by Ash, Nikki
We pull up to Moo’s but the place is closed. There’s a sign on the door that reads they’re closed while at a family reunion.
“Well damn,” I say.
“Oh no! How are we going to make Charlie happy?” Lexi asks.
“Oh, it’s okay.” Charlie laughs, but it comes out forced. She turns in her seat to face Lexi. “You forgiving me for being late makes me happier than any amount of ice cream ever could, sweet girl.” Then she turns back to me. “Thank you for letting me see Lexi. It made my day so much better.” Tears well up in her eyes, but she turns away from me before they spill over. She opens her door, and after a second of staring down, she jumps out onto the ground and looks up at me, smiling triumphantly.
“Wait! Where are you going?” Lexi asks. Charlie opens Lexi’s door, and using the step I installed for my daughter, steps up so she can talk to her.
“I live on this street. I just wanted to tell you again how beautiful your picture is, Lexi, and I want to thank you for sharing it with me.” She reaches over and gives Lexi a kiss on her cheek. “It was really nice to meet you.”
Lexi pouts, realizing this is goodbye, but her manners quickly win over. “It was nice meeting you, too.”
Charlie closes the door and steps onto the sidewalk, waving at me before walking away. I watch as she walks farther and farther away—stunned at how quickly we went from spending more time with Charlie to her saying goodbye.
There’s a knock on my window and then my door swings open. “Tell me you didn’t just let that woman walk away, again,” Mason accuses.
“The ice cream place is closed and she lives on this street,” I say as way of explanation.
“What the hell does that mean? We can go somewhere else, get ice cream from the store. Tell me you at least got her number this time,” he says incredulously.
“No, when she saw the place was closed, she practically bolted.”
“So, go chase her.”
“Yeah! Go get her, Daddy!” Lexi agrees.
I rip my seat belt off and hop out of my truck, running after Charlie, but she’s already gone. I walk past several stores, trying to remember which store she said she lived above. When I get to the hardware store, I’m almost positive I remember her telling me she lives here. I press the button on the intercom to be buzzed up several times, but there’s no answer. Maybe she said she lived near it? I step back out onto the sidewalk and look around. Almost every business in Larchmont has an apartment over it. She has to be somewhere around here, but as I walk by the surrounding places of business I don’t see her anywhere.
Turning around, I walk back to my truck. Mason is standing next to Lexi’s door and both of them are watching me. I shake my head. I can’t believe I just froze. I let her run away without even attempting to stop her. It’s been so long since I’ve dealt with a woman on a more personal level, I didn’t even think. The goodbye just happened so quickly.
“She’s gone,” I say, jumping back into my truck.
“I knew you were out of the game, but damn, man.” Mason shakes his head incredulously.
“I just froze. One minute I was saying the place is closed and then next she was saying goodbye to Lex and walking away.”
Mason chuckles. “That sounds like the making of a chick flick. The woman who got away.”
Just as I’m about to push Mason out of the way to close my door, Lexi yells, “She’s over there!”
I look over to where Lexi is pointing and see Charlie walking out of the corner store.
Shoving Mason out of my way, I jog toward Charlie, calling her name. She stops in her tracks, and I almost run into her from behind. She twirls around to face me, her brows furrowing and her nose scrunching up in confusion.
“Hey, is everything okay?” That’s when I notice her nose is red again from crying, her checks are shiny from the fresh tears, and the eye makeup she was wearing is now smudged.
“You were crying again.”
She averts her gaze, but I step closer, gently taking her chin between my fingers and forcing her to look at me. There are so many questions I want to ask. So many thoughts running through my head. I want to know what has this woman so sad, why she’s so often in tears, but right now on the street corner isn’t the time. The way she practically ran tells me she’s closed off. So instead of saying what’s on my mind, I say, “We’re going to get ice cream from the store. C’mon.”
