Page 57 of Saving Barrette

“Tell me about you and Asa,” she says, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger as if she’s bored. She’s not. I think she just plays with her hair when she’s concentrating.

“Like what?” I shift in the chair, aware of the fact that this is a concern for her.

“You’re sexually active with him now, right?”

I laugh nervously. “Sexually active sounds so clinical.”

“Okay.” Lexi quirks a half smile. “Are you two having sex?”

I can’t stop the smile when I say, “We are.”

“And?”

“It’s good.”

Her eyes narrow. “You know my feelings on this, right?”

“Yes, I do. It can create an unhealthy attachment for us.” Too late. We’re there.

“And are you two considering that?”

Nervously, I run my fingers through my hair. “I haven’t talked to him about it.”

Lexi nods and sets her notebook down on the table in front of her. Look at the set frown and the wrinkles on her forehead. Disappointment is written all over her face. “You need to have the conversation with him about it. Victims of sexual assault crimes will often form unhealthy relationships with alcohol, drugs, and sometimes sex because they use it as a coping mechanism. You might feel better when you’re having sex with him, am I right?”

“Well, yeah. It feels good.”

“And that’s great, Barrette, but it’s important to remember your boundaries and recognize what makes you uncomfortable.”

I listen. I nod, but I’m not entirely sure she believes me.

I’m not entirely sure I believe me or what to make of what she’s saying. I know I don’t want to end things with Asa, nor do I want any part of our relationship to change.

JOEY PLACES HERhands on my shoulders, hunching to make eye contact with me. “You’re like, so short. I feel like I should kneel to be at your eye level.” I roll my eyes at her humor, then comes the “you’re cute,but” part. “You’ve been through a lot. Maybe we shouldn’t go.”

I’ve been through a lot? Have I? Hasn’t she, too?

I breathe in deeply and tie my hair back. I stare at myself in the mirror wearing everything I hate. Like makeup. Like gold and purple paint on my cheeks like those little glitter Ws all the cheerleaders wear on their faces. It looks like a pep rally threw up on me. “I’m going,” I tell Joey. “We’re going, and we’re gonna be normal people,regardless.” I had it in my head that today I was going to be normal. I wasn’t going to think about the police report I filed yesterday or the fact that they made me feel like shit about waiting for so long. I was going to be a nineteen-year-old girl for a night and experience college the way I was supposed to. Without cares. Without worries of not coping in crowds, or not wanting a beer, or worse, will he listen if I say no? Sure, I know I still need to be aware of my surroundings, but I can and will have a good time.

Joey laughs, wiping gold-dusted glitter from her black jeans. “Regardless of what?”

“Regardless of the fact that he will be playing, and I have to see his face.”

Her expression changes. “I think I saw my attacker once in line at Starbucks.”

My eyes widen. “What did you do?”

She inhales, preparing herself, and then offers a soft smile. She tucks her makeup into her bag on her bed and then faces me. “I bought his coffee.”

“What?” I gasp. “Why?”

“I don’t know why. It was morbid of me, but something snapped when he looked at me and his face paled. He knew I knew who he was. He had tattoos and piercings, and I wouldn’t forget that. But I looked back at him, smiled, paid for his coffee. He told me ‘No, that’s okay. I got it.’ I smiled and said, ‘No. What a powerful word that holds so little meaning to most.’ And then I left, burst into tears and spent the next four days in therapy.” With tears in her eyes, she exhales, ridding her body of the anger, and grabs my face between her hands. “You look like a tiny cute plum.”

I laugh, rolling my eyes. She drops her hands from my face and pats my leg. “Now, let’s go cheer on these dogs.”

“It’s pronounced, dawg.”

“Gotcha.”

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