by Rae Agatha
Oh, how he loved her.
***
None of them had a big family. Monica had lost the touch with her father very soon after he had left her and Janice. All she knew about him was that he moved to Europe, to Ireland, and had a new family there. She wasn’t even sure if she had any half-siblings, but since her father was never too much interested in her, even when he was still Janice’s husband, Monica hardly ever thought of him nor cared about his life. If she ever did, she was rather curious what was so different about the other woman that he was apparently able to start a happy family with; it was after all a rather bitter discovery that he was capable of doing it, only not with Monica and Janice.
Monica’s grandma’s death symbolically cut any family knots she had and Rick only had his mother and an older brother Steve who lived with his boyfriend in California. Since neither Rick nor Mon had any special expectations concerning the wedding, they decided they would have a really modest ceremony in the city hall.
They chose the New Year’s Eve 1996/1997 to tie the knot, since they wanted to keep on celebrating their anniversaries on the same day, and asked six people to come; Rick’s mom, Martha, his brother, the best man, with his partner Gary, Marty and Alice and Trisha, Monica’s good friend from work who also served as her maid of honor. The ceremony was short, quiet but quite emotional for the newlyweds and when it was over, they invited everyone to their favorite bar for some chicken wings and beer. Around midnight everyone went outside the bar to watch the fireworks and Rick and Monica recalled the night they had found each other again. They hugged and kissed, knowing they were the happiest people on the planet. The best wedding ever.
Rick was becoming an established author, with two novels and a collection of short stories published, who won the Whiting Writers’ Award. His books had been critically acclaimed and his second novel, In God We Trust, was nominated to The Lannan Literary Award. His third book was to be released internationally in March and Rick asked Mon to come with him on a small promo tour around Europe as a bit late honeymoon. He was doing well enough to let go of his part-time editor job and focus entirely on writing.
Monica was climbing the career ladder in the advertising company NAT she was working for. NAT, named after the initial letters of its founders’ names, Nathan, Anna and Tim, were doing well enough to move their office to the 87th floor of the World Trade Center’s North Tower. Monica was responsible for a few local companies and was the person behind a very successful dairy products’ commercial spots, broadcast in the media, which even won a couple of trade awards. She was both a copywriter and an author of ad screenplays. Quite soon she advanced in the company and became a team leader, a manager responsible for bigger projects. At some point Rick and Mon (Alice coined them a nickname, “Moricka”, which everybody thought was very cute and which made sense since the two of them were basically inseparable) were thinking of moving to a newer, perhaps bigger, apartment, but after looking through some offers, they had decided to stay in their loft, they had no doubt there was no place they would feel better. They did however improve their living condition by buying a DVD player and getting an Internet connection.
In March, Moricka flew to Europe. During Rick’s first European tour ever they got to visit London, Paris, Madrid, Rome and Berlin. He felt a bit like a fish out of water when he was giving interviews in radio stations and breakfast TV programs. It felt strange since he had always considered himself to be a writer, an author, someone who never thought of getting any spotlight. His books were supposed to speak for him, but apparently without his activity, they were rather muffling than speaking. The tour did allow him and Mon to see some part of the world, so he would meekly do his job and later on go sightseeing. The tour lasted about a month; a true honeymoon.
IV
“Rick?” Monica whispered.
The sun was shining through the window, warming up the room. Rick was dozing on an armchair, next to her bed, covered up with his jacket. He had his legs stretched on a chair he had brought from the hallway.
“Rick?” She repeated a bit louder. “Rick, wake up.”
He slowly turned his head in her direction and lazily opened his eyes. When he realized she was looking at him, he immediately woke up and sat on the armchair.
“Mon,” he whispered and got up. He bent over the bed and gently touched her left cheek.
“Hey,” he said softly, relieved she woke up. He thought that in the daylight she did not look that bad. Or perhaps the first wave of shock was gone so it was easier for him to face the reality.
“Hey,” she replied and licked her lips. “Do you think you might give me some water?”
“Of course.” He walked out of the room to a water cooler standing opposite the door, filled a plastic cup and came back to her.
“Help me,” Monica asked and reached her arms toward him. He put the cup aside and embraced her to help her sit. The moment he grabbed her, she hissed with pain.
“Oh, God, I’m sorry –“
“It’s okay. It’s fine.”
Rick put the pillow behind her back, gave her the water and sat on the bed.
Once she finished drinking, she gave him the cup back, looked at her arms and Rick realized it was the first time she was seeing herself after the assault. Monica examined her hands and shoulders, she gently touched her face. He could see that with every second she was getting more concerned.
“Is there a mirror here?”
