Page 89 of Nocere

I did just as promised and tidied up the kitchen. Afterward, I made for my boots as well as extracted my panties from my purse to adorn them under my dress. Boyshorts always made me feel better when I wore a dress, but knowing I would head to work after Sam's, I tugged on the pair of leggings I'd packed as well. I tied on my boots once sufficiently dressed, then ran my fingers through my still-damp hair. I searched my purse for a hair tie and returned to the living room to work on a braid.

Sam appeared behind me, dressed in jeans and a modest deep-red sweater, and began toying with my hair. "Let me?"

"Okay." I handed her the hair tie and closed my eyes while she smoothed my hair. Her fingers wove through my fine strands and I recognized the French braid pattern. She tied off the bottom, then brushed the fringes of my bangs neatly down over my forehead.

"How's that?"

"Good, honey. Thank you." I leaned back to look up at her and she kissed my nose.

The doorbell buzzed and Sam patted my shoulder before heading over to the intercom to tell the security folks to allow Rebecca into the complex. Her detective status freaked them out it seemed.

Sam stood by the door, waiting for her to arrive while I paced in the living room.

"It'll be okay, baby. Whatever it is," crooned Sam.

I took a deep breath, and nodded. Rebecca appeared in the doorway, and a warm smile melted over her expression. In her full-on work gear, slacks and a blazer, with her badge around her neck and gear belt at her hip, her intimidating presence didn't seem to rock Sam's resolve.

"You must be Samirah," said Rebecca, extending her hand.

"Good to meet you." Sam accepted her gesture and returned her smile. "Come on in."

"Thanks." Rebecca's gaze fell on me and she held out her arms. "Hi, sweet girl."

"Hi." I moved into her embrace as Sam closed the door then joined us in the living room. "What's going on?"

"Let's all sit together," she said, gesturing to the sofa.

I sat down and Sam joined me, sitting close enough that her hip pressed against mine and she wrapped her arm around my middle. Rebecca perched on the coffee table in front of us, her elbows on her knees. In that moment, her wavy hair cradled her face in a way that made her appear serious and conflicted.

"We need to talk about your mom for a minute," she began, glancing between the two of us.

"Is she dead?" I asked, pursing my lips after and holding on to Sam's hand.

"No, love. I got a notification yesterday that she's up for parole and there's a hearing scheduled in two weeks," she said, and reached forward to take my hand in hers. "They ask victims to appear at these hearings. Or a representative for such."

My heart sank in my chest, and the energy drained from me like something sucked the life out of me. A shaky breath left my lips and I leaned my head against Sam's shoulder. The thought of my mother walking the streets again, even though she was probably old and gray at this point, didn't offer me a lick of comfort. Partially due to the notion that she would try to contact me. No matter what, her selfishness wouldn't have changed. She would try to contact me, as she did when I was younger, to soothe her own conscience, not for my well-being.

"I don't want to see her…"

"I know, sweet girl," said Rebecca. "We can ask that a representative be appointed, but you needed to know this was happening. I'm sure they're going to contact you as well." Rebecca brought my hand up to smooch the back of it. "I'm here with you, okay?"

"When she gets out, she'll try and talk to me." I took a deep breath and forced myself to sit up straight. "I want a protective order."

"We'll get that."

"Was she ever up for parole before?" asked Sam.

"Once many years ago, but she was denied," answered Rebecca.

I released their hands and stood up, breaking away from them to gaze out the window overlooking the harbor. Unlike in the nighttime, the number of boats coming and going increased, and seagulls fluttered around the water's edge. I folded my arms over my middle, and the cool comfort of numbness rolled over me.

"What are you feeling right now, Rosie?" asked Rebecca.

I ignored her at first, my lips pursed until she prompted a second time.

"Like a child. Did you call me out of work?"

"I did," answered Rebecca.

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