Chapter 11
Lennon
I watch my new client lower herself stiffly on the sofa in my office. I take the chair next to her. I’ve already read her file. A horror story really.
She’s clutching a fistful of Kleenex in a shaky hand.
There’s a yellow and purple bruise on her cheek and her posture is one of total defeat.
She’s not making eye contact, instead staring at the bowl of crystals I have on the coffee table, but I know she’s not really seeing them.
She’s lost in her mind, reliving whatever hell brought her here.
“Would you like some water? Tea?” I ask softly. When she doesn’t answer, I clear my throat. “Ginny?”
She jerks her head like she just noticed I’m in the room. “No. I’m fine. Thank you.”
I give her a soft smile. “You have a son?”
“Archer,” she whispers. “He’s six. He tried…” she chokes on the words. “He tried to stop it. Dale, he backhanded him into the wall.” Her eyes unfocus. Her voice is barely a whisper when she says, “The sound of his little body…” Her whole body begins to tremble.
I reach into the basket beside the sofa, pull out a blanket, and wrap it around her shoulders. “You’re safe here,” I say. “Archer is safe here.”
I scoot forward, take her hand and just sit silently, anchoring her as she falls apart. “You’re safe, Ginny. Safe to process. Safe to feel whatever you’re feeling. You’re not alone.”
She’s not unique either, unfortunately. A catalyst for a lot of women to finally leave is when the abuse extends to their children.
They may not think they’re worth saving after their self-esteem is crushed during years of gaslighting, threats, physical and psychological torture. But they can believe their kids are.
My next client is a woman I haven’t seen for nine months. She has twins, a boy and a girl in middle school. I’m heartbroken that she’s back here with her arm in a cast and the determined spark no longer shining in her chestnut eyes.
After I give her a hug, she immediately begins to unburden herself, share her pain. This is what I live for. Knowing that I can take some of the weight off another woman’s shoulders, give her someone to trust unconditionally, a safe place to unravel.
“He found us. I don’t know how. Ambushed me when I got out of the car.
I managed to get back in the car at one point and lock the doors.
Drove with the kids to the police station.
They took me to the hospital.” Tears are glistening in her bloodshot eyes.
“I’m afraid to go back there for our stuff.
The landlord was nice enough to grab Pepper and bring him to me. ”
Pepper is her fourteen-year-old Yorkie. We had a foster family take care of him during her and the twins’ last stay here, until we got them housing.
“Director Amy was nice enough to let Jacob and Emily keep him with them in the kid's room for now. Hopefully, we won’t be here as long this time.”
I nod in agreement. “How are you feeling?”
“Numb. Tired. Pissed.” She picks at a cuticle. “Mostly tired, though I think anger and caffeine are the only things keeping me going right now.”
“You have every right to feel all of those things, Charlotte.”
And so do you, Lennon.
***
That evening, I’m sitting on my sofa having a staring contest with Pepper. Our foster homes for pets are full, so I volunteered to bring Pepper home with me until one opens up or Charlotte and her kids get a new apartment.
It took the little five-pound, black and brown dog an hour of coaxing him with treats to get him to come out of his carrier.
He immediately jumped up on the sofa and parked himself in the corner to stare at me accusingly.
I’m going to have to get him to go outside at some point, but the way he’s eyeing me with mistrust, and giving me little growls of warning when I try to pet him, means we’re at a standoff.
I don’t mind, though. It’s kind of nice having another living, breathing soul here. Maybe I should get a pet? I glance over at my single half-dead plant. Maybe not.
Though I’ve always wanted a cat. My mind drifts back to the little tabby kitten I wanted to keep so bad when I was fifteen. The poor thing was so sick.
Then I stiffen as another memory drifts up from the sediment.
I’m up on the rooftop of the hotel. There’s a bar there that opens at four PM, but for the moment I’m alone, stretched out in a lawn chair enjoying the morning sun with the tiny kitten curled up on my chest, sleeping.
It’s been two weeks since I’d found her, and she’s finally well enough to try to find her a home.
Sandro’s going to get his driver to take us to put up flyers in the pet stores.
I just have to make sure we go when Mom wouldn’t be looking for me.
She’d have a coronary if she knew I was leaving the hotel with him.
