by A. O. Peart
And then it dawned on me—I said “no woman”. I always assumed it was fucking okay to hit a dude. We were all equally driven by testosterone, so it totally made it fine. Or did it? Hell, whatever, I was playing thinking games, and my brain felt fried for today. I needed a break.
She just stood there, finally looking at me, seemingly unsure of what to do or say.
“I … okay. I’ll, uh … see you later,” I said and pressed my lips together, feeling strangely defeated. This was not my day. “Hey, maybe you should get my cell phone number, just in case. If anything happens—just call.”
“Good idea,” Rita answered first. “Willow, give Jack your cell phone number, or better yet—call him, so he gets it right away.”
Willow nodded and then struggled to pull her phone out from some pocket hidden under the blanket. Finally, she had it in her hand and asked, “What do I dial?”
I told her, and she pressed each digit onto her keypad. My cell phone rang, and her number appeared on my screen. It was just a combination of figures, but in my mind it already spelled WILLOW. I would never have dreamed of seeing her name displayed across my phone screen again.
I stood, gaping at it like an idiot, until Rita’s impatient voice brought me back to reality, “Call her back so she has your number too. Come on.”
So I did, watching Willow’s face. Despite the bruises and the swelling, she was still beautiful, just the way I remembered her from high school. She had a bit of a cute geek air about her, like a smart librarian type, and that had always been one of my most favorite things about Willow.
God, I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay with her, to tuck her in bed and watch her sleep. Instead, I turned around and walked to the door. “If anything happens, or if you need anything at all …” I didn’t finish that sentence, just pointed to my cell phone.
Willow nodded and smiled a little—it was a kind of a shy smile, but liked it nonetheless.
As soon as I leaved Rita’s apartment, I realized that I didn’t have my own truck with me tonight, and forgot to call a taxi. I dialed the We Come To You taxi service, then waited, sitting on the stairs right below the second floor landing. I had a good view from here, since I was able to prop the front door open with a rock I found on what was supposed to be a flower bed. My clothes were still damp from the earlier downpour, so I preferred to wait inside and watch the rain that was coming down pretty hard again. I fucking hated this weather.
I was relieved tomorrow was my day off. Despite the fact that I really liked my job as a firefighter, sometimes it was just best to stay home. Tonight was that time. I vowed to check on Willow tomorrow. She needed to file a criminal complaint against Seth and get a restraining order, no matter what. I would see that she actually did so, since I wouldn’t be able to watch over her as much as I wanted. There was also this nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach that she didn’t want me around. Hell, what did I expect? One day wouldn’t repair what got broken in the past. Was it even possible to fix?
A cab arrived and stopped in front of the door. I walked outside and opened the back door of the vehicle. Before I entered the taxi, I looked up at where Rita’s windows were. A figure wrapped in a blanket stood in the window. It was Willow. I blinked away the rain drops clinging to my eyelashes and waved to her. She hesitated then waved back.
I was hardly a romantic type, but the gesture felt like a goodbye.
The taxi ride took less than fifteen minutes. At this time of the night, the traffic was practically non-existent. I paid the fare, bid the driver goodnight, and ran to my front door. The house was dark, but as soon as I approached, the motion-detector lights kicked in.
When I opened the door, Cora, my Boerboel jumped at me, barking and squealing. Her huge paws rested right below my chest and her black, smiling muzzle made me forget all that troubled me. Her huge tongue lolled from between her canines, and her tail kept lashing from side to side, in true joy.
“I missed you too.” I laughed petting her head and her neck. I bent down to slide my hands up and down alongside her muscular body.
She tried to lick my face but couldn’t quite reach it. I knew though that as soon as I sat down or lay down, she would be on me like a hurricane. I didn’t mind. That dog meant a lot to me. I’d had her since the last year of high school. She was a confident, intelligent, and obedient—although temperamental—dog, and I couldn’t imagine life without her.
