by Rodi Chadish
I’ve secretly been stashing her birthday presents away for almost two weeks now and when I add these final things I’m so excited I can barely contain myself. I can’t wait to give them to her. Her final present I’ll pick up tomorrow from the antique store we visited on our first date. Betty had been looking for one for me for almost a month until she finally found one, a rare vintage Beacon 225 in turquoise. Taylor has been looking for one for over a year now she said and while she had Betty looking too, I beat her to the chase. I told Betty that it didn’t matter what it cost, my girl was worth it, and she is. That stellar little old lady came up with a gem too, it’s in near mint condition, and turquoise to boot. Taylor had been telling me that during the production in the 50’s instead of molding colors to form the body, the company painted a few thousand in rainbow colors that modeled the era. I’ve spent the better part of the last three months listening to her talk about what she would give to find one of those rainbow-colored gems to add to her collection. As I’m backing out of the understair storage I hear the front door open and quickly make it look like I’ve been in the garage.
“Elliot, where are you?” she calls out softly.
“I was in the garage…” I lie through my teeth coming into the kitchen as she enters at the same time.
“Huh, anything good happening out there?” she laughs, looking at me strange.
“Nah, just wanted to start up the bike, it’s been a while. How was your day, cupcake?” I ask.
“Same old same old, ya know. Answer the phones, transfer the calls, take the messages…” she says.
“Ah, I win then, I gave sixteen flu shots, and cleaned out an infected toe,” I say proudly, making her grimace.
“Yeah you win, El,” she says not even remotely looking happy.
“Taylor, what’s wrong?” I ask before I can stop myself, “Something is going on, I can tell, something isn’t right.”
Without a word, she moves towards me and takes her perch on my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck as I pull her in closer. She nuzzles my neck until I feel the sob come out of her.
“What’s the matter pretty girl?” I ask softly squeezing her tighter.
“I… I have to tell you something…” she hiccups between words.
“Okay, I’m listening,” I answer, not knowing if I want to hear what she has to say or not.
Taylor
It’s real. It’s really happening. He’s up for parole and my lawyer says he’s probably going to win his case. I left the office and headed straight there terrified of what he was going to say. I’ve had three years of not looking over my shoulder, three years of some kind of peace and now with one letter it’s all going to crumble. I drove to Elliot’s on autopilot wondering how I was going to tell him. How do you tell the person you have come to love, more than anyone you’ve ever loved before that your life isn’t always peaches and cream? That what kept you safe is going to disappear. That you are going to turn into a lunatic watching and waiting for him to find you. How do you do that? I took one look at him and while I wanted to be this strong person, that resolve just shattered. I climbed into his lap and crumpled like a child, the sobs starting almost instantly. I couldn’t hold it together because here I am in his arms and I’m terrified that he is going to try and take that away from me. I’ve been waiting for Elliot my whole life and now that I have him, that I have that love I’ve dreamed about I can’t imagine it being gone.
I pull back from him and look at him, really taking in the brown worried eyes staring back at me, the creases in his forehead at his worry about what I’m going to say next and it breaks me.
“The scar… he is getting out. He’s up for parole and my lawyer says it’s more than likely going to happen. I… he.... I….” I can’t even finish.
“It’s okay, Taylor, look at me,” he says softly lifting my chin with his hand.
“It isn’t okay Elliot. He terrorized me for almost a year before… and then… he almost killed me…” I blurt out wildly.
“What can I do? What do we need to do to keep him there?” he asks, his hands stilling with my face between them.
“I don’t think there’s anything we can do,” I reply with a shudder.
“How is he up for parole?” he asks.
“He got a five-year sentence with a minimum of three years served and two probation. His behavior was excellent so he’s up. He managed to get the stalking and kidnapping charges dropped before he was ever tried. Or he would have been in longer.” I answer.
I see his expression change, harden at my words and I can only imagine what is going on in his mind. I know he’s going to have questions, a lot of them, and I know I’ll have to answer them. But this look on his face, this is scary. I’ve never seen it before and I can’t predict what is going to come out of his mouth next. He drops his hands from my face, turning us towards the kitchen table and picks up his phone. I watch as he slides it on and presses a few buttons before holding it up to his ear.
“Hey Dad, yeah… I was wondering if you and Mom could come over this evening, I’m fine, but I need your help with something… yeah, that works, thanks,” he finishes.
“Elliot, there’s probably nothing they can do, and I don’t want to drag all of you into this,” I start before he holds his hand up.
“We don’t know that there is nothing that can be done, and I want to be a part of this, I care about you Taylor, I… I love you…” he says his finger stroking my cheek.
“But…” I start and stop, realizing that he just told me he loved me, for the first time.
“Listen, you need to call Dave and have him come over too...we are going to figure this out, no matter what happens we are going to do this together,” he says softly, though the tension in his body is tight under mine.
