Shadowman (Alabaster Penitentiary Book 5), page 3
“It is.” My mind reflects to a few months ago, when I first met Alice. “She said that she was using ‘they/them’ in the early stages of her transition, but that she’s always wanted ‘she.’ I’m happy to give her whatever makes her feel happy and respected.”
He stares at me for a moment before asserting, “This relationship is clearly growing more serious for you, Trevel.” Uh-huh… and? “It’s interesting to me that you have no problem accepting Alice and supporting her emotionally, but when it comes to opening up yourself, you’re afraid she won’t accept you.”
My head tips back and I stare at the ceiling. “That’s not the same thing.”
“I believe it is.” The gruffness in his voice causes my chin to drop, our eyes meeting once more. “This is a part of you, Trevel. This is who you are. If you ever want to move forward in your personal relationships, you’ll need to let people see the real you.”
My stomach twists into a knot as I blink at him. “What if she hates it? What if she… runs screaming?”
Honestly, who wouldn’t?
He gives me a bit of a patronizing look that reminds me of Riverwoods. White walls, fluorescent lights, little paper cups full of pills and the gurneys with the straps… “If someone isn’t willing to accept you for who you are, then they’re not the right person for you.”
Sighing harshly, I rub my eyes. We’ve been having this conversation for nearly a year, since I left Riverwoods—the psychiatric facility I’d been confined to following… my crimes.
Dr. Lemuel Love, PhD, has been my doctor for long enough to know pretty much everything there is to know about me. He knows all about what I’ve done, what I’ve experienced, and who I am as a result of those things.
He knows exactly how fucked up I am; how broken and jaded inside. And he’s also seen how far I’ve come. From lashing out in the early days at Riverwoods—screaming and crying and throwing fits—to existing as a productive member of society. More or less.
I have a job that I enjoy, a small apartment here in downtown Atlanta that’s more than enough for just me, and a few acquaintances, though more often than not, I choose to spend time alone. That is, until Alice.
Part of me thinks I liked Alice more before we started dating. Another part of me thinks that’s an excuse.
Because of how well Dr. Love knows me, he’s more than aware of how much stock I put into finding love. Then again, that’s also the most obvious thing about me. I never had love growing up, so I search desperately for it now as an adult.
It’s so axiomatic, it borders on cliché.
The difficult part comes with the idea of a real relationship. Something more than just the superficial. It’s human nature to hide our faults in order to get people to like us… But to Dr. Love’s point, is that sustainable?
Do I really want a relationship with someone I have to hide things from? Would my partner want that?
I think we all know the answer to these questions, which is why my doctor won’t let it go. But still… when I consider the darkness that lurks in the corners of my mind…
Scream.
Thud.
Pain.
Slap slap slap.
Tears.
Slice.
Twist, drag.
Blood. Everywhere.
“In all honesty, this could be the reason you’re hesitating so much when it comes to getting physical with Alice,” he goes on, yanking me, almost brutally, out of the depths of my thoughts. “You feel like you’re being dishonest.”
I swallow thickly. “I’ve had physical relationships with people since Riverwoods…” My voice trails, though I don’t mean for it to. So I roll my eyes to seem extra adamant. “It’s not like I tell people I meet on Tinder about all my issues before sleeping with them.”
“Those relationships are strictly physical,” he counters. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but with Alice, it’s different, is it not?” When are you ever wrong, Dr. Genius? I nod hesitantly. “You’ve been invested in making this relationship work for weeks, despite not having been physical yet.”
Petulantly, I pout. “We’ve done some things…”
“And in showing your support for Alice with her struggles,” he goes on, ignoring my stubborn little comment, “comforting her through her family troubles, being an ear and a shoulder for her, you’ve aided in her bringing down her walls.” He stares at me for a moment before murmuring, “What about yours?”
Fucking hell… The bloke is good.
