Unexpected

Chapter 31 - Me too

Trigger warning: I dedicate this chapter to the Me Too movement.

The only thing that helped Nick get through the funeral was Sara. It was hard to think of Mel's funeral in the same church while his and Sara's fingers were linked. The sight of the tiny casket was sobering. He still had trouble accepting Lily was gone.

He had been hugging his own children much tighter. Jack just squirmed, but Bridget sensed his mood, because she had been hugging him more too.

He regretted leaving Sara in Tim's hands, but he had to hurry before the daycare closed. They had seen patients later than usual trying to make up for the morning off. His brother would easily start her car, but it surprised him when she texted him Tim was still with her. He instantly felt jealous, not because he didn't trust his brother, but because Tim could go to her apartment in daylight.

She called him right after Tim left. "Did you text him too?"

He laughed. "I didn't want him to think I was the one texting you. Why was he there?"

"He insisted on following me to make sure my car was fine. So I insisted he tell me about Betty."

"And did he?"

"Yes, I know all about your mother. Do you think I look like her?"

"I did when I first met you. But now I know you, I don't."

"So you don't think of her when you kiss me, like Oedipus?"

Nick laughed. "Oh God, no! My mother is the furthest thing from my mind when..." He whispered, because four-year-old ears were always listening.

"I had to ask."

"Can we table this conversation for after B- E- D?"

Their conversation ended and Nick wondered how much of his initial attraction was because of her voice. She had qualities like her mother, but isn't it a thing that men look for women like their mothers? Mel was nothing like his mother.

It took some doing, but Nick convinced Sara to come over on Saturday night. "Tim and Julie will be out late and Tim's on call. As soon as they come home, they'll go to bed. He doesn't stay up late since he's so old."

She pushed back, and he wondered if she was nervous about possibly being found out or being alone with him. He reassured her on both. "You can park in my garage again. We won't do anything you're not ready for. I just want time alone with you."

Finally she relented, and he was prepared just in case. He had a box of Trojans and clean sheets on his bed. When she arrived, she looked nervous, beautiful, but nervous. He held her. Because their relationship started with an embrace, every embrace was meaningful. He could feel her relax in his arms.

When he finally spoke, he said, "I promise you don't need to be nervous. We won't do anything you don't want."

"I am nervous, because I have something to tell you, and I'm not sure how you'll feel after I do." Her voice was so low, he had to strain to hear her.

"Nothing will change how I feel about you."

He wished he could say he was feeling love, but he didn't know what love was anymore. He felt a very strong affection and definite want.

He handed her a glass of wine, hoping to relax her. Perhaps that was a mistake, he didn't cook for her. There was no other purpose to their evening, but to be together physically.

She started tentatively, and he nodded, but never interrupted and let her take her time as she shared her past. She was never emotional, but the opposite, devoid of emotion.

"I told you, I have had little experience with men. In high school, I was too busy mourning my mother and trying to adjust to this country. Boys didn't seem interested in me, and I was just as glad. In college, I hung around with friends and went to parties. We would drink, because, well, that's what you're meant to do. I went to a party one night and don't remember much. I remember later that night eating chips on my bed. I mean literally on my bed and not in a bowl, because we were definitely drunk. Anyway, I sobered up fast when I found out I was bleeding. Something happened to me while I was at that party and had no memory of it."

It shocked Nick. It took all he had to not comment, but he had to let her tell her story. He just squeezed her hand.

"The next day this guy showed up at my door and apparently it was him. I didn't remember having seen him before, but he told me he liked me and plied me with drinks. I wondered if it was more than alcohol because I went from not remembering anything to remembering being in my room later. I had the grease from the chips on my duvet to prove it. I'm not sure he even had any guilt, but I was mortified and embarrassed to think I didn't even recognize his face.

"I sent him away and spent the next few weeks worrying about being pregnant. I convinced myself I was, and I ruined my life. I'd have to tell my aunt and... Anyway, when I found out I wasn't I just tucked it all away."

Nick felt as if he could physically harm whoever the guy was. Instead, he breathed and continued to listen, hoping this story didn't get worse.

"I know now what happened was criminal, but because I remembered absolutely nothing, I never felt like a victim. Since nothing hurt down there either, I knew it wasn't forced. I must have allowed it. I rarely think of it, it has been easier not to.

"I tried to move past it, by bringing some other guy back to my room when I was feeling pretty buzzed. It was awful. It was over as fast as it started, and I felt nothing. I was convinced for a long time that I'm just not cut out for the physical. Except the other night, the night Lily... I definitely felt something."

Nick needed to speak. "So since college..." He was reluctant to put a name to those two experiences although one had a definite name, rape. "... You have had no relationships?"

"I went away a few years later. I spent most of my time in Africa with a crush on my best friend. He never knew, and then he fell in love."

"Joe?" She nodded. "He must be blind because if you blushed for him the way you did with me."

"I understand if this changes things. I needed to be honest. We are lying to the world, but I didn't want to lie to you."

"God, no! The only thing this tells me is how desperately I want to prove you're wrong about not being made for the physical. Well, that and the fact you can't handle your drink." The latter was his attempt to lighten the mood.

"I drank with you."

Nick laughed. "You've had a glass of wine with dinner and about three quarters tonight. The other night, I drank most of your beer."

Sara had shared her darkest secret, but he refused to share his. He couldn't talk about his marriage or the accident, and most definitely the bastard's involvement in each.