Chapter 14 A Lesson in Sadness
Chapter fourteen
A Lesson in Sadness
I look up as a night change nurse enters the room, animated and boisterous.
“Okay, okay! Let’s aalllll back awaayyy. I have a change of clothes for the beautiful woman. Missy, I gotta say, in all my years I have never seen an abuser admit what that man just did and walk up out of here voluntarily wi’ handcuffs. But there’s always a first time for ever’thin’, isn’t there?”
The southern woman picks her way around Jerome and Christopher and gently hands Sarah a bundle of clothes. I can't help but fight her trying to remove her hand from mine, and I grip until I feel her nails scrape my fingertips.
The nurse throws me a curious look that I return unashamedly.
Her blond hair is in a high bun with streaks of grey running through, giving her a warm, matronly look.
I clock her blue eyes, just like mine, and like her instantly.
Wishing people would see warmth when they looked at my eyes like I see in hers.
Sarah gives her a tentative, shaky smile. "Hi," she says shyly, probably still shaken up after all the back and forth of staff and police officers, and then, of course, my altercation with Brandon.
“Hi, beautiful! I found these in the lost and found. I guessed your size the best I could. I know how hard it is to hold the girls in!” the nurse says with a laugh, her chest jiggling as if to reinforce what she just said.
That does it.
Sarah holds a hand to her mouth and lets out a hilarious laugh through tears that understandably never seem to end. She nods her head slightly in agreement, wiping them away even as she giggles.
It makes me smile, though she can't see it. God, the sound of her laughter is intoxicating. As a matter of fact, her voice is adorable, too. Soft and slightly sensual. Unassuming. Calming.
Soothing.
There we go; the alphabet's coming back.
Spreading my legs, I settle deeper into my seat and rub the back of my neck, feeling a tiny bit more in control. The nurse begins to fuss over Sarah, sweeping her hand down her hair, plumping up her pillow, laying the clothes across her lap and showing her what she’d found.
Her friends and I look at each other, amused and maybe even slightly embarrassed.
“Well, uhm, I think Jerome and I can go to a little waiting room and wait for you to get dressed. We’ll be back in around twenty minutes. Care to join us, Dr. Richardson?” Christopher says confidently, jerking his head toward the door. I tighten my lips, and heave a small sigh.
Shit. Here we go.
The nurse gasps theatrically, putting a hand to her breast as her head snaps quickly to me, making me wince. My lips twist with a little half-smile. I already know what's was coming and really don’t want to take any attention for myself. Tonight isn’t about me.
"Alexander Richardson?" she says in a high-pitched tone.
"Yes," I answer quietly, flicking Sarah a look and giving her a reassuring wink.
Her face flushes, and she smiles so broadly I can see every single one of her teeth.
“Oh my gosh, I am so honored to meet you! You’re a legend around these parts, Mister!
" I feel my face heat up when she turns excited eyes to Sarah as she continues rapidly, "My gosh, Ms. Johnson, you’re so lucky you were with him when—well. He’s like a God around these parts.
" Sarah's eyes slide to mine and widen, and I can't help but give her a very tiny nod as the nurse keeps going.
Sarah's lips part a little as she turns her face back up to the nurse and just stares, entranced, as are Jerome and Christopher who are watching this scene unfold with a mixture of horror and fascination.
"The doctors and nurses talk about you all the time. They love you, Dr. Richardson. Just absolutely love you! You are highly respected in the psych ward.”
I give her a very toned-down version of my usual smile, not feeling like the occasion calls for such pleasantries, and clear my throat gently, not wanting to startle Sarah.
“It’s an honor to meet you as well, ma’am.
You flatter me.” I turn back to Sarah, who is picking at her hospital gown with a little faraway look in her eyes.
“We’ll be back in a bit. Alright, sweetheart? ”
And because I can't help myself, I place my hand lightly on her head and rub down until my hand falls away. Her hair tangles in my fingers until the strands, whisper soft, fall away.
Sarah blinks at me rather blankly. "A-Alright."
Christopher and Jerome share a what the fuck glance but stay silent as I follow them out.
“Uh…Who are you again?” Jerome asks, frowning as his brown eyes meet mine.
“Dr. Richardson," I repeat, as if the nurse didn't say my name about half a dozen times just now. "I’m a clinical psychiatrist—” I rattle off before being interrupted.
