Page 29 of Brave
He couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed, confused, unhappy, or a mix of all three. Curious now, he gently pressed. “Looks like an employment application to me. I didn’t know you were job hunting.”
“I’m not.” She quickly turned her head to look out the side window. “It’s stupid.”
The light chose that moment to switch to green again. As soon as he was through the intersection, he immediately flipped on his turn signal and pulled into a grocery store parking lot. Parking in a stretch of empty stalls at the farthest end from the store, he shut off the engine and got out of the car. He used the short walk around the car to re-enforce his patience and practice his deep breaths. Only when he was sure he wouldn’t lose his temper did he open her door.
Taking the papers from her unresisting arms, he put them on the dash above the glovebox. Then he unbuckled her seatbelt, untangled her from the strap and offered her a hand out.
Her breathing was quick, shallow, and uncertain as she stepped out to stand before him. She offered no resistance or protest as he turned her around to face into the now empty car. Hands clasped in front of her, she picked at her already near non-existent fingernails.
“Hands on your head,” he ordered.
She obeyed, a mix of confusion and worry warring across her too-thin features. That look exploded into open startlement when he slipped his hand up under the back of her shirt, grabbed the waist of her pants and wedgied her right up onto her tiptoes.
She gasped, grabbed the top of the car to catch her balance, and then reluctantly returned her hands to her head. She stared straight ahead, her eyes huge.
“Think carefully,” he warned. “Why is it stupid?”
Perched on her tiptoes, all but panting her breathing was so fast and uncertain, her face flushed a bright, hot red.
There were people in the far end of the parking lot, walking to and from the store. There were cars on the street, speeding up and down on all sides of the block-sized parking lot. Her eyes kept darting from vehicles to city bus to shoppers to sidewalk pedestrians, and he knew exactly what she was thinking. He wouldn’t—he couldn’t possibly—spank her right here in the open.
“Try me,” he promised. “If you think a spanking is the worst I can do right now, you’re not using your imagination. Considering the location, I’m far more likely to take you shopping, and if you’re not worried by that, you should be. I’ll bet you anything, that store has a lovely selection of fresh ginger root. I promise you, I will pick a big one. I’ve got a knife to peel it with under the front seat of my car. Imagine having to carry it in your hand all the way back into the store, so you can insert it yourself in the bathroom. I’ll verify it’s in before we leave, and I will take the long way home just to make sure you have plenty of time to enjoy the effects. Now,” he said, lowering his voice to little more than a growl behind her ear. “I asked you a question. I expect a prompt and honest answer. Why is it stupid?”
Her blush deepened, coloring from her forehead all the way down her neck. “B-because...” she tearfully admitted, her hands closing into fists in her own hair. “I can’t do it.”
Letting go of the back of her pants, he turned her until she had no choice but to look at him. “You don’t think you’re qualified?”
She shook her head, blinking hard to keep back the shimmer of tears that quickly filled her eyes.
“Words,” he reminded.
“I’m qualified,” she whispered. “I worked as a librarian for four years during college.”
“Then why can’t you do it?”
Her face fell as she stared at him, that look saying plainly: What’s wrong with you? Why would you even ask me that? “Because I can’t do it.”
“Why not?”
“It took four hours to work up the courage just to ask for the application,” she told him. “I can barely talk to people without freaking out. I’ve had four jobs since I got out and I lost all four within a week of being hired. I have panic attacks. I break into sweats. I throw up. I. Can’t. Do it!”
“And yet you picked one up anyway,” he softly pointed out.
She stared at him, flustered and teary-eyed and frustrated with herself. “I’ll fill it out, too,” she countered, laughing at herself in a way that would have pissed him off if she weren’t also crying as she did it. As fast as the tears spilled through her lashes and onto her cheeks, she swiped them away. “I’ll fill it out, but have panic attacks the whole time because that’s how messed up I am. I’ll have panic attacks just thinking about walking to the bus stop to take it back to the library. If by some miracle I actually make it there, I’ll have more panic attacks just trying to make myself go inside. It’ll take me hours to work up the courage to turn it back in, and I guarantee I’ll throw up at least once. I’ll panic when the phone rings, and that’s even if they bother to call me in for an interview. I don’t know if I’ll be able to make myself go to that, because then, if I do, what if I get the job? I’ll have to go to work. Not once, or twice, but over and over again. And I’ll panic every single time and I-I’ll never make it through a single shift without running to the bathroom to hug the toilet or cry. So after all that, I’ll struggle through one day—maybe two—only to get fired again because I can’t do it!” Rant over, her shaky breath caught on a hiccup and her shoulders wilted. She stared up at him, her big brown eyes full of tears as she offered a hopeless shrug. “Knowing all that… don’t you think it’s stupid?”
“Knowing all of that,” he countered, “don’t you think it’s brave when someone that ‘messed up’ still has the courage to walk up and ask for an application anyway?”
She burst into tears all over again even as she laughed. It was an ugly sound, full of both doubt and confusion. It also died quickly back into silence when he didn’t join in laughing with her. “Y-you think I’m brave?”
“What would you call it?”
She shook her head. “But I don’t feel brave. I feel scared all the time. Y-you don’t know—you don’t see what happens.”
Her eyes shifted away from him, but he brought it back with a touch under her chin, redirecting her focus back on him. “And yet, you did it anyway. You got the application, even though you were scared. You came to Black light and said hi to me, sitting down right beside me, even though you were scared. Despite everything that’s happened to you, despite being afraid, you keep trying. That, sweetheart, is the very definition of brave.”
She stared at him, seeming not at all convinced by his logic. She didn’t argue with it, either.
Cupping her too-thin shoulders, he gave her a reassuring squeeze. “Would you like another chance to be brave all over again?”