At first he wanted to tell her to rest, to get some more sleep. He did not want her to see herself, no matter how irrational and impossible it seemed. It was inevitable, of course, but maybe later, perhaps in a couple of days…
“Rick?” She asked. Her voice was firm and determined. She wanted, she needed to see herself.
“I – I don’t see any,” he replied looking around the room.
“Do you think you might try and fetch me one?”
Rick stood up from the bed, nodded and was on his way to the door when he stopped and looked at her, asking her without words, if this really was what she wanted.
“Please,” she whispered.
He walked out of the room and was trying to figure out where to search for a mirror. He felt his hands were delicately shaking while he was walking around the ward looking for anyone to talk to. Finally, Rick came up to the reception desk.
“Excuse me. My wife is asking for a mirror,” he told the nurse sitting there.
“A mirror?” She replied surprised. She turned around on her chair and looked at the other nurse sitting at the back. They were both slightly taken aback. “Why would she need a mirror?”
To face the truth, he thought. “She – um – she… she would just like to see herself.”
“Take her to the room’s bathroom then. Sorry, we have no mirrors.”
“Okay, I see. Thanks,” he replied.
Rick came back to the room and spotted the quilt on the bed was moved aside and that Monica wasn’t there. He closed the door and heard muffled sobbing coming out of the bathroom. Its door was ajar so he quietly walked up to it and opened it widely. Monica was standing by the water basin and was looking at herself in the mirror hanging above it. She was examining her right cheek, the swelling around her eye, the gash on her lips, the bruises.
“I – I can’t believe it,” she said sniffing. Rick walked into the bathroom, stood behind her and put his hand on her shoulder.
“Look what he did to me,” Monica said. He bent his head and kissed her ear. “I look – I look horrible.”
“It’ll go away, you’ll heal.” Rick said. “You won’t even notice when.”
“Look,” she moved away from him and pulled up her hospital nightdress. She had bruises on the inner sides of her thighs. “Oh my God, what did he do to me?” She sobbed.
Rick wasn’t even sure what was more horrifying; knowing what happened or being there with her when she was coming to the realization that she was the victim of a brutal assault. With heart broken into pieces, he
came closer to her and held her. That was the moment when she started crying uncontrollably and in her tears there was everything; fear, humiliation, sorrow, pain. All he could do was to be there with her and to cry with her.
***
About an hour later, Monica was back in her bed. She was completely silent, she hadn’t said anything since walking out of the bathroom. A nurse came to her room to change her dressings and asked her if she was ready for some breakfast. Monica did not reply, she was only bluntly looking at the window. Rick told the nurse that breakfast was a good idea and some minutes later she brought a tray with two peanut butter sandwiches, an apple and a glass of milk. She also told Rick there was a cafeteria on the first floor if he wanted to eat something as well. Rick thanked her for the information, but decided to stay with Monica. When they were alone in the room, he sat on her bed again.
“Mon,” he said softly.
Monica looked at him with her left, healthy eye which was now also swollen after she had been crying.
“I’m here. You’re safe,” he said and kissed her hand.
“I know, Rick. I know,” she replied. She glanced at the tray and encouraged him to eat her breakfast.
“No, honey, you need to eat it, it’ll be good for you.”
“Will it?” She asked and started looking at the window again.
Rick knew there was no point convincing her.
***
Three hours later a nurse came to the room. She spotted that Monica was sleeping and beaconed Rick to come out of the room.
“What is it?” Rick asked when he was already outside.
“The police are here to ask your wife some questions concerning the assault.”
“Oh, I see,” he replied and looked at two detectives waiting in the hallway. Rick came up to them and they stood up from their seats.
“Mr. Lawrence, I’m detective Nicholas Evon and this is detective Martin Jackson, NYPD,” one of the men said, they both showed their badges. “Richard Lawrence,” Rick shook hands with both of them.
“We would like to ask your wife some questions concerning what happened yesterday. We talked to her doctor and we understand there are no medical obstructions not allowing us to talk with her. Will it be fine if we ask her a few questions?”
“I – I’m going to ask her, okay? She’s been sleeping, I’m not sure if she wants to talk.”
“Of course, we understand that, however, the longer the perpetrator is on the loose, the less possible it is to catch him. I’d say that the time is crucial,” said detective Jackson.
“Just give me a second, okay?”
“Of course.”
Rick came back to the room. Monica wasn’t sleeping anymore, she was sitting on the bed.
“You know I lost two teeth, right?” She asked Rick.
“Yes. The right molars.”
“Yes. It’s in my medical records, the exactly same ones which are hanging on the bed’s frame, and they are giving me bread with peanut butter for breakfast. And an apple. I can’t bite anything, it hurts too much. Not to mention I can’t even open my mouth wide enough to put the bread inside.”
