Lulu's Café

by T. I. Lowe

  “Good ole Georgia,” the doctor answered with a grin. “I thought I sounded like a Southern hick.”

  “How did a Southern belle make her way to Washington?”

  “That’s two questions, but I think you earned it. I followed the love of my life here. My husband was offered a job proposal he couldn’t refuse, and so here I am.” She glanced at her watch.

  Taking this as her cue, Gabriella slid her sunglasses back into place and followed the doctor to the nurses’ station, where Julie awaited them. Dr. Simmons asked the nurse to give Gabriella a dose of Tylenol. Before heading to her next appointment, Dr. Simmons turned and took Gabriella’s hand in hers.

  “Gabriella, it was very nice to meet you. My number is in the information packet. Call me if you need anything.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Simmons. It was really nice to have found you.”

  The doctor smiled, then headed to exam room three and slipped inside.

  After Gabriella took the pain medicine, the nurse went over everything in the packet, which included her next appointment card. She thanked the nurse and headed out to the Range Rover. As she opened her door, she spotted the half-eaten box of donuts. Determined to make better choices, she gathered the box and dumped it into the closest trash bin.

  Once she climbed in and buckled her seat belt, she dried her tears and made a few resolutions. First thing was to form and execute an escape plan. In the meantime, she would steer clear of Brent, at all costs, to protect her baby.

  After sending a stunned grocery delivery boy away with all the junk food she’d ordered for delivery, along with a thirty-dollar tip and a new order of healthy foods, Gabriella spent most of the afternoon cleaning the house of her former lifestyle. The hidden junk food was boxed up, and a worker from the children’s home stopped by to pick it up. She restocked the closet with the new delivery of healthy snacks of granola bars, dried fruit, almonds, and juice boxes. She also hid her prenatal vitamins in an empty Midol bottle and tucked her pregnancy packet in the guest room closet. Oddly enough, her prison cell had become a personal sanctuary of secrets.

  5

  OCTOBER HAD SWOOPED IN on Olympia, Washington, with a chilly breeze and had taken its lovely paintbrush to the landscape. Rich oranges, warm burgundies, and deep yellows accented trees and bushes that lined the downtown streets. It was hands down Gabriella’s favorite season. She snuggled into her sweater as she took her morning walk.

  Ever since the first doctor’s visit, she’d been taking much better care of herself for the baby’s sake and had actually lost some weight. At six and a half months pregnant, Gabriella was down fifteen pounds due to eating healthier—and an extensive bout of morning sickness. Thankfully, that had finally passed. With no more nausea and the cool crispness of autumn in the air, Gabriella felt invigorated and hopeful. She was even getting to know God better by reading the Bible the doctor gave her. Yes. She was most definitely feeling hopeful.

  With the exception of last night’s punch to her eye, Brent had been fairly good at keeping his fists to himself lately. She’d caught him giving her odd looks in the last month and that worried her. He would comment on not understanding why every part of her body seemed to be shrinking except for her midsection and breasts. Gabriella didn’t know if Brent was in denial of the obvious fact that she was pregnant or simply that clueless.

  After her walk, she grabbed her purse and headed to the doctor’s office for her monthly exam. She also wanted to tell the doctor good-bye. If everything went as planned, Gabriella would be on the East Coast by the following week. Brent had a business trip scheduled in California, so she felt it would be the perfect opportunity.

  Walking into the doctor’s office, Gabriella felt excited and a bit apprehensive at her unknown future. After being ushered into the room, Gabriella settled on top of the exam table and waited only a few minutes before Dr. Simmons strolled in.

  “Gabriella?” Her knowing gaze lingered on the black eye.

  Gabriella touched it lightly with her fingertips. “It’s just this.”

  “Oh . . . I’m relieved you only have a black eye,” Dr. Simmons said sarcastically as she examined it. “Did you encounter a fall?”

  “No. Just one punch.”

