Knife's Edge Pt. 04

"Yeah well, I won't say I told you so..."

"So don't." I glared at him. "What does one DO? I mean at least Clive finds him creepy, but..."

"Go to the press?" Kurt suggested. "Sell your story to Stuff for an outrageous sum of money?"

"I'm not super keen on being known nationally for that." I sighed.

"Tell his work? Definitely the coaching gig right?"

"I guess. I should probably do that." I reached for a cigarette and realised I didn't have any. Kurt offered me one and I shook my head. "What if they don't believe me?"

"How about we deal with the what if's after they happen?" Kurt suggested.

"Ok." I sighed. "Well. Here goes nothing."

I sent the football club an email. I made sure it went right to the president so AJ wouldn't see it. A phone call probably would have been better but I didn't think I could spill it all out on the phone. I didn't really think it would make a difference in a way. This was a total he said, she said... well. He said, he said.

But of course, there was a record of me playing when I was a kid. And despite keeping separate finances for almost a decade, there was clear evidence we'd been living together. Since I was 18. They didn't question a thing. Three days later I got a phone call.

"This is Detective McKenzie Stewart from the New Zealand Police. Is this Rueben Valentini?"

----

All I wanted to do was make sure nothing ever happened to anything else. Obviously I couldn't take on the whole world that way. I didn't even want to take on AJ that way. Like I said- I just wanted him to disappear. Which, I guess he did in the end.

I mean, it took another year of my life. It took reliving some things I didn't want to relive. It took hearing other allegations- from Clive, from a distraught and stony Di, and from another kid I'd never seen in my life who was 20 now. It took a trial and my mental health and some of my parents savings.

It took 42 minutes of deliberation from a jury.

And now he was in jail.

-------

Despite a year of hell, Joel had stuck with me. I guess real heroes do that. We moved into our own place, and somehow life kept going. I released music. I was thriving at work. I wasn't OK. But I was still knee deep in therapy- and now the state was paying for it, thank god. We had ups and downs because it's hard to be perfect and in love 100 per cent of the time. But he was a truly good guy. I knew that because Mum and Dad thought so. And I knew that because I knew that. There was an honesty in everything he did. When he was mad he didn't blame me, we talked it through. When I was cold and scared and wouldn't talk he stayed close but never pushed. I guess even real love sometimes takes work.

-- ---

I was having breakfast one day when he dropped a set of keys in front of me.

"What's this?" I raised an eyebrow. "New wheels? What's wrong with the RAV4? Aside from you not being a lesbian..."

"Shush, you." Joel sighed and bent down to brush his lips on my forehead. "Come on." He pulled me up. I grabbed my coffee cup as I stumbled after him, feeling a bit nervous. He wouldn't have... bought me a car right? Especially given I couldn't actually drive... oh god. He wasn't going to teach me to drive in....

In...

An old fire truck?

I stared at the truck and opened my mouth. Oh, no. That wouldn't be it. Something else. I scanned the street for a beat up Corolla or whatever guys buy their boyfriends when they want to teach them how to drive... but Joel grabbed the keys off me and stepped towards the truck. He unlocked the back and swung the door open.

"Oh, fuck." I blinked as I took it in. Joel gave me a shit eating grin.

"I don't mean like... let's quit our jobs tomorrow. But..l I don't know. Maybe like... we add a coffee machine and kit it up and next summer sign up for the festival circuit?" I leapt into the back of the truck and ran my hands over the fit out. A kitchen.. A fridge, a grill, a deep fryer.... A wine rack even which meant we could park up somewhere for a weekend and get a temporary license and... I grinned at Joel. I could see his eyes flood with relief. "You like it?"

"'I love it." I laughed. "This is so cool."

"I know." He pulled me in close and sighed happily into my hair. "I've always wanted to do it. But I never met anyone I wanted to do it with. I think you're the only person who can reign me in without making me want to storm out though.... And this came up on TradeMe and... I was thinking we could trial it with Pride coming up... I know I probably shouldn't have..."

"Probably." I looked around in awe. "Wait- Pride's only in like a couple of months!" I turned around. "Have you thought about a menu? Wine matching? Wait, it's way too late for a license... unless they'll do us something special because it's an event and..."

"I'm on it." Joel took my hands. "We'd have to take time off work though."

"Oh. True." My head slowed down.

"I.... Thought maybe.... I might start that actually. Step back." He muttered. "I think I can go part time, although you might need to support me a bit at first."

"What?! No, that's crazy!"

"Well... we can't do our own thing if we're both in charge. And lord knows there's a million fucking chefs out there..." Joel shrugged.

