The day after...

I pulled myself together; when I’m stressed or upset I become very organized and practical. "I have to go to work. What do I need to do in order to get to work?"

I dressed and threw product in my hair. I iced the visible bruises as best I could before trying to disguise them with make-up. I grabbed my stuff and headed out of the apartment. The three flights of stairs to the ground level convinced me that walking the mile to campus wasn't going to be possible: it just hurt too badly. Even the two blocks from where I ended up parking to my job left me almost in tears.

Once at work the day became a blur. I have no idea what I did all day. Only one of my co-workers noticed the make-up lacquered bruises, but a short 'don't ask' changed the topic and allowed me relative peace for the rest of the work day.

I finally made it back home a little after 7 p.m. I stripped my bed and cleaned my room, trying to rid the space of any memory of the night before. I busied myself for awhile - long enough to not think until I had to go out again.

Straight-boyfriend's going away party was that evening. He was leaving for a year to do Americorp half-way across the country. Part of me was dreading seeing him, afraid of having to answer his questions about what had happened last night. The thought of not seeing him again until Christmas won out, though. I iced the bruises a little more and applied another layer of make-up before heading over.

Thankfully, straight-boyfriend has wonderful instincts. I showed up and hugged him so hard he had to peel me off. I was starting to cry again so he just took my hand, got me a glass of wine and let me cling to him for the rest of the evening with no questions asked.

I left early - I just wanted to sleep so badly. I got home and stripped off the day's clothes. I found, with horror, I was still bleeding, but to exhausted to even think about it. I showered and crawled into my sheet less bed and fell asleep.