Sometimes I resent it. How he’s able to make the things I grapple with seem so cut-and-dry. But then I remember that he has my best interests at heart. He’s been the only one on my side for years…
He’s the only one who knows the real me.
Maybe I like that fact…
In lieu of accidentally blurting this out, or making some face that allows him to read me, I look down at my hands, wringing them in my lap. “I suppose I could… speak to her about it.”
Dr. Love nods in agreement. “But just so we’re clear, Trevel, in no way do I think you need to tell Alice about your past, your condition, or your fears in order to get physical with her. I don’t believe you owe her anything, especially if she’s as eager to be physical as you’ve said.” I release a breath and nod, relieved. “That said, I do believe you owe it to yourself. Something is holding you back. Fear of hurting her is only the surface of it.”
My head is swirling with his words. All of these thoughts that make me question myself…
Who am I?
What does it all mean?
Will I ever move on?? Or has this tortured madness been baked into me too deep?
Dr. Love taps his pen against his full bottom lip.
“Maybe I’ll tell Alice I prefer to go to bed alone,” I croak, watching his mouth. “So that if we do… something… I won’t be worried about wigging out on her in my sleep.”
“Sure.” Dr. Love nods. “Just find a way to word it that doesn’t make it sound like you’re kicking her out after sex.” His mouth pulls the faintest of smirks.
But still, it’s there. And it’s breathtaking.
A small laugh puffs out of me, my chest all warm and fuzzy as he glances at the wall behind me.
“We’re out of time for today.” He slaps his notebook shut.
Standing, I ignore the familiar sting in my chest I tend to feel when our sessions are over. It’s entirely nonsensical, anyway. “Cracking, as always. See you next week?”
Dr. Love stares at me for a moment, something peculiar flashing in his striking amber eyes. But it’s gone in a blink as he nods. “It’s a date.”
Those three words are on my mind for the rest of the evening.
All throughout the ten-minute walk to my favorite sushi spot, the fifteen minutes that I wait for my food to be prepared, then the five-minute walk to my apartment. The whole time I’m enjoying my eel and sweet potato roll while watching What We Do In The Shadows, chuckling at the hijinks of Laszlo, Nandor, and Colin Robinson. While I’m relaxing on my chaise lounge, adjacent to my bed because I live in a studio, writing and thinking. When I begin to yawn and decide it’s time for sleep. During the entirety of my nighttime routine, and even when I climb into bed…
They’re in my brain. Flickering like the flame of a candle I refuse to blow out. Three words, out of the whole lot, hold me captive.
It’s a date.
My weekend kicks off like any other. I work a full day on Saturday, texting with Alice here and there.
Weekends are always busy at Zen—the yoga studio and relaxation spa where I work. I’ve been a yoga instructor here for about nine months. I was surprised when they hired me, being that the only experience I had was leading our yoga class at Riverwoods. But they gave me a chance, and I’m grateful. Even more so that they promoted me a couple of months ago to part-time masseur, because massage therapists certainly make more than yoga instructors, what with the tips and all.
I’d taken a few massage classes to pass the time, so I decided to throw my hat into the ring as a sort of fill-in, in case someone called out sick. A week later, they were giving me clients and allowing me to bring in my own.
The money is good, and I enjoy what I do, but the city is expensive. Outside of Zen, I tend to pick up odd jobs here and there for extra cash. Tomorrow, I’m walking dogs, next weekend I’m house-sitting for a woman in my building, and in two weeks, I have a gig filling in as a teacher for a poetry writing workshop at the local community center.
None of these things pay in private islands, but I’m sure if I keep flitting around, using my skills and my charms wherever I can, I’ll find enough work to support myself. I’ve been doing it my whole life…
Finding ways to get by. Surviving.
By the end of my Bikram class Saturday evening, I’ve agreed to meet Alice for dinner at some Korean barbecue place she’s been dying to try. Scuttling my way back home, I’m showered, dressed, and ready for a date in under an hour.
