ETERNAL

by Cecy Robson

  “Hi, Fernie,” I say.

  I haven’t seen her this inebriated in a long time. For a moment, I don’t think she hears or sees me, until her focus trails to my closed fist where the nineteen dollars I have waits in my grip.

  “Why don’t we get you something to eat?” I offer.

  “She’s not allowed inside the offices,” Nestor says. “The owners wouldn’t like that.”

  “I realize,” I say, bothered. He wouldn’t say that about someone who wasn’t homeless. I motion to the coffee stand. “Fernie, are you hungry? Let’s get you some food for you and your friends.”

  I edge back, hoping she’ll follow. I sigh when she does. I keep her in my line of sight, noting how closely the security guards shadow us. “I’m just getting her something to eat,” I tell them.

  I’m prepared to argue and perhaps they know. They exchange glances and give us space, watching us carefully as we reach the stand. Miss Belinda hones in on Fernie with as much enthusiasm as the security guards.

  “Hi, Miss Belinda,” I say, trying to maintain my composure. “May I have two waters—”

  “Four,” Fernie says, her expression deadpan.

  “Four,” I clarify. “And I’ll take four breakfast sandwiches, please.”

  Belinda and one of her workers start filling my order, watching Fernie as they place the items in a bag.

  “You always say you don’t have money,” Fernie tells me, her expression changing from deadpan to angry when I pay Belinda.

  Panic sets in, although my voice stays firm. “I only have money for food.”

  “You’re a liar,” she says, her voice loud and harsh.

  The woman in line behind us steps away. Belinda carefully places my order on the counter, worry stiffening her posture.

  “Fernie, I’m trying to help you,” I say.

  “Liars can’t help me,” she says. “You’re a liar!”

  I turn as the security guards march forward. Fernie takes off, slipping in her too worn loafers as she nears the door. She lands hard and despite her condition stands just as fast, racing through the doors.

  Whatever she’s taken has altered her mood and made her frantic.

  I reach for the bag, freezing when Belinda grasps my arm. “Stay away from her,” she tells me. “You can’t help someone like that.”

  My face reveals my frustration and fear, regardless of everything I do to hide it.

  “Niña,” she says, releasing me slowly.

  I clutch my bag and back away. Does she know Fernie is my mother? In that simple moment, could she see how much I love her?

  My emotions push me forward, morphing my quick steps into a run.

  “Miss Luci,” Nestor calls to me. “We can’t help you if you leave the property.”

  And they won’t help Fernie if she stays. I’m ready to scream. All I want to do is help her, it’s all I’ve ever wanted.

  I see Fernie further down the street, doing my best to keep my pace despite the heels I’m wearing.

  “Fernie, wait,” I yell. “Fernie!”

  The people walking toward me pause, their attention skipping from me to the direction I’m looking. She cuts between a woman carrying a heavy shopping bag and a young teen talking on her phone.

  Air burns through my lungs and my leg muscles throb, begging me to slow. I ground to a halt near the crosswalk, my heart beating out of control. I’d just missed the light. Fernie didn’t. She cuts a left, taking the sidewalk that runs parallel to the park.

  For a brief moment she pauses, meeting my face, but then it’s like she can’t run fast enough.

  If I don’t reach her, she’ll head down the street and in the direction of the lower income buildings. I’m not following her down there, not even during the day. I need to catch her while she’s still in the better part of town.

  The minute the light changes, I hurry across. I’m gassed out and doing my best to keep a somewhat decent pace. There’s an event at the park. A few blow-up bouncy houses have been set up and there’s a man making balloon animals for the children who have gathered.

  From what I can tell, the local prep school has started a preschool program and is looking to recruit students. It’s smart to come here, the park caters to young families.

  “Daddy, look!” A little girl with long dark braids proudly displays her balloon flower. Her father pretends to smell it, making a big fuss.

  “That’s the best flower I think I’ve ever smelled,” he tells her.

  The women beside him laugh. I adjust the hold on my bag. It may seem over the top to some, but it’s exactly what the little girl needs.

  I can picture Landon doing the same thing. It’s exactly how he is with nephew, telling Cal, Jr. exactly what he needs to feel loved.

  Except Landon isn’t here, and I need to find Fernie. I force myself to move faster, my speed kicking up when I spot her.

  Across the street, near one of the newer buildings, I see Fernie. She takes off her coat and heads into the small alleyway leading to the underground garages for the tenants.

  I stop in the mouth of the alleyway, watching her pass the first of two dumpsters pressed against the wall.

  “Fernie, don’t go,” I yell. “Please, take this food.”

  The alleyway is barren, free of debris and cars. Sunlight streams between the neighboring buildings. It looks safe on the surface, but something doesn’t feel right.

  I start to head back to the park when Fernie looks over her shoulder.

  I realize too late she’s not looking at me.

  My mouth is covered and I’m hauled backward. I barely catch sight of the man with the red beanie when my purse and bag are ripped from me. I can’t see the man who has me.

  All I see is the man in front of me, and the way his greedy stare drags down my body.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Luci

  I rake my heel down the shin of the man holding me. He curses against my ear, his foul breath wafting into my nose as I lash out, kicking my heels and writhing violently.

