by Lucy Score
Luke’s lips quirked. “She is trouble. I’m concerned about releasing her into the wild.”
“She needs you.” And that was what Luke needed most, someone who needed him.
“She needs her fucking parents, but they’re dead. She’s got no family. Just scars from all those years in foster care.”
Aldo swore. He knew Luke well enough to know the man wasn’t talking metaphorical scars. What was it with fuckers hurting women? “And you’d do anything to make it better, but you don’t know how to help,” he surmised. Aldo was well acquainted with that brand of helplessness.
“Exactly.” Luke gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles went white. “Fact is, I just don’t have room in my life for her.”
“You’ve got the room. You’re just too chickenshit to make it.” Checkmate.
Aldo had lived the last ten years in fear of doing something that would get Gloria hurt…again. And he planned to spend the rest of his life making sure no one ever hurt her again.
11
I’m here because someone—a friend—suggested I should talk about…it. I’ve never been to therapy before. Am I doing it right? Ha.
I don’t really know where to start. I mean. I know what happened. I know why it happened. But I really don’t know if talking about it is going to help anything… It was ten years. How can I summarize ten years?
I’m living with my mom. It’s temporary until I can find a job, a place to live. She bought all these books over the years about abusive relationships, the psychology of them, how to help, what not to do. She was studying up on how to help me when the time came.
My dad abandoned us. I get that I was hungry for strong male attention. I really get how slow and subversive the pattern of abuse can be. I was the lobster in the pot. I didn’t know it was boiling until all of my options were gone.
He was my first real boyfriend, and things were so…intense. I was a sophomore dating a senior. I was suddenly someone. He made me feel like I was the center of his world. And he was everything I needed. He slowly, systematically took the place of my friends, my family. He was so possessive and jealous, and I’m ashamed to say that, at first, I liked it.
I thought it meant he really cared.
He told me he loved me on our second date. God. Neither one of us knew what that word even meant. I still don’t know what that word means. But now I know what it doesn’t mean.
He hit me for the first time a few months into our relationship. It was the summer after he graduated. I don’t know what set him off. Though I eventually became quite adept at predicting what would set him off.
He was so apologetic after it happened. He cried, said it was an accident. Promised it would never happen again. I could make him feel better, by forgiving him. I had the power.
I didn’t have the right lines or boundaries. I didn’t know that hitting shouldn’t be the line. Restraining, pushing, controlling, being disrespectful should be the line. But by the time he hit me, I was already so isolated. My mother and I were barely speaking. She couldn’t stand watching me lose myself to this person. She woke me up the morning after Glenn hit me, put me in the car, and drove me to my grandparents’ house for a “spontaneous visit.”
I was terrified Glenn would think I left him. I called him as soon as we got there, apologizing. Telling him we were still good. I was so scared. I didn’t know what he’d do.
He came after me. He brought me flowers. He picked me up and drove me home. My mother watched us pull away… It was like we were saying goodbye.
He didn’t hit me again for two years. I thought we were in love. I believed that it was a one-time thing. He wanted me to drop out of school, said he couldn’t stand me being around all those other people. He wanted me to spend all my time with him.
We were having sex, and it was getting rougher. Less…romantic. He would put up a fuss every time I said I was going to a football game or hanging out with friends. It got easier to give in. We’d fight. He’d grab me, leave fingerprints. Once he tripped me in front of his friends because he saw me talking to one of them. But it was always easier to accommodate him. I needed him. He made me feel special, important.
I’d never been everything to someone before, not even my mom…
She’s so strong. So brave. Being just a mom wasn’t enough. She wanted a whole, colorful life. That’s not a statement on how she felt about me or my worth. I get that now. Being a mom wasn’t enough for her, but I made being Glenn’s girlfriend everything that I needed.
Things got worse after I graduated. All those old plans for college or fashion school or traveling? They were all gone. I remember everyone else in my class was talking about college applications and financial aid, and I was trying to perfect a fucking meatloaf recipe—sorry—because it was his favorite.
He got a job in the kitchen cabinet factory right out of high school. I moved in with him when I graduated. He made me miss the graduation party my mom threw for me. I was too busy unpacking my stuff in his trailer to see my grandparents and what few friends I had left.
It was around that time that I stopped being special. He had me at his beck and call 24/7. He didn’t need to pursue me anymore. He just needed to keep me locked away.
He timed me when I went to the grocery store or the bank, and if I was a minute later than I had been the last time, he demanded to know why. Who did I talk to? Who was I cheating on him with? Did I want to screw the guy behind the register? He broke my cell phone so I couldn’t talk to anyone. He’d hide my car keys unless I was going somewhere I had permission.
He hit me again. Apologized again. Always apologizing.
His dad drank and beat his wife, so that’s what Glenn did. He drank more, and things got worse. I couldn’t anticipate his moods anymore. He liked that. Liked having me constantly tip-toeing on eggshells. One day he didn’t want to hear me speak. The next day he’d hold me down and choke me if I didn’t say “good morning.” He was in control over another human being.
He raped me once.