I take my phone out after climbing from his lap and call Dave, who I haven’t even told yet and he agrees to come over. He’s angry from the moment I tell him why. As we sit and wait for everyone to arrive I watch Elliot, his fists clenching and then unclenching, rubbing his thigh, I can tell he’s working it through in his mind. He’s trying to process the little I’ve told him and I wait nervously for his questions to start.
“When did it happen?” he asks softly after coming to rest beside the couch.
“Four years ago… almost to the day,” I answer.
“He did that?” he asks pointing to my side.
“Yeah, and more. We’d been together for a long time, nine years. I broke it off when he started to get physical, before that it was just mentally abusing me, secluding me… then he started stalking me, six months I dealt with that before it happened,” I offer, trying to get it out.
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that… god, I can’t even imagine…” he says softly taking my shaking hand.
I don’t know what to say at that, his face finally softening some as he watches me so I sit there silent.
“I won’t...he won’t…” he says the anger returning to his eyes.
“I love you too…” I whisper.
Twenty - one
Elliot
I'm going to go to jail. I'll never see her again. I won't be there as my parents celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary. I won't get to finally have this grand love that sits across from me, I think, stumbling through my own thoughts. I won't watch my nephews grow up… I'm going to kill this son of a bitch. It's something that I decided the minute I saw the terror on her face as she broke down and told us about what happened and I haven't questioned it. Now I'm no momma’s boy, running to my parents for every little thing but this is big. I need their guidance here, their wisdom in how we need to proceed. My father has testified many times in cases kind of like hers, so he has knowledge of it and right now while I sit here thinking of all the ways I'm going to watch the life slip out of this miserable person, I need him to keep me sane. I see the way my mother is looking at me and she's scared. I can see it in her eyes that she knows exactly what I'm thinking about. Taylor t
hough, sitting to her left, is not even looking up, her eyes have been shifted down the entire time. Dave is red from his hairline to his fingertips with anger, not at Taylor but with the situation. He's been here for two hours now and as we come to the end of her story I wonder why he never killed him.
My father the thinker has been listening and asking her questions, making notes, jotting down important pieces of information. Yet my blood is boiling so much so that I can barely keep my hands still. Finally, she catches my eye, her eyes red and rimmed with tears, my mother’s arms have now circled her shaking form, comforting her. I can barely look at her, the pain in my chest is so immense with rage. It took nearly everything I have inside not to slam my fists against the table many times as she told us.
“Elliot, please stop grinding your teeth together it isn't helping,” my father says patting my arm, making me jump.
I only nod as he begins to formulate a plan. It's nearly nine and while everyone looks tired and uncomfortable he is neither weary or angry.
“We will meet with Bill Schmidt tomorrow. Call Mark and tell him to clear our schedules. David whatever you need to do to be there, you must do. Taylor, get a hold of your lawyer first thing and tell him he is welcome to attend. I'm sure Bill will want everything from the case so instruct your counsel to have it ready,” my father pauses, reaching out for Taylor's hands, “sweetie, listen to me, we will get through this, okay? Anything you need we are here.”
She nods silently, still in my mother’s embrace and I can feel the tension lift a little. After Dave leaves and I take my parents out, my father pulls me aside, “Elliot, I know what you are thinking, I know. There is nothing you can do now but be there for her. This is why you called me, right? To talk you down, to keep your head on straight because you knew you were in over your head and it scared you. Think about that poor girl in there and what she needs right now. She's come to mean a lot to us these past few months and I won't hesitate to do anything I can to keep this asshole in prison. I can practically feel the anger and rage vibrating off of you and trust me, son, I'm right there with you, but you need to be there for her right now and let that anger subside,” he pauses.
“I love her… I don't know what…” he puts his hand up to stop me so he can continue.
“I know, I've known since the day you met her, which is why you have to be there for her…” he says leaning in to hug me.
It's the first time in years that he's done that and I didn't realize just how badly I needed it. I wave as they pull away, trying to compose myself before I go inside. For me it's hard to compartmentalize what's happened to her, all I know is how lucky I am to have her sitting on my couch and how angry I am that someone hurt her. I have to keep telling myself that I can't change what's been done but I can be the person who loves her and supports her no matter what. I can't imagine how someone could do those things to her, to the gorgeous girl who broke down all my walls and hands me my ass on a platter daily, to the woman I love.
She's fast asleep when I come back in, but it's not a restful sleep, her mouth is turned down and her forehead is creased with worry and every few breaths she whimpers. It's breaking my heart to see her like this. I come to a stop only a few inches from the couch, wishing that I could make those memories disappear. I’d give anything to try and keep her from what she’s going through right now. As I watch her fitful sleep I’m amazed by her and how she has, for the most part, moved past what happened to her.
“Cupcake, wake up Tay, c’mon beautiful girl lets go to bed,” I say laying my hand on her arm gently as she nearly knocks me out at the contact.
Her eyes widen and she stops her hand just before her fist makes contact, “Oh my god, Elliot, I'm sorry…”
“It's fine pretty girl, let's head to bed…” I answer softly.