Without giving her a chance to argue or come up with an excuse to tell me no, I take her hand in mine and pull her toward my truck. Opening the passenger door for her, I lift her into the seat and close the door. Mason is standing there with a knowing smirk on his lips.
“Shut up.”
“I didn’t say shit.” He lifts his hands in surrender.
“You’re thinking it.”
“I was just thinking I have a date tonight, so you’re on your own after all. Don’t fuck it up.”
Mason walks over to his car and gets in, revving his engine and peeling out. I get into my truck, and Charlie and Lexi are chatting about art.
“Ice cream party at our place?” I ask, and both girls agree.
Chapter Fourteen
Charlie
We stop by the grocery store to grab ice cream and all the fixings Lexi insists we need then head to their house. When Tristan found me, I was coming out of the store with a bottle of vodka hidden in a brown bag, planning to drink my sorrows of today away. Because I left with him, the bottle is still in the bag on the floor of the truck. I’m not entirely sure spending the evening with Tristan and his daughter is the better choice, but it’s probably the healthier one.
We pull up to a gated community which can’t be more than a mile from where I live. The gate opens, letting us through. Tristan pulls into a parking spot and turns the truck off. Whereas Larchmont Village gives off the feel of homely with a quaint country chic vibe, allowing people to stay in LA without the hustle and bustle feel of LA; Tristan’s condo development screams wealth and sophistication. Even the name of the community reads, Luxury condominiums. The buildings are painted a harsh white with dark red doors. The grass and palm trees are cut neatly, and the luxurious fountains stationed in the entry way of each building look like they cost more than the entire worth of the loft I’m renting. I lived many years surrounded by extravagance so I know without a doubt this condo is worth millions.
Tristan grabs the bags and we head up the sidewalk. Lexi runs ahead and stops at the door. “This is where we live.” She points to the numbers on the door.
Tristan unlocks the door and motions for me to enter first. I walk into the foyer and take my boots off, then assess the area. I’m shocked when I see their home is nothing like the outside. Just as beautiful for sure, but in a completely different way. The walls are a soft cream and the furniture is all dark wood and microfiber. There’s a huge flat screen television with a gaming console, and Lexi’s dolls and other toys are strewn throughout the living room. The place isn’t messy—it’s lived in. My eyes go to the walls where I see several framed drawings hung up one after the next.
My heart feels like it’s being split open. This is what a home is supposed to look like when a child is loved, yet it’s nothing like the home my daughter was being raised in.
* * *
Roughly Eleven Months Ago
“Charlotte, I’m home.”
I glance at the clock and see once again Justin’s home early. For the last several years he has come home at six o’clock on the dot, and now for the last several weeks he’s been coming home at all different times. My body and mind go into survival mode as I rush over to greet him. He’s standing in the foyer staring down at his cell phone. He’s in his usual three-piece suit, tie undone, and shoes that cost more than most people spend on their monthly mortgage. The first time I met him, he looked nothing like this. He was in a plain white T-shirt and cargo shorts. Nike sneakers, dirty from playing football in the grass. He was laughing and looked so carefree. When he asked me
out I couldn’t help but say yes. His charisma sucked me in. I often wonder which man is the real Justin. If he even knows who he is.
Over the years, I have begged him to take us away, to get away from reality for a bit in hope of the man I fell in love with reappearing. I used to blame the stress of the business on why he treats me the way he does. It started off small. He would snap at me then apologize. At first, he would promise not to do it again. Eventually he stopped making empty promises. Over the years, the abuse increased slowly. A push here, a slap there, until one day when Georgia was almost two, I woke up and realized I was in a physically and emotionally abusive marriage. The last year I have spent every day planning our escape. I know most people would judge me, saying I should have run the minute I snapped out of denial, but when you’re married to a man like Justin Reynolds, you don’t just walk away. You plan and then you run. Far. Because if he catches you, you’re fucking dead. There are no do-overs.
“Hey, you’re home early,” I mention nonchalantly.
