Page 19 of When the Night is Over

“Get inside!” Rudy yells as the man throws him to the ground.

I stand frozen. Rudy flails, kicking and throwing his hands out in a feeble attempt to land a blow, but he’s no match. Skin and bones beneath his dirty parka, a cast-off so large that the sleeves hang low and confine his hands, he retreats, clumsy, scurrying back in a crab-like crawl as the man comes after him. Rudy curls in on himself as the man kicks his boot into Rudy’s face over and over and over again.

No, no, no.

I scream and rush him from behind, swinging my bag like a machete in one hand and striking the back of his head with my keys in the other.

“Bitch!” he spits out.

When he reaches for my keys, I throw them as far as I can.Don’t ever let them get you into a car—I remember hearing that during some self-defense segment on a talk show once. And now I’m going to pay for my disobedience. Wrenching both hands behind my back, he pushes me towards the brick wall at the back entrance. I open my mouth to scream but no sound comes out. I picture our cook, Denny, with Metallica blasting as he preps the kitchen, and I know I have another twenty minutes before any of the other waitresses show up.

“You stuck up bitch,” he growls in my ear.

I’m wedged between him and the wall, my face pressed up against the brick. One of his large hands has both of mine trapped, his fingernails digging into my wrists. His breath is wet and heavy on my neck as he unfastens his belt. His weight shifts as he works his zipper.

I hear myself whimper, hear him uttering his filth, but the sounds are distant. I’m floating away from here.

Cold air hits my back once his crushing weight is off me and I fall to the ground.

“You piece of shit!” The man is on the ground now, his arms covering his face to block the repeated blows. “I’ll fucking kill you, Rudy!”

Simon lifts the man’s head and slams it into the ground once, twice, and then rains blows down on his midsection. Slumped against the wall, I listen, dazed, as the man moans like a wounded animal.

“Rudy.”

Simon looks to me, breathing heavy. He stands but then pauses, turning once to land a parting kick to the man’s side. “Rudy’s never gonna hurt you again,” he says softly, reaching down to pick me up off the ground.

“No! Rudy…He, he…I think he killed Rudy!”

Simon turns back to the man on the ground, nudging the bloodied face with his boot, taking him in. His eyes go wide when he turns back to me. “What happened?”

“Rudy…Rudy tried to help me, but, but he, he—”

“Okay, shh, shh.” He pulls me in close, smoothing my hair. “I’ve got you. I’ll help Rudy.”

He opens the back door of the diner. “Call 911,” he yells to Denny while ushering me inside to a booth.

As Simon turns to leave, I dig my fingernails into his arm. “He wasn’t attacking me.”

“What?”

“Please, tell them he was assaulting Rudy and I tried to stop him. That’s all.”

“Charlotte, you need to get checked out.”

“No!” I have to make him understand. “He didn’t do it. You stopped him. If-if-if you tell, I…Youcannottell.” I bat the tears away, composing myself as best I can. “I’m fine, I swear it.”

He looks me over from head to toe, pausing to assess that my clothes are still in place. He nods reluctantly as the approaching sirens get louder.

“Stay here…I’ll make sure Rudy tells them the same.” I nod in agreement and Simon runs back outside.

I stand on wobbly legs and make it into the bathroom just in time to throw up. I want to hide in the stall, stay crouched down on the cold tile floor, want to lean my head against the porcelain and cry, but I will myself to get up. Wetting a few scratchy paper towels from the dispenser, I scrub my hands and face, then rinse my mouth. Checking my face in the mirror, I note that aside from a scrape on my cheek that can be hidden with concealer, I look all right. He knocks and comes in as I’m putting my hair up with trembling hands.

“They took Rudy to the hospital.” I nod, unable to speak for fear of crying. “I’m sorry…I just assumed it was him. He’s a junkie.” He jams his battered hands into his pockets, shaking his head. “The police want to speak to you.”

I breathe deep, trying to mask the panicky feeling that’s taking hold. “Why?”

He looks away. “Guess to confirm what I just told them…That the guy was beating on Rudy, you intervened, and when he turned on you I showed up.”

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