Victim Of Circumstance

by Freya Barker

  “Sorry to startle you,” the older man says. “You were sleeping deeply and I was afraid you might be missing a flight. It’s almost eight thirty.”

  “Shit!” I scramble to my feet. “My flight leaves in thirty minutes.”

  “Where to?”

  “Detroit.” My eyes dart around the terminal trying to figure out where to go.

  “Come with me,” he says, not waiting for an answer as he starts walking away at a fair clip. I hurry after him, hoping he can help me catch my flight.

  With only a few minutes to spare, I run up to the gate where an attendant scans my boarding pass and waves me through. Out of breath, I drop in my seat by the window, willing my heart to slow down. Moments later the airplane backs away from the gate and I’m once again hanging on to the armrests for dear life when we take off.

  I can’t wait to get home.

  Robin

  I’m frozen in my seat, a few rows behind him.

  He never looked at me, and even if he did he may not have recognized me. There’s no reason to believe our very brief encounter yesterday made as much of an impression on him as it did on me.

  What are the odds, though? I wasn’t even supposed to be on this flight, but Kim called last night, telling me Shirley had ended up in MidMichigan Medical Center in Clare. A neighbor called 911 after finding Shirley bleeding on her porch.

  I immediately called the airline and was able to change my flight to the first one back to Detroit this morning. Mom decided to stay and Paige was going to help her move her stuff from the hotel to her apartment today, since I had to leave early.

  The blue-eyed man had been on my mind until Kim’s phone call cleared my head, and all I’ve been able to think about since is poor Shirley. Apparently Kim’s been camped out at the hospital and the text I received this morning detailed the extent of Shirley’s injuries. The list is nothing to sneeze at: a swollen jaw, three-inch gash to the head, two cracked teeth, a broken forearm, and several bruised ribs. He did a number on her this time.

  “Please fasten your seat belt.”

  The friendly flight attendant indicates the belt I was in the middle of buckling when he rushed through the door.

  “Yes, of course,” I mutter with an apologetic smile, quickly finishing the task.

  My eyes drift over the seats in front of me, focusing on the gray mop sticking up three rows down. I wonder if he lost someone when the towers came down. Over the years, I’ve run into a surprising number of people who knew someone who died that day. Of course, when they found out my husband had been one of them, I always drew sympathetic looks. Those would’ve been best saved for someone who deserved them.

  I try to distract myself with some cooking show I found on the small monitor in front of me, since I forgot my book back at the hotel when I rushed out this morning. I have a Kindle app on my phone, but I don’t want to waste my battery reading. Besides, I don’t think reading would be enough to keep my mind off things right now.

  About halfway through the Pavlova the three contestants are supposed to create, my neighbor—an older lady with painfully bad breath—engages me in conversation. I politely look at pictures of the new grandbaby she just went to visit, and to my surprise, time passes quickly.

  I’ve almost forgotten about Blue Eyes when I shuffle off the plane with the other passengers and spot him still in his seat. He’s looking out the window, his broad back—still wearing the black leather jacket—turned to the aisle. I almost reach out to tap him on the shoulder so he can get out in front of me, but at the last second the line starts moving again, taking me along.

  My car is in long-term parking and I shoot off a silent thank you when it starts up without a problem. It’s getting up there both in years and mileage. I bought it new when I moved back to Michigan and it’s due for a replacement. Unfortunately, what I’m able to afford now versus then has changed a lot.

  I would’ve put all of the money from the insurance policy in trust for Paige, but we needed a roof over our head and a means of transportation. I bought the small two-bedroom ranch just outside of town and a standard Mazda Tribute. No bells and whistles on either. The rest of the money I put away for Paige. It was used for her tuition and the remainder went into her bank account when she turned twenty-one.

  I try not to break any speed limits on the two-and-a-half-hour drive to Clare, but I’m anxious to get to the hospital. Kim mentioned she’d stay with Shirley, but she also has a diner to run so I don’t want to waste time stopping off at home. I didn’t think to ask if her sons had been notified and were perhaps on their way, but I guess I’ll find out when I get there.