“Is that a problem?” He looks up from his phone and glares at me.
“Of course not. It’s just that dinner isn’t ready yet.”
Justin bridges the gap between us and I flinch, afraid he’s going to hurt me. “I’m not going to hurt you, Charlotte,” he says incredulously. “Is there a reason I need to?” So, he’s in one of those moods, where he pretends he’s the perfect, caring husband.
“No.” I smile meekly. Justin leans into me and gives me a soft kiss on my lips, and for a moment, I get sucked up in his gentleness until the woman’s perfume hits my nose and I step back remembering who it is I’m married to.
“I’m going to finish dinner.” I turn to walk away and my head is yanked back, my scalp burning as my hair is tugged violently.
“Do not walk away from me,” Justin growls.
“I’m sorry,” I cry out, praying he doesn’t turn this into another beating. Two nights ago, when he came home mad about work—some business deal not turning out the way he wanted it to—he hit a couple of my ribs and they haven’t had enough time to properly heal yet.
He pulls me toward the couch but stops when he almost trips over a couple of toys on the ground.
“This fucking house is a mess.” He grips my hair harder then uses it to push me to the ground. I land on the toys, one of them digging into the swell of my back.
“Georgia just fell asleep for her nap. I was about to pick them up. You got home early.”
“What the fuck do you even do all day while I’m out making a living so you can live a cozy life of luxury? I took your poor ass out of the trailer park and this is how you act? By being a lazy ass all day!” Justin has never seen where I lived, but I made the mistake of telling him about my childhood. He ignored the parts of my parents loving me and focused on how poor we were, and he makes sure to throw it in my face every chance he gets.
He leans down, gripping my hair once again, and pulls my head back to look at me, then spits in my face. “Are you cheating on me? Is that why this house is a mess?” I shake my head even though it’s obviously a rhetorical question. Several times a year Justin accuses me of cheating. It’s his guilt eating away at him from being the cheater. Maybe he thinks if he can catch me cheating as well, he’ll feel justified in his years of infidelity.
“Nobody will want your broken ass! You know that, right? You’re a woman and your body doesn’t even work properly. Maybe I should replace you with a woman who can actually get pregnant.” The comment would hurt if I didn’t know the truth.
“Let’s go to the room. I think I need to remind you who your husband is.” Pulling me by my mane, he drags me to the room, slamming the door behind us, reminding me exactly who my husband is, and the entire time the same mantra runs through my head: Soon Georgia and I will get out of here.
* * *
“Charlie… earth to Charlie.” I look away from the paintings to find Tristan staring at me. He takes a step toward me and I back up, my flashback still fresh in my mind. My back hits the framed picture, knocking it from the wall and sending it crashing to the ground, glass shattering around us.
“Oh my God! I’m so sorry.”
Tristan takes another step forward and I duck and flinch out of habit. If he didn’t already know I’m damaged goods, he sure as hell knows it now.
“Whoa! It’s okay. I’m just going to lift you up away from the glass. You have no shoes on.” He reaches down and picks me up just enough so my feet aren’t touching the ground then sets me on the carpet.
“Hey Lexi, why don’t you put the groceries away in the kitchen while I clean this up?” Tristan says, his eyes never leaving mine. I can’t even imagine all the scenarios he has running through his head. This man is the opposite of everything I am. He’s stable and put together, and he’s successfully protecting his daughter from the cruelties of the world. Does he realize by letting me into their lives, he’s putting her at risk?
Lexi grabs the bags and runs into the kitchen. Tristan looks back to make sure Lexi is gone before he says, “You thought I was going to hit you.” It’s not a question. He’s observant, smart, and shrewd. He’s onto me and I should speed this story up, tell him everything, so we can flip to the end of the book, and he and his daughter can move onto the next story. One where they get a happily ever after. Because that’s what they deserve, and there’s no story I’m a part of that will end in any way other than tragedy.
“I’ll clean up the glass.” I step to the left, but Tristan blocks me in, shaking his head slowly.
