This is the twenty-second part in a series, so if you have not already done so, you might want to read Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part XIV, Part XV, Part XVI, Part XVII, Part XVIII, Part XIX, Part XX, and Part XXI before continuing.
Once my mom had agreed to be my backup, it was time to put my plan into action.
The next time Owen and I got together for movie night, I suggested Forrest Gump before he had a chance to suggest anything else. He readily agreed and I got ready for the performance of a lifetime. And, no, I don’t mean Tom Hanks, or even Robin Wright. I meant my own performance. But I knew that, if I could just be convincing for this one conversation, the rest of our relationship would be a cakewalk. All I would need would be to hint at my trauma when I needed some sympathy, and voila! This stable genius would become a traumatized victim of abuse who needs her boyfriend to protect her from the big, bad, world.
The trick would be reacting to the appropriate scenes in a way that Owen would notice without being too obvious.
We were cuddling on my bed and he had his arm around me, so all I had to do was tense up when we first got hints of Jenny’s home life.
“You, OK?” asked Owen.
I nodded a little too vigorously and just said, “Mm hmm.”
“You sure?”
I crossed my arms and folded in on myself, as though trying to protect myself from something. “I just forgot that this stuff was in here. It’s been a really long time since I’ve seen this movie. Do you think we could skip this part?”
“Of course.” He held down the fast-forward button until it got to the next scene, but I saw him sneaking glances at me throughout the rest of the movie.
Perfect.
When the movie ended, I reclaimed my laptop, which had been balanced on both our laps so we could watch the movie. I closed out of the browser a little more quickly than was strictly necessary, saying, “I had forgotten Jenny’s life was so sad. And as soon as she gets her happily ever after she dies. It’s like she’s not allowed to be happy.”
“That really bothers you, huh?”
“I guess. Like I said, I had forgotten about a lot of it, so it kind of took me by surprise. It had been so long since I had seen it that it was kind of like seeing it for the first time and it just hit me.” I put a slight emphasis on the word “hit” and then pressed my lips together, staring at the screen as though trying to manage some tough emotions.
Owen put a hand on my knee. “You sure you’re OK?”
I nodded.
“Because you don’t seem OK.”
“I’m fine,” I said, making sure to use the falsely light tone that clearly says, I am not fine.
“You know you can tell me, right?”
“Tell you what?”
“Whatever’s really bothering you.”
I avoided his gaze for a minute before taking a deep breath and saying, “I guess Jenny’s life when they were growing up reminded me a little too much of when I was a kid.”
I waited another few beats and Owen filled the silence by saying, “You never talk about your dad.”
“Yeah, well, there’s a reason for that.”
This time he was the one who waited a few beats before saying, “You said he’s not a very nice man.”
I kept my gaze downward as I nodded, lips still pressed firmly together.
Owen gave up. He reached behind me, rubbed my back with one hand, and kissed me gently on the forehead. Then he worked his kisses down to my mouth and, well, then I didn’t have to pretend anymore.
As we lay in bed afterward, I wondered if that had been enough. I didn’t want to press the issue, but would merely hinting at abuse be enough? Could it really be that easy?
To be continued…