Rick hadn’t thought of that when the nurse came with the meal. It really was ridiculous, he should have paid attention to such things.
“It’s already lunch time anyway, I will go down to the cafeteria and see if I can get you some soup, will it be okay?”
“Guess so,” Monica replied reluctantly.
“Mon, there are two detectives waiting outside to see you. They want to ask you some questions about – about what happened last night.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I know, I really understand, but they’re saying the more time that son of a bitch has to get away, the more possible it is he actually will.”
“Rick, I don’t want to talk with them. Not today. Please,” she replied sadly.
He felt his heart shrinking again.
“Of course, I’ll tell them that.”
Rick walked out of the room and came up to the detectives.
“I’m sorry, my wife doesn’t want to talk today.”
“Yes, we understand that, but we believe it’s only for the best if she tells us what happened as soon as possible,” said Evon. “We only want to catch the guy.”
“I get it, I do, but my wife doesn’t feel well enough to talk to you today. If you can, please come back tomorrow, I’ll try to convince her to speak to you. I’m sorry, that’s all we can do for you today.”
The detectives looked at each other. Evon gave Rick his business card.
“In case she does want to talk sooner, let us know.”
“Of course.”
The detectives left the ward and Rick came back to Monica.
“They’re gone, but they will come back tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” she replied. She was lying on her right side looking bluntly straight ahead.
“So, do you want that soup?”
“No, it’s okay. You go ahead and eat something.”
Rick came to the bed and sat on it behind her. He was looking at Monica for a few seconds and moved closer, lay behind her and held her tight. She started crying.
“I can’t believe this has happened, Rick, I can’t believe it.”
He did not reply, only kissed her cheek.
“I shouldn’t have gone there. It was a classical wrong place at a wrong time situation.”
“Shh, don’t think like that, you couldn’t have known.”
Monica sighed heavily and stopped crying. She touched his arm with which he was embracing her and they were lying silently for a moment.
“I look horrible,” she finally said. “There’s no point denying it.”
“It’s only temporary. Mon, I – you – I felt as if I was going to die when I heard you were taken to hospital.”
“I keep on telling myself, convincing myself that, all in all, it could have been worse. Much, much worse. But then I think what I look like and…” She started sobbing. “What he did to me, and I – I cannot stop myself from crying.”
Rick held her stronger.
“It will be better with each day, I promise you, Mon. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours – you’ll – we’ll get better. Please, Mon, hold on,” he kept on whispering into her ear. She was listening to him and, although the tears were silently flowing down her cheeks, she was doing her best to believe him.
In the afternoon doctor Anderson came to check on Monica. He informed her and Rick that all VD tests turned out negative, but he said she would need to be tested one more time for HIV three months from now. He said that she was doing well enough to be discharged within the next forty-eight hours. Doctor Anderson added there would be a general practitioner coming to see Monica later on that day to make sure her wounds were healing well and that a nurse would come in the afternoon to change her dressings and Band-Aids again.
In the evening, Monica asked Rick to go home. She did not want him to spend another night half-sitting, half-lying on the armchair and she felt she would sleep anyway. He did not want to go at first, but Monica assured him she was in good hands of the staff and that if anything would be happening, she would immediately call him on his cell. They hugged, kissed and Rick left promising he would be back first thing in the morning.
He got back home around 9:00 p.m., took his shoes and jacket off and went to the bathroom to wash his hands and face. Rick splashed water on his face a few times and looked in the mirror above the water basin. He immediately thought of Monica and what she saw that morning, sighed, dried his face and hands and went to the kitchen area. After staring into an open fridge for some time, he decided he wasn’t hungry. He only got himself a bottle of beer, opened it, took his cell phone and sat on the sofa while dialing his mother.
“Rick, hi, good evening!” Martha said cheerfully.
“Hi, Mom,” he replied and took a sip of beer. For the first time in nearly twenty years he felt he would have loved to smo
ke. Funny how such things would stay within a person, no matter how much time would pass.
“Guess what, Rick, Gary and Steve are coming for the weekend.”
“Oh, are they? That’s great. Too bad they couldn’t come for Christmas, though.”
“Yes, but this year it was Steve’s parents turn to have them for Christmas and New Year’s. Anyway, they’re coming this weekend and I thought that I might prepare a dinner, what do you think? You’d come with Monica and we could have a small family party.”
Rick took another sip of beer and glanced at a calendar hanging on the wall next to the fridge. It was Tuesday. There was no way Monica would be able, nor would she even want, to have some family dinner in five days. She would probably leave the hospital no sooner than Thursday.