Suddenly I feel her feathery weight lift from my chest and a dark laugh breaks the silence.
“Well, what do we have here?”
I jerk up and stare in horror at Milo Zerilli as he grasps the kitten in his fist and holds it up in the air. “I do believe this is a pet-free hotel, Red. Naughty fucking girl, breaking the rules.”
Slowly, I slide off the chair and stand to face him. I know I can’t show fear. He feeds on it. So, I school my expression into one of nonchalance and put as much bravado in my voice as I can. “Give her back.”
His eyes narrow dangerously as his gaze crawls lazily down my body.
I wrap my arms around my stomach, wishing I wasn’t standing here in my bikini top and jean shorts.
The kitten mews in distress, her tiny feet scrambling for a foothold on his hand.
“Ouch,” Milo hisses. He grabs the kitten by the scruff of her neck with his other hand and lets her dangle in the air while he examines his hand. “Little fucker scratched me.”
Good. I hoped it gets infected.
He glances over to the edge of the roof and a deadly smile spreads. “They say cats have nine lives. Should we test that theory?”
My resolve to not show fear crumbles as I take a few steps toward him. My words come out breathless. “Please, Milo. Don’t.” My insides are trembling. I know what he’s capable of. He isn’t bluffing.
“Don’t?” He licks his lips. “What are you willing to do to stop me?”
The kitten lets out a long, pitiful mew.
Fear kicks me in the chest. “What do you want?”
He smiles. “You finally got some tits this year. Take off your top. Let me see.”
I immediately begin to shake my head.
He shrugs and begins to walk toward the edge of the roof.
“Wait!” I cry. Tears are burning my eyes, and I feel more helpless than I ever have. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
He turns and waits, his gaze pinned to my chest. “Well, go on then. I don’t have all fucking day.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I reach behind me and untie the knot in my top. As I let it fall, I hold the front tight, gathering the courage to let go.
Just then the roof door opens and a gruff voice calls, “Yo, Milo, your dad’s looking for you.”
My head whips around to see one of the hotel guards walking toward us, his gaze traveling back and forth between us with a dark frown.
I scramble to retie my top, thanking God for this man’s timing.
Milo’s nostrils flare as he glares at the guard.
Then he marches over to me and shoves the kitten in my chest, brushing his fingers along an exposed curve of flesh.
Leaning into my ear, he whispers. “Next time I catch you alone, Red, that won’t be the pussy I grab.
” He runs his slimy tongue up my cheek. I squeeze my eyes shut.
His voice is back in my ear. “And if you say one word about this to Sandro, it’ll be him I toss over the edge. ”
The sun warms my face as his presence disappears.
The heavy metal door slams behind them.
I collapse onto the lawn chair, holding the kitten to my chest, trying to comfort it as I sob.
Taking a deep breath, I wipe angrily at the tears the memory brought and click on the TV.
The only problem is that the mindless TV leaves my brain free to wander back to Sandro.
To the feelings that, over the years, have settled like sediment on the bottom of a deep lake, feelings his presence stirred up and sent floating to the surface, dancing and swirling in my mind.
And with dawning irritation, I realize the reason it hurt so much to hear about him marrying Giada is because, deep down, I had waited for him.
Deep down I held onto hope that one day things might change.
I don’t know what I thought would happen. Realistically I knew he could never leave the mafia. But the heart is a dreamer and a fool, apparently. No man has ever measured up to Alessandro LaRocca. And I doubt any man ever will.
My heart sinks. I suddenly realize that if I don’t want to spend my life alone, it's up to me to change. Now that I’ve seen that the boy I loved is gone, I have to let go of him for good.
Stop holding onto a fantasy. Give someone else a chance.
And not just these half-hearted attempts at dating. I have to open up. Get serious.
There’s an ache in my chest with this decision. Instead of my heart opening, it feels like it just cracked.
Something soft brushes my arm and I glance down.
Pepper is carefully curling himself into a ball beside me. His shiny black eyes meet mine. It feels like a message. If this little dog can open his heart and trust someone else to love him, then I can, too.
Before I can change my mind, I grab my phone and text Sloane: Taking u up on ur offer to go out this weekend
Sloane: who are U & what have u done w/ my best friend?
Me: Funny. Sat. night?
Sloane: I’ll be at ur place at 8. No backing out!