Chapter Six Loretta
When I woke up and saw a man standing over me, I was about to scream—but something in the way Jasper crouched and backed away stopped me. I’ve seen that position before, but my mind is too sleepy to recall where.
It’s protective. He surrounded the baby and me with pillows and cushions so we wouldn’t get hurt. His voice dropped and changed into something almost animalistic when he said nothing would get into the house to hurt us tonight.
I don’t know why, but I believe him. Everything about him screams protectiveness and safety, warmth and generosity.
I’m still scared I’m getting duped. Trapped. But I sleep, because I just can’t keep my eyes open for another second.
WHEN I WAKE UP, I STAY still for a long time. Trying to figure out where Matt is. Why the baby isn’t crying. Why the ceiling is a different shade of white, and I’m not in my usual shorty pajamas or sweats.
Everything comes blaring back.
Bruises. The tantrum, my fear for Ari’s life, and the realization that I let it happen. I let myself stay.
I’m angry and miserable at once.
No modern woman would stay and get hit, right? No self-respecting woman in 2025 would ever...
Lies. It doesn’t mean I’m weak. It means I was kind. Hopeful. Exhausted. In love.
It means I tried.
I hear Ari babbling softly, and she paws at my chest, hungry again. My breasts are tender, and I’m more than happy to feed her and relieve the pressure. And after that, I’ll sit and make a list of what I need. I’ll—
I’ll need to do a lot of things, scary things that I’m out of practice handling or never had to handle in the first place.
Jasper will help. He’ll watch the baby for you. He’ll...
I don’t finish the sentence in words, but there are thoughts, warm, slightly relieved thoughts.
I don’t know what I need exactly, but somehow (maybe foolishly), I believe Mr. Wainwright will help.
AFTER I FEED ARI, I pace in my oversized shirt that’s got milk stains on the front. I need clothes. Breakfast. A shower.
You can’t just fall out of one man’s clutches into another, I scold myself, like I’m a bad superheroine who keeps getting captured.
“Can I come in?”
I swallow a yelp and pull Ari’s baby blanket up over my chest. Ari, helpful little thing, yanks it back and wraps it around a chubby fist. “Come in,” I say, positioning her and the blanket in a strategic location.
Jasper comes in, and my jaw drops. “Now, before you say anything, I had all these points to spend on my credit card. I didn’t pay a dime. So, here, I got some things for you and Ari.”
My mind can’t even comprehend what I’m seeing. The guy is dropping plastic-wrapped clothes on the bed like a human vending machine. Sweats. Comfy robe. Slippers. Jeans. Sweaters. Baby outfits in fall colors, footie-suits with little turkeys on them.
Then, he pulls out a phone. A boxy little black phone and the glossy white-and-blue box it came in. “What’s that?”
“If I may be totally age-ist, it’s an ‘old people phone.’ No internet.
No provider. No camera. Just buy it outright and use it until it croaks.
It’s not a bad price, honestly, and the number isn’t exactly traceable.
I talked to my policeman buddy this morning, and he says it’ll show up as “Cell Trekker Caller,” and that’s it, unless you upgrade. ”
I stare, open-mouthed. “There’s a-a moving van’s worth of stuff here!”
“No, just a few boxes,” Jasper shrugs, but maybe he looks a little shifty when he says it.
“This way, you can call who you want, when you want, and Matt can’t find you.
My police officer friend, Ardy Walsh, says you should come down today to file for an order of protection, and since your husband might be planning to file a missing person report, you might want to call him to let him know you’re okay and that you want to separate.
That’s what Officer Walsh said. I don’t know as much about this as he does, so—”
“No. No, it’s right. I don’t want people to think I ran off with our daughter.
I want to get this ball rolling. I want to get all the balls rolling.
I... I slept on it, and I think I’d like to talk to Matt and feel him out.
If he can finally see how bad things have gotten between us, then maybe I can go stay with my parents.
If he’s ranting and raving, threatening me,” I shudder, “then I need to stay where he can’t find me for a little while. ”
Jasper’s eyes stare into mine, unblinking for what I think is a freakishly long time. “Good. Stay here if you want. I know this is a safe place,” he finally says, and his big, toothy smile snaps back into place.
