Forever

by Tiffany Patterson

“Don’t ever walk out on me during an argument again,” she warns.

  “Don’t ever talk to your ex again,” I return.

  She nods and says “Okay. It won’t happen again.”

  The words are barely out of her mouth when I thrust my hips forward, inserting myself fully inside her. I grow even harder at the gasp she lets out from my thrusting.

  “I’ll never walk out on you again,” I growl as I bury my head in the crook of her neck and take my time thrusting and grinding my hips to meet Mel’s hips. With her legs locked around my hips and her arms and scent surrounding me, all the cares, worries and anger from earlier in the day leave me. This feeling, right now, is the only thing that matters. Within minutes we both shatter in each other's arms. We spend the rest of the night, delightfully locked in one another’s embrace as we sleep.

  Chapter Ten

  Melody

  “Hi, Ms. James. This is Celia, Gabriella’s mom.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck immediately bristle. Gabriella hasn’t been in school for the last two days, and I’ve been worried. I called and left a message for her mother this morning.

  “Yes, Celia. How are you and Gabriella? Is everything all right?” I anxiously ask. I stand to close my office door so passing students and staff do not overhear our conversation.

  “Not really, to tell you the truth. Gabriella is in the hospital.”

  “Oh God,” I murmur, as I cover my mouth. I sit behind my desk as my knees get weak. “What happened?”

  “I’m not really sure, and Gabriella won’t talk to me or the police. You’re the only other person I could think of to get her to open up. Can you c—”

  “Yes. Which hospital and room number?” I respond without thinking. I jot down the hospital information Celia gives me and let her know I will be there as soon as possible before I hang up. I go in to speak with my school’s principal to let him know I will be leaving early to tend to one of my students. I give him all the details I have and let him know I will call when I have more information. I head out the office door to the main exit.

  “Heading out so soon, Ms. James,” Donald, the security guard questions.

  I startle as I hadn’t even seen him there. “Yes, I, um, am meeting one of my students,” I tell him, not wanting to give away too many details.

  “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” I wave him off.

  “Oh no, I insist,” he retorts, already holding the door open for me.

  I shrug, as Donald has never given me any vibes to suggest he is anything less than professional. The teacher’s parking lot is right across the street from the school, and Billy walks me directly to my car. On a hunch, I turn and ask, “Donald how long have you worked for the school district?”

  He gives me a half smile. “Well, ma’am, technically, I’m hired by a third party and not the school district.”

  I nod. “And does this third party have a name?”

  “That I cannot disclose,” He grins.

  “I bet you can’t,” I mumble as I open my car door. “Thank you for walking me to my car.” I wave as I get in.

  More than half an hour later, I am at James Jefferson Hospital, on my way up to the second floor. As soon as I exit the elevator, I make eye contact with Celia, who looks to have been up for twenty-four hours straight. The usually well-kempt woman has her hair up in a messy bun, and her usually golden skin is pale, except her eyes, which are red and puffy, obviously from crying.

  “Oh, thank God,” she blurts out as I make my way over to her.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  “Gabriella was hurt. Doctors say she’ll be okay, but she has bruised ribs, a fractured wrist, and a black eye. She’s a mess and she won’t tell me what happened. Ms. James, please talk to her,” Celia begs, practically pulling me toward the door of Gabriella’s hospital room.

  “Okay, I will.” I pat the back of Celia’s hand. “You go down to the cafeteria and get some coffee or go out and get some fresh air. I promise I won’t leave until you get back, okay?”

  “All right. I may go home and change my clothes. Is that all right?”

  “Sure. Take your time. I’ll be here,” I reassure her.

  When she leaves, I lightly knock on the door and enter. Thankfully, Gabriella is the only patient in the room right now. She looks at me, and I have to bite my tongue to keep myself from gasping in shock. Gabriella’s face is marred by a huge black-eye and a swollen lip. I can see her left wrist is covered in a cast as it rests lightly over her abdomen, indicating she is in pain. Her eyes begin to water as she sees me.

  “Gabriella,” I whisper, making my way over to her. I sit at the side of her bed and pull out a pack of tissues, removing one to gently wipe away the tears from her cheeks.

  “What are you doing here, Ms. J?” Her voice sounds so lost, broken, and embarrassed.

  “I was worried about you. You missed two days of school, which isn’t like you. Your mom finally called, saying you were in the hospital.” I bite my tongue again to refrain from asking her what happened. I don’t want to bombard her with questions right away. I know she has been questioned and refuses to open up. Instead, I attempt to console her.

  “Are you in any pain?” I question.

  She shrugs her shoulder. “A little, but they gave me some medicine, and it’s helping.”

  I nod. “Well, Mrs. Walters visited my office yesterday and told me you did well enough on the last exam that you didn’t have to take your science final. That now makes two finals you’ve been exempted from, and you have two A’s as your final grades already.”

  Even in the state she’s in, Gabriella smiles at this news. “Thanks, Ms. J. I was worried about that science exam.”

  “I know you were, but you did it,” I say, patting her hand lightly.

  She smiles lightly again and her eyes water. I gently wipe those tears away.