  His hold loosens. I start to break free when the man with the red beanie punches me in the stomach. The force he uses and the pain it causes shoots into my chest, curling me forward.

  Acid roils my stomach and burns my esophagus, making me choke and silencing my scream. “Grab her legs,” the other man orders.

  I’m gagging, sick, my head spinning from lack of oxygen as the other man clamps his hand tighter against my mouth. They drag me toward the dumpsters. I buck, fighting as hard as I can, knowing what they’ll do to me if they take me there.

  Fear threatens to detonate my racing heart as the dumpsters close in. I’m thrashing, cold sweat pouring down my face and blinding me. I try to scream, but all that does is steal my last breath. I start to black out when I’m abruptly dropped on ground.

  I land hard, momentarily disoriented.

  “Motherfucker!”

  The man with the red beanie crashes next to me, blood gushing from his mouth. I push up on my side, my hands shaking against the asphalt. I barely lift my head when Landon hauls me to my feet and drags me behind him.

  I barely keep from falling over, confused and trying to make sense of what happened. The man with the red beanie staggers to his feet, his eyes wide as he backs away and toward a larger man I don’t recognize. It’s only when I see the gun Landon is holding that I realize why both men have their hands up.

  I can’t control my breathing or the nausea twisting my gut. Landon is deadly calm, his hand steady and his aim trained on the larger man.

  The man with the red beanie attempts to edge forward, freezing at the sound of Landon’s booming voice. “Get anywhere near her and I’ll fucking kill you.”

  “Freeze, drop your weapon. Drop your weapon, now!”

  Landon drops his gun near his feet, kicking it toward the police and away from the other men. Several uniformed officers rush forward, securing Landon’s weapon and
wrenching him back.

  Knowing Landon is in trouble immediately snaps me out of my terror induced fog. “Wait, don’t,” I say. “He didn’t do anything—he was protecting me.”

  He’s pushed against the wall with his hands out and frisked.

  “He didn’t do anything!” I scream, ignoring the female cop who steps in front of me, telling me to calm down.

  “Luci, it’s okay,” Landon says. He keeps still, allowing the police officer to check him for additional weapons. “Officer, I have my license to carry in my wallet, as well as a permit for the gun I used. I pulled my weapon when I found these men attacking my girlfriend.”

  The police already have the two men who attacked me in cuffs when another female officer pulls Landon’s permits and I.D. out of his wallet. Landon keeps his glare trained on them as he’s led down the alley for questioning.

  “Ma’am, you need to come with me.”

  I barely hear the police officer’s voice, too focused on Landon as he’s led further away.

  “Ma’am, can you hear me?”

  I nod, but even that seems like too much of an effort, my ears pounding from the residual adrenaline rush. The police officer motions me to the side. “Are you all right, miss?” he asks me.

  “Yes,” I reply. With how hard my voice quakes, I don’t appear remotely convincing.

  “Miley, call an EMT.”

  “Please don’t,” I say, looking back toward Landon. “That’s Landon Summers, an attorney at Ballantyne and Bradley. He’s my boyfriend. He was helping me. I-I-I was attacked.”

  My voice cuts off when I realize this is the same police officer who patrols the area, the one I’ve seen at the park several times, and the same man who warned me not to be out here at night.

  “It’s all right, ma’am. You’re safe now,” he says. “Just tell me what happened and we can get you out of here.”

  I do, knowing I have to help Landon.

  It seems to take forever and more than once it feels like I’m answering the same set of questions. When I finish, the men who assaulted me are read their rights and driven away in separate patrol cars.

  Once it’s clear the investigator is done photographing the scene, Landon makes his way to me. The front buttons of his suit jacket are missing. I catch sight of one near the spilled contents of my purse and the demolished bag of food.

  I shove my feet into my discarded shoes then bend to retrieve my belongings. My cell phone screen is cracked, and the display doesn’t appear to be working. I shove it, my wallet, and keys back inside my purse.

  Landon lifts a pack of tissues and a lipstick from the ground. “You want these?” he asks, his voice gruff.

  “No,” I reply. He’s angry. I know he is. Mostly, I’m just numb.

  He tosses the remaining items in the dumpster. I look away from it, realizing what could have happened to me if he hadn’t arrived and sick over what could have happened to him if he wasn’t able to defend himself.

  We walk out of the alleyway. He doesn’t touch me, but stays close.

  “My car’s up here,” he says. He huffs when I look at him. “One of the security guards called Kee-Kee, saying you went after some homeless woman, trying to give her food. He told her she didn’t look right. Kee-Kee called me as I was driving back from court. I circled around the park, figuring you went there. I wasn’t sure I’d find you. But I did.”

  He hits the key fob to his car, causing the young teens who stopped to admire it to step away. Landon opens the passenger side door for me, his features hard and menacing. I slip inside and snap my seatbelt in place.

  Landon falls into the driver’s seat, slamming his door shut before pulling on his seatbelt and peeling away from the curb.

  I’m not surprised when he passes our building and keeps going. I’m not certain what I look like, but most of my hair is in my face and I can taste blood when I swallow.