He looks a little different today. Stubbled. Hair mussed. Still handsome, but less like he’s camera-ready. It makes me feel a tiny bit better about the way I look. Despite my protests last night, I look at the clothes with appraising eyes. “I’ll pay you back,” I whisper.
“Okay, if you want. But I didn’t pay for it. The good people at the credit card points department did. I mean, it was either this or a new blender and a toaster oven, and my blender is awesome, and I never use a toaster oven.”
Well, he makes me smile, even though I feel rotten, and— “Wait! Why are you here? Don’t you have to work?”
“I’ll do the evening news if your parents come to town and sit with you, or if you let me introduce you to the neighbors and feel okay to hang out with them. Or—hey! You and Ari should come to the station with me.”
I shake my head, not rejecting the offer, just confused. “But you didn’t go to work.”
“Well, no. You were asleep. I wasn’t going to leave you two unguarded. I promised I’d keep watch.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want you to lose your job or something because you have to take time off,” I cry. I feel my stomach roil, and flashbacks of angry arguments cloud my vision.
Matt’s hoarse shout. I was sick with the worst virus I’d had since I was a kid, and Arianna was only three months old. I was exhausted, and I asked Matt to stay home.
Nope. He was the breadwinner. He couldn’t take off for sick wives and kids. That’s why I was allowed to stay home. I would stay home with the baby. If I needed to have another adult home, I might as well stick Ari in daycare, get a job, and get off my lazy ass. No losing hours and money for him.
“I won’t lose my job. It’s a one-horse station, but I have the football coach at the high school who sometimes does the sports segments, and Pine Ridge has a branch campus of NYU here.
There’s a journalism and communications department.
It’s small, housed under some bigger department, like liberal arts.
I give them a couple of mornings and three evenings a month to cover the weather and local news.
Only seniors can cover, and I meet with them the day of by phone or video call to go over things, and my producer is on site.
” He laughs and nods, looking excited, eyes lighting up under thick brows and thicker, mussed bangs that have lost their professional “gelled in place” look.
“It’s really great for them, actually, because they can claim actual on-air experience and they can use the broadcasts for their demo reels.
Our sister station does some segments if there is any breaking news that impacts the region, you know, emergency stuff or national advisories, stuff like that. ”
I smile. I can tell Jasper loves his work. I can tell he’s excited about this town, about his little “one-horse station” and the people who help make it flow.
Matt used to love his job. It was always hard work, but he was proud of it.
And then I became his “happy little housewife,” and the grumbling began.
I wince a little, remembering the barrage of complaints I’d hear each night, the constant comparisons to how “easy” my day was, lounging around with a cute little baby.
I remember the guilt. The way I slowly stopped telling him about household problems. Stopped asking for help. Started to think his outbursts were just stress, stress that I caused.
Jasper sees my tense expression and sticks a hand out, but leaves it in the air between us. “You okay?”
“I’m j-just glad you won’t get fired because of me.”
Something Matt used to threaten sometimes. If I made him late. Made him tired by asking for help with Ari in the night. “Do you want me to oversleep, miss work, get fired? What are we supposed to live on, your ability fluff the couch cushions? You want our daughter to starve?”
Another wince. He went to extremes so quickly. The more I whimpered and protested, the more I tried to explain that was never in my head, the more frenzied he became.
I swallow. Did he... Did he get off on making me afraid, or something?
I think about our costumes, Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf. They weren’t a romantic couple. Matt’s costume was gory and gross. Mine was cheap and scanty.
Predator. Prey.
Maybe I’m the one going to extremes now.
I think this is what they mean by racing thoughts...
Why is it all coming back now?
Was it as constant as I’m imagining?
I blink hard, trying to squeeze my overtaxed new-mommy brain back into something calm and stable, something productive, not just flashbacks and panic.
Jasper looks at me with his head tilted, eyes squinting.
Maybe he’s trying to send his extra brain power to me.
“No, I’m covered. My producer isn’t the type who fires people for taking leave in an emergency.
But even if I didn’t have a cool boss—I have sick time that I don’t use too much of.
When you’re the only reporter in a little town, you work a lot of hours, covering a local fair here, a grand opening there, morning forecasts, and evening commutes.
.. It all adds up, and I get my hours in, not to mention they consider mentoring and coaching those senior communications students part of the gig. ”
“Good. That’s good.” Come on, Lungs. Air in. Air out.