Run Delia Run

by Cindy Bokma

  Taking off his clothes, he inched toward me with a sneer on his face, his eyebrows narrowed. I scrambled from his grasp, but he laughed and took hold of my wrists, jerking me toward him.

  All I heard was the sound of the blood pounding in my ears. The scent of Leo’s expensive cologne made me gag. I cried out as he pinned me down, but he looked amused, as if this were a game. His maniacal laugh replayed on a loop in my brain as he fastened the blindfold over my eyes.

  After it was all over, I sat on the bed crying.

  “You know how much I love you,” Leo said, pulling my close, tenderly kissing the top of my head. What had I done to deserve this? Why me? Tears slipped down my cheeks. My thighs bore bright red strips where the leather had licked my skin.

  A bitter metallic taste filled my mouth and my whole body was limp. I refused to look Leo in the eyes and was grateful when I heard Will start to whimper, it was an excuse to get away from Leo. Down the hall, as I cradled Will, I heard Leo whistling and the sound of the shower. How was I going to stay with this man?

  I paced the floor with my son in my arms and reflected back on the words Leo often spoke to me. “You know when you do things that make me mad, you have to pay.” Or, one of his favorites, “I love you so much that I can’t help it. You do this to me, Delia. You bring out my passion.”

  I went back and forth between blaming myself for Leo’s behavior and wondering if I could ever be strong enough to leave? But as he said before, I could never escape.

  “We’re meant to be together.” At the time I thought his words were romantic, but now, as they echoed in my head, they carried an ominous warning.

  It was a quiet sunny morning in Los Angeles. I pushed the stroller along Wilshire Blvd, headed to my favorite coffee shop when I saw Dr. Hiller exit her car. I sped up for a second, about to call out and say hello when suddenly she was greeted by Leo with a kiss and a tight hug.

  What were they doing together? My whole body coiled tightly like a snake about to spring though I was frozen in place.

  “Are you kidding me?” I said the words out loud, to myself. The only other person on the street was a man spraying for bugs who wore large head phones. There was a buzzing sound, like a thousand bees were in my head.

  I removed my sunglasses and peered, squinting. It was certainly Leo, but I hadn’t seen Dr. Hiller in ages. The cut of the hair, the dark sunglasses, it looked like her. Why was he seeing my therapist? Especially on the street, in broad daylight? As I inched forward slowly and focused my eyes, I realized it wasn't her and a sense of relief flooded my body and my tense muscles relaxed. Who was she? She was younger than Dr. Hiller by several years.

  He placed a hand on the woman's back as they entered a restaurant I had been to many times with Claire.

  Was he cheating on me? Or was this a work colleague? The fact I questioned my own husband's fidelity was a glaring red flag. Should I peek in the window and watch them? Or go about my day and pretend I didn't see him with another woman? They looked too friendly to be work friends. I knew he worked with women, of course he did, but something about seeing my husband looking so comfortable with this female made the hair on my neck stand up. This didn't feel right to me.

  The blast of a car horn shook me from my stupor.

  Will began kicking his chubby little legs and whining. It was lunchtime and he needed to eat. Instead of continuing to the coffee shop, I turned around, heading home.

  The image of Leo with a woman pinged around inside my brain for the rest of the day. At night, as I fed Will, I watched Leo from the corner of my eye. Nothing seemed wrong, in fact, he moved around the kitchen humming a tune, stirring the applesauce I was making for Will.

  As I strapped Will into his highchair, I tried to be casual.

  “Did you have a meeting in Beverly Hills today?” I secured the tray to the highchair and gave the baby a handful of his favorite cereal.

  I crossed my legs and leaned back, cool and confident. It was late afternoon and the golden sun pored through the window. The only noise came from the house fan Leo liked to keep on to circulate fresh air.

  His back had been to me but now he slowly pivoted.

  “Why do you ask?” He lay down the wooden spoon he’d been using to stir then turned the burner off.

  “You added too much cinnamon,” he said. As I looked at his handsome face with the chiseled features, I couldn’t believe I was once in love with this man. He was now like a stranger to me.

