Page 42 of Bear Strength

“Everyone does,” Wagner chuckles. “It’s all Violet’s doing.”

“Violet?” I wonder.

The mention of a woman’s name awakens the green eyed monster in me. I’ve never been a jealous person. Hell, I promised myself I’ll never be a jealous person. What’s mine is mine and no one else’s. The words bring back a shudder of atime past, and I close my eyes for a moment, trying to make the oncoming tidal wave of horrible memories go away.

“Mason’s sister,” he explains. “She’s one of those, whaddya call ‘em, interior decorators. She lives in the city. But, comes here for a visit every once in a while, with her family. It’s nice to have a place for guests to stay.”

“It is,” I nod, smiling.

I’m still overwhelmed by the feeling of home that this place evokes in me. A safe haven.

He whips up a cup of coffee quickly, and soon after, I’m holding a soothing cup of liquid courage in my hands. I’ve stopped trembling. That in itself is a small victory. But, I’m not counting the battles I’ve won. Not until I win the war.

“So, you wanna tell me now?” he asks, as he sits across from me.

I glance over to my side. There is a vase with fresh forest flowers. A nice touch. She must have been here recently, Mason’s sister. I can’t help but think how this is the kitchen I’ve always wanted for myself. A little housewife. The image of me staying here with Dominick permeates my mind. I can see it clearly. We could stay here. I could cook some nice food. Clean. Wash up. I’d feel safe here. I would know I was safe.

The deep gaze of Wagner’s eyes brings me back to reality. He reaches over the table and places his hands on mine. He is smiling. I want to smile, too, but the very knowledge that I need to open the doors which I’ve been keeping closed desperately, makes me want to cry. Still, he deserves to know. Mason and Adrian do, too.

“I was married once,” I start, slowly, painfully, hoping that once I get the story rolling I will just lose myself in it and it won’t hurt as much. “Technically, I’m still married. My husband, Dominick’s father, is a horrible human being. I honestly don’t know how else to explain it. He has hurt us more times thanI can remember, promising that every time was the last. That he would change. He would look me in the eyes, just like you are doing now, and he would lie, without blinking. That’s how horrible he is,” I say all this in one go, breathless. It takes me a moment or two to regain composure, and continue. “The last time he raised his hands to me was the time he sent me to the hospital. He sent us both to the hospital, Dominick and me. That’s when I knew that it’s not only me. He won’t refrain from hurting Dominick, just to hurt me more. So, while I was in hospital, I spoke to the police. I told them everything that happened. They helped us hide in a shelter for battered women.”

I lower my head and close my eyes. I still remember that house. Those women who, like me, had nowhere else to go. So, they wandered those hallways aimlessly, while their little kids were safely asleep in their assigned beds. Because, they themselves couldn’t sleep. How can you sleep when you know that only one single, flimsy door is what stands between you and certain death? But, I don’t say any of this. It doesn’t matter to my story.

“We stayed in the shelter exactly 47 days. That’s how long it took them to put my husband behind bars. It’s actually much faster than many other similar cases, which get dragged into infinity. So, I’m not complaining.”

At this point, my hands start to tremble. My fingers feel the itch for that good old familiar sensation of a cigarette between them. Wagner recognizes it. Only another smoker could.

He reaches into his jacket pocket and extracts a half empty box of Lucky’s. I grab at one, desperate for that soothing poison to fill my lungs again. I put it between my lips, dry and cracked, as I see Wagner light it up. I inhale deeply, like it’s the last breath I’ll ever take, so I better make it count. I hold it in for a moment, then exhale, wheezing loudly. I put my fingers on thetable. They’re light as air. There is no trembling. Only heaviness that will never go away.

“He got 3 years. Three measly years for the life of trauma that he has caused. Can you imagine?” I take another puff, coughing it out this time. I need to take it easy. My lungs forgot the feeling. “The last time I saw him, he made a promise to me. A promise that he will find me no matter where I go, and he will finish what he started.”

Wagner gets up to bring me an ashtray, and I extinguish the leftover half of my cigarette. I watch closely as the fire burns out, turning to nothingness.

“I’ve been checking his prison records. You can check online to see if an inmate is out earlier or not. I haven’t checked last month. I’ve been checking all this time, ritualistically, but not last month. Is it possible that he got out without me noticing?”

“Do you want to check now?” Wagner asks me.

“I don’t know,” I reply honestly. “If I see that he’s out, I’ll lose my mind.”

“Is living in ignorance better?”

“It’s easier.”

“You think he sent you the letter?” he wonders.

“Who else could it be?” I whimper, feeling all courage leak out of me.

“Do you like living here in Swallow Springs?” he suddenly asks me.

“I… I do,” I nod.

He gets up and walks around the table. He helps me get up, and holds my hands in his.

“Then, you can’t let anyone run you out of your home.”

His words almost make me cry, but before a single tear manages to escape my eyes, I feel his lips against mine. Soft, tender, hopeful.

“Hey, W. you need to - “

---