Chapter Text
For a moment Anya was afraid she had pushed Brodi too hard. She had asked a very personal question about a very painful event in his life, and had just insisted on an answer. In a way, she felt she had a right to know—she had bared her soul for him and felt she should be awarded the same level of trust. But, on a deeper level, she knew she had trusted him willingly and needed to afford him the same chance. He offered friendship without conditions—she couldn't place conditions on him.
As the silence lengthened into an uncomfortable stretch, she relented and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Brodi, I'm sorry," she began tentatively. When he kept staring at the floor, she continued. "I had no right to say something like that, and it wasn't meant to be hurtful."
He finally looked up at her and smiled. "It's OK. I know what you meant."
"I am so sorry, sweetie. I…"
"Anya, it's OK. I'll answer you. You just caught me off guard. I wasn't aware that I was throwing off signals."
"Not so much that as the way you've been with me. You knew to make me promise to meet you. You've been careful about touching me. Hell, you were even careful not to place yourself between me and the door…yes, I noticed. So you're either the kindest, most thoughtful and considerate man in the world, or you've been through it yourself."
Brodi offered a faint smile. "And how do you know I'm not just the kindest man in the world?"
"You know what I mean."
Brodi laughed. "Yes, I do." Then he took a more serious tone. "I was 19, about two months from turning 20. End of school-year party. Hanging out on the beach, surfing, swimming, live bands. Loads of fun. Until a girl who was upset that I'd turned her down told her boyfriend that I'd macked on her. I left my drink on my beach towel while I went to catch a quick wave. Drink gets spiked, I spend the next day or so alternating between being a punching bag and a boy toy."
Anya gasped.
"My God, sweetheart….how did you get away?"
Brodi shrugged. "They drugged and overpowered me. Didn't mean they were smart. They left me alone a bit too long while they went to the next party. I got out and called a friend to take me to the hospital."
"So what happened?"
"Nothing really. Told the hospital I'd been mugged. No one questioned it. I didn't say anything about sexual assault. To anyone. Not even the friend who took me to the hospital. In fact, you're only the second person I've ever told."
"In ten years?"
"In ten years. My own mother doesn't know."
Anya said nothing for a moment, but leaned her head on Brodi's shoulder. When the silence finally became too much, she said merely, "How have you coped?"
"At first? Lots of working out—still my favorite release. Well, one of them, anyway. When school started up again, I threw myself into my studies. Yoga helped me get re-acquainted with my body, as did lots of meditation." There was more silence, then, "You have to find your groove, what works for you, babe. I can help you or give you suggestions, but I can't tell you what will work for you."
Anya stood and walked over to the window, hugging herself as she leaned her forehad against the cool glass. "I don't want to re-acquaint myself with my body. It hurts. Too much."
She heard Brodi get up, felt up come up close behind her. He hesitated a moment, then gently rested his hands on her shoulders. "It takes time," he whispered. "It just takes time."
She choked back a sob, but it came full force. Brodi wrapped his arms around her as she started sinking to the floor. She was shaking uncontrollably as he picked her up and sat down on the bed with her. He neither chastised nor criticized her, but held her like a child and rocked her back and forth as she continued to be racked with sobs.
"Let it out." He was saying. "Just let it out."
And let it out she did. She cried a river of tears that she had been holding back for what felt like centuries. When she was finally empty of tears, she fell into a deep sleep.