  “I was only asking about it because I saw you. Today. Earlier. I took the baby for a walk and saw you on Wilshire Blvd.” I pressed my lips together and breathed through my nose. My tone was happy, soft. Not accusatory. I learned to be careful. Talking to Leo was like walking in a place where a landmine could go off at any second and blow me to pieces.

  “You saw me?”

  “Yes, it looked like you were with . . .” I paused. “Looked like you were with a woman,” I said, throwing my hands in the air. Will kicked his legs and banged his meaty fists, making happy noises. Smiling at him, I avoided the heft of Leo’s stare. “It was a business meeting, right?” All day I turned this over in my mind and hoped they were working on a project. My gut feeling was wrong. Totally innocent.

  He took a step toward me, a tornado moving across his face. “What are you insinuating?”

  I shrugged.

  “No, you were spying on me, is that it? I can’t have a lunch meeting without you asking questions. Do you not trust me? Have you been watching me every day? Who do you think I am? An adulterer?”

  Before I could register what Leo was going to do, he was across the room, dragging me by my arm away from Will, who sensed something was wrong and began to cry.

  His hands clutched my upper arms as he shook me like a rag doll. He yelled, spit flying from his mouth. I didn’t understand what he said; all I could focus on was Will in the kitchen. My eyes moved from his face to the kitchen where I heard Will banging on his tray.

  When Leo was done shaking me and screaming in my face about accusations and cheating and lying, he flung me toward the side of the room where my last memory was hitting my head against the sharp edge of the fancy bar cart where we kept bottles of scotch and whiskey.

  It felt like hours later when I opened my eyes, blinking as I adjusted to the dark room. The sun was setting and everything was shadowed in partial blackness. The pounding in my head felt like someone had taken a hammer to it.

  “Hello?” I called weakly. Pushing myself up on my elbows, I touched a hand to my head; sticky blood was on my fingers. I swallowed hard as a wave of nausea rolled through my stomach.

  What happened? I played back what I remembered but there were gaps. There was Leo, angry and Will, banging on the tray of his highchair. I remembered Leo coming toward me with that furious, stormy look in his eye that always made me forget to breathe.

  “Leo?” I tried to sit up but my whole body ached. I closed my eyes and moaned.

  “Are you all right? Oh my goodness, Delia!” He materialized next to me, turning on the lights and gasping at what was illuminated, a small pool of scarlet on the ground, blood soaking my shirt. “Look at you!”

  “What happened?” I blinked slowly, the light temporarily blinding me like going into a dark house after being in the bright sunshine.

  “You fell; you hit your head on the cart. You must have fainted. I went to put Will in his crib; I really can’t leave you alone for a minute.” He stood over me, hands out, gently pulling me up to a seated position. The tone of his voice was kind though his mouth was twisted in a smirk. He knit his brows together and made sympathetic noises.

  “Poor Delia. Don’t you remember anything? You slipped and hit your head. Don’t worry, I was only gone for a few minutes...” Leo spoke quickly, talking more to himself than to me. He lightly touched my head and peered at me. “You need stitches. I’m going to call Dr. Rogers. He can come over. He’s the doctor the studio uses for house calls and emergencies. He won’t ask questions.�
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  I nodded, touching my head. My brain tried to piece together what Leo said with what I knew happened. Was I misremembering? What if I was wrong? No, I didn’t slip and hit my head on the bar cart. I watched him punch the numbers on his phone and speak quietly, the whole time his eyes never left my face. He appeared genuinely concerned as he helped move me to the couch where he placed a towel under my head so I didn’t bleed on the fabric. Placing an ice pack on my head, he made shushing noises and repeated how much be loved me. He held my cold hand in his warm one.

  I looked at him under swollen eye lids, my head pounded and my vision couldn’t completely focus but a sense of something emanated from Leo and I tried to lean away from his touch. Will, was he safe? Was my son all right? What if he lost his temper with the baby? He’d never do that...would he?

