Chapter 17
Lily
I n a glittery black dress that was on sale for thirty dollars, I hurried through the doors of the Women's Shelter toward the reception hall that's been filled with round dining tables and chairs. I hadn't had much need for formal wear, but I'd been on a roll that week. I hoped the sparkles weren't too much. Not a flashy type of girl. Trying not to think about the conditions this garment was produced in, I pulled out my speech on the way to my seat.
This event had sprung up out of nowhere, and I'd been invited to speak and introduce the kind person who decided to share some of their wealth with our local shelter. ' Just call me Ethan' was the name he went by. According to the secretary who passed the message on to me, he didn't want the notoriety. It's admirable that someone of that wealth and status would do something like this without being a reputation whore. Unless he's involved in something dodgy and that's why he's trying to stay out of the limelight. Here I go, turning the positive into a negative.
Either way, the shelter could use the money. Government funds go so far, but it's hard to take care of the women they house and care for. With so many abused people, the shelter was seeing more than a handful of victims coming in every day, whom they sometimes had to turn away with a heavy heart since we all know how much courage it must have taken for them to seek help in the first place. This money would help a lot with expansion, clothing, food, bare necessities, cleaning, renovations, and upgrades. It would do a lot of good for a lot of women. I couldn't say I'm not grateful.
Biases aside, I made my way to my table. My name was called before my ass even hit the seat. I had barely made it there in time. Again, the shelter had chipped in to get a sitter for my mother for the next few hours so that I could be there. My heels rocked as I made my way up the tiny wooden steps onto the stage, and I shifted the skin-tight dress that kept riding up above my knees. It's fine, but I'm not a 'public speaker' type of person. However, for a cause so close to my heart, I'm more than willing to lend my voice.
"Good evening, everyone." The mic echoed back my words through the large black speakers next to the stage.
The light shining in my face blinded me; I couldn't see beyond the mic. My palms sweated. Whenever my mom's not having one of her episodes, I volunteer at the shelter, but I'm more comfortable behind the scenes or speaking to the women one on one.
However, they thought it would be important for me to share my story today, along with many other brave women, to help the donor see where his investment was going.
"I want to thank you guys for coming to this beautiful event. It's not often we see nights like this at this shelter." I smiled and cleared my throat. "I've been invited tonight to share my story. A story many of you already know. For those of you who don't, if you've ever felt like you were living in the belly of a shark or swaddled in barbed wire, you can relate. Unable to breathe without bleeding. Sinking lower and lower into a constricted and lashing darkness, unsure if you'll make it out alive or whether you want to. Each mode of escape is more daunting than the other, and it'd be easier to close your eyes and stop it altogether. If you can relate, you know my story before I've begun. If you can't, I'm happy for you.
"I'm Lily Thornbread, and I'm a survivor of domestic violence. I also care for a victim of DV. My mother, Mrs. Ella Thornbread. They say a stable home is made up of a mother and father. I guess you could say, on the surface, I had that. But my home life was far from stable or safe. My father was, for lack of a better word, a demon. I don't know how else to say it. And my mother enabled him.
"I won't let my mother off the hook here. She made some pretty bad choices, but I think one of the worst ones she made was marrying him. He made the problems she already had so much worse." A red, penetrating orb surrounded me, glowing across the page, and I took a deep breath to quell the burning.
"I grew up seeing him beat the ever-loving daylight out of her, and she'd be passed out in her own blood and vomit after self-medicating to ease the pain. I remember thinking, 'That will never happen to me. I'll never give a man that much control over me.' Until I did.
"I met a kind guy once, who gave me hope that all men weren't savages. We didn't end up together; he moved away. Guess he was too good for me. I didn't deserve to have that sort of kindness in my life for a long time, only a while." The heat rose to the back of my throat as I grumbled that self-defeating comment beneath my breath. It wasn't written in my speech, just triggered by the memory of seeing him again.
It bounced back over the mic, and I laughed away the awkwardness. "I know it's counterproductive to think that way, but what can I do? It's what I'm left with. As you can see, recovery isn't perfect." Clearing my throat and shaking my head, I renewed my focus.
"So, anyway." I took a deep breath. "In his memory and the peace I found with him, I sought that out in someone else. I got a taste of what it was like to be treated like a human being, the 'good life,' and I wanted more of it. Greedy. Knowing that there were men out there who could possibly be gentle and kind was like the answer to my woes, to healing the deep wound I had from watching my parents' relationship. That's when I met Marco. Oh, he played the part of the kind, loving gentleman, until he wasn't." My breath hitched on that sentence, and unexpected tears flooded my eyes.
My throat grew hoarse as I continued, "I became the exact person I thought I wouldn't be. There were times when he beat me so bad, I didn't think I'd wake up. I didn't want to. So, I also started to self-medicate. There are many women with stories like these. But few of us make it out. Lucky for me, I found a place like this back where I lived, and five years ago when I moved back to Durham, I found this shelter to help me stay on track and not slip back into old habits. I found a family here that I didn't have before. I even reunited with some of the women from the other Women's Shelter here." I smiled. "I'm one of the lucky ones. I'm clean, and I haven't allowed myself to be a victim of another man since.
