by Leanne Davis
The entire room went silent. Nick blocked her from his guests’ view with his body, and rather carried her after that to his room, slamming the bedroom door on his nosy guests.
His room was illuminated by the softest glow from a bedside lamp. His guests’ coats covered his bed, as Joelle stood before him, shivering, slump-shouldered, defeated, abused, and very hurt. He felt sick inside. She withdrew from him, almost trying to avoid him, as well as everyone else. Why wouldn’t she? The man who claimed to love her most in the world had obviously beaten the living shit out of her. How badly hurt was she underneath that hood? Underneath her clothes? Why wasn’t she even wearing a coat in the merciless storm?
“Do you need to go to the hospital?”
“No,” she answered, stepping back at his suggestion.
Yeah, like she could determine the state of her health and wellbeing! She needed to be in the fucking ER right then. But he knew better, didn’t he? She would never do the logical thing, like getting professional help. He balled up his fists at the hopelessness he felt now coursing through him. Then his head snapped back. What if she was raped? He took a deep breath and whispered softly, “Shall I call the police?”
Her gaze met his, and she shook her head as she quickly looked away.
“Joelle,” he prompted. She stiffened her entire body. “How hurt are you?”
“Not that bad.”
“Were you raped?” he finally asked as matter-of-factly as he could manage. He had to know. She had to tell him. He waited, with his heart lodged in his throat.
She shook her head no.
What happened, Joelle? What happened to you tonight? The obvious questions were on the tip of his tongue, but she seemed to shiver harder, and her teeth were clattering. It wasn’t time yet for answers. First, he had to take care of her. But how?
“You need to get dry.”
No answer. Finally, she nodded and turned. Her zipper rasped as she yanked back the drenched hood; it was a sponge of water dripping all over the carpet. She held it against her, making her even more pathetic-looking, if that were possible, so tiny and child-like standing there.
“Come on,” he said, gently putting a hand on her arm, and leading her into his bathroom. One end had a giant, two person, spa-like bathtub. She kept her head down, so her face was still obscured. There was no assessing how injured she was.
He started the tub’s faucet, running a hand underneath until it was hot, then put the drain in and let it fill. Rising, he found several large, thick, thirsty towels, which he placed on one corner of the tub. Finally, he looked at her. She was shivering, with goose bumps raising the fine hairs on her arms. Her clothes dripped a puddle wherever she stood. He wished he could just take her in his arms, dry her off, and hold her. But he sensed there was nothing worse he could do at that moment, than to touch her.
“Get in there, and get warm. I’ll make sure no one bothers you. Take as long as you need. I mean it, Joelle, warm up, and dry off. Try to relax and get your bearings. You’re safe here, I promise you that. Okay?”
Her head nodded her affirmation with only a fraction of an inch of movement to confirm she understood. He passed her, although he was loath to leave her. But he had no choice. Closing the door behind him firmly, he exited.
He remained in his bedroom, alone. Exhaling a long, weary sigh, a tremor passed through his body. What would he do with her? Say to her? Should he call the police? Could she talk to them? He sensed she’d probably run from that. Maybe even hate him for it. What was the right way to approach her? To press her for the details? Or just let her be?
Nick heard the water taps turn off. Good. The water made sounds of movement; perhaps she was more coherent. Erica. He suddenly thought to get Erica, and ask her to talk to Joelle. Break the ice, and see how badly hurt she was. Joelle wouldn’t let him near her, but she just might let another woman.
He opened his bedroom door, and returned to the guests to find Erica had done a magnificent job, as usual, of playing hostess. She covered for him and respectfully urged his guests to leave. Nick ignored the few who tried to get his attention or say goodbye, stomping right past them. He grabbed Erica’s hand and practically yanked her into the bedroom with him.
“That was Joelle?” Erica asked, the minute they were alone.
“Yes.”
“What happened to her?”
“Someone beat her up.”
“And she came here?”
“She has nowhere else to go.”
