I'm running my hand through her hair. She's been quiet for a while, but she's not sleeping yet.
“Tell me about Thomas,” I say, unable to wait any longer.
Her breathing doesn't change and I'm surprised at how relieved it makes me.
“You remembered his name,” she says, her voice low.
“You've said it twice in all the time I've known you.” I keep petting her. “I never pushed. But I want to know.”
She's quiet for another moment. Then she exhales.
“It started before him,” she begins, her tone careful. “With my family.”
I listen as she tells me about growing up in a family that treated her beauty like an asset to be leveraged. How they discussed her future marriage before she was old enough to understand what marriage meant. About the rampant religious zealotry.
“I escaped them,” she says. “I got out.”
“Good,” I say. The word comes out harder than I intend.
“And then I needed money, and I was pretty, and there were people who wanted to use that.” She says it matter-of-factly, but her voice is hollow. “Modeling agents, acting agents. They all wanted my clothes to come off. The door to stay closed.”
I clench my jaw so hard something cracks.
“I became a nurse. I had relationships,” she continues. “But the men I chose were selfish. It's what I knew, so it was easy to predict.”
“And then Thomas,” I say.
“And then Thomas.” Her voice flattens even more. “He was different, at first. I thought he was the first person who actually saw me. Not the face and the body.Me.”
She clears her throat before continuing. “It happened gradually. I wouldn't have stayed otherwise. First, it was comments. Small ones, but enough to make me question myself. Then he wanted to control my schedule, my friends, my phone. He even had me fired from the hospital where I worked.”
I close my eyes. How was I any different?
“And then there was the baby,” she says quietly. I stop breathing altogether. “I think he did it on purpose. To tie me down. So I couldn't leave.”
“Simone...”
“He hit me before that,” she continues quickly, like she wants to get it all out fast. “But when I was pregnant, he would threaten the baby. He knew exactly what would keep me meek.”
The tightness in my chest turns to rage.
“I tried to leave,” she says. “I had a plan. My friend Manon was going to help me. I just needed him to let me leave the apartment. But he came after me. Caught up with me on the stairs.” Simone pauses for a shuddering breath. “I fell. He let me fall. And I lost the baby.”
My fingers clench into fists as I imagine the anguish—I nearly experienced it four nights ago myself.
“I woke up in the hospital,” she continues, her voice very quiet now. “They didn't even need to tell me. And I never went back to him after that. I got to New Orleans, and I built something new, and I thought…” She exhales. “I thought that was enough.”
“It wasn't?” I ask softly.
“No.” She tilts her face up toward mine. “Butthisis. This is the rest of my story.”
I press my mouth to her forehead before she settles back against my chest.
After a moment she says, “I don't know where he is now. I don't particularly care.”
“Mm,” is all I say.
Simone is quiet for a few seconds.