  “Okay. Lie back and lift your blouse so we can get a measurement of that beautiful bump.” The doctor pulled a small tape measure from her coat pocket and measured Gabriella’s rounding belly. “Twenty-six and a half centimeters. Right on target,” the doctor noted. She picked up the Doppler fetal monitor from the cart and pressed it against Gabriella’s abdomen. She quickly found the healthy heartbeat of the baby. “Sounds good. Did you want to try another ultrasound today to see if that stinker will finally turn around and let us find out the gender?

  “No thanks. I’m beginning to like the idea of keeping it a surprise,” Gabriella said as the doctor helped her get into a sitting position.

  “I guess we are done then. Unless you have any questions.”

  “I reckon I should let you know, you ain’t gonna be seein’ me no more ’cause I’m scootin’ on down South to fetch me one of them there fine Southern twangs.”

  Understanding registered on the doctor’s face. “I’m really going to miss you.” She gave Gabriella a big hug.

  “I’m really going to miss you too.” Gabriella hugged her back tightly.

  Dr. Simmons pulled back from the hug and gave Gabriella a pointed look. “Promise me two things.”

  “Anything.”

  “You are nearing your third trimester. It’s very important to find a new doctor as quickly as possible so that you can get your birthing plan in order.”

  “Okay. What else?”

  “For pete’s sake, work on that awful excuse of a Southern accent.” Both women laughed and hugged once more. “Please promise you will call me if I can help you in any way.”

  “That’s three things, but I guess you deserve that.” Gabriella smiled. Without another word, she made her way to the front desk to settle her bill. Feeling brave, she headed back to the loft.

  Gabriella’s bravado evaporated once she arrived back home to discover Brent’s Mercedes sitting in its parking spot in the garage. Panicked, she almost put the Range Rover in reverse to take her leave early, but then that would mean leaving behind her few belongings, the money, and her only shot at pulling it off successfully.

  Reluctantly, Gabriella parked beside the Mercedes and tried to form some plan. Before she could get a grip on the situation, her driver’s door flew open. In an instant, she was being dragged out by her hair.

  With a vicious grip on her hair, Brent dragged Gabriella up the stairs while spitting out a long string of vulgar expletives at her. The pain in her scalp and the attack of words barely registered. All she could think about was protecting the baby at all costs.

  Once inside, Brent slammed the door shut, spun Gabriella around, and shoved her against it. “You think I’m so stupid, don’t you?”

  She could smell the alcohol heavy on his breath. “I don’t know what you’re talk—”

  Brent punched her, causing the skin over her left eye to split. “Don’t lie to me, you worthless cow!”

  “Lie about what?”

  He clenched her jaw in his hand and drew her close to his face, his breath hot and repulsive against her cheek. “You’ve been stealing from me, you thief.”

  “No—”

  Brent released his grasp on her jaw and landed another punch. This time to her chin. The skin gave way and sent the wet warmth of blood down her neck.

  Brent gripped Gabriella by the shoulders and shook her. “I give you everything, and this is how you repay me. My account books are off, and you know it’s your fault.” He released her and snatched a bottle of bourbon from the liquor cabinet. He tilted his head back, drinking straight from the bottle.

  As Gabriella watched, she scolded herself for increasing her cut of the bank deposits. He had finally caught on to the glitch in the balances. She knew she had been tak
ing a risk in the last few months, but she hoped she would be long gone before he figured it out. Of course, she should have known better than to think it would be that simple. She realized she was going to pay a hefty price for her sin.

  Brent turned back to Gabriella, who was still standing by the front door. She instinctively cradled her protruding belly. His eyes registered her action and he nearly choked on the bourbon.

  “How could you?”

  “Just let me leave and you’ll never have to worry about this.” She began to cautiously open the door, but Brent was there before she could turn the doorknob. He landed a punch square on her mouth, splitting her lip and causing another excruciating point of pain. Brent grabbed her once again by the hair and dragged her to the guest bedroom closet. Once he opened the door, he pushed her up against the back wall.

  “Where did you hide my money? I know it’s in here along with your junk food and other crap.” Outraged, he began pulling stuff off the shelf. Every time he stumbled upon a package of food or a water bottle, he would hurl it at Gabriella, who tried to deflect the assaults away from her belly.

