Our Hearts Insists Life’s Messy and So Are We
SETH
When I park my car in the lot of Hannah’s apartment complex and park, I see Jewel starting up the stairs. Trace and I get out and I call her name. She notices and stops.
“Sebastian–” she says, pointing at a car near mine.
“Sebastian–” I tell her at the same time, wondering why Hannah was alone. “In the apartment.” I run across the lot, Trace right behind me.
“Fuck,” Jewel says and starts running up the stairs.
Trace and I follow, taking three steps at a time.
We meet two police officers on their way down, their radios chattering at them. When they see us, they both turn down the volume.
“Everything okay?” one of them—the shorter of the two—asks. His eyes bounce from Jewel to me to Trace.
Jewel and Trace freeze, backing up to let them pass without responding. So I say, “My friend called in a welfare check. We’re here to open the apartment.”
“Which apartment?” the taller of the two asks.
“445,” Jewel says.
“Just coming from there. No answer,” the shorter one says. His name is Officer Reagan.
I grip my hair. “Fuck,” I mutter and start up the steps. “She’s in there.”
Officer Reagan blocks my way with a hand. “Calm down, son.”
It’s bad. It’s bad. It’s bad, I think, unable to reorient my thoughts toward a more rational path. “That’s my girlfriend.” I start up the stairs again. “He’s got her.”
“Who’s got her?” the second officer asks.
“Her ex.”
“That’s his car.” Jewel points at the black car in the lot.
“Maybe they went somewhere in hers?”
“No.” Jewel shakes her head and points out Hannah’s car. “She wouldn’t have gone anywhere with him. He was bothering her. I think she reported him to our campus security.”
“And you are?”
“Her roommate.” She rattles her keys. “I live in that apartment. I’ll take you in.”
The officers follow us back up to the fourth floor.
Jewel inserts the key in the lock.
My heart bangs in my throat. I’m terrified. It can’t be a worse day. Please don’t let it be a worse day, I pray to an entity I’ve never grown up believing existed. I picture Gabe sitting on a chair in a chapel praying, though I don’t know where or when that happened. Not sure why I would have been there, but his plea about needing me to stay. I did. I need Hannah to stay, I pray. I need her to be okay. Please.
Jewel opens the door.
Chaos ensues as if in slow motion.
Hannah running down the hall toward us, her face smeared with blood.
Jewel screaming her name.
Hannah looking over her shoulder.
Sebastian stumbling after her, slamming into the wall, his hands cupping his crotch. He falls to his knees.
The cops step between Trace and me and the door, moving Jewel out of the way. Their voices are loud, but I don’t know what they’re saying.
I see Hannah. That’s all I see.
She bursts out the door between the officers, right into my arms, sobbing. Her arms are around me, her face pressed into the nook between my neck and my shoulder.
“I’m here,” I say, holding her tightly against me, walking away from the alcove of her apartment, away from the police arresting Sebastian.
I lean against the wall, Hannah’s head still in the crook of my neck, blood and tears mixing against my skin and shirt. Her thoughts are incoherent as she rambles aloud through her tears. I try to comfort her, my hand rubbing her back as I repeat, “I’m here,” and “you’re strong,” and “they’ve got him,” over and over. I know this isn’t over—far from it—but Hannah will never have to face it alone.
HANNAH
Seth’s arms are around me, his heartbeat thumping a comforting cadence in my ear. I squeeze him tighter, and his hold tightens around me. They led Sebastian from the apartment in cuffs a while ago as Seth sheltered me from the view.
“Miss?”
“Hannah?” Seth asks and leans so he can meet my gaze. “The police officer needs a statement. Do you want to do that now or go down to the police station?”
I don’t want to go anywhere without Seth. “Now.”
“Is there somewhere we can sit?” the officer asks. His name tag reads Louis.
I nod and holding Seth’s hand, lead the officer to the counter in the kitchen. Sitting on a stool, I reach up to cover Seth’s hands, now on my shoulders as he stands behind me, and swivel to face the policeman on the stool next to me. He’s pulled it out and a way so there’s a comfortable distance between us, now flipping open a notepad.
“I need to talk with Hannah,” he says, looking at Seth.
“I want him with me.”
