offers.
“The fact that they were in a car crash yesterday and pronounced dead might be a trigger,” Megan states, glad at Sib’s small smile.
“Yes, it might, and how did you feel when you found out Megan?”
“Like I want to run away, like my legs are made of lead and I’m stuck, sinking, and I can’t do anything about it.”
“That suggests that you may be feeling guilty. Do you feel guilty for anything?”
“That I’m relieved that they’re gone, and they can’t hurt me anymore.”
“Yes, they are, but why do you think you are reacting in such a way that you are losing time. What’s making you have a significant amount of anxiety? What pushed you to come and see me today?”
She sulks and shocks herself by saying, “Because I’m happy they’re dead, and yet I feel so guilty that I wish them harm. But,” she laughs a little breathlessly, “they can’t touch me anymore and I can breathe.” Sib knowingly passes her a box of tissues and begins to
fiddle with her scarf.
“And it makes me think,” Megan continues, “if I want them to hurt then maybe I am exactly like them-”
Megan breaks off, that was so hard to say, and her neck is burning from her unshed tears, her jaw is hurting, it hurts, it’s like she can feel his touch all over her body over and over again. She is seeing her mother, who won’t look at her or touch her, as if she was a monster, who doesn’t blink when she leaves her and hasn’t called her in years.
Sib speaks gently, “But you’re not like them, are you? You wouldn’t think of doing what they did to you.” She gives an encouraging smile, “Mr P did unspeakable things to you, you were an eleven-year-old child and he was supposed to teach you science, not abuse you. And Athena, his wife, tried to pay you off and wanted to punish you which isn’t fair on you.”
“But I ruined their marriage-”
“He ruined their marriage, not you.”
“But I could have stopped him, but he convinced me that he loved me, and that no one would love me like he did. And I feel so guilty Sib.”
“That is a perfectly normal reaction, feeling guilty about surviving about what he did to you is normal because he positioned you in such a way that he wanted you to blame yourself, he wanted you to feel guilty for making him give into his urges when that wasn’t the
case at all. He was an abuser and he hurt you. How you feel about him and Athena dying is a perfectly normal reaction.”
“It is very important that you understand that you were a child and it is not your fault; it was never your fault.”
“Everyone made me feel like it was,” Megan whispers, “that I shouldn’t have stayed behind that one day, that I shouldn’t have worn my skirt so high, that I shouldn’t have looked so pretty, but Sib I was a child, a baby. My teachers and the students just turned away from me as if I was disgusting and I was so alone Sib.” She blows her nose into her tissue and would be humiliated at the trumpeting noise she makes, but it’s nothing in comparison to the horrors that have been revealed in this room.
“You were the child and they were the adults, and in a place that should have been safe for you, instead there was sexual, emotional abuse and neglect. Yes, while it is terrible for their families that they have died, you suffered because of them. You have no reason to
feel guilty for how you feel. You need to be kinder to yourself, I don’t want you to forgive them because they died, that is your decision, but you need to forgive yourself.”
Megan nods through the tears, it made sense logically. She still didn’t quite believe it, but it makes sense. She just can’t wait until she finally does believe it.
“And you’re not alone anymore, I am so proud of how far you have come, don’t sell yourself short Megan.”
“Before everything, Alex told me she loves me last night.”
Sib nods, as if she knew, which she didn’t. “That’s wonderful, Megan.”
“I didn’t say it back.”
Sib hums, “Was that an issue? Communication when it comes to relationships may not be your strong suit.”
Megan wants to be offended but Sib has a sparkle in her eyes and a soft smile on her lips and it makes her know that it’s not really her fault.
“No, she was fine with it. Which frightens me.”
“How so?”
“She gives so much, and I take so much, she is always there, when I need her, she gives me space when I want it and she doesn’t make me feel guilty for it. But it makes me think-”
“What?”
“What if she’s carrying me and I’m being too dependent on her? My past and my issues are not her burden to bear.”
“Relationships do have dependency on both sides, but if you are self-aware of it, then you know what to look for, don’t be afraid to be vulnerable with her.”
“But… why is she with me? And she can’t deal with me. What if she leaves?”
“Then we develop strategies to help you cope, and you have coped alone before Megan, you have coped with so much, one breakup won’t destroy you.”
“This one might.”
Sib shakes her head, “No it won’t, you won’t let it, and saying I love you is a huge step for her and if you are not ready to say it yet then that’s fine too.”
“I don’t know if I love her.”
“That’s fine-”
“No, I mean, I have not experienced love romantically so how do I know what I’m looking for, Sib?”
“So, you don’t love her?”
“I don’t know what it means, I thought Mr P loved me!” Megan was getting angry now, she just wanted Mr P to have never existed, to have never touched and make her do things to him, she didn’t want his wife to pay her off like she was a sex worker when she was
a child, she didn’t want her family and friends to blame her for happened to her, she didn’t want to be too scared to look at them or touch them. Her whole life turned to stone and so did she, and finally the stone was cracking. She is stepping out into the light finally only for this to slap her in the face.
“I want to be with her. I don’t want to hurt her like Mr. P hurt me, I want to cook her dinner and I want to hold her hand and watch films in bed with her, I want to get drunk with her, I want her to lean on me and for me to lean on her. I just want to exist with her. Is that love Sib?”
“Yes Megan, I think that’s your version. And you should let yourself have it.”
*
Megan leaves Sib’s with red eyes and a plan to start seeing her three times a week. She is exhausted. And she deserves a drink, she deserves to enjoy her day off.
She gets her phone out of her pocket walking past Joyce’s again, her hair whispering around her shoulder like snakes.
She messages Alex – ‘get dolled up, I’m taking you out x.’- Alex messages back a winky face making Megan smile, a proper one, one that doesn’t hurt.
She may not be okay today, and that’s alright, she may be amazing tomorrow and that’s alright too. Will she dissociate again, will it get dark again? Most likely, but she’s going to learn to take the good with the bad.
Another thing she knows for certain is that she loves Alex, and she loves herself and she will be able to look at herself in the morning in the mirror. She might not be able to tell Alex she loves her yet, but she will one day. Right now, she’s just enjoying being loved in a way she never thought she would get to have, and that’s what she is going to focus on right now.
So, she walks on.
swim press 