Inside the restaurant, I spot her right away, sitting at the bar. She’s wearing a red dress that looks great with her tanned complexion and heels that accentuate her long legs, dirty blonde hair blown out and flowing like a sumptuous mane.
She’s stunning, and honestly, I often find it hard to understand why she’s chosen to date me… After all, we’re very different people.
Alice is from Colombia. She moved to the States with her twin brother, Andres, when they were children, after their parents died tragically. Apparently, they had family here, but they weren’t very accepting of Alice, being that she’s known she was transgender since she was young. She had to quit school to get a job to support herself after moving out on her own. But as soon as she was able, she got her GED, put herself through cosmetology school, and even began studying to become a social worker.
Despite her complicated upbringing, Alice Alvarez is a force. She doesn’t let things get her down. In fact, she manages to rise above pretty much everything the world throws her way.
Simply put, she slays.
And that’s not to say I’ve let life beat me down, because I, too, had a complicated upbringing. Not that it’s a contest, but I think I’ve had the most fucked-up life of anyone I know, including Alice. The shit I’ve been through brought me to where I am today, and all things considered, I think I’m doing great. But I wouldn’t say I’m crushing it, like Alice is.
She inspires me. Dr. Love is right… I want this relationship to work out, because Alice Alvarez is the most brilliant person I’ve ever met.
Unfortunately for me, I’m not certain I have what it takes to hold on to her.
She’s way too good for me.
“Why hello, beautiful stranger,” Alice croons to me as I step up to her side, kissing her cheek.
“Hello, angel.” I grin back. “You look lovely, as always.”
She smirks, showing off the little diamond studs in her dimples. “I ordered you a fancy drink, but you took too long, so I drank it.” She gestures to the empty glasses.
I chuckle, then tease, “You know I have to be fashionably late. If I can’t make a grand entrance, what’s the point in showing up at all?”
Giggling, she tosses her hair over her shoulder. “So you’re just never going to get a car?”
I shrug casually. “Why do I need a car? I have perfectly functional legs.”
“Or you’re afraid to learn to drive…” she mutters, grinning.
I slap my hand over her mouth. “That’s enough out of you.”
She’s laughing beneath my palm, shoving me off of her. “Ugh! Lipstick, you cretin!”
“Sorry, sorry.” I assess her mouth. “Still perfect.”
She hops off of her seat, taking me by the arm as we follow a hostess to our table. Peeking down at Alice, I can’t help remembering how we met…
How I followed her around for a good three weeks before she finally noticed me and asked me out.
My personal belief is that she finds odd behavior charming. It’s something that happens a lot. People are too trusting. If I met myself, I’d be rather wary of me.
Even so, I’m glad that Alice wasn’t creeped out or repulsed by the lurking emo giant who kept popping up everywhere she was. So far, she’s shown it to be the opposite. I think she wants to be much closer than we are, and I’m the one always putting on the brakes.
“Going into any relationship, after what’s happened to you, and what you’ve done, will be extremely difficult… There’s no real way to know if your nightmares will manifest themselves into a reality…”
Dr. Love’s words ring in my brain as I sit down to a nice meal with Alice. My girlfriend…?
Granted, we’ve only been dating a few weeks and have had no conversations about exclusivity. I know I’m not seeing anyone else right now, but I wouldn’t expect her to tie herself down to me. Especially when I feel as though I’m only giving her little bits of myself.
“So Andres has been badgering me again,” Alice tells me while we pick at some appetizers.
“For what?”
“Money, I think.” She licks some sauce off of her fingertip. “I mean, he didn’t say it outright, but I can tell something’s off with him.”
I peer at her. “You think he’s using again?”
Alice shrugs; her attempt at seeming unaffected. But I can tell the idea of her twin brother falling back into old habits hurts her greatly. “I know I’m not supposed to enable him, but it’s hard. He’s all I have, you know?”
I nod, though I have zero experience with how it feels to watch a family member struggling. I have no family, no one close enough to even be considered family adjacent.
