Trust Fall
Book One of The Trust Trilogy
Tess Quince
Chapter Nine
I'M THINKING ABOUT TRUST.
When I first joined the bank out of college I was assigned a full day of a human resources team building event. I was on the management track and this was one of the stops to get my card punch before my next promotion.
I was in a conference room with about ten other fast-trackers and the words of the day were 'team work', 'synergy' and, of course, 'trust building'. One of the trust building exercises was a 'trust fall'. You stand on a small platform and fall backward and 'trust' that your colleagues are going to catch you and not let you bruise your tailbone or crack open your head.
I was first up. There were four fellow employees lined up behind me to whom I was supposed to give my trust. I kicked off my pumps and stood on the six inch platform, I listened to the facilitator drone on about the value of trust and I just couldn't do it.
I couldn't just fall back. I couldn't trust that these four people I barely knew were going to catch me. I couldn't turn over my trust to a group of practical strangers.
One of them was a guy who still played at being a frat boy whose dad was a V.P. at the bank and had gotten him his job. He'd tried to corner me a few times asking me out and making passes. I wasn't sure he wouldn't use this trust fall as a chance for an ass grab. The second was a giggly, silly little woman who was destined to go not too far at the bank. I didn't trust she wouldn't just let me drop out of stupidity. The third was a guy recruited from one of our competitors. He was cut throat as hell and I wouldn't put it past him to let me fall trying to eliminate some of the competition. Lastly, there was Bridget, a woman I've gotten to know. She would have caught me. But I didn't know that then.
When I didn't do the obligatory trust fall, it put a real damper on the 'trust building' exercises that day. The facilitator, some weak neutered voice guy with a premature receding hairline and no chest wearing a sweater in July, took me aside and counseled me on how my lack of trust in my colleagues would hamper my career and professional development.
I listened and nodded my head at the appropriate times, but I wanted to say: My trust issues aren't anything deep seated. They're not something that I'm not aware of. I know I have them and I know the cause. The cause is that old psychological standby—mom and dad. It's hard to be a trusting person with parents like mine. They weren't abusive or anything. They were just not all that interested in being parents. I knew there was a good chance they'd forget to pick me up from school a few times a month. I learned to make sure I always had a back up plan. I knew if dad promised a trip to Disney World that the best it would end of being was a trip to a traveling carnival in a shopping mall parking lot. I knew if mom promised a day of shopping for a prom dress that I'd better call a friend and ask if I could wear her dress from last year. With college, I knew that it was on me. With the help of a put-upon high school guidance counselor, I got all the applications and financial aid forms together and mom and dad did write a check when needed, but it was always after three late notices and a lot of grumbling on their part. It's not that they didn't make much money. They did. They just didn't have the interest.
That kind of parenting is good for making a girl self-sufficient but not good for developing her sense of trust.
Maybe that's why I always let Susan lead me around so much in high school. I knew she would always be there. I trusted that if I needed help and I called, she'd show up somehow, someway—at least until we got into college. In high school, we were each other's rocks. It wasn't until she wigged out in college and did her turns as a third wave feminist then as an aggressive miscegenation proponent and now what looks like a pseudo-lesbian that she became completely unreliable. Mostly, however, she was selfish. What I've slowly come to realize is that Susan wasn't there for me in high school. I was there for her. I was there for her to dominate and for me to submit. It was always about her. It's hard to have trust in a self-absorbed person. You never know when your interests will conflict with theirs.
I trusted Josh to a degree. He never broke our vows of fidelity that I knew about. I'm not sure if it was because he was a stand up guy or just, with his general goofiness, he couldn't get himself laid. With Josh, I just could never trust that he was going to contribute to our household, be employed or, if he did earn some money, if he was doing it on the books or would get in trouble with the IRS. I learned that lesson early.
When Josh and I dated, I really thought he had his stuff together. He had a job, an apartment and a nice car and always had cash. The first sign came when we applied for a mortgage after our honeymoon. I found out his credit rating was flirting with 400 from a combination of walking out on student loans, apartment leases, audio equipment rent-to-own deals and car payments. It wasn't until about six months after the ceremony when his boss's business got raided by the IRS that I learned that everything Josh made was off the books and he had saddled us with four years of back taxes and penalties.
The trust I had in Josh didn't break down under the weight of his credit score and back taxes but with his lack of giving a damn about how they affected us and the family we both wanted to start. The cleaning up of that mess was left to me—the supposed business person.
I don't distrust him with Danny on this trip. He's always been good with Danny when he's wanted to be around Danny. I just know that I'll have to set aside some cash to cover any expenses he can't cover.
In my work, I don't trust a soul. People come to me to borrow the bank's money. But everyone lies either by commission or omission. Everyone exaggerates their income and their assets. Everyone downplays their expenses and their liabilities. But it all comes out in the end. At some point, it all goes down on the forms that we have them sign under penalty of perjury. We verify what they put down on those forms. We're not amateurs. I wonder why these people aren't straight with me right up front. Why lie? I'm going to find out. We run credit checks, we inspect books, we run medical histories, we do background checks and drug tests before we hand over the bank's cash. For my client's part, they treat us the same way. A long time client who we've served well and worked hard for will shop our best offer and tell us to go to hell for a twenty-five basis point cheaper loan. There is no trust in my business.
So no, Mr. Human Resources Counselor Guy, I don't do trust falls.
Which makes the trust I'm giving Ben Sheppard so unique. I agreed to go out with him after meeting him briefly. I gave him my address without knowing anything about him. I climbed into his truck and let him take me wherever he wanted. I let him see me naked. I let him put his hand tight on my throat until I blacked out. I let him put his face into my untrimmed pussy. I let him bend me over and spank me good and hard. I let him use a sex toy on me. I've even showered with him. I didn't feel uncomfortable or awkward in any way.
I trust him.
I can't explain it. Why would I do that? Why would I trust him?
He is nice looking but not great looking. Either way, that has nothing to do with trust. He has a manliness about him, for sure. That confidence of his is attractive also. He is easy to talk to. He is open and honest, as far as I can tell. He doesn't seem to be playing any games or give off any creepy vibe. Was that enough? Why would I trust him so openly and, when I let myself think about it too much, so dangerously?
Ben Sheppard left about one in the afternoon on Sunday. He said he'll be working fourteen hour days again through that Friday. I trusted him when he said that. He said he needed to spend much of the rest of Sunday catching up with his laundry and going grocery shopping. I trusted that was exactly was what he was going to do. He kissed me goodbye and told me I looked nice and that he had a great time with me. I trusted that I did look nice and that he did have a great time with me. He said he'd call me later in the week about getting together on Saturday. I trusted that he would.
So I'm sitting at my desk thinking about trust instead of the loan application I'm supposedly double checking before it goes off to underwriting. Danielle does her brief knock and opens the door before I can say 'Come in'. She's holding an overnight envelope.