  After relinquishing the idea of the money being in the closet, Brent pulled her toward their bedroom, grabbing his half-empty bottle of bourbon on the way. “Where is it, Gabriella?” He shoved her into the master closet and began the same assault he had given in the guest room closet. “You’re hiding it somewhere! I know you haven’t spent it!”

  She couldn’t believe she was witnessing Brent fall apart so dramatically over a mere hundred grand, when he had spent nearly that much on her luxury Range Rover.

  “What’s this really about, Brent?”

  Brent gave her a measured look and drained the remainder of the bottle. He then turned it upside down and gripped it by the neck, raising it as if to strike her.

  “‘What’s this really about?’” he asked, mocking her. “First off, it’s about thousands of dollars disappearing from deposit slips in the past couple of months. You’ve become quite greedy.” He tapped the bottle against Gabriella’s upper arm, almost in a tease.

  “I’ll give it to you,” she offered, but he was too far gone in his rage to acknowledge it.

  “Secondly, you’ve been keeping secrets. Nosy old Mrs. Harper from across the street stopped me this morning to see if you were okay. Said she’s noticed that the market has been delivering our groceries lately!” He swung the bottle at Gabriella’s head.

  She shot her arm up to block the blow, causing the bottle to strike close to her wrist. Pain ricocheted up her arm and then down the entire length of her body, triggering bile to rise up her throat. While her arm was still raised, Brent delivered one more blow—into her side. At the impact, Gabriella felt several pinching sensations in her rib cage, and she could no longer take deep breaths. Brent lost his grip on the liquor bottle, and it shattered all over the closet floor.

  He stumbled out of the closet and sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze never leaving a weeping Gabriella. “Why?” he asked.

  “I n-needed to g-go to the doctor, s-so I h-have g-groceries d-delivered.” She shuddered.

  “You’re really pregnant?” Brent stared at her rounding midsection as he beckoned her forward, but she stayed rooted in the closet.

  “Come here, Gabriella.”

  “P-please don’t h-h-hurt us.” She cradled her belly while watching him sway. Brent had drunk way past his limit. She hoped that all she had to do was tread lightly until he passed out. She promised the baby they would take off as soon as Brent blacked out and that they would never come back.

  “Gabriella,” Brent said her name as a warning.

  She slowly moved out of the closet, barely noticing the glass shards stabbing the bottoms of her feet. She was already spinning in a haze of pain.

  Gabriella cautiously stood in front of her husband. His hair was mussed in all directions and his face was flushed with sweat beading along his forehead. He gently laid his hands over her bulging belly and placed a kiss near her belly button. She almost sighed in relief, but the pain in her side took her breath.

  “What did I tell you about this?” Brent asked as he continued to stare at the baby bump.

  “I know, but it happened after you locked me up for that entire week this past spring. I couldn’t take my birth control . . .” She hushed as soon as his hands stopped moving. Gabriella knew she had messed up. So much for treading lightly, she scolded herself.

  “Don’t blame this—” he slurred as he poked her harshly in the belly, causing Gabriella to take a protective step away from him—“on me.” He shot to his feet and backhanded her across her right cheek. A flash of numbness, followed by an instant throb, mimicked the pain of the left side of her swollen face.

  Gabriella worried that she would pass out before Brent did. “Please, Brent,” she said. “I’ll do anything. Just please stop.” Her entire body trembled.

  “You have a lot of making up to do,” he murmured as he ripped off her thin cotton blouse, exposing her bare belly. He clawed and pulled and tore at her remaining clothes until she was completely naked before him. He slung her around and shoved her onto the bed.

  Things became a blur for Gabriella at that point. She blinked and tried to clear her vision. She remembered trying to push him away from her belly, but this enraged him more. She kept pleading with her eyes to adjust. She couldn’t keep Brent in focus. The rough assault went on and on. At one point, he rose up and violently punched her directly in the belly.

