Stripped - By Brenda Rothert Page 0,60
Charlotte.
“I don’t know.”
“Just sit down, guys,” Chris said. “I know this seems weird, but…there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell Abby, and I wimp out every time. I thought if I did it like this, I’d have to go through with it.”
Abby tensed as she sat down on the other side of the couch. It didn’t sound like good news. She realized she’d been right to keep her job at the club, because this could be the end of things with Chris.
“Go ahead, Chris,” Charlotte encouraged. He sighed, rubbing his palms on his thighs.
“Okay. This is tough. I haven’t talked about this in a long time.” He wouldn’t look at either of them, and he seemed to be struggling to find the words he wanted.
“It’s okay,” Abby said, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “Whatever it is, it’s okay. If things aren’t going to work with us, you’re doing the right thing by telling me.”
Chris gave her a small smile.
“It’s not that,” he said. “It’s kind of the opposite of that. Things are going so well that I think you need to know something about me. I’m just gonna say it…I went to private school when we lived in England, and when I was 15, one of my teachers…he molested me. I’m not a wreck about it or anything, but I think it affects the way I see things. Maybe I shouldn’t have had Tim beaten like I did, but I was just so angry about what he did to you and what he could do to the girls.”
“Maybe you were also angry about what happened to you,” Abby said, rubbing his hand. Chris nodded.
“Yeah. And the other thing is, when I went home and told my Mom about it, she said it would be embarrassing to her and my Dad if anyone found out. She told me to never mention it to anyone again, and I haven’t. And now that I’m older and I see how wrong she was, I resent her for it.”
“Of course. That makes complete sense,” Abby said.
“And it pisses me off that you don’t resent your Mom the same way.”
Abby was at a loss for words. She was grateful when Charlotte jumped in.
“Chris, Abby’s feelings about what happened to her, and about her family, are her own.”
“I know. I get that, but I don’t know how to sit by and say nothing as she lets people walk all over her.”
“This isn’t about me, though,” Abby interjected. “It’s about you, and I’m so sorry about what happened to you.”
“I’m past it,” he clipped.
“Are you, though?” Charlotte asked gently. “You’ve always kept everyone who tried to get close to you at arms’ length. A lot of the women you’ve taken out over the years wanted more, but you never did.”
Chris shrugged.
“I want more now, with Abby.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s amazing, Charlotte. You know how I feel about her.”
“I know, and I agree that she’s amazing. But do you think that maybe you see in Abby someone who understands what it feels like to be hurt in the way you were? That maybe you admire her survival because you’ve been through the same thing?”
“I don’t know… Abby’s been through much worse than me.”
“That’s not true, Chris,” Abby said. “Anytime someone violates your trust in them like that, it hurts. And to have your own mother not be in your corner makes it so much worse.”
“Is that how it was for you, Abby?” Charlotte asked.
“Sure. Having my Mom blame me for what happened hurts. Just because I don’t show it doesn’t mean I don’t feel hurt.”
“Then why don’t you stand up for yourself?” Chris demanded, anger seeping into his voice. Abby shook her head with frustration.
“Have you stood up for yourself, to your Mom?” she asked.
“Not in so many words, no. But I will. You’re right, I should, and I will. Maybe it all comes down to that for me, I don’t know. Do I not want to be close to anyone because of what that guy did to me, or because of my Mom not supporting me? I don’t know.”
“Maybe what happened to me has affected me, too, I don’t know,” Abby said.
“It’s affected you a lot,” Chris said. “I can’t think of any other reason someone as amazing as you would have no self-worth.”
“I have self-worth!” Abby protested. “I put my body on display to the whole world. That takes confidence.”
“Confidence is different from self-worth. If you had self-worth, you wouldn’t let yourself be objectified. What if Audrey came