Finding Abigail

by Christina Smith

  I sighed. “I’ve thought about it. But like Rob, he told me he’d kill me.”

  She shook her head, her lip twitching. “They’re good with threats, aren’t they?”

  I nodded, leaning back in my chair, feeling as trapped as she did, and frustrated because I couldn’t help her. I just wished there was a solution for both of us. “Does Tina know? That first night I met Sofia, I heard her and Nick arguing about me.”

  Her lips turned up into a grin, her eyes flashing. “Yeah, she knows. She tried to help me in the beginning, but Sofia told her to stay out of it.” When I gaped at her, my mouth filled with wine, she shrugged. “What do you expect? Their father did it, why wouldn’t his sons?”

  I swallowed hard. “Carlo hits Sofia?”

  “Yep, I once asked her why she allowed it. She told me that he had a stressful job and sometimes he couldn’t help it. But what he was doing was important, so she just accepts it.”

  I froze, my eyes still glued to her, my hand clutched to the arm rest of the chair. “Oh my God, that’s crazy,” I gasped. “Nick said something like that the first time he hit me.”

  Heather swallowed the last of her wine and started to rise. “Well, I should go before Rob finds out I was here. He’ll think we were plotting against him.” She made her way to the door and put on her coat, then paused with her hand on the knob, her shoulders heavy with guilt. “I’m sorry I didn’t do a better job of warning you, and that you’re mixed up in this.”

  I nodded, wishing she had too, but I would never say that, it wasn’t her fault. I should have paid more attention to the signs—his short temper and horrible jealous streak. “If you need anything, let me know.”

  She smiled as she walked out and shut the door behind her.

  The sudden silence in the apartment, after what we had just discussed, felt like a living pulse of loneliness.

  I stowed the leftover wine in the fridge and rinsed out our glasses. I didn’t want Nick to know I had company. Then I plopped down in front of the TV and thought about our talk. It only added to my resolve to run, and as soon as I had all my ducks in a row, I was gone. My only regret was my family and friends. I would miss them so much but I knew that they would want a better life for me, and that wasn’t here.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Plan

  As the weeks turned into months, I learned how to avoid arguments with Nick. It was more of a trial and error thing. As long as dinner was on the table, he’d be happy. In order to avoid him, I started taking my run right after dinner was ready. By the time I came home he was finished eating and was involved in a game on TV, so I could slip into the bedroom unnoticed. I was safe until he came to bed and wanted to make love. I let him do what he wanted, usually pretending he was someone else to make it more bearable.

  My plan sometimes didn’t work. If he had a bad day, anything could set him off. I didn’t order the right food. I wasn’t there when he got home or I didn’t wash a shirt he wanted to wear. These fights usually ended up with me crying myself to sleep and waking up with bruised wrists, back, or legs, like the time he kicked me in the shin because I was blocking the game. And like clockwork, he’d apologize, with flowers or jewelry. I woke twice more with his nighttime painful apologies; the difference was, I no longer believed him. But I would never admit this to him. Grin and bear it was my new motto.

  Two months after I decided to run, I was almost ready to go. I was heading to Canada. I just had to pick a destination. I was thinking of Toronto. It was big, like New York, crowded enough to get lost in. The day before I planned to put everything in action I received a call from Brenda. My mom had taken a fall at work. I was panicked at first, worried about my only parent, but was assured that it was just a broken leg. The problem was she would need help at home, so Brenda wanted to take turns helping her. This meant I had to wait to leave. I couldn’t help feel the sting of tears. I had been so close to freedom, and now I had to wait. I didn’t blame my mother, it wasn’t her fault. I was just frustrated.

  Nick didn’t take the news well. He didn’t like me spending so much time with my mom. The only way I could settle him down was to promise I’d be home when he got back from work. I was hoping I could take the day shifts, Brenda the evenings.

