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Authors: Emily Ryan-Davis
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me?”
She nodded.
“You’re asking me to give you rules, and decide whether your choices and behavior are wrong or right. You’re asking me to punish you if you’ve been bad, reward you if you’ve been good. To shoulder the responsibility for your physical comfort and your mental and emotional well being .” He exhaled slowly, and said, “To make you happy.”
“Yes. No. You already make me happy--”
“No, I don’t. Stop lying to yourself, and to me.”
“I want both of us to be happy. I want you to show me how to make you happy.”
“By abusing you.”
The flat quality of his voice interrupted her anxiety. That was his injured voice, withdrawn and lacking intonation, and it hit hard. She sank to her knees between his legs and reached for his hands. “It’s not abuse! You won’t be hurting me. You’ll be helping.”
“ Helping this way can turn into hurting very easily.” He rubbed the tips of her fingers against his own and held her hand up, showing the difference in their sizes. “It’s not just a physical risk. It’s an emotional risk, too. You’re inviting me to overpower your body and your emotions.”
Another protest came to her lips but she silenced it. Mac balled his hands around hers, molding them into fists, and rested his forehead atop their joined fingers. “Amy, my mother didn’t fight back when Dad hit her. Not because she was weak or afraid, but because she’d given him responsibility for her life. She promised to obey him and be what he needed, and figured if he needed a punching bag, that was her role. I don’t want to be him. I don’t want to turn you into her.”
“You’re a different man,” she whispered.
Mac lifted his head. “Because I haven’t allowed myself to become him. I’ve removed the situational conditions that could give me the opportunity. And you want me to make myself vulnerable.”
“Vulnerable isn’t the same thing as weak. You’re the strongest person I know. You can handle this,” she said, willing him to believe in his own strength.
He closed his eyes and pressed her fingers to his lips. “Last night I gave you your first rule.”
Amy’s chest tightened. “About wearing clothes.”
“That you are no longer allowed to wear clothes when we’re alone, meaning without guests, in our home. Did you misunderstand the rule?”
”No.” She sighed. “I was pissed off because you weren’t there when I woke up and I wanted to get back at you. I was being a childish brat.”
“You’ve been talking to me about mistakes,” Mac said. “And you’ve told me what role you want me to fill in your life. Is there anything else you want to add?”
She shook her head and stared at the superhero logo on his t-shirt, unsure what the flip-flop in her stomach meant. Nerves, not fear. She wasn’t afraid of him.
“Okay. Do you understand the difference between a mistake and an act of defiance?”
“Yes.”
“Explain it to me.”
“A mistake is a genuine error. Maybe caused by forgetfulness or distraction, or just not having the information needed to do the right thing. An act of defiance is deliberately breaking a rule.”
“Very good,” he said slowly. “I am willing to accept this responsibility you’re asking of me, but not before I make myself clear on issues of rules and punishments. First, mistakes are not punishable offenses. If you find yourself making a mistake, we will work on correcting the conditions that led to it. Defiance will be punished, and afterward we’ll work on correcting the urges that prompted you to break a rule. I’ll never admonish you for a genuine error, but I won’t be lenient with deliberate willfulness.
“As we grow into this, we will mutually decide in which areas you need guidance. For now, though, you will follow one rule, and that is you are to give me every emotion you have. No hiding sadness. No pretending confidence. No faking that you’re turned on. Deciding to fake or hide something
She nodded.
“You’re asking me to give you rules, and decide whether your choices and behavior are wrong or right. You’re asking me to punish you if you’ve been bad, reward you if you’ve been good. To shoulder the responsibility for your physical comfort and your mental and emotional well being .” He exhaled slowly, and said, “To make you happy.”
“Yes. No. You already make me happy--”
“No, I don’t. Stop lying to yourself, and to me.”
“I want both of us to be happy. I want you to show me how to make you happy.”
“By abusing you.”
The flat quality of his voice interrupted her anxiety. That was his injured voice, withdrawn and lacking intonation, and it hit hard. She sank to her knees between his legs and reached for his hands. “It’s not abuse! You won’t be hurting me. You’ll be helping.”
“ Helping this way can turn into hurting very easily.” He rubbed the tips of her fingers against his own and held her hand up, showing the difference in their sizes. “It’s not just a physical risk. It’s an emotional risk, too. You’re inviting me to overpower your body and your emotions.”
Another protest came to her lips but she silenced it. Mac balled his hands around hers, molding them into fists, and rested his forehead atop their joined fingers. “Amy, my mother didn’t fight back when Dad hit her. Not because she was weak or afraid, but because she’d given him responsibility for her life. She promised to obey him and be what he needed, and figured if he needed a punching bag, that was her role. I don’t want to be him. I don’t want to turn you into her.”
“You’re a different man,” she whispered.
Mac lifted his head. “Because I haven’t allowed myself to become him. I’ve removed the situational conditions that could give me the opportunity. And you want me to make myself vulnerable.”
“Vulnerable isn’t the same thing as weak. You’re the strongest person I know. You can handle this,” she said, willing him to believe in his own strength.
He closed his eyes and pressed her fingers to his lips. “Last night I gave you your first rule.”
Amy’s chest tightened. “About wearing clothes.”
“That you are no longer allowed to wear clothes when we’re alone, meaning without guests, in our home. Did you misunderstand the rule?”
”No.” She sighed. “I was pissed off because you weren’t there when I woke up and I wanted to get back at you. I was being a childish brat.”
“You’ve been talking to me about mistakes,” Mac said. “And you’ve told me what role you want me to fill in your life. Is there anything else you want to add?”
She shook her head and stared at the superhero logo on his t-shirt, unsure what the flip-flop in her stomach meant. Nerves, not fear. She wasn’t afraid of him.
“Okay. Do you understand the difference between a mistake and an act of defiance?”
“Yes.”
“Explain it to me.”
“A mistake is a genuine error. Maybe caused by forgetfulness or distraction, or just not having the information needed to do the right thing. An act of defiance is deliberately breaking a rule.”
“Very good,” he said slowly. “I am willing to accept this responsibility you’re asking of me, but not before I make myself clear on issues of rules and punishments. First, mistakes are not punishable offenses. If you find yourself making a mistake, we will work on correcting the conditions that led to it. Defiance will be punished, and afterward we’ll work on correcting the urges that prompted you to break a rule. I’ll never admonish you for a genuine error, but I won’t be lenient with deliberate willfulness.
“As we grow into this, we will mutually decide in which areas you need guidance. For now, though, you will follow one rule, and that is you are to give me every emotion you have. No hiding sadness. No pretending confidence. No faking that you’re turned on. Deciding to fake or hide something
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