The officer’s radio crackles with a voice, and he turns it down. He starts to say something, but Seth says, “I’ll be right here.” He moves to the living room and sits on the couch where I can see him.
“When you’re ready,” Officer Louis says. “I’m just going to write down what you tell me.”
The recollection of events is strange. I’m somehow removed, as if I’ve decided to tell him the plot of a terrible book. Every so often, I look at Seth sitting across the room. I’m not sure what he’s feeling, and I’m worried for him. I’m disconnected enough to rationalize that if it had been him running through the hall, I’d be a mess. Except I can feel the chaos waiting to erupt. The disarray is under my skin, waiting for me to unzip it and let it out.
Sebastian attacked me.
I suck in a quick breath, and the police officer tilts his head.
“Ma’am?”
Tears fill my eyes, blurring the officer. “I’m–”
I start to tell him I’m sorry, but Seth’s eyes meet mine, and I recognize the truth. This isn’t my fault. I didn’t ask for this or invite Sebastian here. I was honest and told Sebastian it was over. Repeatedly. This wasn’t something I did. I didn’t deserve this, or ask for it, or invite it. I sniff and nod. “I’m okay,” I say, then finish telling him the events.
A few moments later, an EMT walks in through the door.
The officer stands. “This is Jen,” he says. “She’s going to make sure you’re okay. See if you need additional medical attention.”
I nod.
The EMT and Officer Louis converse. It’s clear they know one another; it’s a small town.
The EMT checks me. “I’m going to transport you in to get looked at by a doctor,” she says, handing me an ice pack for my nose. “They’ll be able to give your head a check, and make sure that your nose is set properly.” She puts her things in her bag, then stops and adds, “It also creates documentation.” She looks at me just a touch longer than necessary, as if to make a point. It’s one she doesn’t need to push.
I glance at Seth, thinking about him and his mom, how many times they had to go to the hospital because of what his dad had done. I wonder if he’s okay. If this is dredging up too many bad memories.
SETH
The EMT tells us she’ll wait by the door.
“My phone is under the couch,” Hannah says, drawing my attention back to her. “I was talking to Abby. I better call her.”
“I did it,” I say. “And Gabe.” I get down onto the floor to retrieve her phone that’s under the couch.
When I hand it over, Hannah looks at me over the icepack pressed to her nose.
“Abby called Gabe because she didn’t have my number. She’s the one who called the police and Gabe called me–” I see her eyes curl with a slight smile.
She nods. “She finally called him.”
I huff a short laugh through my nose and smile with her. “They both know you’re… everything is okay.” Even as I say it, I know it’s not okay. Hannah has a broken nose. She’s jumpy and keeps looking at her room like it might come alive and suck her back into whatever nightmare occurred.
I want to fucking kill Sebastian.
HANNAH
I step into Seth’s embrace again. “Will you come with me? To the hospital?”
“I didn’t think I’d be anywhere else.”
“And after? I can’t stay here–”
“Where do you want to go?”
I like the sound of his voice in his chest. “Anywhere but here.”
“My place?”
“You can stay with us as long as you need to,” I hear Trace say.
“What about you, Jewels?” I ask.
“I’m going to Joy’s tonight,” Jewel says, and as if she’s conjured her, Joy—looking harried—appears in the open doorway where the police and the EMT are talking.
“What the hell? Jewel? Hannah?” Her dark eyes fly around the room, taking everything in. “I got your text,” she says to Jewel. “Hannah?”
“I’m okay,” I say, even if it isn’t exactly true.
“Sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to worry–”
“Of course you worried me. Shit.” Joy rushes to Jewel and puts her arms around her.
I’m struck with how perfect they are together. The beauty of Jewel’s strength and Joy’s vulnerability. How when Jewel needs comfort, Joy is there. I offer Joy a wan smile, leaning a little more into Seth. His arms are strong around me.
SETH
I can see in Jewel’s eyes, shining with tears, she’s blaming herself for not being here.
I’m blaming myself for not being here.
“Don’t,” I tell her over Hannah’s head.
“Don’t back at you,” she says and sniffs. Joy’s hands touch, seeking to offer comfort, and Jewel turns into them. She looks at Hannah. “Want me to pack you a bag, after the police say it’s okay to go in?”
“Yes, please,” Hannah answers.