  As the weeks of my mother’s care flew by, I lived a double life. I felt free with her during the day, and hated returning home. At night, I never left the apartment. Nick didn’t want me to go out much. He said it was because he wanted me all to myself, but I wasn’t an idiot. The typical response of an abuser was to isolate the woman from their family and friends. But honestly, I didn’t mind. I was ashamed that I had allowed my life to turn out this way, and I couldn’t face them. So at night, I isolated myself from my former life. My apartment became my prison, Nick my jailer. I was a shell of the woman I once was. And my mother noticed. I lied to her every day. She asked me frequently if I was okay. And I answered that I was fine each time.

  I enjoyed my time with her. I kept busy doing the chores she couldn’t, and when I was finished, we’d play cards. She became my escape, the only one outside of Nick that I saw.

  And when she got better, I was all alone.

  Months flew by and there always seemed to be a reason that I couldn’t leave—Christmas, birthdays, Justin’s or Hayley’s recital or school play—there was always something and before I knew it, it was the New Year and I was still miserable, living a life feeling trapped and hopeless.

  One afternoon in early February, I was sitting on the couch double-checking my list of things that needed to get done before I left, when there was a knock at the door. I got up, glancing quickly in the mirror hanging on the wall to check for bruises. Nick was careful not to mark any skin that showed, but I liked to make sure just in case. Nick hadn’t hit me in over two weeks, and it was making me anxious. Since my face was clean, I opened the door to find Debbie leaning against the doorjamb looking pissed.

  “You’ve been avoiding me,” she said, stomping into the living room and collapsing onto the sofa. She was right, of course, I was avoiding everybody. If it wasn’t for special occasions I would never see my family. I picked up my list and turned the page before she saw what was on it.

  Her curly cinnamon-colored hair was up today. The rust-colored blouse she was wearing was low cut, and her black pencil skirt showed off her legs. She was glowing. Brian must have been good for her. I was both happy and jealous at the same time. “So, what’s going on with you? You don’t return mine or Brenda’s phone calls. You haven’t been handing in any more chapters. I haven’t heard anything about the wedding, and neither has Brenda. Either you’ve picked other bridesmaids, or you’re not planning at all.” She kicked my slippered foot that was resting on the coffee table. “So come on, which is it?” She set her bag down beside her on the floor.

  I moved my foot, folding it under me. “Nothing’s going on. I haven’t started planning the wedding, but I have lots of time. And I’ve decided to take a break from writing. I never take time off. I think I’m entitled, don’t you?”

  She narrowed her eyes, studying me. “Well, yes I think you’re entitled. Wasn’t it me telling you before you met Nick that you worked too much?” She leaned forward and placed her hand on my knee. Her touch was comforting. It had been so long that I was touched without wincing. “But you haven’t written in four months. That’s not like you. Something’s wrong, and I’m not leaving until you tell me.” She pulled her hand away and sat up straight.

  I folded my arms in front of me, suddenly panicked. She couldn’t know my secret. I was to ashamed. “I told you, I’m fine.”

  “I didn’t want to have to do this, but you leave me no choice.” She opened her bag and pulled out a small container. Lifting the lid, she revealed my favorite cake. Damn it, she played dirty. “Three-layered red velvet, with cream cheese icing and chopped pecans. It’s your favorite. Now tell me what’s wrong or I’m taking this home.”

  I breathed in the sweet smell of chocolate,
fighting the urge to grab the container from her hand. Instead, I looked away, my mouth watering. “No thanks, I’m not hungry.”

  I saw her face change from a teasing smile to worry—lines formed between her eyes, her lips pressed together. Standing up, she pulled me into her arms. I held on tight, craving her warmth. The smell of her kiwi-scented shampoo reminded me of when we were roommates. “Abby, you are my best friend. I’ve known you since college. We’ve been through everything together. Now please tell me what’s wrong.” Her voice was soft, pleading. It made me feel good that she cared so much. It was true what she said. We had always been close, and if our situations were reversed, I would do the same thing. But I just couldn’t open up to her. I had to face this alone. I couldn’t bring anyone I cared about into this.

  I pulled away from her, about to answer, but she stopped me before I could. “Don’t say it’s nothing, because I know you.” I stepped away, sitting back down on the armchair. She stood in front of me with her hands on her hips. “Is it Nick, are you having second thoughts?”

  I looked down, picking at my yoga pants, and stayed silent.

