The Tattered Gloves

by J. L. Berg

  “I’m already wearing my boxing gloves,” I said, flashing my ratty red gloves.

  He laughed, pulling me close, and I snuggled into his warmth and his love before swiftly falling asleep.

  I awoke in my own bed, still wearing the clothes I’d had on the night before. Next to me was a note.

  You’re cute when you sleep. See you in the morning.

  —Sam

  That little flip-flop thing my stomach did whenever Sam laughed or smiled or talked happened, and I couldn’t help but smile until I heard the laughter outside my door. As the light streamed in from the window, I jumped up, frantic over the time.

  Pulling the door open, I jogged down the hallway and into the kitchen where I found Sam, Allison, and Addy, all dressed and ready for the day.

  “Why didn’t you wake me up?” I asked as they all stood around, drinking cups of cocoa.

  “You were exhausted, Willow,” Addy explained. “You needed rest.”

  “But I need to get this over with,” I pleaded.

  “And we will, but you needed your rest. Today won’t be easy.”

  She was right. Although I was fully committed to this now, I hadn’t actually thought the whole thing through. I had no idea what I would be walking into.

  “Why don’t you go take a shower? By the time you’re dressed, I’ll have breakfast ready.”

  Looking down at my wrinkled clothes, knowing my breath must be something close to awful, I wholeheartedly agreed.

  I left the kitchen filled with the sweet smell of chocolate and headed for the bathroom.

  A set of familiar footsteps followed close behind me.

  “What are you doing? You can’t go in the bathroom with me.” I laughed.

  “No?” He grinned, making my heart stutter. “But I can make sure you spend at least twenty minutes in there since we all know you’re planning on taking five.”

  I groaned.

  “You need to relax. Your aunt is right. You need to be prepared.”

  “Fine,” I said. “But I’m locking the door, so you don’t get any bright ideas.”

  He just continued grinning at the entrance to my bedroom as I grabbed a change of clothes and then all the way up until I clicked the lock.

  And, for the next twenty minutes, he became my jailer. Every time I shut off the water, he’d demand through the door that I turn it back on.

  “You’re annoying,” I grumbled the first time.

  “So are you.” He fought back.

  “I’m bored,” I whined after ten minutes.

  “Don’t care!”

  This went on, back and forth, and although I tried to sound put out and angry, I was anything but. I happily shaved my legs and washed my hair — not once, but twice — letting the conditioner soak in while I washed my face.

  After I was thoroughly convinced I was squeaky clean from head to toe, I turned the water off, waiting for a rebuttal. But none came.

  Success!

  I rewarded myself with some lotion, which I rarely did. Maneuvering lotion with large plastic bags taped to my hands wasn’t an easy task. After getting dressed, I applied a bit of makeup for a change and ran a quick brush through my wet hair, already feeling better.

  Braver.

  But the gloves still remained.

  When I pulled the door open, Sam was exactly where I’d left him, reading a book on his phone while leaning against the doorframe.

  “You smell good,” he acknowledged right away.

  “Do you think I’ll ever be rid of them?” I asked, gently placing a hand on his arm.

  His phone was already back in his pocket as his eyes found mine.

  “The gloves?” he asked, running his thumb along mine. “Yes, but I think, for right now, it doesn’t matter. You’re healing, Willow. Give yourself time. There are still things in my house — presents and mementos from my mom — I can’t bear to look at. I have them all tucked away in the attic, like some dirty little secret. Will I ever go up there again? Probably. But it doesn’t have to be today.”

  “It doesn’t bother you? That we can’t touch… for real?”

  His fingers slid between mine, and he held our joined hands between us.

  “This is real,” he said with conviction before his lips met mine once more.

  But, this time, it wasn’t an end.

  It was simply a beginning.

  AFTER ONE OF Addy’s signature breakfast plates, filled to the brim with piping hot eggs and crisp bacon, all of us headed over to the county sheriff’s office. It was in the next town over since most of the areas around here weren’t large enough for their own police stations.

  We passed the time by playing catch-up. With all the emotional drama of my homecoming, I had a lot to fill them in on, specifically where I’d been.

  “It looks just like I described it?” Addy asked, surprised to find out I’d retraced her steps all the way back to Charlottesville.

  None of them were happy with me. No doubt I’d never hear the end of how worried each of them had been, but at least they knew where I had gone.

  And why I had come back.

  The sheriff’s station wasn’t much to look at — small and boxy with a brick exterior that blended into everything around it. But, to me, it was freedom.

  As the engine shut off, Addy turned to me before opening the door. “I called yesterday when you didn’t come home. They’ve pulled Mr. Lee from his classes today, and he’s inside for questioning.”

  My fingers dug into the seat.

  “They’ve assured me, you won’t come in contact with him, nor will he know your identity.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked, unsure if I was actually still capable of movement.

  She nodded as Sam’s firm hand squeezed my shoulder.

  “Okay,” I said finally, taking a deep breath.