She lets out a long sigh before taking my hand finally and getting up. I reluctantly release her hand and follow behind her turning off the lights as we go, watching as she ducks into my bathroom and closes the door. Waiting for her I toss the pillows on the floor and turn down the bed, thinking about how I can't wait to just climb in and hold her all night long. This is one of those moments where the “I wish I could just stand up, go to her and wrap my arms around her” thoughts start creeping in and I have to remind myself that it just can't be that way. I have to make her feel safe in other ways.
Her hand on my shoulder startles me out of my thoughts, “all yours.”
Taylor
It's very real now. It hasn’t seemed real in a very long time. I’ve had this false sense of security for a long time and now I've told not only Elliot what happened but now his parents and Dave know the whole story, every grim detail. They know about the stalking, the way he pulled me from my car, and how he tried to kill me. At least what I remember of those few days anyways. Some of it is still a blur but other parts are as crisp as if it were yesterday. The pain is what I remember the clearest and his face as I screamed. It was weeks after I woke up in the hospital before I could even look at myself in the mirror. Dave had barely recognized me when someone finally found me beaten and bloody behind a flower shop.
Sometimes it feels like it happened to someone else, but then I catch a glimpse of that scar and I realize that I had the starring role in that horror movie. Right now, as Elliot is transferring into bed I’m wondering what he’s thinking. I mean it isn’t like this is a normal thing. It’s not every day you tell your boyfriend and his parents that you were almost killed. His arms come around me and pull me in close after he gets settled and I can feel myself relax a little at the safety I feel in those strong arms. The only thing keeping me from calming completely is his silence. He’s barely spoken a word since his parents arrived hours ago.
“Elliot?” I whisper, feeling him jump a little at the sound of my voice.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Are you?” I question him.
“I am if you are…” he answers honestly.
“Just hold me?” I ask softly, rolling over to face him.
I’m surprised by what I see when I look at him in the shadows of the darkened bedroom. He’s frowning and the concern and heartbreak there is overwhelming. Those brown eyes are dark, as he watches me for a few moments before blinking.
“Taylor, I don’t know what to say here, I don’t know how to make it better or any easier but I want you to know I’m here...and I’m not going anywhere,” he says, his voice cracking mid-sentence.
“Good cause you make a great pillow…” I answer after a few minutes trying to ease his worry.
The next two weeks are a blur of meetings and worrying. At this point, we’ve met with four different lawyers, all of which will be working to keep Nathan in prison. I’m amazed most days when we leave and I feel even a little bit of hope that he won’t be released. While they can’t tell me that he will stay in prison, they have been very adamant that his sentence should have been a lot longer and that somehow my case fell through the cracks. Elliot has been with me every time, holding my hand, assuring me that everything will be fine. I couldn’t have asked to be with a better man.
“Hey baby,” he says as I climb into his truck, his smile wide.
“Hey yourself, handsome, how was your day?” I ask, taking him in.
“Nothing too exciting. Yours?” he says leaning in close.
“Better now,” I say, letting my lips meet his.
He breaks the kiss a little before I’m ready and I frown in response, “Hey I wasn’t done yet?”
Reaching back into the backseat he pulls out a beautiful bouquet of wildflowers. He hands them to me, letting his hand linger on mine as we make the exchange. “I know you’ve had a rough few weeks,” he says softly.
“Thank you, they’re beautiful,” I say trying to hold back my emotion as this simple act nearly brings me to tears.
“I’m taking you out tonight. So, when we get home, get busy getting ready. Something fancy,” he smirks.
“Where are we going?�
� I ask.
“Hmm, I seem to remember a time where you surprised me, well it’s my turn,” he says with a chuckle.
I make him swing past my place so I can pick up my little black dress, if he wants fancy, I’ll give him fancy. As I dash inside promising to only be a few minutes I stop and pause at the large box still in my living room. Last time he was over I told him it was camera equipment that I had to send back. I have been looking for a good opportunity to give it to him, though I want it to be special. I don’t want to just hand it over, it’s meaningful and I want him to remember it that way. I hurry to the closet and pull out the stunning little dress, a shrug and a clutch. Grabbing my red pumps, I toss them into a bag, along with the shrug and clutch and my dress and hope it doesn’t wrinkle between now and when I put it on. When I get back to the truck I find him on his phone, presumably talking to his mom from what I can tell.
He looks at me as I hoist up into the truck and winks, god I love it when he does that. I’ve come to realize that he doesn’t hand those out that often but usually it’s at the most inopportune moments, the rarest ones are in moments like this, plain, normal. As he tries to talk her off the phone his hand comes to rest on my leg squeezing gently as I buckle my seatbelt. He lets it traipse up to the ticklish spot nearing my inner thigh before I catch it and entwine my fingers with his. They fit together perfectly, our hands, and while I love the way it feels it doesn’t happen often. It isn’t as though we can walk down the street hand in hand and at times I miss that, I wonder if he does too.