  It’s just after one when I pull into the hospital parking lot, and my stomach is growling from lack of food. Breakfast was a granola bar I picked up in a small store at the airport, and that was at six this morning. The smell of fresh coffee and pastries assaults me when I walk into the lobby. I eye the coffee shop counter, but decide to wait until after I find Shirley.

  “Mrs. Hancock is in room 317,” the volunteer at the front desk informs me. “Up to the third floor and to your right.”

  “Thank you.” I throw her a smile over my shoulder as I head to bank of elevators she indicates.

  Upstairs I easily find the room. Shirley is no more than a hump in the bed but before I can step inside, Kim gets up from the chair in the corner and presses a finger to her lips as she walks toward me.

  “She just fell asleep,” she whispers, as she turns me back into the hallway.

  We stop by the nurses’ station where she tells the young woman working on a computer that Mrs. Hancock is sleeping, and we’ll be down in the lobby, before dragging me back to the elevators.

  “What’s going on?”

  “She’s been up all damn night,” Kim groans, running a hand through her haphazard hair. “First arguing with me about whether or not to call the boys. I wanted to but she was adamantly against it. Says she doesn’t want to alarm them unnecessarily. Can you believe it? Alarm them?” She agitatedly blows a breath through pursed lips before continuing. “Then when the cops came in to take her statement this morning, she claimed she fell down the stairs. Not that they believed her. They don’t need her to file charges against Mike, and I’m waiting to hear if they’ve picked him up yet.”

  “Jesus. So other than stubborn; how is she?” I ask, gratefully following Kim to the coffee shop.

  “Eating through a straw for the foreseeable future, until her teeth can get fixed and her jaw heals. They had to surgically set her forearm, she’s still groggy from the anesthetic.”

  “That bastard,” I growl.

  “No shit. She’s going to need looking after for a while.”

  I don’t even think; I react.

  “She can stay with me.”

  I’d like to think, if I’d had a friend I could trust back then, I might’ve gotten away sooner, but any friends were his, not mine.

  “I can take her,” Kim counters, turning to the kid behind the counter to put in an order and I quickly add my own.

  “You have a wife and young kids at home, as well as a diner to run. You have your hands full. I’ve got the space and the time,” I push while we wait for our orders.

  It’s true. Just sixteen months after Kim and her longtime lover, Janice, got married, she gave birth to their first child, Chester. Less than two years ago Janice had Amber, a little girl to complete their family. With two kids under five, a busy household, and a full-time business to keep track of, I’m sure they have better things to do than look after Shirley.

  “Fair enough,” Kim says, her mouth full with her cheese croissant. “She can stay with you, but you promise to let me know if you need help.”

  “First thing we need to do is convince her to let us call her kids,” I suggest, sinking my teeth into my own lunch and I groan at the buttery taste.

  “Have some mercy.” Kim finally glares at me as I enjoy every bite audibly. “I haven’t seen my wife in over twenty-four hours.” />
  I roll my eyes. “TMI, Kim. Nobody wants to know that shit.”

  Of course she finds that funny. She opens her mouth to say something else, I’m sure I don’t need to hear, so I quickly shove the last of my Danish in my mouth and get up to toss my napkin and coffee cup in the trash.

  “Let’s go.” I nudge her shoulder as she tosses back the dregs of her coffee.

  We walk into the room as a nurse is taking Shirley’s blood pressure. Her eyes are open and briefly on me before she turns her head away.

  We’re in for a battle.

  Chapter Four

  Robin

  “I have an appointment tomorrow.”

  Shirley looks at me from her perch on my couch as I walk in the door.

  It’s been almost two weeks since I brought her home from the hospital, and I’m about ready to pull my hair out. She’s been impassive all this time. Stuck in denial. Unwilling to let us call her boys, talk about packing some of her things, or discuss anything to do with her future.