  My family, this little collection of people I’d gathered since arriving in Sugar Tree, surrounded me as we walked toward the entrance. Every step felt like a mile, but I wouldn’t turn away.

  Not this time.

  I gladly allowed Addy to handle everything the moment we entered — from the introductions to the paperwork. I had more important things to focus on…

  Like trying not to pass out.

  We were quickly escorted into an office and asked to wait. It didn’t take long for the sheriff to arrive. He was tall and authoritative but had a kind smile when he offered me his hand.

  I looked out at his hand as he waited politely for me to reply with the gesture, but my arms were wrapped tightly around my waist.

  “So great to finally meet you,” Sam interjected. “My father speaks very highly of you.”

  I let out a sigh of relief as Sam continued his idle chat with the man, who introduced himself as Sheriff Carter. He took a seat in the desk across from us and quickly glanced through some paperwork

  Finally, his eyes met mine.

  “Are you okay with this?” he asked, his eyes briefly glancing back and forth to the three people who surrounded me. “We can talk in private if that’s easier.”

  I adamantly shook my head. “I want them here. All of them.”

  He nodded before continuing, “I’ve read over what your aunt told us over the phone and the statements made by your friends. Can you tell me what happened to you?”

  And so I did.

  I told him about my life growing up with a negligent mother who turned tricks for a living. I told him about the rules and how I disobeyed.

  I told him about that night.

  I was sure I wasn’t the first young girl to break down in tears before him, but he treated me like his own daughter in those brief hours. He handed me tissues, he was gentle and compassionate, and above all… he believed me.

  “And your mother didn’t call it in? When it happened?” he confirmed.

  “No, she didn’t want the police finding out about her, so instead, she spent the next few days tracking down my aunt to get rid of me.”

  Addy’
s hand found mine.

  “Well, I’m going to be honest with you; he’s not being very cooperative with us. Not that I expected anything less. He’s claiming innocence, and without anything physical to tie him to the scene, I don’t know that he’ll get any time.”

  My face fell along with every ounce of hope I possessed.

  “But his voice?” Addy asked. “Or the fact that he is from D.C.?”

  “A lawyer could easily dismiss that. What I need from you, Willow… and I know this will be hard, but I need for you to think back to that night. Remember every detail, and find something to nail this bastard.”

  What he was asking was a lot.

  Sure, I’d thought about that night every day since it’d happened. But he was asking me to relive it.

  “It’s okay,” Allison assured me. “You can do it.”

  Another tear fell down my cheek, dripping off my chin to land on the tip of my glove. I’d been crying that night, too, when I found these ruby-red gloves, hidden away in some forgotten corner of my room.

  “I remembered the pain and the fear… the sheer sense of loss as he took and took and…” Then, I suddenly remembered. “The scars.”

  “Scars?” Sheriff Carter asked.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat as I found my words. “He… I remember him saying something about coming from a bad home, too, and how much alike we really were.”

  And then the full memory came roaring back with a vengeance.

  “He had scars on his chest and back, like he’d been beaten with something… a rope or a whip maybe. I never saw them, but I felt them. Big, long, jagged scars that covered nearly every inch.”

  My body shuddered from the memory.

  “Thank you, Willow,” the sheriff said softly.

  Several warm hands fell on my shoulders.

  “We’ll get him,” he promised.

  It was a promise he kept.

  After several long days, Jonathan Lee was charged with rape without the chance of bail. When news got out about his arrest, the town went into chaos over discovering their children had been in the presence of a rapist. Thankfully, my name was kept out of it. All of it.

  An impossible feat in a town filled with gossip.

  But that was a word I was starting to doubt.

  The word impossible.

  Because, from where I was standing, it seemed anything was possible if you’re brave enough to try.

  AS THE END of January came around, we tried to shift our focus back to something resembling normalcy. Page Turners had brought in record breaking profits and to celebrate, we threw a party and invited the whole town.

  Sam made sure to send a special invite to his father.

  But the more I tried to get back into the swing of things, the less I felt in touch with reality.

  I’d done it.

  I’d vanquished my mortal enemy; so why did I feel like I was walking through life like some half-dead zombie?

  My lackluster attitude must not have gone unnoticed. As soon as we locked up the doors the night of the party, Sam was tugging at my hand, demanding we go for a drive.

  “A drive?” I asked. “Since when do we drive?”

  “I can drive,” he stated proudly.

  “I know you can,” I replied, having seen him do so in the past. “But we usually just walk everywhere.”

  Shrugging, he led me to a familiar black sedan I’d seen him in on a few occasions. I believe it belonged to his father, but I’d never asked.

  “I thought we might do something different tonight.”

  “Okay,” I agreed.

  “Your door, madam,” he said, making a grand gesture as he pulled open the car door in front of me.

  “You’re so weird,” I laughed.

  I watched as he carefully shut the passenger side door and ran around the front to join me. Once he was safely inside, the engine roared to life and we were soon driving down Main to a destination unknown.

  “Does my aunt know where we are going?”

  He made a face, scrunching his nose.