  “Will. What about Will?” I murmured, my voice came out faint.

  “Will is fine. Taking a short nap,” Leo said, smoothing the hair from my face.

  As we waited for the doctor to arrive, I knew with certainty that I was not safe. How could he have left me drenched in my own blood for hours? He was lying. It hadn’t been minutes as he told me. It was now pitch black outside, the sun was completely down and a sliver of moonlight was visible in between the blinds. My head was clouded and there was intense pain, my lower back ached like I had been kicked in the spine.

  Did Leo want me dead? And the next time, would he succeed? What about Will? I didn’t worry only about myself; I was scared for my son.

  That evening, as Dr. Roger’s slowly stitched the open gash in my head, I began plotting a scheme to vanish as I had started to plan before I got pregnant with Will. I knew it would take a long time to save up enough money and build up the guts and the gumption to do it. I had to start seriously thinking about our future.

  I vowed I would not remain married to a man who threatened to kill me. No matter what.

  Chapter 18

  Present

  I was happy, content, but never relaxed. Each afternoon when school let out, I walked home with Will, taking a moment to watch the fishing boats pull into the harbor. I scanned the horizon watching the boats rock gently in the calm water. Deep breaths of briny air filled my lungs. We passed the bright red crab shack with the painted floats hanging on the exterior wall. The white paint peeled from the door and crab crates were stacked in high piles. An upside down rusted rowboat was parked in the front yard. There were a few old, wooden fishing shacks along the way, red lobster trap buoys and cages which sat by the door. A German bakery, an ice cream shop, art galleries, and a bookstore were located on the wharf. Park benches offered weary tourists a place to rest. One of the boutiques displayed a purple window box with golden plants tumbling over the top.

  Each shop had weathered shutters on the windows, and the faded and old paint created an antiqued look that was charming rather than run down. I loved it here. I wondered what it would be like in the winter where temperatures would drop into the twenties and snow would cover the town in a blanket of white. The thought of snow made me shiver. I planned to take Will sledding and ice skating; we’d build a snowman and read books in front of the fireplace while we snuggled under a blanket. Free from Leo, we could do what we wanted. Most of the time, I felt like a heavy yoke had been taken from my shoulders. Three thousand miles separated us and he could not belittle or threaten me. I touched Will’s hair lightly and smiled.

  A lighthouse in the distance signaled to the boats coming in at night though now tourists stood around taking pictures. A lone kayaker weaved in between tarnished fishing vessels and motorboats, smoothly paddling in the basin. A light breeze ruffled my hair, which needed a trim. The word ‘peace’ came to mind as I looked at my surroundings. The last time I experienced a calm like this was when my parents were alive though at the time I didn’t recognize it.

  “Do you think we will ever go back to California? Is dad coming here?” Will asked, licking the mint ice cream cone I bought him as an after school treat. Melted green ice cream dribbled down his chin and he looked up at me blinking his eyes.

  Will didn’t talk about his father and rarely asked about our home in California. I watched him closely, almost seeing thoughts formulate in his brain. Either he held a lot in or he liked being alone with his thoughts. Either way, he hardly ever opened up to me, though I gently prodded. I was grateful that he settled in without any problems and seemed to enjoy school and had lots of friends. Weeks passed without a single night terror. He didn’t act out or scream at me.

  At home, he wasn’t interested in his iPad or video games but preferred to be outside, looking for bugs in the bushes and grass. He spent hours with a magnifying glass, seeking out tiny insects then placing them inside jars for later examination. We checked out books from the library so he could learn; this was his favorite way to spend time. Occasionally he had play dates with friends from school, always at our house. I didn’t trust anyone else. Yet. His teacher told me that he settled in well and was liked by his classmate which was a huge relief.

  I read many books about kids and domestic abuse and knew I did the right thing by leaving Leo, but would Will suffer from not having his father around? Would he grow up and hold it against me?

  Thinking about the future made my stomach flip. One of the many statistics I noted was that witnessing domestic violence is the number one reason children run away. Did I help my son or hurt him?