  She screamed as the piercing pain in her side protested. “No!”

  Brent clamped his hand over her mouth and continued to brutally rape her. Time felt like it was at a standstill and yet simultaneously passing at an unfathomable speed. Gabriella could no longer see out of her left eye, which was nearly swollen shut, and she couldn’t focus with her right eye, so she surrendered and waited for blackness to take her.

  She lost consciousness briefly before being brought back to the surface by her inability to breathe. She forced her right eye open and discovered Brent’s hands locked around her neck, strangling her.

  Gabriella was resigned to the fate finally being played out in front of her. This is what you get for staying. Her vision became spotty as she ineffectually clawed at Brent’s face. He was in a rage that she couldn’t snap him out of.

  She was jerking her head back and forth, trying to loosen his grip, when she spotted a crystal vase on the nightstand. It still held the roses she had received for her now-forgotten black eye. Gabriella grabbed it and—with all the might she could muster—cracked Brent over the head. He moaned and then collapsed on top of her. It took all of her strength to push him off so she could wiggle from beneath him. She lay, totally spent, beside him and blacked out.

  As she regained consciousness, not knowing how much time had passed, reality awakened her completely. Looking over, she was relieved to find that Brent was still knocked out. She took stock of herself and was horrified to find herself covered in blood.

  With great effort, she crawled out of the bed and stumbled toward the bathroom, falling twice on the way. Her equilibrium seemed out of sorts. Gabriella locked the door behind her and stepped into the shower, turning it on full blast. A wave of nausea slammed into her as she watched large amounts of bloody water pool around the drain. Before she could think of exiting, she vomited violently in the shower. She pulled down the handheld showerhead and rinsed the mess down the drain. She began washing the gore off her body and tried picking the shards of glass out of her feet.

  Gabriella washed sufficiently and wasted little time drying off. She knew her window of opportunity to escape was limited. She fished around in the sink cabinet for a pad and placed it in her panties to catch the blood that seemed to be slowing down. She then bandaged her face as best as she could. Her left eye was swollen completely shut, and she felt extremely light-headed. Her mind was foggy and disoriented. She had to constantly remind herself to concentrate.

  After gathering extra pads and toil
etries, Gabriella listened at the door. She could only hear stillness, so she emerged from the bathroom as quietly as she could. Out of the corner of her right eye, she could see that Brent was still in the bed. She went directly to the dressing table and retrieved the money that was stashed behind it. She scooted into the closet, trying to avoid the shards of glass scattered all over the floor. Gabriella dressed and then packed as quickly as her mangled body would allow. Not really paying close attention, she tugged a drawer out and dumped all of her underclothes into a duffel bag. Without replacing the drawer, she scooped several pairs of shoes into the duffel bag as well. She then pulled handfuls of tops and pants off the hangers and into her suitcase. She grabbed a baseball cap off a hook and crammed it on her head.

  She pulled both pieces of luggage back into the bedroom as quietly as possible, stopping to catch her breath at the bedroom door. The pain was unbearable, and her vision was in a constant haze. Gabriella stole one more look at Brent before she went into the hall. She found him slumped awkwardly on his side, staring past her vacantly. She grabbed a fistful of the long coat she was carrying and held it to her mouth to muffle her scream, causing her lip to split further. Tremors rocked her body, wave after wave, as the realization hit her.

  Brent was dead, and she was the one who killed him.

  Without another glance, Gabriella stumbled across the loft. She wrenched the front door open and shoved her luggage down the front steps, stumbling behind it. She pushed it over to the Range Rover and tried to lift it inside, just as a taxicab pulled up across the street. She abandoned the fruitless effort and waved the cabdriver down. He loaded Gabriella and her luggage into the cab and asked if he could take her to the hospital. She replied no but asked him to take her to the closest bus station. She needed to get far away from Brent as quickly as possible.

  Once at the bus station, she found a lady who took pity on her and agreed to go to the ticket counter to purchase Gabriella’s ticket to Georgia. She thanked the lady and offered her fifty dollars, but the lady refused it.