She told me ten years ago the most painful part wasn't any of the abuse
It was the lack of remorse on his face when she told him
I made up my mind right then and there I was gonna save her
A hero
Ten years later we're sitting on the couch
It's late
She's telling me slowly
Cautiously
About how I smiled at her and the caustic ghost of his face flashed across my features
I knew there was trauma. I didn't know it was me.
She tells me she's still terrified of the outcome
What happens after I tell you all this?
You could take it and go
She doesn't say it, but we both know it: her fear is based on actual behavior that I flaunted in her face while she tried to tell me she was drowning.
I was too busy being the hero
If we were meant to bear the weight of another's pain on superhuman strength alone we'd all be bodybuilders from day one
I couldn't even start to see her until I started seeing my starving, depraved self.
"Why are you torturing me?!?"
The body keeps score
I flamed out on trying to save the world and settled in to loving myself
That's when I started to see her
I didn't need a quick shot of connection to get me through a day of handshakes and fake smiles anymore
I was just there. Around.
She was just there. Forgotten
By the man who promised her the stars
And as we sat on the couch and she bared her darkest secrets my heart broke
I remembered ten years ago when she told me the most painful part of pain was lack of acknowledgement
And in a blazing moment of clarity ten years were visible in ten seconds
Like it was all connected by a thread that I held on either end
Unwittingly--because that is the only way it is possible--I took up the mantle of her abuser
I wore it thinking it was something else: a crown or a robe or a tailored suit
I became the perpetrator
I compounded the abuse
I wronged her
Deeply
It was the only way my young, arrogant self was able to feel true remorse ten years later and wear it on my face for her in place of someone who should've but didn't.
The only time you're a hero is when you're not trying to be one, and God loves us too much to let us get away with just being really good actors
I felt righteous. I lived righteous. I loved righteous. I wore righteous all over myself like if I didn't I would crumple up and die
And then the curtain fell. There was no applause. No audience at all.
Just her. On our couch. Wondering if she could actually be vulnerable this time.
