to uncomfortable lengths, growing more awkward and thicker by the minute.
“Ruben?” Duncan sounded gentle again, and Ruben felt totally unworthy. He wanted to run to a corner and sniffle, and he hated being so utterly weak. “You are a good person. I believe that with every ounce of my being.” Tears did cloud Ruben’s vision then. “What happened to you on that day, for a young man unaccustomed to smooth talkers…. You did nothing wrong.”
“I shouldn’t have let him in.” Ruben just knew he sounded miserable to the point of whiny.
“That’s what men like that count on. Their charm, their smiles, their whole approach is tied to your trust. Lies come easily to them. It is all too easy to fall for their unspoken promises. You didn’t do anything wrong. He did.”
Slowly, Ruben nodded. He longed to believe what Duncan was saying. But doubts and fears had plagued him for so long they had eroded his self-confidence into holey swiss cheese.
“Please, tell me,” Duncan asked. His tone was husky, but Ruben had a feeling the fury he radiated was aimed at his attacker.
Ruben felt small, and the instinct to curl into a ball was strong. He fought it. “He came in. We talked in the parlor. Small talk, nothing serious. I offered him coffee. He said yes, and I went to make it. I… I didn’t hear him walk up behind me. He hit me with something, on the back of my head. I was dizzy and in pain. I fell on the floor. He half dragged and half carried me to the bedroom. I don’t know why he moved me. He tore my clothes off. Then he was on top of me….”
Taking deep, calming breaths, Ruben focused on the routine of going over what had happened, using simple words and short sentences, minimizing the effect. The shrinks had taught him this, and he was grateful not to have to go into deep descriptions.
“You don’t have to—” Duncan started to speak, his voice all but broken.
Ruben shook his head, quieting his guest. “No. No, it’s fine. The shrinks said it would help to use words to go over it instead of mulling it over in my head.” Then he realized he had just admitted to Duncan he had been in the care of psychiatrists. It was an intimate knowledge of his past, even though he had never been admitted to an asylum, and he had never seen the inside of a padded room.
“I’m glad if the doctors were able to help you,” Duncan said, sounding a bit relieved. “Everyone in the damn country sees psychiatrists. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Especially if they helped.” There was some humor in his voice, and Ruben appreciated his downplaying the severity of it. Ruben had suffered from depression at the time, but he had overcome that.
The agoraphobia had come later, out of the blue, catching him by surprise. After all, a whole week had passed since the incident in question before Ruben had gone out, intending to walk down to the mailbox as usual. But everything had started spinning. Then what had been a clear blue sky felt like a roof made of cement, collapsing on top of him with so much weight it would crumble him into dust.
Rose had found him half a minute later in a fetal position on the porch, screaming his head off, unable to move.
After that, he’d seen the shrinks via teleconferencing, and it had been too impersonal and distant to aid his anxieties in any meaningful way. Ruben had tried so very hard, but nothing had come of it. Rose was the only one he allowed near him. He had even pushed Benjamin away.
So here he was, five years later, trapped in the house where it all happened, unable to leave but praying he could.
“Thankfully, it didn’t take him long to finish,” Ruben said finally, his tone hushed to a near whisper. “I saw the clock on the nightstand as he…. It lasted for exactly seven minutes and twenty-nine seconds. He used a condom, at least. But it hurt a lot. It was my first time. If there’s a magical sweet spot inside me, he sure missed it.”
Duncan winced in empathy, and
“Ruben?” Duncan sounded gentle again, and Ruben felt totally unworthy. He wanted to run to a corner and sniffle, and he hated being so utterly weak. “You are a good person. I believe that with every ounce of my being.” Tears did cloud Ruben’s vision then. “What happened to you on that day, for a young man unaccustomed to smooth talkers…. You did nothing wrong.”
“I shouldn’t have let him in.” Ruben just knew he sounded miserable to the point of whiny.
“That’s what men like that count on. Their charm, their smiles, their whole approach is tied to your trust. Lies come easily to them. It is all too easy to fall for their unspoken promises. You didn’t do anything wrong. He did.”
Slowly, Ruben nodded. He longed to believe what Duncan was saying. But doubts and fears had plagued him for so long they had eroded his self-confidence into holey swiss cheese.
“Please, tell me,” Duncan asked. His tone was husky, but Ruben had a feeling the fury he radiated was aimed at his attacker.
Ruben felt small, and the instinct to curl into a ball was strong. He fought it. “He came in. We talked in the parlor. Small talk, nothing serious. I offered him coffee. He said yes, and I went to make it. I… I didn’t hear him walk up behind me. He hit me with something, on the back of my head. I was dizzy and in pain. I fell on the floor. He half dragged and half carried me to the bedroom. I don’t know why he moved me. He tore my clothes off. Then he was on top of me….”
Taking deep, calming breaths, Ruben focused on the routine of going over what had happened, using simple words and short sentences, minimizing the effect. The shrinks had taught him this, and he was grateful not to have to go into deep descriptions.
“You don’t have to—” Duncan started to speak, his voice all but broken.
Ruben shook his head, quieting his guest. “No. No, it’s fine. The shrinks said it would help to use words to go over it instead of mulling it over in my head.” Then he realized he had just admitted to Duncan he had been in the care of psychiatrists. It was an intimate knowledge of his past, even though he had never been admitted to an asylum, and he had never seen the inside of a padded room.
“I’m glad if the doctors were able to help you,” Duncan said, sounding a bit relieved. “Everyone in the damn country sees psychiatrists. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Especially if they helped.” There was some humor in his voice, and Ruben appreciated his downplaying the severity of it. Ruben had suffered from depression at the time, but he had overcome that.
The agoraphobia had come later, out of the blue, catching him by surprise. After all, a whole week had passed since the incident in question before Ruben had gone out, intending to walk down to the mailbox as usual. But everything had started spinning. Then what had been a clear blue sky felt like a roof made of cement, collapsing on top of him with so much weight it would crumble him into dust.
Rose had found him half a minute later in a fetal position on the porch, screaming his head off, unable to move.
After that, he’d seen the shrinks via teleconferencing, and it had been too impersonal and distant to aid his anxieties in any meaningful way. Ruben had tried so very hard, but nothing had come of it. Rose was the only one he allowed near him. He had even pushed Benjamin away.
So here he was, five years later, trapped in the house where it all happened, unable to leave but praying he could.
“Thankfully, it didn’t take him long to finish,” Ruben said finally, his tone hushed to a near whisper. “I saw the clock on the nightstand as he…. It lasted for exactly seven minutes and twenty-nine seconds. He used a condom, at least. But it hurt a lot. It was my first time. If there’s a magical sweet spot inside me, he sure missed it.”
Duncan winced in empathy, and
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