“Don’t do that. Don’t run from me. I know we barely know each other, but did you really think I was going to hit you over a picture falling off the wall?” His tone tells me he’s offended that I could think for even a second he’s capable of doing such a thing. And for most, that reaction makes sense. But when you’ve lived a life with a man who is capable of doing just that, the norm becomes all you know, and the reality is, that’s all I know.
Hot tears fill my lids, my vision becoming blurry, and I’m forced to blink in order to see in front of me.
“Jesus, Charlie.” Tristan’s strong arms come around my shoulders and he envelops me in a hug. My body stiffens at first, but all too quickly I allow myself to relax in Tristan’s arms, enjoying a man’s touch that isn’t motivated by hate or spite or cruelty. Keeping my arms by my sides, unable to hug him back, my head tilts down, landing on his hard chest as I close my eyes and bask in the safeness of this moment.
“Daddy! Charlie!” We separate as Lexi comes out of the kitchen, my head snapping back up.
“Don’t move, Lex. There’s still glass. Why don’t you guys go find a takeout place to order from and we’ll order in and have a movie night with our ice cream?”
“Yes!” Lexi squeals and then she grabs my hand and pulls me into the kitchen, opening the drawer filled with several dozen takeout menus.
We agree on Japanese, Lexi wanting shrimp tempura, and Tristan and I splitting a sushi boat. While we wait for the food to get here, Lexi insists on showing me her room.
“This is my easel.” She points to the wooden stand in the corner of her adorable room. Pinks and blues and yellows make up the color pallet. Her bedding is pink and blue polka dotted, her curtains yellow like the sunshine on a cloudless day. Her walls are covered with tons of her paintings and drawings, and her multicolored bins are filled with every type of drawing and coloring tool. It’s what I imagined my daughter’s room would look like had I been given the choice.
“This is the wall I drew a big tree on just like yours, just like the one I did at the library, but Daddy made me erase it.”
I stifle a giggle when she rolls her eyes. Looking at her wall, I can see where she’s coming from. As a lover of art and a creator, her wall looks like one giant canvas. An idea comes to mind, but I quickly shoot it down. This isn’t my daughter and it’s not my place. She has a father, one who knows what’s best for her.
“Ladies! Food is here!” Tristan yell
s, and we head back out to the living room. When we get there, I notice he’s moved the coffee table out of the way and is placing all the food on a blanket, which is spread out across the living room floor.
“Yay!” Lexi cheers. “Indoor picnic!” She plops herself onto the floor and sits with her legs crisscrossed waiting patiently for her food. Tristan dishes out the food and we all eat while watching the movie Romona and Beezus. Half my focus is on the movie while the other half is on the two people I’m sitting here with—wishing this could be my life, wishing all those years ago I would have opened my eyes and stopped living in denial just a little sooner.
I’m not damaged enough to believe every man is an abuser. I grew up in a loving household. I know there are men who don’t hit or abuse. But it doesn’t stop me from wondering if what I see with Tristan is what I really get. Sure, he gave me attitude over my so-called job and got upset when I showed up late today, but both instances were due to him protecting his daughter—something Justin never did. This makes me think about the Justin I first met. I thought he was a good guy until I learned he wasn’t. Looking back, the signs were always there but I didn’t pay attention to them until I was in too deep. How do I know I’m not doing the same thing with Tristan? How do I know I’m not missing the signs?
I watch Tristan with all the patience in the world and wonder if it’s all an act. To an outsider, Georgia looked happy but she wasn’t. And for Tristan to trust me in his home, with him and his daughter, how good can his judgment be? He doesn’t even realize the kind of person he’s invited into his life. For the second time tonight, I consider telling him, but selfishly I want to stay here, in this moment. Once he finds out who I really am…what I’m capable of…what I’ve done…if he’s as good of a dad as he acts like, he won’t think twice before banishing me from their life.