"That's just straight up not true." If anything there had been a struggle for decent chefs for the last couple of years. Hospitality wasn't exactly thriving in Wellington.

"Yeah but Charlie can do my job. No one can do yours."

"Kurt..."

"In a year, if you train him." Joel sat down on the bench and folded his arms. "Which is a good plan. Like I said, long term ish. Short term ish I'll do the admin and heavy lifting here, and you can help with with creative control and being nice to customers."

"Do I get a say?"

"Of course you get a say." Joel's eyes twinkled. "But don't lie to me and say you'll relax into a part time waiter role while you do this. I don't want you to burn yourself out and you're already practically working two jobs. I already made peace with passing on the baton."

"I could pass on a baton!"

"Yes!" Joel took my hands. "And you SHOULD! But it's gonna take a bit longer."

"What if I WANT to step down?"

"Do you?" Joel squeezed my hands. We stared at each other for a long time.

"No." I admitted eventually. "Actually I think I'd hate it."

"I want this to be ours. And I won't do anything without your opinions and sign off.... But one of us has to step back, if we really wanna do it. And I think it makes more sense for it to be me- financially and practically. I'll do the bulk of the food truck until we have enough capital for our own restaurant and then you take over."

"Oh is that how it's going to be? Our restaurant?"

"A guy can dream."

I'd heard people say 'when you know, you know" before. I thought that was a weird thing to say. I didn't know. I didn't know anything though, did I? I thought love was like... hard work; trying to be some perfect version of yourself. I thought it was ok if it hurt most of the time because the rest of the time it was so nice.

I thought smart people were successful, and that I wasn't that smart. I thought tall people commanded respect and I wasn't that tall. I thought older people were right and I just didn't have enough life experience. I thought goals and dreams were something that would fall into your lap, maybe when you hit 45, if you'd been really good and really quiet and never made waves.

I thought happiness was for other people. I thought I should just accept what I got with a smile because I was lucky to get anything.

I guess a year of fighting had made me a lot stronger than I knew I was.

I knew. All of a sudden I knew. We were going to open our restaurant. It would be successful because it was Joel- one of the best chefs in the antipodes, who had a huge instagram following which definitely wouldn't hurt. And it was me; a Maître D' people remembered by name, and gave Christmas presents to, and was being asked to host workshops and do guest appearances- overseas even sometimes. I would support him for a bit while he started, and then at some point he'd probably support me- especially if I ever DID end up in the NZSO... and we'd find an equilibrium.

I knew it was going to be ok.

And I shut a door in my mind. A door that had been ajar for a very long time. A door that had always shone a tiny crack of darkness, just in case the finality of losing liminal space ended up hurting.

The soft hazy state of being asleep fell from my body and I opened my eyes; feeling truly awake. Alive. Ok.

"I can't wait."

The end.

Author's note

I wanted to touch on a couple of things that I'm not sure I made ok in the narrative. I am not a mental health professional and I don't want to hurt anyone with what I write.

This story was always very dark, and it got darker the more I tried to do it properly.

Abuse is a really hard word sometimes. It doesn't always feel like it fits right. I know Ruben never wanted to see himself as a 'victim'. I know he never wanted to see AJ as an 'abuser'. I was reluctant to use those words as well. I talk about a book in the story, which anyone who read this and felt any sort of way about the stuff in it should explore; 'Why does he do that?' by Lundy Bancroft. He explains he uses the word 'abuser' as a sort of short hand for people with a certain pattern of behaviour. That stuck with me, and that's where I landed also. AJ obviously is the worst of the worst but even things that aren't that bad are still BAD sometimes. You don't need to put a label on it like I did. He doesn't need jail time for him to not be a good guy. I just thought I should say that.

And I also struggled because I pretty often write relationships with a BDSM kink. Some of that is explored in this story. I really tried to separate a kink, and play from actual red flags. I'm not sure if I succeeded. My kinks and fantasies and other peoples are not going to be the same. The line I can draw with sexy enthusiastic consent and abuse might be blurry to someone reading this. Anyone who's a reader of mine probably knows I do find consent really hot- and part of a sexy power exchange is KNOWING your partner trusts you.

If I fucked up, I can only apologise and do better.

Please read that book, and please don't be afraid to ask for help if you need to. I think many of us have been in a place we need to escape from. This story is fiction, but it's obviously not fantasy. I know how hard it is to move forward. And I know people slip back. It's ok. You're ok. You have value.

Hope you're all doing fine out there. Kia kaha team.

-- Dr H.