“I guess…I guess I was just so numb to it all,” she admits. “I felt like it was normal. Like…like nobody would ever notice what I was going through, because I didn’t have anyone looking out for me. I guess that was what he wanted, for me to have nobody to turn to. And that’s what he got.”
“So how did you get out?”
She takes a sip of her tea, hands still clammy.
“I don’t even really know,” she replies, with a slight laugh. “I just…he was out one night, and he’d left me this list of chores to take care of, you know? And it struck me that he never even cared if the house was actually clean or if there was food in the fridge. He just wanted something to pick at me over, something he could use to keep me in line. And it clicked that if I didn’t get out right then, I might never get the chance.”
“So you left?”
“Packed up a bag of my things and tossed them in the car,” she agrees. “And I just…drove. I don’t think he knew I even kept that old thing, I’d had it since high school. No surprise it broke down, really. I’m surprised it got as far as it did.”
I squeeze her hand. “I’m glad it got you to me,” I murmur, and she finally manages to lift her gaze and look at me again.
“Yeah,” she whispers. “Yeah, me too.”
“And he’s the one who was at the park?” I press.
“Yeah, he…I don’t know how he knew I was going to be there, or if he’d just been keeping watch on me for long enough that he decided now was the time to make himself known,” she continues. “But he confronted me. Thought that I was just taking care of the twins for someone else, but when I told him they were mine…”
Her eyes fill with tears, and she presses her lips together.
“He called me a whore. Said these awful things to me. He tried to pick up Matty, but…”
“Hey, hey,” I murmur to her, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her in tight. She buries her face into my chest; I can feel her body convulsing as she cries, and a surge of anger rushes through me.
Anger that there’s a man out there who can make her feel this way, who’s so willing to spit those cruel words at her because he knows how badly they’ll hurt. A man who will do whatever it takes to score points and leave her scarred. A man who bruised her physically and emotionally, and even now refuses to let her live her life the way she wants to.
“Do you want me to call the cops?” I ask her, once she has gathered herself enough to be able to respond.
She wipes her eyes and shakes her head. “No, I—I went to them already, the other night, when I asked you over here to watch the twins,” she replies. “They didn’t seem interested. And it’s not like I have any proof, I didn’t record him when he came up to me or anything…”
“We could still try. I could vouch for you?—”
“You weren’t there,” she reminds me. “I don’t know how much it would count for.”
I rub my thumb over the small of her back, and I find myself caught off guard by how protective I feel of her. Not just protective in the way I would of anyone who was facing the same trouble she is. This is something else. Something deeper.
Something I haven’t felt in a long time. Like I would do anything in the world to keep those tears from falling down her face. The certainty that I would turn this world around on its axis if it meant ensuring she would never have to live in such fear again.
I press a kiss against her forehead. “Well, if there’s anything I can do…”
“It’s not your problem, Martin.” She sighs as she gently extricates herself from my arms and sits up straight. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have called you if I…if Sofia had been around. I know you don’t want to be involved in all of this.”
“Who told you that?” I reply firmly.
She pauses for a moment, drawing her knees up to her chest.
“I just figured you didn’t want to deal with this side of things,” she murmurs, twisting her hands around each other in knots. “The fun stuff, sure, but this stuff, stuff from my past, it’s not what you want to have to handle.”
“Lila, with respect,” I tell her gently, “you don’t get to tell me what I do and don’t want.”
She meets my gaze slowly, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “You…you don’t mind?”
“Don’t mind what?”
“That I’ve got so much…baggage.”
“Lila, everyone comes with some sort of baggage,” I point out. “I’ve been married before. I have a demanding job. I’m twenty years older than you. Not like I checked it all before boarding, right?”