  “There was a woman passing by when I saw those men dragging you into the alley,” he bites out. “I told her to call for help and ran after you.”

  His chest rises and falls with purpose, his fury building with each second that passes. “What in the hell were you thinking, Luci?”

  I press my lips together.

  “Anything could have happened to you,” he snaps. “You know that, right? When the police checked them the one with the hat had a knife and a syringe filled with some kind of shit.” He slams his hand against the wheel. “God damn it, I could have lost you!”

  His voice cuts off when he sees how bad I’m trembling. “Christ,” he mutters. He slings his arm around me, pulling me against him when I break down. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry.”

  Landon doesn’t say anything else, he simply holds me, letting me cry every bit of fear I felt and appearing afraid to let me go.

  We reach my condo complex several long minutes later. He pulls into the lot and parks in front of my house. When I moved in, I was assigned two spots. I never thought I’d have a use for the second one, until I met Landon and he showed me just how empty my life had been.

  “Don’t get out without me,” he tells me.

  Like I could move if I tried.

  He comes to my side, helping me out and lifting the purse from my trembling grasp. As soon as he shuts the door, he places his arm around me and guides me to the front door.

  Landon uses his key to unlock the door. The familiar surroundings and the aroma of bread I baked this morning offers me comfort, but not as much as the man who holds me.

  His cologne, the one I like and sprayed into the lining of my clutch that morning I thought I was leaving him forever, drifts into my nose, mixing with a masculine scent triggered by his adrenaline. He may have feared losing me, but I could have lost him, too.

  He leads me into my bathroom, lowering me to the edge of my tub before starting the water to the shower.

  “I-I have to call work,” I stammer.

  He kisses my head. “You don’t have to do anything. I’ll take care of it.”

  The hot water from the shower mists the air in his absence. When he returns, it’s more like heavy fog. He doesn’t complain, nor does he ask why I haven’t moved. Perhaps he knows that I can’t. I’m physically exhausted and emotionally battered by what happened.

  Landon flips on the exhaust and returns to my side, kneeling in front of me and helping me out of my shoes. “I’m okay,” I say.

  He shakes his head. “No, you’re not, baby.”

  With gentle grace he threads his fingers through my hands and helps me to my feet. It’s not much of an effort on his part. I allow him to undress me, relishing those large hands and tender touch to soothe me further.

  My dress falls at my feet, he pulls me to him, encouraging me to step out of it.

  “Jesus,” he says.

  I glance down at the ugly bruise forming around my belly and scratches along my skin from my fall.

  “He hit you?” he asks, his voice barely registering.

  I don’t want to upset him further, but there’s no point in denying it. “Yes.”

  He turns me around, examining me closely. “We should get you to the hospital. You could be in shock, have internal bleeding, or . . .”

  “I’m all right,” I say, although it’s clear that I’m not. The bruises will fade, so will the lacerations. The emotional trauma is a different story.

  I try to remember where I placed the contact information of the therapist I was seeing. I know I’ll have to start attending counseling again. Not just because of this incident, but for everything that’s happened since the last time we spoke.

  I ease away from Landon and adjust the temperature in the shower. I step inside, thinking I’m ready to move on and not simply wait for my body to regain its composure.

  For a long time, all I do is stand beneath the water, allowing it to bathe me and wash the filth and memories keeping me immobile.

  The door rattles as Landon opens it. He
pulls me to him, gathering me close. “I would have done anything to stop this,” he says.

  And I would have done anything to spare him from danger.

  My arms feel heavy as I embrace his bare form. I start to cry again without meaning to, but with Landon it’s okay to feel even the not-so-good feelings.

  He washes my hair, my body, using care around the bruises and even more care when he dries and moisturizes my skin. I don’t mean to be so pathetic, but I know what’s coming and that I can no longer tuck my secrets away.

  We slip into my bed naked. It’s just as well, I would have felt the same way with clothes. Water gathers along the ends of my towel-dried hair, trickling drops against my back. Along the busy street behind my house, a truck barrels down the road. Aside from that, only quiet lingers.

  If we were in Kiawah, all we’d hear is the lull of the ocean, tempting us outside to watch its soothing waves spill across the endless shore. I wish we were there, far from the city and the memory of the day. But we’re too close to everything that transpired and mere moments away from the truth.

  I watch the way his chest rises and falls, not knowing where to start, my heart heavy with the words preparing to spill from my lips.

  Landon strokes my face. “She led you to them,” he says. “That woman you go to the park to feed, gave you to those men.” His voice sharpens despite how he’s fighting to keep it gentle. “It was her, wasn’t it? The one who always wears that yellow coat.”

  My first instinct is to deny it or make excuses that could explain Fernie’s actions away. It’s what I’ve done all my life and something my grandmother conditioned me to do. Mamita, was like that, always defending her until she died and I stepped up to take her place.

  “I know you want to help her, Luci. And God knows, she needs to be helped. But not by you, not anymore. Not when she cares more about her next fix than your safety.”

  I don’t respond, listening and waiting for the right moment, and wishing I didn’t have to say what I do.