  “Okay, so that’s a yes. Did he cheat on you?”

  “No,” I answered softly, worried that she was about to guess the real problem.

  “Well, what then? Did he kill someone? Is he a cross-dresser? Is he gay? Is he a jazz singer in Vegas?”

  A laugh slipped out. “No, of course not, don’t be silly.” It felt good to laugh, I hadn’t done so in a long time.

  “Well, what is it then? Because I know he doesn’t hit you.” And again, I looked down, fingering the material on my pants. This time she grabbed my chin, lifting it so I would look at her in the eye. “Abby, you tell me he doesn’t hit you.” I pulled my head out of her hands and stood up, moving over to the window. I looked down at the street and watched Spencer hailing a cab for Mrs. Lancaster in 3B. I couldn’t stand the pain and concern that crossed Debbie’s face. If I saw it another second I would lose it.

  “That son of a bitch, I’m going to kill him.”

  I turned back around to face her, hoping my expression was blank. I couldn’t break down in front of her.

  “Don’t you worry about a thing, because the next time I see that asshole, he’s a dead man.” She started pacing the living room.

  I laughed. The thought of Debbie hurting anyone made me giggle. I had seen such violence over the last four months, for some reason I found it funny that she thought she could hurt anybody. She just didn’t have it in her. And that was a good thing. “Oh yeah, Debbie you’re so tough.” I don’t know why I was smiling. Maybe I was relieved that she finally knew, or maybe I was starting to go insane.

  She stopped pacing and pointed at me. “What I want to know is why the hell you’re still with him.”

  The urge to laugh subsided replaced by apprehension. “Debbie, I can’t talk about this. I’m handling it, I’ll be okay.”

  “What do you mean handling it? Because it had better mean you’re going to cut his balls off and shove them in his mouth.”

  This time I laughed so hard tears ran down my cheeks. God, I missed her.

  Wiping the tears away, I sat down on the sofa and pulled her down with me. “You can’t say anything, okay, nothing to Brian, and when you see Nick, act normal. He told me if I reported him or tried to leave him again he would kill me. I’m leaving, but every time I decide it’s time, something comes up. But when I do go, it means I won’t see any of you, indefinitely.”

  Her eyes widened. “You reported him, and tried to leave?”

  “Yes, but since he’s a cop, they won’t do anything. So I ran, and he caught me. I believe him when he said he’ll kill me.”

  She closed her eyes, her lips pressed in a thin line, and then she opened them, her face full of determination. “Then you have to leave. It will be horrible without you, but your life is more important. But do it right this time.” She started to cry. “God damn it! Let’s eat this cake.” I laughed and went to the kitchen to get some spoons.

  Debbie was true to her word and didn’t say anything. She did tell Brenda that she needed to go see me. So a week after I dealt with Debbie, my mother and sister paid me a visit. We were sitting at the table having coffee when my sister blurted, “Abby, I just have to say it. You look like shit.”

  A laugh snuck out before I could stop it. I was wearing an old high school T-shirt and jogging pants, and I had thrown my hair up in a rough pony tail. I hadn’t expected company, and I didn’t usually clean myself up until just before Nick arrived. He didn’t like when I looked messy, and I think that’s why I did it when he wasn’t around. It was the only way to rebel and make my own decisions. But I knew her words meant more than what I was wearing. My skin was pale and bags were beginning to form under my eyes from lack of sleep. Leave it to my sister to tell it like it is.

  My mother set her mug of coffee down on the table, and lines rippled in the liquid. She gazed at me. Her clear blue eyes held mine. “Abby, what’s going on? And don’t tell me nothing, I’m sick of you lying to me.”

  I sighed, wanting to keep this to myself, but since Debbie knew, I knew I couldn’t. I stared down at my coffee. “Nick…has...”

  My mother gasped. “Don’t tell me that he’s hurt you.”

  Brenda gasped, her eyes wide. “Mom, that’s ridiculous, Nick would never do that.” She turned to me. “Abby, tell her.”

  I kept silent, taking a drink of my coffee.

  “Abby?” Brenda cried.

  “How did you know?” I asked my mother, ignoring my sister.

