Page 24 of The Star in Room 7

I’m pretty sure I’d climb into his lap if he’d let me. No one has ever made me feel this protected before. I want to let my guard down with him, really I do, but it’s so hard. I’ve spent so long manufacturing a tough-guy image that being vulnerable has become alien to me.

“Would it be easier if you pretend you’re acting,” he asks.

“What?”

“Imagine you’re playing a role and reading lines from a script written by someone else. This is someone else’s story. Someone else’s truth. You’re just the actor bringing the monologue to life. You can do that, can’t you?”

“I—” Can I? Would that even work? It’s worth a try, I guess. I close my eyes. Distance myself from it. Pretend it’s someone else’s story. “I’d been waiting tables from opening at eleven until eight. I got home and noticed the lights were on and music was playing, but I figured I must have just left them on that morning. Or maybe there had been a power cut, and things had been set off when the power came back on.” I try not to feel. This happened to someone else. Not me. I’m playing a role. Zach Taylor is just a character. “I wasn’t worried at all.”

Anger rises within me again. I should have been worried. I shouldn’t have gone into my apartment at all. I should have done everything differently. I could have knocked on a neighbor’s door and asked them to check the apartment with me, gone to my landlord, who lives on the same block, or called the police.

“Breathe,” Nate says.

I take a few deep breaths until I’ve calmed down.

“You went into your apartment,” he prompts.

“Yes.”

“What did you find?”

“Her.”

“What was she doing?”

“Sitting at my kitchen table. She’d cooked a meal for us. She’d scattered rose petals all over the floor, leading to my bedroom. The air stank of her perfume. She berated me for being late. Said I’d almost ruined dinner, and how could I do that to her? Wasn’t it bad enough that I’d cheated on her with Stacey?” I squeeze my eyes shut. “No. Not Stacey. Melody. She specifically said Melody.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing, at first. I was too stunned. How had she got into my apartment? I couldn’t see any obvious signs of a break-in. The door had been locked. She just kept talking. Going on and on about how ungrateful I was and how much trouble she’d gone to. She’d tried to make the evening special, and I was late. There was just something about the way she spoke. Her voice. I don’t know. She scared me. Why did she scare me?”

Nate doesn’t answer. I guess he can’t. He wasn’t there. I can’t describe the way she made me feel. Even thinking about it leaves me cold inside.

“There were knives out on the side. The ones she’d used to cook with. I just kept thinking, what if I say the wrong thing? What if I make her angry? What if she goes for a knife? Umm…” I’m shaking, but Nate holds me. “My phone. My phone was in my pocket. It has this feature where if you rapidly press the side button five times, it automatically calls the emergency services without making a sound. I did that. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You did the right thing.”

“She got angry because I wasn’t saying anything. But when I did, to try to make her happy and keep her calm, she screamed at me because of my accent.”

“She was expecting you to sound like your character?”

“Yes. And I should have known that. I should have—” I press my face against his chest and curl against him, needing to feel safe. “I tried placating her. I switched accents, but I was kind of rusty. On set, I worked with a dialect coach. While I was filming, I could flip back and forth between the two without really thinking about it, but we wrapped up filming months ago, and I haven’t used a Californian accent since.” Why am I telling him this? It’s not important. “I kept talking. Played along with her. I didn’t know what else to do. Then she laughed.” My face twists on the word. “She called me silly. Told me she could never really be mad at me and that we should kiss and make up. And I had to… I had to let her… I had to play along. It was just a hug. Just a kiss… But it felt so wrong. Like a… A… Violation. But it was just a kiss. It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing, Zach. It was unwanted and forced upon you. It felt like a violation because it was one. I’m sorry this happened to you.”

“The police arrived right after. She screamed at me for calling them. Told me to make them go away.”

“But you didn’t?”

I shake my head. “I couldn’t say a word. They must have heard her shouting or something, because they took one look at me and marched into the apartment. She ranted and raved at them to go. Told them it was none of their business. That I was her boyfriend and we were just having a lovers’ tiff.”

“They didn’t believe her?”

“No. Thank God. They arrested her. After they’d taken her away… I couldn’t… I couldn’t even go into my bedroom. I didn’t want to know what she’d done in there. The thought of staying in the apartment… I just couldn’t. It smelled of her. Her perfume was everywhere. Even on me.” I disentangle myself from his embrace, stand, and retreat to the other side of the conservatory. “I hate feeling this way.”

“How do you feel?”

“Powerless. I should have been able to do something, but I just played along.”