Page 111 of Resilience

“Welp,” he said to Blanche. “I fucked that up.”

She was in there a long time. While she was, Sam filled Blanche’s bowl with kibble, then worked on turning the little table and two narrow armchairs by the window into a dinner table, laying out two of the Styrofoam plates the restaurant had provided, and paper napkins, packets of parmesan and red pepper, cans of Cherry Coke. He laid out a piece of sausage and peppers on Athena’s plate and two pieces of pepperoni and mushrooms from his side of the pizza on his plate.

Then he sat and waited.

Maybe fifteen minutes after she slammed the door, she opened it. At first, she stood in the doorway with her arms crossed and stared at him. There was no fury in her expression now. Sam couldn’t read her feelings. That was a rare occurrence, Athena being opaque to him.

“Are you okay?” he asked. She hated that question, but he didn’t know another way to ask.

This time, though, her answer surprised him. “I don’t know.”

He stood at once and went to her. When he offered his arms, she stepped in and let him fold her up tightly. She began to cry again almost right away—and when she did, she pushed away from him.

Sam let her have the distance she needed.

“I hate that I can’t fucking stop these stupid tears!” she signed with a furious flourish. “What the actual FUCK!!!!!” She stomped her feet in a storming rush, stopping abruptly and putting her hands to her belly.

Sam went to her and ducked down to catch her eye. “You hurt. Do you need meds?”

Shaking her head, she slapped her tears away. “I’m so fucking stupid.”

“You are not!”

“Oh come on. I know you’ve thought it. You hated Hunter.”

“I didn’t hate him. Not until the end.”

“Bullshit.”

“I didn’t like him, but it wasn’t hate. I hated the way he treated you sometimes.”

“Which I put up with. Which makes me fucking stupid and left me open to what he did.”

He wanted to tell her to stop tearing herself down, and Jesus fuck not to start blaming herself for what that shithead had done to her. But it was occurring to him that she needed to go through this. Still convinced what was happening to her right now was like what had happened to him in Laughlin, he thought she’d been shoving all these bad feelings down, under the cover of her rage, because she couldn’t afford to face them. Not until now, when the whole ordeal was really over.

Nothing left but the healing. And healing fucking hurt.

Instead of telling her what she should or should not feel or think, Sam told her what he felt and thought. He took her hand lightly. When he tugged to draw her to him, she came. When she looked up at him—god, her eyes showed how weary she was—he signed, “I love you, Athena. I think you are brilliant and fascinating and strong. So fucking strong. And tough as nails. For my whole life, you’ve been a part of me I need in order to live. Tell me what you need, what you want. I will do anything.”

She studied his face for a moment, then dropped her head and stared instead at the floor. When she signed again, her eyes rose no higher than his chest. “I don’t want to be traumatized. Then it’s like he’s still hurting me.”

Sam’s ribs seemed to clench like a fist around his heart. Fuck, he wished he’d put some hurt on the raping bastard himself.

Gently, he lifted her chin. Her beautiful, exhausted brown eyes broke his heart. “Let yourself heal, babe. You have to clean the wound before it can heal.”

Finally, she took a deep, shaking breath, so big it spread her shoulders, and let her head drop to rest on his chest. He put his arms around her and held on.

They stood like that for a while, until Athena, without lifting her head, signed “Pizza?” and Sam laughed. When his chest shook with it, she lifted her head and gave him an equivocal smile. Physical and emotional fatigue was still all over her face, but he could see a refreshed calm filling her up as well.

He knew what was happening inside her: she was making room for these feelings that hurt but were unavoidable. She was acknowledging her trauma and starting to reckon with it. Because she was tough as nails and could overcome anything anybody threw in her way.

“I’m starving,” she told him. “I haven’t eaten all day.”

He turned and indicated the table with a little flourish. “Your favorite. There’s also chocolate chip cookies for dessert.”

––––––––

~oOo~

---