“I see,” Erica said quietly, biting her lower lip in thought. There was nothing catty or insincere in her tone.
“She’s taking a bath. I didn’t know what else to do with her. She won’t talk to me. She won’t even let me see her face. But I saw plenty. Could you go try to talk to her? Just to see how badly she’s hurt? I don’t know; maybe she should be at the ER. I just–” Nick ran a hand through his hair in frustration, then paused and said, “I just don’t know what to do.”
Erica tenderly placed one hand on his forearms to show her support. “It’s all right, Nick. I’ll go see if I can help her.”
“Thanks, Erica. Thanks so much for this.”
“Nick?” He turned back at her voice. “Is there anything else I should know?”
“Like what?”
“Just exactly why she came to you?”
“What do you mean, why? I told you: she has nowhere else to go. I don’t even know how she got here. She had no purse, no keys. I must be her last resort. But there’s nothing else going on between us, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“No. I know better than that. I’m sorry.”
****
Joelle nearly groaned as the warm water seeped into her shivering, damp, rain-chilled skin. Her sensitive middle, and bruised sides hurt as she submerged herself in the healing water. She enjoyed the luxury of being in an indoor hot tub. Curling her legs up to her aching chest, and forming a small ball, the enormous, sparkling, almond colored tub seemed more like a swimming pool to her. Of course, bathing wasn’t foremost in her mind; more like just returning some feeling into her numb, abused body. She was trembling and sick inside, still unaware of what happened to her.
After walking for what seemed like forever around her neighborhood in her efforts to get as far away from her house as she could, she finally sat down on a bus stop bench. Eventually, a woman who was probably heading out for work, judging by her uniform, noticed Joelle on the bench and handed her ten bucks. That small kindness, that small amount of cash opened the waterworks and the tears she tried to ignore spilled from her eyes. It meant everything to her, and made all the difference between keeping her off the streets for the night and offering her a slim chance to escape. She boarded the next bus that arrived to get away from there. Eventually, she managed to get her bearings and find Nick’s building. She knew Nick was shocked, taken aback, and thoroughly confused at her sudden intrusion. He was also kind and gentle, respectfully not trying to grab her, or demand things from her she couldn’t provide. Like answers.
She jerked up at the sound of a light tap on the door, which started to open. She curled up her legs, trying to hide most of her body as Erica entered.
Erica seemed like a blonde goddess entering the gilded, almond and black bathroom. Her heels clicked on the floor as she came closer, and perched on the furthest edge of the tub, a respectful distance from Joelle. “I’m sorry for barging in on you. Nick suggested I check in on you, and I agreed.”
Joelle lifted her face finally, knowing there was only so long she could hide it. She knew Nick and Erica wanted to help her, as well as that there was no one else in the entire world right now. She owed them that: answers.
Erica flinched as she studied Joelle’s face. “Oh, Joelle. I’m so sorry.”
Joelle looked back down, and stared at her hands, which she clasped over her knees. Erica was quiet for a moment, and handling the situation well. She remained calm and gentle, allowing Joelle to get used to her.
&nb
sp; “Joelle?” Erica asked in a voice so kind and tender, Joelle wanted to let her embrace her, but she reflexively snapped back. What a stupid reaction to another woman, she chided herself. But there was something genuinely nurturing and healing in Erica’s manner. No wonder Nick chose her; she had far more in assets than just her obvious beauty.
“Did Nick tell you that I’m a doctor?”
Joelle raised her head. No. No, he didn’t. She was a doctor too? Joelle almost smirked at the revelation that this goddess-like, truly kind and gentle woman was also a freaking doctor. Joelle finally answered by shaking her head no.
“I’m sorry. So sorry for what’s happened to you. I don’t know much about your situation. Nick said he believed it was your husband. Whatever the case, I urge you to be examined. I’m an OB/Gyn. You can trust me with anything at all, okay?”
Joelle nodded robotically.
“First of all, Nick believes you weren’t sexually assaulted. There is no shame, and I will tell no one, Joelle, but it is critical that you tell me the truth.”