“We’ll take it and Trace to your apartment, so you don’t have to wait,” Jewel says, looking at me. “That way you can get her to the hospital.”
I nod. The cold of the ice pack is seeping through my sweatshirt, but I think it’s a small price to pay for being able to hold Hannah again. I kiss her temple, so grateful I get to. So angry. Thankful the cops were there, because if I’d gotten my hands on Sebastian, I would have been arrested.
Once in the emergency room, the harsh light and abrasive scent are a bit overwhelming and make me think about my dad. I’ve been in similar places because of what he’s done, but instead of going there, I think about how he and my mom have been spending time in places like this the last few weeks.
He has cancer.
My dad has cancer.
I watch a nurse move through the room to a woman waiting against the wall. They talk while the woman picks up her things, then follows the nurse past us and behind the curtain of a different room. I wonder who she’s here for? A partner? A sister? A parent?
Hannah squeezes my hand, and I look at her.
“Where did you go?” she asks.
“Just watching. It’s easier than thinking.”
She nods and leans her head on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper and press a kiss to the top of her head. My mind is replaying Hannah running down the hallway toward me, blood on her face, and I blink to reconnect to the present.
“What for?” she asks.
“I wasn’t there for you.”
“Don’t.” She sits up to look at me. “Don’t. Please. You have only been here for me since walking back into my life.”
“I didn’t–”
She unlaces our hands and reaches up to hold my face. “You’ve only reminded me that I’m strong. I didn’t believe you, but the more you reminded me, the more I remembered who I once was. And you put me on that wall–” Her voice cracks with a partial laugh and a partial sob, and her hands leave my face to return to her lap.
I don’t rush her through whatever she’s saying.
She’s looking down at her hands, and I can only imagine her thoughts, knowing where mine have gone.
When she’s able she says, “I was ready to give up, and I heard you ask me in my head, ‘got one more in you?’” She looks up at me and smiles a teary smile. “I knew I did. Knew I was strong enough to keep fighting. See?”
I nod and offer an equally teary smile back, then pull her back into my arms, knowing exactly what she’s talking about.
“I’ll never stop fighting. Never again,” she says, tucking herself back in against me, and we sit that way for a while, waiting.
HANNAH
I’m relieved when we finally walk into Seth’s bedroom at his apartment. I know I need to call my mom. Without a doubt, fighting back is going to mean pressing charges, and I’ll need her guidance and support. But I don’t want to call her in the middle of the night. Tomorrow is soon enough.
“Are you hungry?” Seth asks.
“No. I just want a shower. Then I just want to get into bed with you and sleep for a week.”
He holds out his hand. “I’ll help you with that tricky shower.”
I follow him into the bathroom, and he helps me undress. He pulls the shirt over my head and folds it, laying it on the counter next to the sink. “Seth?”
“Let me take care of you,” he says and kneels to remove the socks he gave me, followed by my sweatpants, and my bra and panties, until I’m naked. There’s nothing sexual about the disrobing. It feels reverent somehow. He helps me into the shower, then follows me in, still dressed in his t-shirt and jeans, where he helps me wash my hair, his fingers sliding across my scalp.
“Does that hurt?” he asks.
I shake my head. “It feels wonderful.”
Next, he runs the soap over my body, his touch born of a need to serve me, love me, treat me with tenderness.
But I don’t want him to think I’m broken. I will never be glass-jar Hannah again.
I turn and face him, reaching for the hem of his t-shirt, peeling it from his body to lift it over his head.
“Hannah?”
“It’s my turn.” I pop the button on his jeans and push them over his hips and down his legs, followed by his boxer briefs. He steps from them both.
“But–”
“Seth.”
“Yeah?”
“Shhh. I know what’s okay. For me. Is this okay for you?”
He nods.
I run my hands over his slick skin, “I love you,” I tell him. “I want to find comfort in you. In us.”
He grabs ahold of me, his beautiful, capable hands framing my face as his gaze trips over my features. “I could have lost you.” He gathers me into his arms, and I realize I’m not the one who’s the glass jar at the moment.
“You didn’t. I’m here.”
Our bodies are aligned, perfect puzzle pieces no matter which way we’re arranged.
“I could have lost you,” he says again.
“I’m here.”