On the other side of that, when I struggled in the past with my own issues, I had no one to turn to for help. It was just me and the streets of Manhattan…
In that spirit, I give her all I have to offer on the subject. “If I’d had a sister like you, my life might have ended up very different…” It comes out wistful and reminiscent, because now I’m actually wondering what would’ve happened if someone had been around for me to lean on back then.
Alice slides her hand over mine on the table. I glance down at it, admiring her fingers, slender with perfectly manicured nails painted shimmery black. Her skin color is a contrast to mine because of how pale I am, though we both have tattoos. I like the way our hands look together.
Lifting my eyes to hers, I find her watching me closely. It’s worrying. I have absolutely no idea what she sees when she’s looking at me.
I feel like I’m constantly on edge, wondering if being with Alice is the right thing, for her.
I know it’s right for me, because I care about her greatly, and I want nothing more than to be a permanent fixture in her life. But I just can’t rid myself of the constant fear that simply being with me is going to cause her harm.
Why, though?? I don’t think I would hurt her… I’d certainly never intend to.
“It might not be your choice, mate,” the voice rumbles in my brain, and I close my eyes briefly, ignoring it.
Go away. Not now.
“Is everything alright?” Alice asks, and I blink at her, swallowing.
“Mhm.” I force a grin. “Perfect now.”
She smiles as I lift her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss on her butterfly tattoo.
“Tell me about your day, angel.”
It’s Monday at three, and I’m back at the office of Dr. Lemuel Love, PhD.
I arrived early and wound up pacing outside his building for twenty minutes. I wish I could say this was the first time it’s happened, but it’s not. I look forward to my sessions with Dr. Love, so much so that sometimes it’s all I can think about leading up to my appointment.
I hate to say it, but I rely on him. For comfort, solace, support, and insight. Ever since Riverwoods, when he would show up twice a week and sit in the therapy office with me, in the common area, or even in my room—if it was one of those times I was going nuts and requiring constant supervision.
The staff would advise him against coming in with me, but he’d do it anyway. He isn’t afraid of killers, that’s for sure. No one’s going to tell Lemuel Love who he can and can’t sit near.
Over the years, he’s become my constant. And cards on the table, I do happen to find him unbearably beautiful.
I mean, how could you not?? He’s stunning, masculine perfection with just the right amount of detachment; that bored, slightly cold and grumbly persona calling to anyone with Daddy issues like a bloody siren song.
But more than anything, I love that he knows everything about me and is still here. It almost seems as if he cherishes me. Strictly as a patient, but still. I think he does. I think working with me gives him some satisfaction, and that causes me bunches of complicated feelings I refuse to ever disclose to him.
Knee bouncing rapidly while I wait impatiently, I check the clock on the wall.
Hm… It’s five minutes past three. That’s odd. Dr. Love is never late. For anything.
Squirming in my seat, I think back to the other night, with Alice…
After dinner, she insisted on driving me home, even though the restaurant was less than a ten-minute walk. I was nervous that it was just an excuse for her to come up, and naturally, it was.
When the goodnight kiss started fogging up her car windows, I reluctantly invited her upstairs. My nerves were at the forefront of my mind, but I also hadn’t gotten laid in, like, a month, so I was trying not to overthink it.
Calm down, I kept telling myself. This is what you both want.
“Are we still taking things slow?” Alice asked, pushing me backward on my bed.
No, my dick said, loudly. Fast fast fast.
“Um…” was all I could get out before her mouth was mauling mine.
Clothes started coming off, and my worried thoughts were fading away. It was fine. We were going to have sex, and I was sure it would be amazing. Surely, if I could manage it without hurting the random Tinder hookups, then I could pull it off with Alice.
She’s perfect.
With my dick in her mouth, I was in an instant daze. This was happening. I was going to fuck her, and then… we would be a couple. We’d be in a real relationship…