Joelle shook her head, showing the first sign of emotion in her actions. “No. I wasn’t. And I don’t want you to call the police.”
Erica nodded. “If you don’t want us to call the police, we won’t. That’s your call. We’re just here for you.”
Joelle blinked back the tears now filling her eyes. Why was Nick’s girlfriend so nice? To her, of all people? To her, no more than a bedraggled, beaten up, freak show stranger who barged in and ruined their dinner party… Why was Erica so forgiving and perfectly tolerant of her?
Erica waited a heartbeat, then said, “When you’re ready, after you dry off, if you like, I’ll take a look at your injuries. Let me be the judge of whether you should go to the hospital. I’ll wait in the bedroom. It’s locked, and no one else will come in. Come out, but only when you’re ready.”
When Joelle finally emerged, wrapped in a towel, Erica handed her a clean t-shirt and turned her head away while Joelle put it on. Then she began to examine her. She spent a good ten minutes with Nick’s first aid kit, cleaning the wounds and scrapes on her face, and putting butterfly Band-Aids on the cut above her eye. As Erica worked, she barely touched the afflicted areas.
“You should go to the hospital. Your ribs are bruised.”
“No. I won’t. I’m not going to die from any of this, am I? I mean, won’t I heal?”
Erica looked into her eyes, then nodded begrudgingly. “No, you won’t die. You will heal. But I really don’t like you not getting an X-ray.”
Joelle smiled shyly. “I got your help, and that’s a lot more than I expected.”
Erica smiled back as she squeezed Joelle’s hand. “Yes, you did; and you will continue to.”
Finally, when Joelle’s face was all cleaned and bandaged, Erica helped her get into the king-sized bed. It nearly swallowed Joelle up with its excessive size and heavy, dark wood frame. It filled the room like a giant, sleeping tiger.
“I’ll wash your clothes tonight.”
Joelle gingerly scooted towards the head of the bed and slipped under the covers. She leaned back against the headboard, letting the bedcovers come to her waist. She felt like she’d wilted, and died. She almost wished she could. Closing her eyes, she felt grateful to be dry, warm, and for the silence. The quiet serenity of Nick’s condo and his life comforted her. She was mostly grateful to be there, safe at last, and taken care of.
Erica left briefly and returned with several ice packs, one for Joelle’s face, one for her chest, and one for her arm.
“I think you’ll heal up just fine. But I wish you’d let me take you to the ER. I’d rather err on the side of safety.”
“No.”
The quiet room engulfed her, and Joelle didn’t open her eyes again for a few moments.
“What am I going to do?” Joelle’s eyes suddenly popped open. Was that really her? She never spoke like that to anyone. So unguarded, and without any prompt or cue, to a stranger.
Erica lightly caressed her cheek. “Stay here. You’re safe. You let Nick help you, why don’t you let me help you now?”
“Why? Why should you?”
“Human decency, Joelle,” Erica replied, as she stood there looking around, visibly uncomfortable, and anxious to do more. Finally, she said, “You should get some rest. I’ll bring you some aspirin. And maybe a nice cup of hot tea? Would that help?”
“Yes, it would.”
Erica stood there for a moment longer, her lips tight with sympathy and emotion. Finally turning, she said, “I’ll be right back.”
****
Nick was pacing out on the balcony. He didn’t know what to do. He felt like a caged tiger. How long would Erica be? How was Joelle? How badly was she hurt? What the fuck even happened to her? He heard a sudden “thud!” and rushed inside, stopping abruptly when he saw Erica leaning into his washing machine, with her hands pressed on the glass and her forehead against it. The washer, by then, was foaming with soap.
She slammed her fist.
“Erica?”
She turned at the sound of his voice, and fear shot up his spine. Why was Erica, normally so composed and serene, crying against the washing machine?
“I washed her clothes.”
“Okay,” he said cautiously. “Won’t she be needing them?”
