“Come in, Chanel,” Donna responded to my light taps on her door.
Noah ran over to his mother as she sat on the couch, curling up beside her. The little guy was so tired.
“Noah ate,” I told Anne Marie. Heading to the corner of Donna’s small refrigerator, I pulled out one of the ice packs she kept on hand, wrapped it in a towel and gently placed it over Anne Marie’s eye, for her to hold there. It was quite swollen, but from what I could tell, it didn’t look like she had any broken bones in her face. She looked so exhausted as she accepted the ice pack, leaning on her elbow on the edge of the couch, closing her good eye.
“I was just explaining to Anne Marie that, here at our facility, we can house her for twenty-four hours all the way up to three months to give her time to figure out what she wants to do.”
I nodded at Donna’s spiel. I knew the routine. We were in an emergency shelter, allowing women, most of whom had young children with them, to hide out from abusive partners while they got the legal paperwork in place and set up more permanent accommodations elsewhere.
“So, that leaves us to figure out what your legal options are,” I began, going into detail about what it would take to file and obtain a restraining order. Anne Marie had come to my office a month ago, asking what it would take to get a divorce and full custody of Noah. She’d looked dejected when I informed her that the chances of her getting full custody were nil, especially since she didn’t work and therefore had no way to support herself and Noah. Despite the prevailing myth, courts did not look too kindly to splitting up either parent from their child, and in many cases, if the father had the financial resources, he could make life a living hell for the mother of his child and children.
Since then, I’d met with Anne Marie every other week as she decided whether or not to take a step toward breaking free of her abusive marriage. That night, when Mike had come home in a rage, she feared for life for the first time in a long time. And when he’d lunged at Noah as if he was going to hit him, Anne Marie intervened, garnering her black eye and busted lip. When he stormed out, leaving the house a disaster and Anne Marie a bloody mess, she called me, frantic, begging for help. I’d hoped this incident was enough to make her leave him for good, but I knew better than to get my hopes up.
Even as I explained her options and the process to rebuilding her life, I knew the chances of her going along with it were slim. I just secretly hoped whenever she made the final decision, it wasn’t too late to save her or her son.
****
By the time I walked down the hall toward the exit, it was well after two in the morning. I’d spent hours talking with Anne Marie and Donna about her options. Donna had done the intake information and finally got a sleeping Noah and Anne Marie into one of the upstairs rooms where they could stay. I made an appointment to come back on Monday and check in on them, but I knew I’d be calling over the weekend to speak with Donna. Right then, I just wanted to get home to my bed.
“Xavier,” I called when I pushed through the door and saw him, seated in one of the lobby chairs, eyes shut as if sleeping.
“H-hey,” he semi-moaned, rubbing his eyes and stretching as he stood. He’d removed his suit jacket and the tie he wore earlier, and rolled up the sleeves of his button-up shirt. Somehow, he looked even more delicious in this dressed-down state. The muscles of his forearms bunched and flexed as he stretched.
I looked over my shoulder as the door behind me closed and locked. “What are you still doing here?”
“Waiting for you,” he stated casually, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
“What? That’s,” I paused, checking the time on my phone, “almost four hours you’ve been sitting out here?”
He shrugged. “It left me time to return some emails and some other stuff I needed to do. You ready to go?”
“Uh, y-yeah, I guess.” I was still confused but didn’t have the energy to question it anymore.
He held the door open for us and guided me back to his car. I was totally out of it, knowing I should thank him for staying, but still confused as to why he’d waited all that time there. I could have easily caught an Uber back to the restaurant, and I’m sure he had plenty of other things he could’ve been doing. I yawned, shaking my head and blinking, trying to keep myself from passing out right there in his car. I gazed out the window and blinked again when we missed the exit that headed toward his restaurant.
“You missed the exit,” I informed him.
“Nah, I’m taking you home. You’re still in no condition to drive. You can pick your car up in the morning. It’ll be safe at the restaurant.”
“You know my address?”
“I know it’s in this direction. Put it in the GPS,” Xavier directed.
I put in my address and sat back as he turned on “Cranes in the Sky” by Solange. I sat back and closed my eyes. “I love this song. Solange did her thing on that last album.”
“Most definitely. I’ve been blasting this joint for the last few months.”
“Them Knowles sisters are talented as hell.” I began mumbling the words to the song as we passed the sights of the city.
“They make Houston proud,” he said with pride in his voice, his head bopping to the beat.
I found myself digging my fingers underneath my thighs to keep from reaching over and stroking the side of his face. We rode in silence, listening to more songs on Solange’sA Seat at the Table, until Xavier pulled up to the street that housed the building where I lived. He parked in front of my building, but didn’t turn the car off. I could tell something was on his mind, and I remained where I was. When he turned to me, I could see the anger in his eyes.
“Her husband did that to her?”
I averted my gaze. “Xavier, she’s my client. I can’t talk to you about—”
“But that was a women’s shelter we just left, right? For women suffering from abuse?”