  Not that I blame her. I guess everyone needs time to process their life won’t be the same as it was before. For some it’s difficult to see anything beyond the situation they’re in.

  The one thing Kim and I got her to agree to, with the aid of the kind police officer who came to the hospital, was a restraining order against Mike. He’d been charged with domestic assault and battery, but was out on bail walking the streets already.

  This morning she promised to contact her dentist for an appointment to fix her teeth after pushing her on the subject for the past week.

  Small steps.

  “That’s great news.” I smile at her and move to the kitchen island, dumping the groceries I picked up after my shift. “When can he see you?”

  “Thursday at two.”

  “Either Kim or I can take you, we’ll work something out.”

  “Actually…” I look up from emptying the bags on the counter. “There’s something else.” She lowers her eyes to where her fingers are plucking at the throw on her lap. “I have an aunt in Grand Rapids I talked to this morning. She wants me to come stay with her. Only problem is she doesn’t drive. I know I’m asking a lot, but do you think it’s possible to drive me to her place Thursday after my appointment?”

  I set down the box of crackers I’ve been holding and go sit beside her on the couch, grabbing her good hand in mine.

  “Sounds like you did a bit more than just make a dental appointment.”

  “Are you upset?”

  “What, me? Why would I be upset?”

  “I’m really grateful to you for letting me stay here—looking after me—but I just feel I need to get out of here. Beaverton, I mean,” she quickly adds. “Make a clean break, you know?”

  I understand better than she knows. Besides, some distance between her and that douchebag would be safer for her. Not that we’ve heard or seen anything from him yet, but it would be naïve to think after so many years of abuse he’d simply let her walk away. Statistics show that protective orders in domestic violence cases only go so far.

  “It was my pleasure and for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing the right thing. A fresh start is probably just what you need, and I’ll be happy to drive you to Grand Rapids.”

  “I’ll call them.”

  I shoot a quick glance at Shirley before focusing back on the road.

  “My boys,” she clarifies. “When I get to my aunt’s place, I’ll call them.”

  I reach over and squeeze her hand.

  “I’m glad. Who knows, they may have been trying to reach you all this time and are worried.”

  “They don’t call often,” she admits softly. “They’ve been upset with me for years for staying.”

  “Your kids know?”

  “He was never an easy man to live with. They know that much. The physical stuff started after the youngest went off to college a few years ago, but I think maybe they can guess. Mike was a big believer in corporal punishment when the boys were growing up.” She blows out a deep sigh. “I’m afraid they’ll be mad I waited so long.”

  “Or maybe just happy you finally found the courage to walk away,” I suggest.

  “Maybe,” she repeats wistfully.

  Her aunt, Meg, is a rotund woman with a radiant smile and she permanently corners herself a place in my heart when she greets Shirley with, “Never liked the asshole. Is it bad I hope he tries to show his face so I can use my brand-new shotgun to blow him off my steps?”

  I chuckle through Shirley’s protests and Aunt Meg tosses me a wink over her niece’s shoulder. It’s clear she’s in good hands.

  I accept the dinner invitation, and even stay for the offered tea, and a slice of homemade apple pie, before saying my goodbyes.

  “I’m sorry I’m leaving you guys minus a waitress,” Shirley sniffles on my shoulder, as I carefully hug her.

  “Don’t you worry about that. Kim already has a few interviews lined up. We’ll have the schedule filled in no time,” I assure her.

  “Thank you. For everything.”

  “Anything and anytime. I mean it. It may take a while for you to get your feet back under you, but you will. I promise.”

  As I drive away from her aunt’s house, I remember telling myself the same thing years ago. Many years ago. It isn’t until now, seeing Shirley take those first few steps to freedom, I realize how far I’ve come, and yet I’m still holding back.