  “Well, she knows we’re together.”

  “And where does she think we are?” I pressed.

  “A movie.”

  “But we’re not going to a movie, I take it?”

  He just smiled.

  Soon, we were driving past town limits and driving uphill on a bumpy, unpaved road.

  “Are you taking me on a night hike? Is that a thing? I don’t even know.”

  He laughed. “I know better than that. No, no hiking involved. Promise. Just trust me, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  We drove another ten minutes or so, while I continued to look out the window, enjoying the way the moonlight fell across the horizon, scattering over the trees and farmlands like a soft blanket.

  Finally, the car came to a stop and I took a moment to look around before turning toward Sam.

  “Where are we?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure there is a name for it. Most of us just call it ‘The Spot’. During football season, it’s the place to hang out after games and dances. But during the winter, it’s pretty desolate because of the cold.”

  “So it’s a party spot?”

  He nodded. “Partying and other stuff.”

  I instantly blushed.

  His hand reached out and found mine. “I thought it might be a good place to talk.”

  “Talk?”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t mind doing all sorts of stuff with you besides talking. I could make a list. A really long, detailed list.”

  My blush deepened.

  “But tonight, we need to talk. Because as much as you try to hide it and put on a brave face, I can see you are still struggling with everything that happened a few weeks ago and I want to be here for you.”

  “Let’s go for a walk,” I suggested.

  He agreed, and followed my lead as we both stepped out of the car. I could see why the teenagers of Sugar Tree had chosen this out of the way spot for a place to hang out. It was secluded, surrounded by lush evergreens and had a perfect view.

  “Is that–?” I asked, looking down at the twinkling lights below.

  “Home? Yeah. It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

  I nodded, as his arms wrapped around me for warmth.

  “I wasn’t trying to hide my struggles from you,” I finally said, as we both stared down at the town below. “I just didn’t know how to explain it because I don’t know what it is I’m struggling with.”

  “Are you scared he’ll get out of jail?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “Maybe in the beginning. But not anymore. When it was just my testimony, there was always this doubt that he’d get out of it. But when the D.C. police arrested my mom and she finally admitted to everything and identified Mr. Lee, I knew he’d be in jail for a long, long time.”

  “I honestly was surprised your mom actually did the right thing for once,” he said as he shifted, taking my hand as we walked a short distance from the car.

  “You and me both. Not that it erases everything she did to me as a kid. But it’s good to know she can make the right choice if she wants to.”

  “Do you think you’ll ever go back? To D.C.?”

  It had been something I’d been thinking about for some time. Ever since I’d been told of my mother’s arrest and eventual release on bond, I found myself wondering if she’d changed at all.

  The little girl in me still wanted her to be the mother she should have always been.

  But it wasn’t my job to seek her out.

  “No,” I answered. “She knows where I am.”

  We spent the next few minutes roaming around, until we headed back to the car and found spots next to each other on the hood.

  Leaning back, I looked up at the stars. There were thousands, bright and brilliant without the glare of the street lights.

  “Do you think there were others?” I asked.

  “Others?”

  “Other girls,” I
clarified. “That he—”

  His body turned toward mine, and that intense green gaze found mine instantly.

  “That’s what has been bothering you.”

  I nodded.

  I hadn’t really realized it completely until this moment, but it plagued my thoughts daily.

  “The idea that there could be more young girls out there hurting like me? What if there were dozens more after me? What if my silence ruined lives?”

  I felt his finger brush through my hair.

  “You can’t think like that Willow, you just can’t. The police know nothing about the guy other than what you told them. So, yes… there could be more or it could have been a one time thing, but knowing or not knowing will do nothing to help you to move on.”

  “I do want to move on.”

  “And you will.”

  “Tell me something to cheer me up,” I said. “I know we’re supposed to remember all the bad stuff too, but right now, I just need the good.”

  He smiled, pulling me closer, so close I could feel his breath on my cheeks.

  “Are you ready?” he asked. “This is going to be a good one.”

  I smiled, already feeling my mood lifting slightly.

  “I love you, Willow Fairchild.”

  My breath caught, and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt.

  I loved him too.

  Maybe I always had, since the very beginning.

  But love requires bravery, and up until recently I’d been to scared fight for it.

  “I love you too, Sam Shepherd,” I finally answered, smiling from ear to ear.

  Life was good.

  Life was really good.

  Four Months Later

  “ARE YOU SURE?” Sam asked.

  “Very sure,” I answered, feeling slightly apprehensive.

  His lazy grin saw that hesitation, and he pushed. “Really sure? Because I hear, once you do it, it becomes an addiction, and you just can’t stop.”

  “That’s not true!”

  “It is,” he argued. “I saw it on TV.”

  “You’re just stalling.”

  “Am not.” He laughed.

  “Are too! And, besides, I thought guys were really into this kind of stuff.”

  He looked down at himself, dressed in denim and a graphic tee that screamed the word Bazinga across the chest. “Do I look like the kind of guy who’s into… that?” His eyes glanced upward.