  She reached over, and took my hand. Hers was warm against my cold one. Ever since Nick moved in I was always cold. “I work in the hospital; I’ve seen my share of abused women. I can tell when someone isn’t happy.” She squeezed my hand. “And it was the way he looked at you. His eyes never left you. And it wasn’t a look of love. It was possessiveness. I told you this, remember?”

  “Yes, and I’m sorry I didn’t listen. I was just so in love with him, I didn’t want to see it.” I started to cry, I couldn’t help it. How could my mother know who he really was just by looking at him, and I didn’t? I jumped up to get a tissue and handed one to Brenda, who had joined me in a crying jag. “I have to leave. I tried before, but he found me, but I have a better plan now.”

  “What? You can’t leave,” Brenda gasped.

  My mom reached over and touched Brenda’s knee. “She has to. It’s the only way she’ll be safe.” She winked at Brenda, and then turned to me. “Abby, when you’re ready, let me know and I’ll go stay with your sister. But don’t take too long. He’s going to start to wonder why you’re not planning the wedding.”

  Brenda fiddled with the handle of her mug. “Come on, Mom, it’s not that bad. Tell her, Abby.” She was grasping for some good news; she looked at me for an answer. I was just sorry I couldn’t give her the ones she wanted.

  I smiled sadly at Brenda and shook my head. It broke my heart to see her accept it. I glanced at my mom and nodded.

  Brenda gazed down into her coffee. “If it’ll keep you safe, you have to go.”

  I smiled at the two women I loved more than anyone in the world. “Thank you. I really needed your blessing.” I think that was why I had been putting my departure off, because I hated to leave them, but now that they knew and agreed, it was time.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Last Straw

  That night, Nick told me we were going to his mother’s place. After dinner, we sat in the living room eating dessert and drinking coffee. Heather sat quietly in her usual corner. The occasional glance at me was the only contact between us. Tina was busy talking about returning to the hospital, and I sat quietly beside Nick trying not to be noticed. It turned out that I wasn’t as invisible as I had hoped.

  “So Abby, how are the wedding plans coming?” Sofia asked from her chair beside me.

  My chest tightened, and my hands threatened to shake. Why did she have to ask that? “Good.�
� It was the only word I could think to answer; my mind went blank.

  “Tell me, have you decided where you’re having it? Have you picked bridesmaids? What are your colors?”

  Okay, so I couldn’t put it off any longer. We had been engaged for months, people were bound to wonder what was happening. I was just thankful Nick was too busy at work to really ask much about it. He was happy to allow me to plan it, he just wanted final approval. I lifted my head, looking her in the eyes. “Actually, I’ve decided to put the plans on hold for a while. I’m in the middle of a book and my editors are rushing me to get it done.” I glanced at Nick and saw his face harden, his eyes go cold. Fear knotted inside me, knowing it wasn’t going to be a good night.

  Heather must have noticed too because she spoke for the first time. “That’s so cool. What’s it about?”

  I went into the plot of the book I hadn’t written about in months. I was desperate to change the subject and thanks to Heather and Tina the wedding plans were never mentioned again—until we arrived home.

  As soon as Nick closed the door behind him, he struck me across the face. The blow was so hard I fell to the floor. “How dare you embarrass me like that? You told me you were planning the wedding. I don’t like to be lied to, Abby.” He hovered above me, like an animal stalking its prey.

  Cradling my battered cheek with my hand, I glared up at him. “I was planning the wedding, but they started pressuring me to get the book done.” I shrugged. “I just thought I’d put the wedding on hold for a few months so I could work on it.” I hoped I sounded convincing, trying to make the tone of my voice as casual as possible.

  He bent down and lifted me up, digging his fingers into my shoulders as he shoved me against the wall, his hand clenched around my throat, choking me. “Nothing is more important than marrying me. Not your stupid little books, not your family. Nothing. You got that?” His face was so close I could smell his mother’s meat loaf on his breath. His teeth were clenched; his voice was a low growl. I gulped for air and struggled, clawing at his hands, but it was no use. His grip was like a vise; I couldn’t even nod. My vision started to fade in and out.