“Come on. I’ll let you outside. I bet you wanna get out for a bit.” I disentangled myself from her and walked toward the back of the house. I opened the door leading to the deck and backyard. Cora immediately ran past me and out the door. The motion-activated lights came on, bathing the deck and the lawn behind the house in a soft glow. Thick woods framed the rear of my property, looking dark and sinister at night. During the day, Cora and I would go on our daily runs through the woods. There were plenty of trails to accommodate us.
I leaned against the railing of the deck, watching Cora trot around, following some convoluted pattern while sniffing the ground and occasionally sneezing. She probably caught the smell of a rabbit, or a raccoon. Sure enough, I noticed a pair of eyes in the opposite corner of the yard. A large raccoon sat there watching my dog. Several small ones came into view as well, and I hoped Cora didn’t get any ideas of attacking the mother.
“Cora! Come on, inside now!” I hollered at her.
She turned her head toward me, but then her muzzle jerked up and her nose twitched as she sniffed the air. She followed the smell and snarled.
“No! Come here,” I insisted.
But she took off toward the raccoons, barking and growling low in her throat.
“Fuck,” I swore under my breath. Cora never disobeyed me, so what got into her today? I looked for something to use as a weapon in case the mamma raccoon attacked.
I kept my place clutter-free and well-organized, so the only thing I found on the deck was a large, metal water can. I grabbed it, thinking it’s better than nothing. And then I heard the unmistakable sounds of a fight—barking, growling, and squealing, topped with a lot of hissing and weird snarl-like noises. I knew Cora was big enough to defend herself, but a raccoon with the little ones was unpredictable and determined to protect them.
I jogged to where they circled and nipped at one another and started to bang the metal watering can against my fist in an attempt to chase the raccoons away. The little ones scattered. The mother seemed like she was about to follow them when Cora looked back at me and the raccoon slashed across her eye.
“Shit! Cora!” I yelled.
Cora yelped and jumped back, shaking her head and squealing in pain. I ran at the raccoon, chasing it off into the woods.
I returned to my dog, grasped her collar, and gently pulled her toward the house with me. “Come on, you silly dog. Didn’t I tell you before not to go after the raccoons?”
She kept whining, and I knew it wasn’t from fright. Cora was a big dog and really tough. She wouldn’t whimper unless she was in pain.
I took her inside and locked the back door. “Okay, now let me look at you.”
Her eye was bloodied, three parallel scratches running over it. Damn. I wet a washcloth, sat down, and held her tight with her head between my legs. She tried to get away, scraping her claws over the floor. As gently as possible, I patted the wound with the washcloth, already planning to visit Cora’s veterinarian’s office tomorrow. What else was about to go wrong tonight?
“If that raccoon has rabies, you won’t be a happy camper. Even though you’re totally current on your vaccinations, I’m not taking any chances. You will, most likely, get another shot tomorrow.”
She whimpered, but stopped struggling, keeping her head in my lap instead and looking at me with sad eyes, as if she understood exactly what was about to happen.
“You were told not to get into fights, remember? That’s a typical sign of showing off and not strength,” I scolded her and immediately felt like a hypocrite. I shoved my hand thr
ough my hair and added, “At least don’t go looking for them. Okay, girl?”
Cora blinked at me and made a face that would be described best as frowning in defiance.
“Yeah, I know. I’m full of shit. Just do as I say, and not as I do.” I closed my eyes and shook my head, exhaling loudly. “Do you remember Willow? Yes? I’m sure you do, or you will when you see her.” Discussions with my dog were a normal daily occurrence in my house, since I rarely had visitors there. Despite being the only one with the ability to talk, these conversations weren’t exactly one way. “Willow had this worthless piece of shit boyfriend who beat her up today.”
Cora growled.
“I know. That’s what I thought too. I was about to kick his ass, but she wouldn’t let me.”
My dog whimpered, as if saying, “Uhm… why?”
“Because Willow is Willow. She seems not to change over the years even a bit.” I sighed. “She doesn’t believe in pounding some sense into a douche bag who deserves it. Instead, she’s like the Peace Corps, but look where that got her.”