I left.
I went to my mother’s and lied. I told her we had a fight. She didn’t believe me. Mothers can see that kind of spiritual damage on their daughter’s souls.
When he showed up at her house, I went home with him. I knew he would hurt her. He wouldn’t just use that pain and intimidation on me. He would use it on my mother. And you know what? She would have fought back. She would have called the cops, pressed charges, and gouged that asshole’s eyes out.
And that’s why I went home with him. Because I wasn’t her. I couldn’t do those things. I deserved to be beaten and broken.
But I pictured it. I pictured what would happen if he spread his violence. And I started plotting. I started saving what little money I could. I stashed it in a tampon box. And I started envisioning a life without him. He cheated on me when he wasn’t too drunk to get it up. I knew every time he came home smelling like sex.
He called me names, threw food at me, hit me when he remembered I existed. I started fighting back, pathetically. It made him laugh.
I was nothing. Less than nothing.
And I let it all eat at me until I would rather die than spend another night with him.
It took me years. Years. Life wasted. I’m twenty-seven years old, and I’ve never had a job or lived on my own. Hell, I’ve never paid taxes or had health insurance. I don’t know what to do, where to go, who to be.
When I was sixteen, I had a plan, I had dreams. I knew what I wanted.
I can’t even remember those dreams. What does someone do without dreams? The only ones I have now are nightmares.
12
Aldo: How do you feel about lunch with your fiancé?
Gloria stared down at her phone and tapped her fingers on the keyboard of her mother’s elderly laptop. It had been a week since she’d had dinner with Luke and Harper. A week since Aldo had driven her home. A week since he held her in the dark as she unloaded a decade’s worth of tearful regret.
And now he was asking her to lunch. A pity invite?
“It’s better than writing a resume for a loser with absolutely no experience at anything besides baking pies and washing dishes,” she muttered. Her resume had her name at the top, her mother’s address underneath, and nothing but a high school degree on it. She was rotating between shame and frustration.
Gloria: Lunch would be great. Where? When?
The response was instantaneous, and she wondered if he was sitting there waiting for her response.
Aldo: Meet me at my office in half an hour?
Half an hour? What was she going to wear? She hadn’t even showered yet. Where was her deodorant?
“Shit. Shit. Shit,” she muttered under her breath, and she dashed down the hallway to her bedroom.
Lewiscki and Moretta Associates—of course he was a partner—was housed in a yellow brick building on the far end of Main Street. It was a quick four blocks from her mother’s house, and once Gloria had given up trying to dress to impress, she made it with a minute to spare.
She parked on the street and got out, looking at the glass front door and debating whether or not she should go inside. Her phone buzzed.
Aldo: Come inside. I’ll show you my fancy corner office.
Gloria looked up and saw him grinning at her from the second-floor window. He waved. She waved back mechanically. Just a pity invite. Don’t get your panties in a twist, she reminded herself.
She took the stairs to the second floor and hesitated for only a second or ten outside the Lewiscki and Moretta Associates door. “Oh my God. Just open the damn door, Gloria.”
She did as she told herself, the metal handle cool to the touch, and walked into chaos.
It was an open workspace with desks and flat surfaces crammed everywhere. There were blueprint-draped work tables, desks buckling under computer equipment and files. Even the industrial gray carpet was camouflaged beneath ignored paperwork. Phones rang. Faxes beeped. And a dreadlocked IT person dismantled a copy machine in the corner.
A woman with short, jet-black hair cropped close to her scalp swore at a huge computer monitor while an early twenty-something associate ran from the conference room lugging a laptop, tablet, and stack of files thicker than the entire Harry Potter series.
Aldo, the calm in the storm, approached.
Oh, God. He was wearing a tie. The sleeves of his sexy as hell button-down were rolled up to his elbows. She really liked that look. A lot. Attraction was a vague memory to her, but the biology of it was waking the hell up inside her, setting her sensible underwear on fire.
“Hey,” he said, giving her that dimpled grin, his brown eyes warm on her face.
“Is this a bad time?” Always apologetic. Always worried about being an inconvenience.
“Son of a motherfucking shitass mess!” The Halle Berry-lookalike slammed a palm down on her table. Gloria jumped.
“You fix it?” Aldo asked pleasantly.
“I fixed it,” she said, rolling her shoulders, showing off toned arms that spoke of hours spent in the gym.
“Gloria, this is my partner Jamilah Lewiscki. She’s a structural engineer by trade and a database engineer for funsies,” Aldo said, making the introductions. “Jamilah, this is Gloria, my lunch date.”
Jamilah, unburdened from whatever thing she’d fixed, threw up a friendly wave. “Gloria, do me a favor and get this guy out of my space so I can get something done.”
Infinitely mature, Aldo stuck his tongue out at her. “You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone.”
“Probably won’t even notice,” Jamilah sniffed. She snuck Gloria a wink that said otherwise.
“Come on,” Aldo said in Gloria’s ear. “I’m starving.”
“What about your corner office?” Gloria asked.
Jamilah snorted. “That’s what he’s telling his lunch dates these days?”