“What if she was raped? She said she wasn’t; but what if she’s covering it up to protect her husband? I’ve seen it happen plenty of times. I should have thought of that before I started the fucking laundry machine!”
Nick froze in an expression of horror that mirrored Erica’s. People might have been surprised to know Erica had a mouth like a cross-country trucker. “What if I screwed this up for her? Nick she’s–”
Nick came forward and grabbed her as he brought her into his arms, and held her tightly. He was as shocked as she was. Erica pulled away, and looked up at him. “She’s a mess. Her face, her ribs, her stomach, her sides… even her thighs are bruised, red, and swollen. She could hardly move. She’s in a lot of pain. Serious pain. But physically, she’ll be okay. She should go to the hospital, but doesn’t absolutely have to.”
“What did she say?”
“Very little. She was willing to let me help me her out of the tub, and into your bed. The only time she expressed any feelings, or any real emotions was when I suggested calling the police. She was sure she didn’t want to do that. Why? Why shouldn’t that be the first thing she’d want to do?”
“I guess it’s different from her perspective than it is from ours. That was my first thought too.”
“What’s her story? Who did this to her?”
Nick took Erica’s hand and led her back into the kitchen. She leaned against the counter, and he looked out the window over the night skyline of traffic lights, shadows and stars. He told Erica everything he knew about Joelle: Rob, meeting her in front of the Al-Anon meetings, always in denial of why she was there. He told her about the band, the house, the way things were deteriorating over the last few months, and how Rob kept Joelle completely isolated. He explained how she was trapped by a problem-filled marriage, very little money, no family, and all her friends were connected to the band. He said how Joelle refused to acknowledge or admit the dangers he tried to point out, and how things could go very bad for her.
“Did you know things would get like this for her?”
“First time I saw the house she lived in, I wondered. I told her to call me if she ever needed anything. Just seemed like she didn’t realize she didn’t have to live like that. Or put up with that. If I’d had any inkling that things would have gone like this for her, I’d have insisted a lot harder.”
“How come you didn’t tell me any of this before?”
Nick shrugged. “Seemed irrelevant. I helped her out on several occasions because, at the time, there was nothing else to do but that. She was so desperate, so alone, and so in denial. I thought maybe, you’d take it wrong.”
“I might have. But not now.”
>
“Thank you. For tonight. I don’t know what I’d have done with her. She wouldn’t let me near her, except to bring her in. I just didn’t know what else to do. I still don’t know what to do.”
“I do. You need to go talk to her. Find out what really happened. How bad it got. She’s dry now. And feeling better. She has a rapport with you, and she trusts you. You need to find out who did it to her.”
“Now? Maybe I should wait until tomorrow.”
“I doubt very much that she’s going to roll over and easily drift off to sleep. Besides, she’s expecting hot tea and some aspirin. You take it to her. Try to get her talking.”
“How?”
“However you’ve managed to talk to her ’til now. She’s the same girl; except now, she’s been traumatized and humiliated. Be sensitive to that, but do get her talking.”
“Why not you?”
“She may let me look at her, but that doesn’t mean she trusts me.”
“How do you know she trusts me?”
“She came here, didn’t she?”
Nick nodded as he took the hot tea Erica handed him and the three aspirin she found in his kitchen cabinet. His stomach started churning, having no idea what to say or how to face Joelle. How could he look her in the eye without staring? Or showing his horror, pity, and utter revulsion over what was done to her? How could he talk to Joelle, and pretend as if her world hadn’t been completely turned upside-down on its axis?
Chapter Seventeen
“Joelle?” Nick whispered as he entered the room, stepping quietly and cautiously. It was almost as if he were approaching a scared, stray animal that could bolt at any moment. For some reason, he had a feeling that Joelle was emotionally ready to do just that. “I have tea and aspirin.”
At first, she didn’t move; but finally, slowly, she slid towards him, and gradually raised herself until she was leaning back against his headboard. She winced and grabbed at her side as she moved by inches.