by Kyra Davis
The young prosecutor was still talking and the back of Tim’s neck had begun to glisten. His brown hair was short and neatly cut but now it, too, was looking a bit damp. I saw his hand twitch but if he was tempted to fetch a Kleenex from his pocket to dab his forehead or something he resisted. Perhaps he thought that it would bring attention to what everyone in the courtroom could see: he was nervous and he looked guilty.
Finally the prosecution stopped talking. He looked incredibly pleased with himself.
By comparison Tim’s lawyer was amazingly brief in his statements. He also made a much better argument and the judge didn’t seem to hesitate when he set the bail at four thousand dollars.
Tim’s shoulders slumped in relief and he turned slightly, giving me my first glimpse of his profile. It surprised me. From behind he had seemed vulnerable, maybe even weak. But his features were strong. His thick eyebrows arched over dark brown eyes and his nose was just a tad too big for his face. He had the appearance of a Mediterranean intellectual and although he absolutely wasn’t my type I understood why Dena was drawn to him. She liked men with quirky good looks, men who appeared to have a story to tell.
I kept my head down as the bailiff escorted him out. How should I approach him? What should I say? Should I walk up to him and say, “Hi, I’m the person who really hit your wife and I was hoping you would let me take you out to lunch sometime.” Or should I say, “Gee, I really appreciate your taking the fall for a crime I committed. Can I repay you with a Frappuccino?”
Maybe not. I could hear the doors of the courtroom open and shut as more plaintiffs, reporters and lawyers made their way in and out.
Suddenly I wanted out. I didn’t want to be in the courtroom for another second. I didn’t even want to be in the courthouse at all. Coming here had been a big, impulsive, stupid mistake. I got up quickly, tripping over the feet of those who sat between me and the aisle before finally exiting the room and eventually the building. I stood on the courthouse steps and sucked in the cool air as I tried to smother my guilt. I had confessed, hadn’t I? This wasn’t my fault!
My cell phone rang and I pulled it out of my jacket pocket. The number was unfamiliar to me.
“Hello?” A woman pushed past me dragging her two children behind her. The youngest one stuck his tongue out at me.
“It’s Dena,” said the voice on the other end of the line. “I stood up.”
I took a few unsteady steps to the side of the stairway. “Did you just say you stood up?”
“Only for a few of seconds,” Dena said quickly. “Then they put this big belt thing around my waist to hold me above this treadmill thing…it was weird, although if you tweaked the device just a little bit it could make a really good S and M game…”
“Okay, so that’s something you can tell me about later but…you stood up?”
“I did. I’m going to be able to walk.”
I sank down on the courthouse step. A man in a black suit almost tripped over me and then cursed me in some foreign language I didn’t recognize.
“Say it again,” I said quietly.
“Don’t start jumping for joy yet. There’s a chance I’ll need a walker.”
“But not braces?”
“No, not braces.”
I started crying. Now the people who passed looked at me with sympathy. They probably assumed my husband or friend had just been sentenced to prison or something. They had no idea that this was one of the happiest moments of my life.
“Sophie, listen,” Dena continued, “I’m not feeling giddy about this. I mean a walker isn’t exactly sexy. My life still sucks.”
“I know,” I said between sobs. “But it sucks less than it did yesterday and, I mean, think about that! Your life…it only sort of sucks, Dena! How cool is that?”
There was a brief silence on the other end of the line. “You haven’t been getting enough sleep, have you?”
“No,” I said, wiping away the tears. “Not even close.”
“And you’ve only had two cups of coffee so far?”
“One cup…and that was two hours ago.”
“Jesus, Sophie, what kind of addict are you? Go get yourself another cup of coffee and then get your ass over here. I have something I want to talk to you about.”
“Something bigger than this?” I sniffed. A woman rushed past me down the courthouse steps. She was petite and the big floppy hat she was wearing made it impossible for me to see the color of her hair but judging from her skin tone I’d guess blond. And there was something disturbingly familiar about her. I watched her carefully as she disappeared down the street.
