away.”
This comes out in a rush of consequential words, and emotionally charged sentences. It’s hurried and when she breathlessly finishes, I know there is more.
My breathing is labored; my head hurts from my barely suppressed rage. My whole body shakes with it. I calm myself because I don’t want to take it out on her. When I look up at her, her head is down, eyes are closed, and she is biting her trembling lip.
Reaching for her hand I hold it for a minute before I speak. “What did the cops say?”
Without looking up, “I don’t know, I left before they came back for me.”
I can’t believe what she has just said. “You left? Without talking to them? They have no idea what that fucker did to you.” I am yelling at her now. How could she be so stupid?
“We are going to the station, let’s go!” I start to get up and realize she hasn’t moved.
“I am not going there. I am not retelling that horrific story, again. They have it on record.” Great, now she’s angry. There is no convincing her once she’s mad.
Rubbing my hand over my rough face, trying to calm myself, I say, “They don’t know what is going on, they don’t even know you were the one in the alley. You left. How can they help you, if they don’t know who was there?”
“Fine, I will go in the morning, now sit down and have coffee with me, please. I just need something normal right now. Unless Steph needs you home?” She looks up; the fear is there in her eyes, as usual I can’t deny her.
I sit down, “No, she won’t miss me; she was sleeping anyway, when I left.” I lie to her. It’s not a big one, but I know if she knows about our fight, she’ll want me to leave. I don’t want to leave. In learning of the events that have just taken place, I don’t know if I will ever want to leave her again.
After we have coffee I drive her to her apartment, walk her to the door, and go inside to make sure she is alone. Everything is fine, so I tell her to lock the door before I leave. Standing in the hallway I wait to hear the locks click and the dead bolt slide home, and then I turn and walk back to my car to wait for her to fall asleep.
CHAPTER 5
Home sweet home. Yeah, right. I don’t like that I feel unsafe in my apartment. It’s not much, but it’s mine. Michael always told me I would never make it without him. I always believed him. I look around my one bedroom apartment. I really love it. It is small but you don’t feel claustrophobic. The living, dining, and kitchen all flow into each other. My bedroom and bathroom are the only separate spaces. Everything is painted the same warm, tan color. The living room has a beautiful red/brown brick wall with fireplace. Right now it is housing my TV and CD player. The kitchen has all new stainless appliances. Love that.
I shuffle over to my overstuffed, chocolate brown, corduroy, sofa, and plop my tired ass down with the intention of not moving for the rest of the night. Sitting here alone, looking at my tan walls and brick fireplace, I feel the events of the evening running around and around inside my head.
**********
It’s 6 o’clock in the afternoon. This is when I send out e-mail reminders for meetings tomorrow. I empty coffee pots of old coffee and prepare it with clean water and fresh grounds for the morning. Empty the break room of any trash and wipe the counter down. It’s not my job but I like to stay busy. Finally, I knock and peek my head in on Mrs. Smith and see if there are any last minute requests.
“Hey Mrs. Smith, Do you need anything? I’m headed out for the night?”
“No, Charlie, I’m good. Thanks” She has such a warm smile. I remember my mom smiling like that when I
This comes out in a rush of consequential words, and emotionally charged sentences. It’s hurried and when she breathlessly finishes, I know there is more.
My breathing is labored; my head hurts from my barely suppressed rage. My whole body shakes with it. I calm myself because I don’t want to take it out on her. When I look up at her, her head is down, eyes are closed, and she is biting her trembling lip.
Reaching for her hand I hold it for a minute before I speak. “What did the cops say?”
Without looking up, “I don’t know, I left before they came back for me.”
I can’t believe what she has just said. “You left? Without talking to them? They have no idea what that fucker did to you.” I am yelling at her now. How could she be so stupid?
“We are going to the station, let’s go!” I start to get up and realize she hasn’t moved.
“I am not going there. I am not retelling that horrific story, again. They have it on record.” Great, now she’s angry. There is no convincing her once she’s mad.
Rubbing my hand over my rough face, trying to calm myself, I say, “They don’t know what is going on, they don’t even know you were the one in the alley. You left. How can they help you, if they don’t know who was there?”
“Fine, I will go in the morning, now sit down and have coffee with me, please. I just need something normal right now. Unless Steph needs you home?” She looks up; the fear is there in her eyes, as usual I can’t deny her.
I sit down, “No, she won’t miss me; she was sleeping anyway, when I left.” I lie to her. It’s not a big one, but I know if she knows about our fight, she’ll want me to leave. I don’t want to leave. In learning of the events that have just taken place, I don’t know if I will ever want to leave her again.
After we have coffee I drive her to her apartment, walk her to the door, and go inside to make sure she is alone. Everything is fine, so I tell her to lock the door before I leave. Standing in the hallway I wait to hear the locks click and the dead bolt slide home, and then I turn and walk back to my car to wait for her to fall asleep.
CHAPTER 5
Home sweet home. Yeah, right. I don’t like that I feel unsafe in my apartment. It’s not much, but it’s mine. Michael always told me I would never make it without him. I always believed him. I look around my one bedroom apartment. I really love it. It is small but you don’t feel claustrophobic. The living, dining, and kitchen all flow into each other. My bedroom and bathroom are the only separate spaces. Everything is painted the same warm, tan color. The living room has a beautiful red/brown brick wall with fireplace. Right now it is housing my TV and CD player. The kitchen has all new stainless appliances. Love that.
I shuffle over to my overstuffed, chocolate brown, corduroy, sofa, and plop my tired ass down with the intention of not moving for the rest of the night. Sitting here alone, looking at my tan walls and brick fireplace, I feel the events of the evening running around and around inside my head.
**********
It’s 6 o’clock in the afternoon. This is when I send out e-mail reminders for meetings tomorrow. I empty coffee pots of old coffee and prepare it with clean water and fresh grounds for the morning. Empty the break room of any trash and wipe the counter down. It’s not my job but I like to stay busy. Finally, I knock and peek my head in on Mrs. Smith and see if there are any last minute requests.
“Hey Mrs. Smith, Do you need anything? I’m headed out for the night?”
“No, Charlie, I’m good. Thanks” She has such a warm smile. I remember my mom smiling like that when I
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