Aldo grinned and waved grandly toward the U-shaped command center in the back, wedged in between a restroom and the water cooler. It was the only spot in the entire office that maintained any semblance of organization.
“Fancy,” Gloria said.
“Yeah, only the best of the best for us managing partners,” Aldo said, flashing her that devastating smile.
“Don’t forget you’ve got a three o’clock,” Jamilah said without looking up from her screen.
“Yeah, yeah,” Aldo said as he guided Gloria toward the door. “Let’s go before they decide they can’t live without me.”
It was the quintessential kind of spring day that had bodies waking up after a long winter and feeling that burst of energy that came from that yellow sun warming too-long-cold skin. Gloria fell into step with Aldo, and together they walked down the block. She was careful to keep her distance. She’d cried on the man only days ago and was nervous that his inherent goodness would have the same effect on her again.
There was a café here. New and wheatgrassy from the looks of it. Gloria had never been there before. But there were a lot of places she’d never been before.
Aldo held the door for her. “Quick pit stop,” he promised.
Gloria stepped inside and clasped her hands in front of her while Aldo bulldozed his way to the cashier. “To go for Moretta,” he called out.
The older woman behind the register patted her silver bun. “As if I didn’t know who you were,” she purred under huge red Sally Jesse Raphael glasses. “Your man friend here comes in for lunch three times a week, honey,” she told Gloria.
Her man friend? Adorable.
Gloria pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. Sally Jesse hefted a huge paper bag with handles over the counter. “Threw in a few of those gluten-free Danishes you’re so fond of,” she said in a stage whisper.
“Estelle, I’m in love with you,” Aldo professed, doling out cash.
Sally Jesse Estelle sighed dramatically. “That’s what you tell all the seventy-somethings. Enjoy your date,” she said to Gloria, wriggling her painted eyebrows.
He put his hand at the small of Gloria’s back and led the way back outside and to his truck. She breathed a sigh of relief when she didn’t spontaneously burst into tears of self-loathing and hopelessness at his touch.
“I hope you don’t mind that I ordered for you. I got a few sandwiches and soups that you can choose from.”
Thoughtful, not pushy, she decided.
“That’s great. Thanks,” she said.
Aldo popped the bag into the back seat of his pickup. “Do you have enough time for a picnic at the lake?”
Jobless, homeless, prospectless she had all the time in the world.
“I do if you do,” she said.
“You just made my day.” He skirted the truck and opened the passenger door for her.
A five-minute drive later, Aldo pulled into the recreational area parking lot at the lake. He led the way down to the lakefront and, ignoring the picnic tables, steered her toward a small copse of trees. He unfurled the lightweight blanket under his arm and gestured for her to sit.
Gloria was glad she hadn’t gone for a skirt or sundress. The red capris—another gift from her mother, whose horror at her pathetic wardrobe was justified—were just right for picnicking. Aldo plopped down next to her. Energy in every movement.
She liked being around him, liked the level of enthusiasm he had for everything. It was like being close to that spring sun. Energizing.
He unpacked the bag. A huge salad with grilled chicken for Aldo “My Body is a Temple” Moretta. Two sandwiches, a cup of split pea soup, and a small Caesar salad for Gloria to have her way with. The Danishes, a cherry and a cheese, looked delectable.
He unscrewed the lid of a water bottle and handed it to her. “Did I do okay?”
There was no planet on which Aldo would need encouragement. But today, n
erves shimmered over his sexy surface.
“You did great,” she told him. Gloria shoved aside the need to wait for permission and helped herself to half of a chicken salad sandwich and the soup.
They settled into a companionable silence, enjoying the food, the sun, the glitter of the water in front of them.
“Did you go to the Plunge?” Aldo asked her, referring to Benevolence’s annual fundraiser. The Not So Polar Plunge happened in April every year because the water was still damn cold by that time.
She shook her head and covered her mouth, suddenly not sure how to eat around other human beings. Most of her meals the last few years had been alone. “No, I didn’t.”
“Heard Luke almost got into it with Linc Reed,” He said conversationally.
“Do they still have that rivalry thing going?” Gloria asked, taking a sip of water. She remembered vaguely the year that Luke and his then-girlfriend, Karen, had broken up. It had been the talk of the halls at Benevolence High. Linc had moved in quickly, and Luke had taken exception.
They talked in fits and spurts about Aldo’s job, the college time he’d squeezed in between deployments, about Benevolence in general. He was a charming gossip, never salacious, only entertaining. Gloria couldn’t help but admire how utterly confident, how comfortable, he was.
Aldo finished his half-gallon of vegetables and leaned back on the heels of his hands, his legs crossed at the ankles. The picture of relaxation.
“I had an ulterior motive for asking you here,” he confessed.
Gloria stopped mid-chew on the respectable, gluten-less baked good. “You did?”
Did he want her to water his plants while he deployed?
For fuck’s sake. Could she maybe attempt to stop being a doormat in her own mind? Maybe the man wanted to make out with her. Damn it. She should have shaved her legs.
