Torment Me (Rough Love 1)

My chest ached with pent up emotion, with all the weird hopes and aspirations W had spurred in me. All of it was hopeless because we couldn’t be together. Tony’s rejection had hurt me. W’s continued rejection would eventually kill me, and I couldn’t even understand why.

I flung the codependency book across the room. I hated him for doing this. I hated that he messed me up this way. It is okay to save yourself. It is okay to protect yourself.

Five minutes after I hung up on him, the phone rang again. I looked at the number and sent it to voice mail. Twice more he called. Finally, I answered.

“Don’t hang up,” he said, and this time it was less of an order and more of a plea.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you calling me?”

“To be sure you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” I said, and I was bawling.

“You don’t sound okay. What happened today, Chere? Things were okay between us. I mean, they weren’t great, but you seemed to get something out of our sessions before. Today you seemed hollow. Upset.”

“You hurt me! You called me a liar, and said all kinds of other terrible things.”

“I also said you were magnificent, and I meant it.”

“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t take away everything else.”

He was quiet a moment. I wondered where he was, what his place looked like. Was he lying on a couch? In a bed? Did he have a wife in the next room? Kids? A dog?

“I’m sorry about that guy,” he finally said. “That jackass who left you at the restaurant.”

“Yeah, well, he didn’t approve of my career.”

“I think you’re great at your career. That’s what I would have told you if you’d stuck around. It was a hot fucking scene today. I thoroughly enjoyed myself.”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have any words.

“Chere?” he asked after a moment. “Are you still there?”

“I’m not going to do escorting much longer,” I said. “I’m already thinking how to get out of it. It’s not making me happy.”

“It’s not making you happy, or I’m not making you happy?”

I sighed. “This isn’t about you. There’s so much more fucked-up shit in my life, shit that has nothing to do with you.”

“Like what?”

I rubbed my eyes. All this time he held me at arms’ length, and now he wanted to have a therapy session? I heard a thump from the living room, and Simon muttering.

“I have to go,” I said.

“Like what?” he repeated. “Talk to me, Chere.”

“I can’t talk to you. I told you that. This is against the rules.”

“And I told you I don’t give a fuck about the rules.”

“Chere!” That was Simon, out in the hall. “Chere!”

Just as I feared, he’d woken up like a bear. Withdrawal was a bitch. He rattled the knob and pounded.

“Chere, open the door! I told you not to lock me out!”

“Who’s that?” W asked. “Your boyfriend?”

“Yes,” I said miserably. “I have to go.”

“He sounds angry.”

“He’ll be fine.”

“Will you be fine?”

More pounding, more shouting. I wondered how much W heard. I curved my hand around the phone like that might block the huge noise of Simon’s meltdown.

I didn’t want to hang up anymore. I wanted W to be there so I didn’t have to go through this alone. “He takes drugs,” I said in a near whisper. “He’s so messed up. If he’s not high enough, he’s unbearable.”

“Then why are you there? Why do you live with him?” His blunt questions were just like the damn book. They didn’t solve any of my problems.

“I’m in a locked room. I’ll stay here until he calms down.”

“Fuck that. Chere—”

“It’s none of your business.”

Simon let loose a string of blistering expletives, and the banging stopped. I heard him stomp away. He couldn’t get at my money because I had it in the room with me. He’d leave now, to go bum money or drugs from his friends. From Rich Rachel, who seemed to provide an endless supply.

“He left,” I said, because W had sounded worried, and I thought he would want to know. “He’ll be gone for a while.”

“You should be gone,” he said, in the most sincere voice I’d ever heard.

“I’m hanging up.” I didn’t want to do this with him. I didn’t want him in my life. I didn’t want him insinuating himself into the other fucked-up areas of my existence, especially since I wasn’t seeing him again.

“I need to see you again,” he said, before I could hang up. “I know you don’t want to see me anymore, but I want to see you.”

I rolled my eyes, my sore eyes that were red from crying. “That’s too bad.”

“What if things could be different? I mean, I’ll never really change. I’m a mean bastard. I’m a sadist, but maybe we can sit down before our next session and talk. We’ll talk before we fuck. I’ll prepare you a little more for what’s going to go on.”