Page 29 of Try Hard

She reached up slowly, brushing back the loose hairs around my face that had fallen out of my messy bun. “I’m glad you told me, and I’m happy to talk about it more—as much or as little as you like.”

“It’s not a big deal,” I said, shrugging, and knowing that wasn’t true. “It’s been like this for a long time.”

Eve smiled sadly, stepping a little closer. “Something can have been that way for a long time and still be a big deal.”

Panic pressed against my ribs, threatening to stop my breathing. It had been a long time since I’d been so tearful, but the last time I’d told someone other than my therapist about this, it hadn’t gone well.

Whatever Eve was seeing on my face caused her to narrow her eyes, hold out her arms, and ask, “May I?”

I nodded and leaned in readily when she hugged me.

Eve was so strong. There was nothing soft about her physicality, all muscle, but she was soft.

She was warm and comforting and oddly familiar already, the scent of her like a long-held memory.

And she’d been right last night when she said she could hold me up.

She was sturdy and calming and solid in the wave of fear and uncertainty that came from discussing this.

I clutched her tightly, breathing her in, and decided it was easier talking to her while she held me. “You asked me when I took up swimming…”

“I did,” she said, her tone gentle.

“It’s related.”

“How so?” she prompted after a long moment of us simply standing at the side of the road, holding each other.

“Erm. Well. I developed… it , and… then I had an unpleasant medical experience.” My hands gripped tighter into her hoodie, and she held me closer, reassuring me she was there.

I took a deep breath. “I’m sure you remember that I used to weigh quite a bit more, and, you know, god forbid women be anything other than sticks. ”

Eve nodded in understanding, her head moving against me. “And they blamed the pain on that.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m so sorry, Ophelia.”

I shook my head, barely able to move with how tightly she was holding me, but I didn’t care. “It’s fine.”

“It is not.”

“I’m not the only woman who’s gone through stuff like that.”

She brushed her thumbs against my back. “That doesn’t make it okay.”

I knew she was right. Every time I heard about other people going through similar experiences, I was furious for them, and not just because I’d been there, but because it was inhuman, entirely unfair.

But, when I thought about my own experience, I simply tried to brush it all away.

I’d been so young when it started, so alone.

I’d just spent years trying to get over it, trying to convince myself it was my fault.

“So, you took up swimming?” Eve asked.

“Yeah.” I laughed, the sound broken. “Some of it was my spiteful half.”

“How so?”

“Well, the doctor I saw wouldn’t stop talking about my weight, and the person I was dating—” I gulped. I tried so hard not to think about that time.

“I’m here. You’re safe,” Eve said, and I actually believed her. It loosened something in my chest, helped keep the tears at bay, because I’d never spoken about this and felt safe.

“That person had made comments in the past about my weight, always disguised as jokes, but the second a doctor was saying it, it was like the gloves came off. Not to mention the fact that said person was unhappy because I was incapable of having the kind of sex he wanted.”

I felt the way Eve tensed and I didn’t need to ask to know she was furious for me, not at me. “He insisted on penetrative sex?” she asked stiffly.

“He did. And I can’t… nothing… in…” I shook my head. “Insertion is not possible for me.”

One of her arms wrapped straight around my back, holding firmly.

Her other hand moved to the back of my neck, stroking slowly and soothingly.

“I don’t think that what you need is me raging against whoever it was that hurt you, but please know there are so many choice words in my head for him right now. ”

I laughed weakly. “Honestly, it’s kind of nice to have someone furious at him too. It’s just been me, alone, for so long.”

I probably should have given her his name.

I wasn’t sure why I was so insistent on protecting his identity from her—from myself in a lot of ways.

Like it was just easier to have that distance.

As if, no matter what he did to me, I wasn’t allowed to do anything to besmirch his reputation. It wasn’t even anyone Eve knew.

Maybe I just didn’t want them existing in the same space.

She breathed slowly for a few moments before she said, quietly and seriously, “Vaginismus can be caused by psychological factors.”

“Right,” I said, trying not to wince at the word. Eve didn’t say it like it was something shameful, though. So many years refusing to say it and there she was, acting like it was okay that I had it.

“Is that—I mean, you don’t have to tell me.”

“I want to,” I said quickly. “I came to see you because I wanted to tell you, because I was ready to. It’s just complicated because I haven’t in so long.”

“You can take all the time you need.”

And, again, her patience was freeing. “It was… coercion more than anything else. I was never physically forced, but there was so much pressure to do what he wanted. A lot of it was quite subtle and just… messed me up, I guess. So, then, when I finally gave in, my body knew I didn’t want to and just…

there was a lot of pain. The pain never went away permanently.

I’m sure the medical experience after it started only made things worse. ”

“You deserved better than all of that.”

“Thank you,” I said, tears burning in my eyes.

I’d known she was the right person to tell, but I hadn’t realised how much I’d needed the experience of telling someone and being validated.

How different my whole journey with it could have been if the doctor’s response had been closer to Eve’s, how I wouldn’t have needed to spend time learning all about it to treat myself.

“You deserve the world, Ophelia,” Eve said softly.

I didn’t know about that, but I would forever be grateful at getting a second shot at the world she existed in.

I swallowed against the lump in my throat.

“So, yeah, when all of that was happening, the stubborn part of me kicked in, and I decided I was taking my body back. From both my ex and the doctor—and, in a way, from myself too. I couldn’t decide what happened with the whole…

vaginismus thing, but I could own every other part of my body.

So I did. And I ended up liking swimming.

I took it a little far at one point, but I have a healthier relationship with the whole thing these days.

Not the… vaginismus, obviously, but the other stuff.

And nobody ever gets to tell me it’s because I’m chubby again. ”

“You’re so strong,” Eve said, and she sounded like she meant it. “You’ve been through so much, but you’re still here, still strong and perfect—which, just for the record and the people who apparently need to hear it, you always have been. And I’m so grateful to you for letting me in.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal.”

“It is, and I know that. And I’m here for you.”

I squeezed her tightly, though I wondered if it felt like nothing compared to her. “Guess I’m glad I was stubborn enough to survive it all then.”

“I like that you’re stubborn,” she replied, apparently picking up on the fact that stubbornness was another thing I’d been told was wrong about me.

Was it possible that there was someone who could like all the things about you that other people hated? It felt ridiculous and impossible that, for me, that person could be Eve Archer. But here she was.

I squeezed her tighter again, trying to put all of my feelings into it. “Just for your record, while we’re on it, I meant what I said at brunch. You’ve always been perfect too, and anyone who has ever said otherwise is wrong.”

She laughed, and I was almost certain she pressed a quick kiss to my shoulder.