Chapter 18 Martin
MARTIN
“Are they asleep?”
“Out for the count,” I tell Lila, gently closing the bedroom door and sitting the monitor on the table so she can see it.
She grips the cup of tea I made her like it’s the last thing keeping her pinned to planet earth, and her head sags to her chest. “Well, at least someone is getting some rest.”
I smooth a hand over her head as I join her on the couch, the doctor in me unable to ignore the seriousness of the state she’s in. Her skin is pale, her hands clammy, her hair stuck to her head in strands. Her gaze is distant, and there are dark circles under her eyes.
“How are you feeling now?” I ask, and she shakes her head.
“Awful,” she confesses. “I didn’t mean to—I mean, I shouldn’t have dragged you over here like that. I wasn’t in any danger, and the twins…”
She stops herself, closing her eyes for a moment.
It seems like she’s having a hard time putting it all into words, everything that happened.
She’s been tripping over herself since I got here, when I found her on the floor, leaning on the stroller with tears streaming down her face, her whole body trembling like she’d been dropped into the middle of the arctic.
Once I had checked her vitals, I figured it was a panic attack and got her seated on the couch with something warm to focus her attention on.
The twins, thank God, didn’t seem to have noticed much of what happened, and they conked out as soon as I laid them down.
That’s the thing about kids that age, they don’t register the same expanse of emotions as us grown-ups, which means whatever happened to her, they likely don’t know a thing about it.
“You ready to talk about what happened?” I ask her softly. It’s late now, nearly nighttime, the city starting to bustle with people coming back from work. She stares down into her tea for a moment, the corners of her lips turned down and her eyes drooping.
“I don’t know,” she confesses softly. “I…I thought this was all over, Martin. I really did.”
“That what was all over?”
She sighs, shaking her head. “I don’t even know where to start.”
I take her hand, winding my fingers around hers. She looks down at our intertwined grip for a moment, and at last she begins to speak.
“You know…you remember the night we first met? When you found me out on the road with that broken-down car?”
I nod. How could I forget? I’ve played over pretty much every detail of that night a million times over. It’s burned into my memory.
“Well, I…I was actually getting away from someone that night,” she admits. “My ex. Or, I’m not sure if he was really my ex then. But…my boyfriend at the time. I met him just out of high school. We’d been together for a few years, and he…”
She trails off, the memories rising to the surface again. The pieces are starting to fall into place now, how she reacted on that first night, how she responded to every bit of kindness I showed her as though she was waiting for the trap to snap shut around her leg.
“He didn’t treat me well,” she continues. “He…he got me to drop out of college. And to cut off most of my friends. And he…he made it all feel like it was my choice, like I was the one who had chosen all this, but I would never, not in a million years…”
She has to catch her breath again before she continues. It’s obvious she hasn’t put this into words before, and trying to say it out loud is tough for her.
“Was he the one who left those bruises on you?” I ask her gently.
She nods. “I didn’t even know you saw them.”
“They were hard not to notice,” I reply.
“I guess…I guess I was just so numb to it all,” she admits. “I felt like it was normal. Like…like nobody would ever notice what I was going through, because I didn’t have anyone looking out for me. I guess that was what he wanted, for me to have nobody to turn to. And that’s what he got.”
“So how did you get out?”
She takes a sip of her tea, hands still clammy.
“I don’t even really know,” she replies, with a slight laugh.
“I just…he was out one night, and he’d left me this list of chores to take care of, you know?
And it struck me that he never even cared if the house was actually clean or if there was food in the fridge.
He just wanted something to pick at me over, something he could use to keep me in line.
And it clicked that if I didn’t get out right then, I might never get the chance. ”
“So you left?”
“Packed up a bag of my things and tossed them in the car,” she agrees. “And I just…drove. I don’t think he knew I even kept that old thing, I’d had it since high school. No surprise it broke down, really. I’m surprised it got as far as it did.”
I squeeze her hand. “I’m glad it got you to me,” I murmur, and she finally manages to lift her gaze and look at me again.
“Yeah,” she whispers. “Yeah, me too.”
“And he’s the one who was at the park?” I press.
