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“What made it rape was that he was a rapist.”
Their faces were pressed so close their lips trembled together. Cornell nodded against her before a sob broke out of his chest, mixing with her cries. But there was a difference from how it had been earlier. This time, they were in sync. The harmony was deep and sorrowful, but it was just a song, just a moment.
There are going to be more moments, he told himself, when he couldn’t say the words aloud. Good moments. Really great fucking moments. The kind they write love stories about.
“I promise,” Cornell told Ali after he found his breath, as his tears continued to mix with hers. “I’ll fight with you.” I’ll be your rock every day of forever. “What’s going to make us stronger is each other.”
* * *
The next few weeks weren’t easy, but what they were was different.
On Mondays and Wednesdays after practice, Cornell would drive Ali to therapy. He would have already offered if Ali hadn’t asked. “I don’t know if I’ll be okay to drive after,” she had told him, and most of the times, she wasn’t. Sometimes the tension in the car was so thick when she came back that he needed to roll the window down to take a breath.
Other days, Ali seemed okay, talkative. After the third session he drove her to, when Ali told him she was hungry, Cornell couldn’t find a restaurant fast enough, overjoyed that he could do something, especially feed her.
But regardless of how Ali felt immediately after therapy sessions, the next day, Cornell could see a lightness in her—on her face, in the way she moved. She began to sleep better, making it through until the alarm went off and not two or three hours before.
The dreams—the nightmares—didn’t leave her. But with Linda’s advice, if they woke her, Ali could get out of bed, have a glass of water, and write them down. And Cornell made it clear—she could always wake him up, but only one time did she nudge him. “Just hug me,” Ali whispered into his chest. And Cornell did, and they both fell asleep, waking to the alarm hours later in the same position.
Intimacy hadn’t returned between them, but neither Cornell nor Ali mentioned it. But that too was different. Now, there didn’t seem to be as much missing between them as before, and even though an important part still was, it was more important to Cornell that he figure out how to support Ali in a healthy way. So he did that with gentle touches, kisses, and hugs. Their relationship had reversed, from fast and furious, to slow and steady.
But life together forever is a marathon, not a sprint, he reminded himself.
Cornell looked down at his desk when his phone buzzed beside his keyboard and picked it up to read a text from Benton.
Just checking in. Going to send a link of resources you might find helpful.
Waiting for the next message to come through, he opened the link to a website called Therapy Resources for Family of Sexual Assault Survivors and promptly closed it.
He didn’t respond to Benton’s text and didn’t open the web page again. Don’t need it, he thought, looking back at his monitor. What he needed was to keep Ali happy and there in the moment with him. Cornell nodded to himself. I’m leaving the bad shit in the past where it belongs.
And that was what Cornell was doing in his office when he should have been calling back recruiters, slowly building a list of everything they could do together. Tulum, he decided, dreaming of a sandy beach where they could spend lazy days in lounge chairs taking in the crisp, blue water.
“Hey,” Julian said, knocking on Cornell’s door. “Are you busy, Coach?”
Cornell looked up from his computer. “What’s up?”
Julian nervously bounced, eyeing his watch. “I’ve got a chemistry lab in three minutes.”
“Then why are you in my office?”
“Joyce, my girlfriend, she’s got a job interview. And her mom has the flu.”
Cornell furrowed his brow. “I hope Joyce gets the job and her mom feels— Woah, woah, hold up. Wait a second,” Cornell exclaimed, standing with his hands up when Julian lifted the car seat.
“An hour and a half, Coach, please,” Julian said, placing the car seat with a sleeping Andre next to the couch. Mowgli lifted his head in confusion. “Andre will sleep most of the time. If he’s up in an hour, there’s a bottle in there.” He placed a small bag on the couch. “Diapers, wipes—”
“Oh, hell no.”
“Please—”
“Julian, you know I don’t have kids, right?”
“Coach, please.” He looked down at his watch. “The lab… ”
Cornell groaned. “Fine, go.”
“I owe ya,” Julian said as he turned and sprinted.