“Not bigger, just more complicated.”
“Okay.” I wiped the last tear away. “Have you had a lot of visitors today?”
“Yeah. Jason is basically living at the hospital these days and Mary Ann’s been here. Marcus was here early this morning but he couldn’t stay long because he had to get to work.” She paused for a beat. “Of course my parents didn’t come.”
I swallowed hard. “I heard they flew back to Arizona.”
“Yeah.” There was another pause. “Do you think a lot of parents hate their children?”
“Dena—”
“No seriously, I’m curious. We all know about the parents who make it on the news after their kid died due to their cruelty or negligence but those guys are probably just the tip of the iceberg, right? We don’t hear about the hateful parents who never raise a hand to their children. You know, the ones who only kill their kid’s soul. Parents like mine.”
“Your parents haven’t killed your soul.”
“No, but that’s not for lack of trying.”
I shivered and dropped my chin to my chest. “Dena, I really do think they love you. They just don’t know how—”
“Right. We’re talking about something else now,” she said abruptly. “You know who called me today?”
I sighed. When Dena decided she was done talking about something that was it. There was no changing her mind. “Who called?” I asked wearily.
“Rick.”
“Okay, he seriously needs to learn to take a hint.” Another guy almost tripped over me and I reluctantly pulled myself to my feet before it could happen again.
“Surprisingly he has. He called to tell me that he knew he screwed up with Mary Ann and that he wasn’t ever going to be able to make up for that. But he still wanted me to know that he always liked me, that he is honestly concerned about my well-being and that he is praying for my speedy recovery.”
“Yeah? What did you say to him?”
“Hmm? Oh, I told him to go fuck himself.”
“I’m sure he appreciates your consistency… Oh, my God!”
It was Tim Powell. He was slowly making his way down the stairs. No handcuffs, no bailiff. Just him. Someone else had bailed him out before I’d had the chance!
“Dena, I gotta go.”
“Fine, but you’re coming over, right?”
“Yeah, I’ll be over in an hour or so. Promise.”
I hung up and ran after Tim. “Excuse me, excuse me, Tim Powell?”
He turned around to face me. In the glare of the sun he looked older than he had in the courtroom. The wrinkles around his eyes were more pronounced and white strands of his hair gleamed among their darker companions. “Can I help you?” he asked. His voice seemed hoarse as if he had spent the previous night yelling.
“Yeah…I mean actually I came here to help you. I was sort of planning on bailing you out.” I was sort of not planning on it, too, but it seemed wise to leave that part out.
Tim cocked his head to the side. “But…do I know you?”
“Well, no but…okay, this is kind of complicated. See…um…well, I know you didn’t hurt Chrissie.”
Tim’s eyes clouded over and he looked up at the gray-blue sky. “You’re wrong. I’ve hurt her a lot.”
“Oh, you mean by cheating on her while you were engaged? Yeah, that was a serious asshole maneuver. Definitely feel bad ab
out that. But I know you didn’t hit her.”
Tim’s eyes immediately dropped back down to my face. “Who are you again?”
I swallowed and offered him my hand. “My name is Sophie Katz and I’m the woman who punched your wife in the face.”
He stared down at my hand. “Why did you do that?” he asked. He didn’t sound angry, just genuinely curious.
The wind whipped my hair into my face and I quickly brushed it aside. “Would you believe she tried to attack me and I punched her in self-defense?”
“No, not really. Chrissie doesn’t attack people. She prefers to shame and degrade them.”
“Right. Well, the thing is… Okay, I’m a friend of Dena’s.”
Instantly Tim’s expression changed from one of confusion to one of…actually I didn’t really know what emotions I was seeing in his face. Concern? Excitement? Fear? Maybe a little of all three? He grabbed my hand in both of his. “Is she all right? Please, please tell me she is.”