Then time stretches and seems to stop. The shower spray, the heat, the feel of Seth in my arms, only he’s holding onto me as if I might melt away. I realize he’s shaking.
“Seth?” I ask.
“My dad has cancer,” he says, the words catching in his throat. He squeezes me tighter.
SETH
I hadn’t intended to tell her. Not just yet, only Hannah’s arms around me and the realization I could have lost her hit me like I’d run headfirst into a wall. I could have lost her. And then the only thing I could think about as she told me, “I’m here” was that my dad has cancer and I need her. As much as I want to hate him and not care because he’s an asshole for what he did, I do care. Hannah’s ordeal has me unsteady and shaken, like marbles in a jar. A few got removed and now what’s left is knocking around inside the container, shaking things loose.
“Oh, Seth,” Hannah says, leaning back. “When did you find out?”
“Today.”
Her eyebrows rise over her eyes.
Today, of all days.
“What can I do?” she asks.
“This,” I say, and fold her back into my arms. “I want to take care of you, though. Right now.”
“It doesn’t work that way.” Her fingers skim across my back. She pulls away and squeezes some shampoo into her hand.
“What? Yes, it does.”
She shakes her head and reaches up to massage the soap into my hair. “You were right.”
“About?” I ask but think about the feel of her hands in my hair. I concentrate on her words.
“Sebastian being between us. Rinse,” she says.
I want to growl at the mention of his name, but instead put my head under the water. Then I say, “I think you’re going to have to elaborate.” I straighten.
She takes a deep breath and runs soap over my body. “Not Sebastian so much as our experiences. Our lives. I wanted to shelter you from the mistakes I made, from my struggles, thinking I had to bring the perfect me into whatever we were starting.”
“I just want you–” And I’m beginning to want her in more physical ways, her hands on my skin taking me away from what we’re talking about.
“Same.” she says, and rinses me, clearly seeing that I’m now aroused. She looks at me, smiles, and grabs a hold of my erection. “I want who you are, all of you. The good stuff, the struggling stuff. The real you. That’s how relationships work, I think. The ones worth having.”
I groan and grab her bruised face with my hands. “Stop.” I smile. “I can’t concentrate on this important discussion with you when you’re touching me like that.”
She smiles, and I’m so, so grateful.
We rinse and get out of the shower, wrap towels around our bodies, and return through the dark hallway into my room, glowing gold in the lamplight. I look for clothes.
“Don’t,” Hannah says, climbing into my bed. “They’re just going to come off anyway. Unless you don’t–”
“I do, but I didn’t think you would probably feel–”
“Rule one,” she says, “never assume how I’ll feel. Ask me.”
“How do you feel?”
“Lots of ways. Angry about Sebastian. Hurt for you. Turned on by my boyfriend standing naked across the room.” She smiles.
I climb into bed with her, smiling and grateful.
Hannah rolls to her back and wraps her legs around me so that I’m cradled between her thighs.
I bend down and kiss her, my hands drifting over her hair, down her face. “I love you.”
Hannah replies with a kiss that’s filled with love but also longing. “I want this,” she says when we break apart. “I want a memory to make today a good day,” she breathes, grabbing my hips. “You. Seth. I want you.”
I join with Hannah, and together we find a way to right the ills of the day, at least for a little while.
After, as sleep looks for me, Hannah says, “Tell me about your dad.”
Dr. B’s wisdom about finding the ability to be vulnerable in the right relationship connects. Hannah’s fingers caressing my skin, reminding me she’s there, help me to share the words. She’s safe. She’s strong. When she needed my strength, I was there. And now when I need hers, she’s here.
I know then, no matter what, we will be okay. Whatever happens. Whether it’s standing beside me while my father faces cancer, or whether it’s because we’re in a fight for a stupid reason like me fearing my anger, or when we’re looking at a setback, we’ll fight. Together. And that’s the way it’s supposed to be. I don’t have to face the complicated feelings I have for my father alone. I don’t have to run from them. She doesn’t have to face her fight against Sebastian alone. Not when we have one another.
Love might be messy. Life might be complicated. But being at home with your person means being all in, the good, the bad, the messy, the ugly, the beautiful. All of it.
I tighten my hold around Hannah, the sound of her breathing evening out, and before exhaustion claims us both, I say, “I love you.”
Her arms tighten around me.