Taking Connor

“So you’re telling me that you . . . YOU,” Lexi points in emphasis, “know more about Blake than his wife did?” It’s not hard to hear the anger in Lexi’s voice.

“No,” Roxy says, firmly, looking Lexi square in the eyes. “But I do know this one thing about him that apparently Demi doesn’t.”

“So when was he abused?” Lexi continues, attitude still full throttle.

“When he was eleven. After his second open-heart surgery. It was a man his aunt, Co

My heart squeezes. I know Blake and Co

“He was still recovering at home . . . still on pain meds. Guy named Richard Malone,” she pauses and looks at me as if waiting for me to say or show some recognition of the name, but the name means nothing to me.

“Do you know anything about who Co

I flick an embarrassed glance at Lexi. I should know this. I should know all of this. Blake was my husband, and this woman knows his deepest and darkest secret, not me—his wife. So not only have I been in the dark about my husband, she knows more about Co

“No.” It’s a simple answer, however ridiculous it is.

“Co

I can’t even swallow down the knot in my throat it’s so big. The tears won’t stop either. My poor, beautiful husband. Is this really true? How could he have never told me? How could he tell Roxy and not me?

“Co

“Why?”

Roxy looks at me, pity rich in her gaze and a little part of me hates her for it. She feels sorry for me because I don’t understand. “You’ll have to ask Co

“So this Malone never went to prison?”

“That’s who Co

I’m devastated by this news, these dark revelations. But a new found pride and admiration grows inside of me for Co

“So you met Blake through this group?” Lexi asks after a long pause, where clearly no one knew what to say. I’m in shock, and I think Roxy has now decided to watch what she does or doesn’t say.

“Thirteen years ago,” Roxy explains. “Prom night,” she snorts, disdain tinting the sound. “I thought I was hot shit because the quarterback asked me out. Wasn’t so hot when he and two other players raped me.”

How does one respond to this? Saying sorry doesn’t seem like enough. I’d hug her if I could reach her from across the table. But Roxy doesn’t wait for me to respond.

“I never told anyone except my best friend, Miranda. For years, I walked around not wanting to look pretty. I wore sweats and got a job as a day shift waitress. One night, I don’t know why, Miranda picked me up telling me we were going to a movie. We ended up at the support group. She told me she was tired of watching me hide from my life. I was against it, but after she had refused to drive me home unless I went in, so I gave up.” She pauses and sips her coffee. “Listening to other people’s stories, what they went through, made me feel not so alone. I noticed Blake, even though he always led the group, never spoke. He never told his story. After a meeting one night, he asked me to stay and asked why I hadn’t told my story. I told him I wasn’t ready to share it with the group yet. I just wasn’t.

“What if you shared it with me? Right now?” he’d asked.

“If you share yours first,” I’d responded.

“That night we stayed two hours late, and he shared his horrible experience, then I shared mine,” Roxy states. “That night, your husband saved my life.”

Lexi finds my hand under the table and squeezes my leg. I find pride in Blake, helping this woman, but there’s hurt there, too. Why was it he could share this with her, but not me, his wife?

“The last time he saw me,” Roxy says, quietly, “he gave me Co

She’s right. I didn’t, which I find odd because Roxy is the kind of woman that stands out in a room. She’s too beautiful not to be recognized. But I was an emotional wreck, and I guess she slipped under my radar.

“I know . . .” she hesitates. “I know you may feel hurt that Blake didn’t share this with you. Rape and molestation are hard, and there’s a shame that buries itself inside of you. It never really leaves,” she explains with a sigh as she wipes under her eyes. “You feel . . . dirty, tainted. Unworthy. Of course, I know feeling those things are ridiculous. I’m not those things, but I still feel it, and I have to fight that negative thinking on a daily basis. I think Blake liked that you saw the good. Maybe your love fought all of those feelings inside of him. Maybe he was afraid if he told you it would somehow change or dim that. All I know is, Demi,” she pauses with a smile, “he loved you so much. I remember when he told me he’d been on a date with this amazing girl. You made him very happy.”

Lexi squeezes my leg under the table again, and when I look at her, she smiles sadly. I have no idea what to say or how to feel about these revelations. I need time to process it all. And quite a few questions are swirling through my mind, but frankly, Roxy can’t answer them. They’re all questions for Blake. And Blake can’t answer them either.

“What did Co

“We were supposed to meet. He called to tell me he couldn’t make it. When I asked why, he said he’d been arrested. Then he hung up.”

It’s so sad that it makes me feel a little better that he cut her off too. I know how pathetic I am for feeling that way. “So how’d you find out about the bail hearing?”

“A friend of mine works admin for the Sheriff’s department. I called her, and she got me the details. I came by your house first, but you weren’t home.”

“And you told Jim Burgess about the support group?”

“Yes,” she admits, with a nod. “I don’t think Co

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “He won’t tell me what Co

Reaching across the table, Roxy takes my hand and squeezes. “If there is anything I can do to help, please let me know. Co

Lexi tosses a twenty on the table and slides out of the booth. “We need to go Demi,” she says. “You need a shower, and we need to be ready when Jim calls and says Co

Looking to Roxy, who is still holding my hand, I say, “Thank you for telling me . . . everything.”