"Some of us aren't that lucky. Without getting the help we need, we remain victims, even when we're out of it. Like my mother. My mother refused to leave my father. He left her when her brain finally gave up on her. She struggles with catatonia." Tears rolled down my face, and I had to pause to contain myself.
A few of my sisters from the shelter came up on stage to place their hands on my rocking shoulders and stand next to me in support. My throat stung as I pushed the rest of the words out.
"Every time I think she's doing better, she falls right back into running away inside her own head, refusing to be a part of her own body. She's like a shell of a person. It's so unfair." I hiccupped as soothing hands stroked my back.
"I've seen what it's like to get out of the abusive cycle and drugs and get your life back together. I'm a walking testament. But I've also seen the other side. Some people never recover. They lose their lives. My mother's still alive, but I don't know if she'll ever be the same again. I don't remember her even being normal. It scares me. That's why it's important for places like these to exist. I don'I don't know where I'd be today if I hadn't found shelter and a group of people who understood and cared. I owe my life to this place and the one before it."
Clearing my throat, I straightened my shoulders. "This is why I'm so grateful to the person who decided to donate to this shelter. Even if he is a man." I sniffled and smiled. The crowd chuckled. "With your money, you will help so many women for years to come. So, without further ado, it is with great pleasure that I introduce the man himself, 'Just call me Ethan.'" I used air quotes.
The audience stood and cheered. I stepped away from the podium, cheering along with them, still a bit blinded by the light as the donor stepped onto the stage. Our eyes met, and for a moment, I thought I recognized him.
Ethan
Thornbread isn't a common surname. It almost sounds made up. So, when they called her name, I knew it's her from the jump. A part of my heart was beating a little harder at the realization she's here, but I was intent on avoiding her the whole night.
Yet, she's impossible to ignore when she got up on stage in that strappy, backless dress that fitted her like a second skin, and I fought my body's primal reaction. My initial surprise at us being here together faded when I remembered Eric telling me about her childhood. Of course she's here.
Everything changed when she spoke. The character I attached to her earlier this week was only a tiny part of a bigger story. As I watched her, she's no longer Eric's Lily, but Lily Thornbread. Bombarded by emotions, I fought back tears as her words opened me up like a book and read me. My hands balled into fists when she mentioned Marco. I could tear him apart with my bare hands for hurting her. I could do the same with her father.
My arms grew heavy with the need to wrap her up in a warm embrace and prove to her that she's right, the kind of man who would treat her right does exist. Me. That she hadn't falsely assumed that when she decided to trust someone. I also knew, without a shadow of a doubt, the guy she thought was too good for her, was Eric. The kind guy she'd found peace with who moved away.
She spoke of him with the tenderness she didn't dare to show him a few days ago. Of her heartbreak. She doesn't hate him. It's an uncomfortable thought, but I think she still loves him. She's scared of letting her defenses down around him again. It makes sense. The coldness she displayed at the wedding is nothing compared to the deep wound she let us see today.
She put all her eggs in Eric's basket. A childish thing to do, I'll admit. But they were children then. And she hasn't recovered from him leaving her alone, 'trapped in the belly of the shark.' Yet, even as I thought of her love for Eric, I couldn't help the tiny explosions that went off inside my body when my name left her lips. As our eyes met, it's like finding the key that fits.
"Thank you for the introduction and for sharing your story." I turned my head to the side to smile at her, and she tilted her head at me as if putting together a puzzle. "Uhm." I cleared my throat, returning my attention to the audience. "I don't do a lot of public speaking or have dinners in my honor, because it's awkward as hell." I grinned. "But who could resist the charm of sweet Ms. Patsy's smile." I looked over at the older, full-figured woman who arranged this entire event. "I just couldn't say no." Ms. Patsy beamed in her purple, beaded dress.
"I now see the importance of this banquet. It's not about me at all, but for everyone who shared their stories, for the ones who work hard to keep this place running, and for those who can come here for refuge. I'm honored to be able to contribute and be a part of this tonight," I said, with my whole being. "I was asked why I donated what I did. Well, it's because I got pretty lucky with my latest investment. I hit that jackpot!" I sang and swayed, grinning, and there were a few chuckles. "Nah, the truth is, I identify with everyone here. Even if I'm just a man." That last part was solely for Lily.
"Your stories resonate with me because my mom was also an addict, and my childhood was tumultuous to say the least. If it weren't for rehab facilities, I wouldn't have gotten my mom back. She wouldn't have gotten her life back." My throat seized up, and I took a moment to clear it.
"But it was far from cheap," I continued, "I know how important money can be in this world we live in, with inflation and no solution in sight. Back when I couldn't afford to get her help, I'd volunteer at shelters, and I'd see how hard they struggled with making ends meet. I knew that if I could, I'd always help shelters in her honor. Having money eventually helped a lot with getting her the proper medical and psychological treatment, enrolling her into a rehab program and continued monthly check-ups. I got more than lucky when I started earning money, so I think it's only fair to share that luck, so that women like my mother can get the help they need. Thank you for all the work that you do. And thank you for allowing me to do this for you."
Applause followed my speech, and I turned to take another glance at Lily. This time, her mouth dropped open.