“Yeah, he…I don’t know how he knew I was going to be there, or if he’d just been keeping watch on me for long enough that he decided now was the time to make himself known,” she continues.
“But he confronted me. Thought that I was just taking care of the twins for someone else, but when I told him they were mine…”
Her eyes fill with tears, and she presses her lips together.
“He called me a whore. Said these awful things to me. He tried to pick up Matty, but…”
“Hey, hey,” I murmur to her, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her in tight. She buries her face into my chest; I can feel her body convulsing as she cries, and a surge of anger rushes through me.
Anger that there’s a man out there who can make her feel this way, who’s so willing to spit those cruel words at her because he knows how badly they’ll hurt.
A man who will do whatever it takes to score points and leave her scarred.
A man who bruised her physically and emotionally, and even now refuses to let her live her life the way she wants to.
“Do you want me to call the cops?” I ask her, once she has gathered herself enough to be able to respond.
She wipes her eyes and shakes her head. “No, I—I went to them already, the other night, when I asked you over here to watch the twins,” she replies. “They didn’t seem interested. And it’s not like I have any proof, I didn’t record him when he came up to me or anything…”
“We could still try. I could vouch for you—”
“You weren’t there,” she reminds me. “I don’t know how much it would count for.”
I rub my thumb over the small of her back, and I find myself caught off guard by how protective I feel of her. Not just protective in the way I would of anyone who was facing the same trouble she is. This is something else. Something deeper.
Something I haven’t felt in a long time. Like I would do anything in the world to keep those tears from falling down her face. The certainty that I would turn this world around on its axis if it meant ensuring she would never have to live in such fear again.
I press a kiss against her forehead. “Well, if there’s anything I can do…”
“It’s not your problem, Martin.” She sighs as she gently extricates herself from my arms and sits up straight. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have called you if I…if Sofia had been around. I know you don’t want to be involved in all of this.”
“Who told you that?” I reply firmly.
She pauses for a moment, drawing her knees up to her chest.
“I just figured you didn’t want to deal with this side of things,” she murmurs, twisting her hands around each other in knots. “The fun stuff, sure, but this stuff, stuff from my past, it’s not what you want to have to handle.”
“Lila, with respect,” I tell her gently, “you don’t get to tell me what I do and don’t want.”
She meets my gaze slowly, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “You…you don’t mind?”
“Don’t mind what?”
“That I’ve got so much…baggage.”
“Lila, everyone comes with some sort of baggage,” I point out. “I’ve been married before. I have a demanding job. I’m twenty years older than you. Not like I checked it all before boarding, right?”
She manages a small laugh. “I know, but this…this is a lot,” she protests weakly. “And it’s different. It’s not like I just had another relationship that didn’t work out. He’s still trying to make trouble for me now. I don’t know what he’d do if he found out that you were the one who…you know.”
“Hey, I might not look it, but I know how to handle myself,” I reply, grinning. “He can try all he wants, he’s not going to scare me.”
She leans her head back on the couch, smiling. It looks like the first genuine one she’s had since I arrived here, as though the weight is finally starting to lift from her shoulders.
“You really mean that?” she murmurs. “It doesn’t bother you?”
“It bothers me that he’s causing you so much trouble,” I reply, cupping her face in my hand. “And it bothers me that this guy thinks he has any right to be anywhere near my twins. But other than that…” I shake my head. “No, it doesn’t bother me that some arsehole can’t let go of you.”
She giggles again, tipping her face into my hand. “You sound so Irish when you say that,” she teases. “Arsehole.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Mhm.”
“And I thought you Americans were meant to think this accent was more refined,” I remark. Even though her eyes are still a little teary, I can see her unwinding, some of the tension and fear from earlier in the day beginning to uncoil.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” she murmurs, as she moves a little closer toward me.
I brush my thumb along her mouth and it parts slightly, her tongue tracing out against my hand for the barest moment. There’s something almost unbearably beautiful about her right now, even in the midst of all the madness that her ex has tried to pile on top of her.
All I want is for her to be safe, to be happy. I don’t care what I have to do to make it happen, but my heart is set.