Great, it was the is-she-okay question again. Would I ever have a good answer for that? “Her life sucks a little less today than it did yesterday,” I said, settling for the closest thing to the truth.
It didn’t pacify Tim. He opened and closed his mouth a few times as if he was mouthing words that even he didn’t know the meaning of and then he turned on his heel and resumed walking down the stairs.
“Tim, look, I know you don’t have any real incentive to talk to me but I want you to know that I did try to tell the police the truth,” I said as I rushed to catch up with him. Once I did I kept pace by his side as he strode down the street. “I told them I was the one guilty of hitting Chrissie but they didn’t believe me because you had already confessed. Why did you do that?”
“Because I hit her,” he said in a strangled voice.
“No, you didn’t! Or…I don’t think you did. You didn’t hit her after I hit her, did you?”
“No. I hit her before.”
“Seriously? How much before?”
“A month and a half.”
This time it was my turn to grab Tim. I held his arm, urging him to stop and look at me. “Tim, what are you talking about?”
An ambulance rushed past, its siren wailing. Tim pressed the base of his palm against his forehead as if the sound was causing him physical pain. “I didn’t mean to…or I did but I didn’t intend for it to be a bad thing.”
“Sooo…you hit her in a good way?”
“No! Or yes! It’s difficult to explain. The point is that she agreed to forgive me if I promised to never go to Dena’s shop again. That was the deal. If I stopped going to Dena’s shop Chrissie wouldn’t report me to the cops. But guess what? I didn’t stick to my end of the bargain so now she found someone to hit her and she’s pinning it on me. And what can I say? I did hit her! Just not when she said I did. What kind of defense is that?”
“Um…none. It may just be the worst defense in the world.”
“Exactly! Now she’s retracted her statement. She says she’s forgiving me again. But even that doesn’t matter too much because when it comes to domestic violence the police expect wives to retract their statements before the trial!”
The memory of the pale woman with the floppy hat flashed before my eyes.
“She was here for your trial, wasn’t she?”
Tim nodded. “She’s the one who bailed me out.”
“God.” I shook my head and looked out into the traffic. “You two are like walking, talking billboards for why people shouldn’t get married.”
“No, no! We’re a good couple…or we could be. We just haven’t figured out how to make it all work between us yet. We have our kinks.”
“Right.” The traffic was creeping along now and people were honking their horns making a kind of abstract harmony. This man had just confessed to hitting his wife. Granted, I had hit her, too, but I wasn’t married to her so it was different. On the other hand her jealousy had been taken to such extreme levels that she had actually organized an entire group of people to help her express her grievance through bull horns and picket signs. In my world those weren’t kinks. They fell more into the category of felonies and criminal insanity.
“Obviously Chrissie has the right to be angry,” I said carefully. “I guess what you have to ask yourself is if her anger is a good justification for throwing you in jail and shooting your ex-lover in the back. Personally I would have to say yes to the former and absolutely not to the latter.”
“She didn’t shoot Dena,” he said with much more certainty than I thought he was entitled to.
“From what I understand she doesn’t have an alibi.”
“That doesn’t mean she shot her. She was at home all night.” He hesitated and took a step closer to me. “Will she see me?”
“Dena? I don’t know but…I mean come on, Tim. Don’t you think you’ve caused her enough trouble?”
“Which is exactly why I need to see her! Please, I have to apologize.” When I didn’t say anything he took a step back. “You can’t stop me, you know. I can go to the hospital and just ask what room she’s in. They’ll tell me or they’ll at least phone her room and then she’ll tell them to let me in. It’s not up to you!”
“Then why are you asking me?”
“Good question.” And then he stepped away from me and lifted his hand to hail a cab. Of course that didn’t work because there were no cabs around. Frustrated he lowered his hand and walked over to the bus stop that was located at the end of the block.
I followed him over. “Tim, you need to let this one go.”
