“Yes, what is your end goal here? Are you just looking for a good time? A fling? Or, are you in this for the long haul?”
“Damn,” I chuckled, but Gabby’s face remained neutral. “You’re asking me that?”
She nodded.
I shook my head before glancing back over at Chanel. “I’d give her the world if she asked me for it.”Damn.I sure as hell hadn’t meant to say that, but it came out naturally. Just thinking about her had a way of doing that to me. I wasn’t typically in the business of explaining myself to others. Actions spoke louder than words, and my actions should’ve been enough to answer Gabby’s questions. When I looked back at Gabby, there was a glint in her eyes, although the rest of her face remained neutral.
“Okay, Mr. Grant. Okay,” was all she had said before she headed over to where Chanel was still playing with the children.
I began to head over there too when Donna pulled me to the side.
“We’re about to start the speeches. Everyone’s sitting at the table you helped set up earlier,” she informed me before hurrying off to round up the rest of the people.
“Hey, you having a good time?” Chanel asked, appearing at my side a few minutes later.
“Yeah. You?”
She grinned as she looked out over the crowd. “It’s been a good day. I like that they’re going to dedicate a room in the shelter to Anne Marie and Noah. I think that’s what the upcoming speech is about.” She motioned with her chin to Donna, who was walking towards the head of the long table. She had a microphone in hand.
“Wanna sit here?” Chanel pointed to a space at the table that was big enough to fit us both.
I shrugged. “Sure.”
As we sat, Donna began her introductions, introducing herself as the shelter’s director, along with a few of the counselors who worked there fulltime. She spoke of the work being done at the shelter to protect women and their children, along with the work of the volunteers who spent hours aiding women and preparing them for life after leaving an abuser. I even felt my chest expand a little when Donna spoke of her hope for the future and the direction she wanted to take the shelter in.
“My hope is that one day this place will no longer be needed. Strange as it may sound, my ultimate goal is to be out of a job. I want to live in a world where my services are no longer needed. I want to live in a world where women, children, and even men don’t have to fear the people they love. But until that day comes, I will be right here, helping those who need me and remembering those whose voices we can no longer hear. Such as Anne Marie Gibson.”
Chanel’s hand tightened into a fist in mine at the mention of Anne Marie. I placed my hand on the small of her back, rubbing little circles as Donna continued talking about the events of Anne Marie’s murder. She discussed how Anne Marie was one of many women who sought refuge at the shelter, only to return to her abuser out of fear.
“Unfortunately, Anne Marie’s death is a reminder to us all that we still have plenty of work to do, and to those of you who made it out, that your life today is a gift…”
The pit that had formed in my stomach earlier began to grow the more I listened to her words. I felt my hand begin to clench as anger rose in my belly. I’d put what happened to Anne Marie and her child out of my mind and solely focused on making sure Chanel was okay when it all happened. But as she sat next to me, safe and sound, the anger that I’d felt that horrible night and the day I found out what a piece of shit her ex-fiancé was threatened to take over. I was glad when there was a pause, as Donna passed the microphone to another woman who appeared to be in her early forties. I had zoned out, so I didn’t even hear the introduction, missing the woman’s name.
“Thank you, everyone, for being here today,” she began. Her skin, the color of cedarwood, shone brightly as she smiled. “Like Donna, I, too, dream of a world where these types of events are no longer needed, and stories like mine are no longer commonplace. You see this right here?” She paused, pointing to what I could make out as a scar that ran down from her temple area into her eyebrow. It wasn’t obvious until she pointed it out. “This was done to me by my ex-boyfriend. Five weeks after I finally left him, he was in my apartment, waiting for me after work. He shot me three times, once in the stomach, once in the arm, and the third bullet grazed my forehead, leaving me with these scars.”
A few gasps sounded around the table. Chanel’s back straightened, and she went completely still as she listened. My hand paused on her back, then fell away as a ringing in my ears began. It was as if the edges of vision darkened and I could feel my heart rate quicken along with my breathing pattern.
“He’d stalked me for weeks…” the woman continued.
At that point, I only caught bits and pieces of her story, as I had been thrown back to a time in my life I’d spent years trying to forget. The helplessness I’d felt as a teenager came rushing back, and I needed to stand and get as far away from this spot as possible.
I quickly stood and turned my back on those gathered at the table, walking off toward my car. I vaguely heard Chanel whisper my name, but I failed to answer or even acknowledge her. The farther I got from the speaking woman, the more I felt like I could breathe a little easier, but the pain and torment I’d begun to feel hadn’t subsided. In the back of my mind I knew I’d need to explain what my departure was all about, but at that moment, I needed space.
****
Chanel
As soon as Jackie stopped speaking and the others began to circle her, thanking her for sharing her story and commending her on her courage, I signaled to Gabby that I was heading over to check on Xavier. I knew something was off with him since we’d arrived. His demeanor had become quiet and withdrawn. When Jackie began speaking, I felt his body go rigid alongside mine. I, too, had a similar reaction when she first revealed what’d happened to her, but as she continued, I could feel Xavier tighten up more and more.
I wondered what brought about his reaction as I approached his car. He was leaning against the driver side door, his arms crossed as he stared at the ground in front of him. I took a moment to admire him in his stillness. His smooth, chestnut skin shined under the sun. He looked delicious, dressed casually in a pair of dark blue jeans and red polo shirt. However, it was the way his jaw was clenched and the tension in his body that told me he had something heavy on his mind. I knew what we’d just heard from Jackie was difficult to hear, but I believed his reaction was a result of more than her story.
“Hey,” I called, going over to stand in front of him. It took a few moments, but when those coffee eyes rose to meet mine, a chill ran through my body. I could feel the anguish he was dealing with inside. I reached out, stroking his braced arm until he finally loosened his grip a little, allowing me to clasp his hand. The tightly coiled tension within him spilled out, now engulfing us both.
“You want to talk about it?” I posed it as a question, but honestly, I wasn’t going to give him a choice. He needed to open up about what was bothering him, and I needed to hear it.
I squeezed his hand. He continued to stare at me, his jaw working as his teeth clenched. For a long while, there was silence between us, but the air was palpable. I’m sure my eyes were begging for him to say what was on his heart.
He inhaled, and his fingers tightened around mine as he exhaled. “My aunt.” He glanced back toward the table where a few people were still gathered speaking with Jackie and Donna. “Her boyfriend killed her. Stabbed her in their home a few months after she reconciled with him.”
