Beneath This Man

‘Here, have some gum.’ Kate shoves a stick in my mouth.

I’m now weighing up the merits of alcohol. Would I have preferred to find him drunk? Yes, without a doubt, I would have faced that merciful creature rather than witness him being beaten. He really is self-destructive. Grief turns into anger as I consider his reactions to a few bruises on my backside when I took a trip in Margo senior, and his face when he clocked my bruised arm after my run-in with Mr Baldy Jag – how over-the-top he was.

Before I have a chance to declare my intentions of tracking Jesse down and demanding some answers, he comes barging back into the toilets in a blind panic. I notice his eyes have cleared of the glaze as they land on me, his chest damp, his dirty blonde hair dark with sweat. I can feel Kate’s eyes passing between us as she assesses the situation.

He starts towards me and I make no attempt to stop him from doing what I know he’s going to do. He leans down, scoops me up into his arms and strides out of the toilets towards his office. He keeps his line of sight firmly forward as he walks with purpose, back through the summer room under the watchful eyes of some members, who are still floating around soaking up the spectacle. I’m aware of whispers and pointing as tears invade my eyes and start trailing down my cheeks. I’m in absolute agony, I feel sick to the stomach and my heart feels like it’s been sliced straight down the centre.

He kicks the door of his office shut and walks straight to the couch, lowering himself down on a wince. My stomach turns. His arms immerse me and his head falls straight into my neck. He is silent, holding me as close as he can get me, while I try and control myself, try to prevent the shakes that are attacking my body, but it’s not a battle I can win. My beautiful man has deep issues and just when I thought I was figuring him out, I’m hit with the worst kind of wake up call. I don’t know him at all and I certainly don’t understand him.

‘Please don’t cry.’ His muffled voice reaches my ringing ears. ‘It kills me.’

‘Why?’ I ask. It’s the only thing I can think to ask. It’s all I want to know. Why would he do this to himself?

‘I promised you I wouldn’t have a drink.’

What?

He got himself beaten rather than have a drink because he promised me he wouldn’t? Just when I thought I couldn’t be more stunned. ‘You wanted a drink?’

‘I wanted to block it out.’

‘Look at me.’ I demand, but he makes no attempt to lift his head from its secluded location. ‘Damn it, Jesse, look at me!’ I wriggle to try and get a grip of his head and pull it up, but he hisses in pain and I still immediately. ‘Three.’ I say calmly. I can’t believe I’m giving him the countdown, but I don’t know what else to do. I feel him tense under me, but he still doesn’t look. ‘Two.’

‘What happens on zero?’ he asks quietly.

‘I leave.’ I say calmly.

His head flies up and I whimper at the sight of him, his green eyes clouded, pain spilling out of them, his chin trembling. He gazes straight into my eyes. They are pleading silently to me. ‘Please, don’t.’

Any ounce of strength that was keeping me marginally together is shredded at the sight and sound of him. I fall apart completely as I clasp his face in my hands and put my lips on him, but I’m not close enough. I gingerly shift so that I’m astride his lap, and then pull him as close as I can get him, without hurting him. ‘Tell me what you were blocking out.’

‘Hurting you.’

‘I don’t understand.’ I’m beyond confused. Doesn’t he think that this is hurting me? ‘I would rather you had a drink.’

‘You wouldn’t.’ He says it on a slight laugh that sends a nervous twinge through me.

I pull back and search his eyes out. ‘I would rather face you with half a vodka distillery inside you than see what I just saw.’

He drops his head in shame. ‘Trust me Ava, you wouldn’t.’

‘Yes, I would.’ I affirm. There is no contest. ‘And trust you? Jesse, I feel sick with betrayal.’ I’ve not even thought about what I’m going to do to Sarah when I get my hands on her. A trample won’t cover it. She has marked my neurotic God and the more all of this sinks in, the angrier I’m getting.

I lift myself from his lap and bat him away when he tries to grasp me. ‘I’m not leaving.’ I say a bit too harshly. His panicked expression has me even madder.

I start pacing around his office, tapping my nail on my front tooth under the tense, anxious eyes of my challenging man, who just keeps delivering on f**king challenges. I’m struggling here. That was some serious sadistic shit. God, I thrashed a belt at him on the launch night of Lusso.

I lower myself to the sofa opposite him and rest my aching head in my palms. I can hear him repeatedly drawing breath, as if he wants to say something. I exhale wearily and massage my temples. ‘Is there anything else I need to know?’

‘Like what?’ he asks guardedly. I don’t appreciate it and how the hell would I know what? He’s knocked me for six with this place, his drinking, and now willingly being whipped. What else could there possibly be that could shock or anger me more than this?

‘I don’t know, you tell me. You said no more secrets, Jesse.’ I throw my arms up in annoyance. I want to comfort him desperately. Keeping myself away from him is hurting almost as much as bearing witness to his beating. ‘Why would I prefer this to drunken Jesse?’

He leans forward delicately on a clenched jaw, resting his elbows on his knees, rubbing his temples thoughtfully. ‘Drink and sex go hand in hand for me.’