“I’ll see her,” he declared. The bus stop was crowded and a few people glanced our way as he raised his voice. “Maybe I’ll stop home first but I will see her before the day’s over.”
A bus approached and he stepped forward, ready to be the first one on. But the bus was filled to capacity and it roared by without even slowing down. Even if he didn’t stop home it was clearly going to take him over an hour to get to Dena. He glared at me as he stepped back from the curb as if daring me to mock him. But I didn’t have time for that. I had to get to Dena. I had to tell her that her past was busing its way over to her hospital room.
CHAPTER 12
In the world of physics opposites attract and according to most romantic comedies the same can be said of people. Unfortunately those comedies fail to remind us that this attraction can end in a mushroom cloud of destruction.
–Fatally Yours
When I got to Dena’s room Amelia was already there. She was sitting next to Dena, her mane of curls pushed back over her shoulders as she leaned forward to talk to her. But she stopped when I arrived and flashed me a smile. She seemed to be more together than the last time I’d seen her. Dena was more together, too. She was wearing makeup now and her bed had been adjusted so she could be in more of a sitting position. She fingered the sheets that fell to her waist distractedly and I couldn’t help but notice that she had arranged the hospital gown so that much of it was pinned beneath her. The result was that you could see her shape. She was no longer drowning in a cheap paper garment.
And her room…well, there had to be at least twelve gift baskets in the room. Leah’s was by far the most innocent. Most of the others were filled with dildos and lingerie; there was a plethora of erotic literature and a couple of S and M magazines that I had never seen before or ever wanted to see again.
“Weird, huh?” Dena asked with what seemed to be a slightly bitter smile. “Do you think all the people who sent this stuff also send baskets of baked goods to pastry chefs?”
“Maybe,” I said as I maneuvered around her newly acquired loot. “Is anything here new to you or do you already sell all of this stuff at your store?”
“Every item except one.” She reached over to the table next to her bed and held up a coiled rope. “Amelia brought it to me just now.”
“It’s bondage rope,” Amelia explained. “I’ve never really been into bondage myself because I don’t like restricting t
he natural inclinations of expressive movement during intercourse, but I know Dena uses it sometimes.”
I cocked my head to the side. “Okay, but um…Dena, are you trying to tell me that Guilty Pleasures doesn’t carry bondage rope?”
“Not this bondage rope.” She was trying to sound enthusiastic. I could see that but there was something about the way she looked at the rope that conveyed…what? Not distaste. Maybe regret.
“This rope is made out of hemp,” Amelia added helpfully. “It’s much better for the environment.”
“Wow, environmentally friendly bondage. That’s great.”
“Of course I don’t know if I’m going to be tying a lot of men up going forward.” Dena carefully put the rope down on the bedside table. “I’m not feeling all that sexy these days.”
Amelia’s smile faded and she turned slightly away from Dena, her gaze falling on a gift basket complete with extra-virgin olive oil and penis-shaped pasta. “Dena,” she said quietly, “you will always be sexy. Men will always, always want you.” She blinked rapidly and then pushed herself up off her seat. “You probably want some time to hang with Sophie alone. I’ll get going.”
“Amelia,” Dena said sternly. Amelia stopped, her eyes still on the penis pasta.
“The reason men want me is because I’ve flat-out told them that I’m worth wanting. I know my value and I don’t put up with anything I don’t want to put up with. It’s not a trick or some kind of practiced seduction technique.”
“So what you’re saying is…” Amelia let her voice trail off as she waited for Dena to finish her sentence for her.
“I’m telling you to have some self-confidence. If you tell a guy what your value is and they don’t see it they’re not worth your time.”
“And our friendship?” Amelia asked. “Is that a time waster?”
Dena smiled. “Any girl who buys me hemp bondage rope will always have a place in my heart. There isn’t a man alive who I wouldn’t share with you. Just be sure you’re getting something out of it. Otherwise, what’s the fucking point?”