“Oh, no. I got that. I mean…was Sarah seeing you when…?” Christopher asks hesitantly, his brows knitting in confusion.
The need to protect Sarah rises hot and heavy inside me, and I work to make sure her reputation is not stained in any way. Even with her friends. “In a professional sense, yes. We have a mutual client. Here, let’s sit in this waiting room and talk,” I offer, ushering the men down the hallway.
Although, my mind's still very much back with Sarah in the hospital room behind me.
Ten minutes later we're sitting at a round table and bonding over a cup of disgusting hospital coffee.
We get to know each other and sort out how we know Sarah, and the events that happened today in my office.
I listen intently, sipping on my coffee while Christopher sits with his legs spread, his stance completely open for me to observe.
Christopher’s right hand settles on the back of Jerome’s chair, while he periodically shoves the other through his long black hair in irritation.
“She told us last Tuesday that she was leaving him and was going apartment shopping this weekend. She said something’s been happening, but she never said what.
We didn’t even know she was pregnant," he bites out with a hurt look on his face. "Brandon kept her so secluded. She barely could even sing at the lounge anymore. He was restricting all the good songs she wanted to perform, and it was starting to cause issues for her.” Christopher glances to the side and shakes his head. “Fucking hell! I can’t believe we didn’t know; she’s our best friend.
” He throws this part at Jerome, who's looking especially tortured.
Propped up on his elbows, Jerome has his head in his hands and rubs at his temples for the dozenth time on a groan.
His eyes are red. They're especially close, Sarah and Jerome.
I can tell without it even being verbally confirmed.
The unsaid hurt rolls off him in waves as he begins to speak.
"Do you need another pain pill?" Christopher asks him quietly, but Jerome just shakes his head and sighs.
He folds his arms on the table and pings his eyes between the two of us.
“When you two were in the bathroom with that fucker, she told me he called her the N-word, a whore…disgusting. A bitch. He threw her into their glass living room table which is how her back got all fucked up, amongst other things,” Jerome says quietly.
I freeze while lifting my cup to my mouth, but then jerk when the hot coffee spills over onto my fingers.
"Fuck," I curse, snatching a few napkins and wiping up the spill. My chest tightens, and his words echo around in my head making me immediately regret not ending the man’s life when I had the chance. She never once told the officers about Brandon’s use of the racial expletive, and to hear Jerome discuss it in the interim is jarring.
Christopher lets out a growling noise, his features tight with rage.
Jerome suddenly puts his hand on Christopher's thigh and squeezes with a worried look on his face.
“That fucker!" Christopher spits out. "I knew I didn’t like him for more than his bullshit antics with Sarah. Fucking disgusting, racist, slimeball. Probably got off with being with a woman of color to control her.” He sits back heavily in his seat and heaves a hard breath.
“Abuse victims are good at hiding. Abusers are good at masking,” I say quietly, looking over to the side. "It's a cycle that can last years if left unchecked."
“But that’s the thing. It didn’t use to be this way.
I think he just started doing this around the time she got pregnant,” Jerome explains.
“How the fuck can you be with someone for four years, then start beating them because they’re pregnant?
" His eyes go to Christopher who stares back intently.
"Can you imagine how on Earth that must have made her feel?
And she didn't have anyone to talk to about this.
She didn't even come to us! And we're the closest to her…we l-love her.” Jerome's voice breaks, and I can tell just how hurt he is that he couldn't be there for Sarah when she needed it the most.
“Around one in three women are victims of domestic abuse when they are pregnant. It’s not really that uncommon, unfortunately,” I inform them.
My lips tighten because the fact that Sarah's part of that statistic really burns my ass up.
They shake their head.
“I should have helped you finish the fucker off,” Christopher says, his jaw is so tight it looks like it might snap in half if he clenches his teeth any further.
Feeling restless I fidget in my seat at the realization that I miss her. I look at my watch, ignoring Christopher momentarily. It’s been twenty-two minutes since we left Sarah’s room, and that's more than long enough.
“Hey, can you give us a ride? I rode with her in the ambulance, and I have no clue where she’s going. Do you two know?”
They shake their heads, glancing at each other.
“No, she said she’s been staying in her office. But we can figure something out." Jerome heaves to his feet. "Our place is cramped and, well, she doesn't like our place because she thinks it's haunted."