  I’m forty-five-years old—almost forty-six—and I’ve spent the last eighteen of those cautiously tiptoeing through life. I’ve found stability; have a roof over my head, a job that pays the bills, and a daughter who is all grown and on a path of her own. It’s high time I throw caution to the wind and actively start living again.

  The man with the intriguing, pale blue eyes immediately comes to mind, along with the regret I didn’t grab the opportunity to talk to him.

  I’m about fifteen minutes away from home when my Tribute dies.

  Gray

  “You should come with us tonight. Get out for a bit.”

  I watch the last customer of the day drive off the lot in the truck I just replaced the brake lines on before I turn to Jimmy.

  “I’m good.”

  “Come on,” he pushes. “It’s been over two months and other than your twenty-four-hour turnaround to New York, you’ve barely been outside this building. At least come grab a bite, meet the guys. A few of them have been in your shoes.”

  He’s asked me at least half a dozen times over the past weeks, and although I no longer duck out of sight when someone comes into the shop, it’s different going out there. He’s also mentioned a few of his biker buddies did time before.

  Maybe it’s time. Either I move away somewhere people don’t know me, or I stay here and face whatever’s coming my way. All I’m doing right now is dragging out the sentence I already served in full.

  “Okay, fine. Do I have time for a shower?”

  Smiling broadly, Jimmy claps a hand on my shoulder.

  “Absolutely. I’m gonna grab a quick one myself. I’ll swing by in twenty and pick you up.”

  I nod, grateful he seems to understand walking into a restaurant by myself would be much harder. I just hope I don’t disappoint him. I’m not exactly the most social guy to be around. Inside I stuck to my books, avoiding most interaction, and leading a pretty solitary existence. Sitting around, shooting the shit, with a bunch of his friends may well be more than I can deliver on.

  But I can try.

  Twenty minutes later and freshly showered, I wait outside the shop when Jimmy rides up on his bike.

  “I’m not gonna ride bitch,” I announce when he stops in front of me.

  “Don’t worry. You’re not pretty enough anyway,” he deadpans. “We’re walking. It’s just two blocks down. I’ll swing by to pick up the bike after.”

  Last I remember, Beaverton only had about a handful of restaurants, two of those fast food, one barbecue joint, a tavern, and the diner two blocks away.
I’m guessing that’s where we’re going.

  “Hudson’s Diner?”

  “It’s called Over Easy now. The Hudsons retired…shit, it’s been a long time. Their daughter took over. Remember Kim?”

  Yeah, I remember Kim. She worked at her parents’ place from the time she was fourteen, two years behind me in school. I noticed because she was one of the prettiest girls in town at the time. I can’t recall how many times she shut me down asking her out. Fuck, I used to be a cocky bastard, and she seriously messed with my confidence.

  I remember my relief when she came out of the closet and I realized it wasn’t me; it was my gender that was lacking. That can’t have been an easy time for her. A small town this size, anyone different than what people consider the norm stands out like a sore thumb.

  “I remember her. Used to crush on her,” I admit with a grin.

  “Hell, yeah. Me too and I’m guessing we weren’t the only ones. She’s still pretty but so is her wife.”

  I turn to him with raised eyebrows.

  “Wife?”

  “Gay marriage was legalized in 2015, brother. She didn’t waste any time. They’ve got a couple of kids too.”

  I try not to think too hard about the logistics. It’s not my business.

  “Good for her,” I mumble.

  “Was married myself for a spin.”

  I throw him a side-glance and catch him with a lopsided grin on his face.

  “Who was the unlucky lady?”

  “Fuck you. You wouldn’t know her. I met her at a bike rally in 2005. She got on the back of my bike and came back to Beaverton. Got hitched three months after.”

  “What happened?”

  He shrugs. “She was wild. Couldn’t keep up with all the shit she was into. Called it after barely a year.”

  “No offspring?”

  “Fuck no. She was so far from mother material, it’s not even funny, and honestly, I wasn’t ready to be any kind of parent myself.”