Page 42 of The Sasquatch and the Hairdresser

“I left home when I was sixteen. The only person in my family who ever gave a damn about me was my grandma, but she got cancer, and after she passed, I didn’t really see any point in staying with my parents. They weren’t around much anyway, and they definitely weren’t taking care of their only kid. Hell, they were basically kids when I was born, so no surprise, right? I was just a young, dumb mistake to them, and they preferred to pretend I didn’t exist. You know what I mean?”

Hal stays silent but pulls me closer, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, and I lean into him for support.

“Anyway, life on the streets was fucking hell. I’d occasionally get some odd jobs here and there, then usually ended up couch-surfing or staying in youth shelters until I aged out. After that, I kind of moved from boyfriend to boyfriend, anyone who offered me a place to stay. Always came with fucking strings attached.” I cringe. “None of them were what Dr. P would call healthy. Shit, they barely made the bar of decent on a Tuesday. They were always about an exchange, sex on demand for a place to stay and regular meals. But at the time, I was a naïve, lonely kid who was an easy target, and I worked real hard to convince myself they loved me. News flash, none of those assholes did.”

Hal begins to stroke my hair, and I relax into his reassuring touch.

“By the time I was twenty, I realized I couldn’t keep living that way. I got my GED, then saved up money for cosmetology school. Let me tell you, that was a bitch—it took me years. By my late twenties, I had my life back on track, got my license, and found work at a local barber shop in Brooklyn to get experience. I wasn’t making bank, but I was doing okay. Enough to rent a room in an apartment with about five other guys and get off the boyfriend-is-home merry-go-round.” I sigh. “After a few years of that, just when it seemed like I’d turned a corner and was making something of myself, I met Damien.” My mood darkens at the recollection. “He was hot and charming as hell. He convinced me he loved me, swept me off my feet. I should have spotted the red flags from the start. And I’ll admit, it was real nice to be wanted in a way that didn’t seem tied to just my body. It felt different, special. I ended up getting in deep way too fast. Damien was all attentive and caring at first—took me out on dates, bought me gifts, went hard and heavy with the love-bombing. Three weeks in and I gave up my room in that apartment and moved in with him.”

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my thighs as I bow my head.

“That’s when things started to change. From what I’ve worked through with my therapist, I get now that Damien was a textbook abuser. He won me over quickly, then isolated me, made me dependent on him, and began chipping away at my self-confidence. It started out as verbal abuse, although I didn’t know that’s what it was at the time, didn’t even know that was a thing. He’d say terrible shit, put me down in horrible ways, but he’d apologize and swear it would never happen again, gaslight me that he was trying to help me be better. He’d be all sweet and attentive for a while, and I’d let it go. Part of me wanted to believe that he truly loved me, I guess, even as things went from bad to worse.”

Hal starts rubbing my back as he continues to listen.

It’s grounding and it gives me the courage to continue my story.

“I’m not sure when it started, but Damien got involved in illegal gambling, racked up a bunch of debt. He ended up going behind my back and getting lines of credit in my name to pay for his losses.” I scowl. “I was stupid enough to share personal information with him, but I trusted him, and he convinced me it was what couples in love did. He must have read the word sucker on my fucking forehead every time he looked at me.”

For the first time since I started talking, Hal pipes up. “You’re not a sucker. He’s the one who betrayed your trust and took advantage of you.”

“In more ways than that,” I admit darkly. “At the same time as I discovered the whole fraud issue, I found out he was sleeping with other guys. Looking back, maybe he’d been doing that the whole time. That was the breaking point for me. I told him it was over, that I was leaving.”

My heart starts pounding, and a familiar sickening sensation fills my gut, but I try to push through.

“That was the first time he ever laid hands on me. Gave me a black eye, a busted lip, and a cracked rib. I tried to leave anyway⁠—”

My voice cuts out for a second as nausea rises in my throat.

Hal wraps his arm around my shoulders and I lean into his side.

I swallow back bile as my mind replays the past. “But that just made him even angrier. That’s when that asshole… forced himself on me. I tried to stop him, but he was a lot bigger and stronger than me, and I was already hurt from the beating he inflicted. That shit-stain of a human being even tried to tell me he knew I wanted him ‘riled up.’ That I was ‘asking for it.’” I’ve told this story so many times. To the cops, to the doctors and nurses at the hospital, to my therapist. It never gets easier.

“When Damien finally passed out, I realized he’d been hopped up on something when he attacked me, and I wasn’t gonna wait around to find out if he’d wake up or not. I grabbed a bag, filled it with as much of my shit as I could, and got the hell out of there. One of my former roommates took me to the hospital and sat with me while I told the police my story, but I was terrified out of my mind that Damien would come after me. All I wanted was to get away from him and forget everything.”

I brace myself and finally look up at Hal, who’s silently weeping. My heart twists in pain, and I reach up to wipe away some of his tears.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you. It’s a lot, I know. I just— I wanted, no needed, you to know.”

Hal clasps my hand in his and shakes his head fervently. “No, I’m so glad you trusted me enough to tell me what happened. Every day you show me how strong and brave you are. It just breaks my heart to know that your ex hurt you that way. None of it was your fault. Damien is the one to blame. You’re right, he is a shit-stain of a human being.”

That makes me chuckle. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before.”

He flushes. “It’s not a regular part of my lexicon, but I think it’s warranted in this case.”

“No kidding.” I lean against the back of the couch, letting my head fall back, and close my eyes. “You could say I’ve had real shitty luck when it came to men.”

Until now.

Hal pulls me into his arms and hugs me tight. “You’re safe now. I won’t ever let anyone hurt you again.”

His words, so earnest and full of promise, shatter the carefully constructed wall I’d built to hold back all my pain and suffering. But sheltered in Hal’s embrace, I let the floodgates open fully, in a way I haven’t allowed myself to until now. Maybe because I worried I wouldn’t be able to pick myself up again if I did. With Hal at my side, though, I’m secure in the knowledge that he’s got my back and will always lift me up.

I never thought I could trust someone like this again. But as usual, Hal’s proven me wrong in the very best way possible.

I let out every ounce of anger and anguish I’ve been holding inside until I feel like I’ve wrung myself dry and there are no tears left to cry. Grimacing, I pull back and wipe my snotty, tear-streaked face. I probably look like a fucking mess right now, and my eyeliner’s for sure gone to shit, but I feel a fuckton lighter. A weight I’ve had to carry for so long isn’t as heavy anymore.

My story isn’t quite done, and I’m not sure if I should tell him the last part, but I need to get it off my chest. To unburden myself, as Dr. P likes to tell me. Hal’s been a rock through this all so far, and I know he won’t bail on me. In fact, his steady, reassuring presence has made this whole process very freeing.