Cora blinked again, her ears standing up straight.
I grinned at her. “You wanna see her, don’t you, girl? I do, too,—more than you know.” I looked into the distance, remembering Willow standing at the window, watching me get into the taxi. I would give anything to know what she was thinking then.
Chapter Six
I’ve never been good at making decisions. I was sure indecisiveness was part of my genetic makeup.
Here lay my biggest problem: I had a tendency to overthink everything, and become exhausted and confused with my findings. In effect, it was usually easier to either give up or, at least, prolong the decision-making process in hope that someone else stepped in and made the decision for me. Or I would wait for some completely new situation to occur which would either make it easier for me to decide, or it would negate the need to decide altogether.
Either way, I hated decisions. Hated them! What I liked the most, was to follow my routine with no deviations, no surprises, and— yep—no decisions to be made. Maybe I was lazy, or maybe I was screwed up.
Now Jack coming back into my life was completely unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome. That I had to admit to myself, although I wasn’t ready to share the observation with him. All those long forgotten emotions returned, charging back, pressuring me to make some important decisions. No, I wasn’t about to throw a fit like a spoiled, ungrateful idiot. Jack had helped me so much. He got me out of a dangerous situation and stuck around until he made sure I was safe. Jack didn’t have any obligation to do that. He had his life now, and I had mine. There wasn’t anything left between us from our past.
Nevertheless, I was grateful to him. And to Rita, who took me in, even though she was putting herself in danger. Seth had become unpredictable and could harm her too. I was relieved he was taken away, so Rita and I were safe. But I still felt uneasy.
Rita opened a bottle of some fancy-looking Merlot and poured each of us a glass. She handed it to me and wiggled in next to me in bed, sighing deeply when her back rested against the pillow. We were going share the bed, because her sofa was way too small even for one person. I offered to sleep on the floor, but she wouldn’t hear of it.
“Don’t be silly. This is a queen sized bed. I’m only size eight, and you’re what? Minus three?” she laughed when I proposed the sleeping arrangements.
“Yeah, right. A few years ago maybe.” I took a sip of wine. It was the perfect temperature and delicious too. I detected subtle hint of oak, plum, and something else—a black cherry maybe? I complemented Rita on the choice of wine. She knew which one to buy, which made sense since she’d been working as a bartender for over six years.
She reached for her glass, brought it to her lips, and drank. The dark liquid left small lines above her upper lip. I was sure I looked quite similar.
“Willow, I keep thinking about what happened.” She put her glass down on her nightstand. “Why in heavens did you stay with Seth? I’d told you over and over he was a screw-up. I don’t mean to pry, but you’re my best friend and my heart broke today for you.”
I sighed, looking into the distance. “I try to understand my own motives too.”
Was I so blind not to see the real Seth? Or did I know somewhere deep inside, but still desperately clung to belief that he was a good man, no matter how many times he’d proven otherwise. Was that stupid of me? Naïve? Maybe some people would see it that way. Maybe even Rita would. But there was so much more to why I stayed with him, and I wanted to tell her.
I turned to look at her. “I’ve never told you about my childhood, have I?”
“Bits and pieces, I guess.” She slowly shrugged one shoulder and took another small sip of wine.
“I was raised by my mom and never really known my father. He died when I was just a few weeks old. I had a very happy childhood, though. My mom was the gentlest person ever, and she taught me to be the same. Sometimes it was a curse, but mostly it was a blessing. I was content the way I was—rarely bothered by others’ attempts to bully me or put me down one way or another. That was really handy in high school.” I snorted, remembering a group of mean girls who wouldn’t stop harassing me at school. No matter how hard they tried, their attempts usually were completely futile.
“Damn, I’m sorry. Some bitches should just get the taste of their own medicine.” Rita rolled her eyes.
I flapped my hand in dismissal. “I dealt pretty well with those people. Jack was my rock then, and it helped more than anything. Along with his cousins and brothers, he was one of the popular jocks in school. The mean girls couldn’t understand what he saw in a flat-chested geek like me.” I chuckled.