  We played outside in the twilight after dinner, catching bugs in mason jars. This place, this small town with the big trees and the old houses and the fishing boats in the harbor, was good for Will and I couldn’t imagine going back to California. It seemed a million miles away.

  “No, dad’s not coming here. It’s you and me now. I’m sorry buddy. Do you miss him?”

  He thought for a few minutes and we were both silent. Then he lifted his small shoulder.

  “I kind of miss him. Is it because he was so mean? Is that why we don’t live with him anymore?” His little face was twisted in confusion.

  “What do you mean?” I swallowed hard. What did he remember? I was so careful around Leo when Will was with us. Did my son absorb the tension? Was I too late in getting him away from Leo’s rage? A million thoughts swarmed in my head, all of them second guessing my decision. I searched Will’s face for signs of sadness or anger.

  He licked his ice cream, biting into the crispy cone and chewing for a minute. “He used to get so mad. He yelled a lot.” Will paused and shrugged. “I didn’t like it.”

  “No,” I murmured fighting the urge to hug my son and smother him in kisses, “I didn’t like it either.”

  “Can I go look over there?” Will pointed toward a stack of lobster traps. I nodded and he ran off to inspect them.

  I pondered his words about Leo yelling a lot. I didn’t think Will knew about the fights we had. How could I be so ignorant? Of course he heard the screaming and the yelling late at night when I thought he was asleep. A few times Leo smashed plates and glasses, breaking them into a trillion little pieces that I had to clean up, shards biting into my knees as I picked up the jagged glass from the floor. I thought back to the arguments and had to blink back the tears that hovered in my eyes.

  I tried hard to cover up the bruises, the swelling, the physical signs. Had I failed? I wanted to ask Will exactly what he remembered but as I looked at my son now, looking at the lobster traps, birds flying over head, the sound of the ocean hitting the rocks, I didn’t want our pleasant afternoon to take a turn. I waved to him and smiled, though inside my entire body churned.

  With my eyes on Will, I recalled another memory.

  “Please, not now, not with Will in the house,” I had begged Leo during one of our fights. I lowered my voice, “He’s upstairs, and what if he comes down?” My voice cracked.

  “Come on. You do as I say. It’s that simple. You follow the directions I give you. When you don’t do as I say, you pay the price.” Leo’s dark good looks turned menacing and ugly.

>   I thought back to Aurora and shuddered, chills breaking out along my arms. For a while after her death, I complied with his wishes and never spoke back to him. There were times I thought I was insane to ever think Leo could have a hand in her demise. We went several months blissfully happy with our baby. Leo helped me through a severe postpartum depression. He took me on a trip to Europe and a cruise to the Caribbean. The photos I took showed a smiling Leo with a happy baby Will. Pictures of the three of us, grinning toward the camera. As I combed through the pictures when I got home, I realized we looked like the perfect family and no one would ever guess the truth.

  Then like a slowly leaking poison, he began to go back to his old ways. He’d get angry, order me around, he’d make fun of me then he’d be kind again and just as I’d relax, he’d ignore me which left me confused. When we were in public, he was the best father and husband you could imagine, but in private everything fell apart. He played mind games and snapped when I cried, calling me stupid, weak, and spineless, and oftentimes calling me a pig then his mood shifted and he’d smile and hug me as if his rage was a figment of my imagination. As Will grew older I feared more and more for my son’s safety. I couldn’t risk having Leo destroy the one thing that meant the most in the whole world to me.

  “Mom!” Will called, bringing me back to the present. “I’m going over there!” He pointed to a planter full of flowers and I knew he’d search for bugs. Without taking my eyes off of him, I nodded then continued thinking about Leo.

  After he won a Golden Globe award for his work on a documentary, he started harping on my weight again, hiring yet another personal trainer to force me into shape. He monitored my eating, watched what I put into my mouth. When we were celebrating his victory after the show, I opened my mouth to eat some chocolate raspberry cake; he grabbed my wrist and hissed, “Do you really want to do that?” I put the cake down, embarrassed.