“I can’t imagine you as a geek.” Rita snorted. “Well, maybe a little.”
I laughed but was careful not to hurt my split lip. “Believe me, I was the geekiest geek. But my mom taught me also to believe in myself, to never question my own worth. That alone was something that most of my friends lacked, but wanted to have so badly.”
Remembering what I was about to tell Rita next, erased the smile from my face. I pulled my knees close to my chest and wrapped my arms around my legs, resting my chin on my knees.
Rita waited patiently, slowly sipping her wine.
Silence stretched between us until I glanced at her and said, “When I was fifteen, Mom’s long-term boyfriend moved in with us., I learned quickly that he wasn’t a man to trust. At first, his attempts at getting close to me were sporadic and innocent enough that I misunderstood them for clumsy efforts on his part to become something of a father figure in my life. But soon it turned out that he wanted me the way no father should ever want his daughter.”
“Son of a bitch!” Rita almost spewed her wine. She hurriedly put it on the nightstand, turned back to me, and shook her head. “Are you serious? Your mom didn’t know, did she? You should’ve told her.”
“I was confused and terrified. He molested me repeatedly. He also told me that if I said a word to Mom, he would hurt her. That alone scared me so much. There was no way I would tell Mom then. At fifteen, I didn’t know any better. I thought he would kill her if I came forward, so I just kept quiet and suffered his abuse. When Mom was around, he was a different man. It was horrible to watch him put of a facade of a loving and caring man, when I knew his true colors. I’ve never seen anything like that. Maybe my mom sheltered me from all the ugliness of this world too much. Or maybe I was more naïve than I should’ve been.” I put my face in my hands and took a long, cleansing breath to calm myself down.
“Guys like him should be lynched, just fucking lynched, like in the old times. I can’t even imagine how horrible that was for you. God, I’m so sorry, Willow. I had no idea.” Rita hugged me tight. “You okay? Can I get you anything?” She sat up and somberly looked at me.
I took another slow breath and took my hands away from my face. “I’m okay. It’s just…with everything that happened today, I feel like I’m a lit powder keg—one wr
ong move and I’ll explode.”
“I’m here for you, Willow. No matter what you need, just tell me. No hesitating, you hear me?”
I nodded and managed a tiny smile. “I know. Thank you. It means a lot to have you by my side.”
Rita’s thick eye brows were drawn together, her expression serious. “Now, tell me what happened next. Did your mom find out? You should’ve talked to someone, like a school counselor or even a teacher.”
“Well, I finally confided in a friend of mine, but told her not to mention it to anyone, because I was scared that Mom’s boyfriend would hurt or even kill her. Thank goodness my friend was smarter than me, because regardless of my pleading not to say anything to anyone, she asked her own mother for advice. One frantic phone call from her parents and all my doubts about the situation were gone. Mom asked me to tell her in my own words what exactly happened. When I did, she didn’t question anything she heard. She immediately called the police, told them where to find the bastard, and he ended up in prison.”
“He’s got what he deserved. I hope he’s still in the can. Fucking pedophile.” Rita spat angrily. “I hate people who prey on children.”
“It was bad, but not only for me—also for Mom. I don’t think she’s ever forgiven herself for not seeing the signs, for not protecting me enough. No matter how much I denied any of it was her fault, she wouldn’t listen. I bet she still blames herself for what happened to me. It devastated her.” I closed my eyes, keeping tears at bay. I wouldn’t cry again. I’d shed enough tears for one day. “We moved from Atlanta to Portland almost immediately. She found a good job here, so the transition was fast. She put me in therapy and attended many sessions with me. I think she was going to a therapist by herself, as well. Ever since that phone call from my friend’s parents, the guilt has never left her eyes. I still see it every time she looks at me. I think that’s what made her health deteriorate over the years—the constant remorse.”
Rita returned a comprehending gaze. “That’s not surprising. She will never get over the pain of knowing what happened to her own daughter at the hands of man she trusted.”