  “Oh, and I brought this for you,” I say, pulling out the Godiva milk chocolate bar I’d picked up from the gift shop on my way up. One thing Gabriella and I have in common is our love of chocolate. “Chocolate has a way of making me feel better when I’m not at my best, and I know how terrible hospital food can be,” I joke, passing Gabriella the chocolate.

  “Thank you, Ms. J,” she says, taking the candy with her uninjured hand.

  We sit in silence for a little while, Gabriella fidgeting with the candy bar wrapper, and I’m trying not to stare at the bruises on her face.

  “He didn’t mean it, Ms. J,” she finally says after about five minutes of silence.

  My heart plummets, and I have to clamp my jaw shut to keep from immediately questioning who he is and where he lives.

  “I was on my way to school and some boy was trying to get with me. He wouldn’t leave me alone even when I told him I had a boyfriend. Then Jay drove up and saw the boy with his hand around my waist, even though I was trying to push him off. As soon as he saw Jay, he stepped off. But Jay ain’t believe me. He kept saying if I wasn’t wearing tight clothes and busy trying to get other boys’ attention, it wouldn’t have happened. He wouldn’t let me go to school. He told me to get in the car. As we drove in his car, he punched me in the side of my face. After that, I think I went unconscious or something because that’s all I remember, until I woke up the next morning in my bed, bleeding and hurting. I guess he dropped me off at home and left.”

  I feel a wave of nausea hit me as I listened to Gabriella explain how her boyfriend flew into a jealous rage and beat her up. I want to find this boy and have somebody show him exactly what it feels like to be pummeled so harshly. I turn my head so Gabriella doesn’t see the tears welling up in my eyes.

  “My mom could barely wake me up the next morning. And when she saw the blood, she took me to the hospital.”

  It’s a good thing she did, I think as I recall the list of injuries her mother told me she had. Thankfully, it didn’t look like Gabriella had a concussion, though she was still
being monitored, which is why she was still in the hospital. I think about how long Gabriella laid in pain, alone, knowing that her mother works nights and that asshole boyfriend just left her.

  “Is this the first time he’s hit you?” I ask through a shaky voice.

  Gabriella dips her head, shaking it. Another wave of nausea hits me. For weeks now, I’ve suspected something was going on with her, and not wanting to overstep my bounds as a professional, plus the fact that I’ve been dealing with my own personal relationship issues, had me distracted. I feel terrible for not seeing the signs for what they were earlier. The bruises and obvious lies about the bruises. The change in overall appearance and demeanor. So many things pointed to this, but I missed it.

  “Gabriella,” I begin after taking a breath and composing myself. “I know this is extremely difficult, but you have to tell the police.”

  “No, Ms. J, I can’t,” she cries.

  “Gabriella, listen to me,” I pull her hand into mine. “I know you really like or may even love this boy, but he doesn’t get to hit you—ever,” I say with emphasis.

  “But every man hits once and awhile. My own daddy used to hit my mom before he left. And even your man has done it.”

  I jerk my head back at the last part of that statement. “What?” I ask, working hard to keep my voice even.

  “It’s all over the news how he hurt that woman. I overheard my friend’s mom saying if he hit her he probably hits you too. I mean, it’s just the way it is.” She shrugs.

  At this, I have to stand, even as my body begins to shake. I pace back and forth in front of the hospital bed trying to reign in my emotions. I know Gabriella is only basing this on what she has seen in her life, and she is only a child. I don’t blame her for believing this is how it’s supposed to be. I ache for her. And I ache for my husband who people believe is a woman abuser. I don’t talk about my personal life to my students or most of the staff at my school. But this time I’ll make the exception.

  “Gabriella, sweetie, I need you to listen to me. I know what your dad used to do to your mom, but it was wrong,” I say, trying to sound neutral, but firm at the same time. “He was wrong for hitting your mother. Not every relationship is like that. My father was and still is the protector of my mother. He would lay down his own life rather than see her hurt. That is the type of love I grew up seeing. And when it came time for me to find someone to love, that is the only type of relationship I would accept. I could never be with someone who thinks it’s okay to hit me. I know the news is suggesting that Landon attacked that woman, but that is not the Landon Rogers I know. He wouldn’t do those things, and I wouldn’t be with him if he did. No one has the right to put their hands on you, especially not someone who claims to love you. If you believe nothing else I’ve said in all the years I’ve known you, believe that, okay?”

  A teary-eyed Gabriella stares at me in the eye, searching for the truth in my words. Finally, she acquiesces. “Okay, Ms. James, I believe you,” she pauses and stares out the window, contemplatively, for a full minute. “Will you stay with me when I tell the police?” Her voice is so full of innocence and so child-like it breaks my heart.

  I nod. “Of course, I will.”

  ****

  A few hours later, I am stepping out of the hospital feeling drained. As promised, I had sat with Gabriella as she told the police her story. She finally confessed to her mother what had been happening, and they both cried in each other’s arms. When I exited the room, one of the officers told me he was familiar with this boy who was eighteen years old. Apparently, he has a history of hitting other girls in the past. I shake my head as I think about how young he is to have such violent tendencies. I’ve already begun composing a list of counselors Gabriella and her mom can go see to help them both through this ordeal. I feel so emotionally spent that all I want is the comfort of someone I know who loves me. I pull out my phone and press the button on my speed dial to call Landon.

  “Hey, babe,” his deep voice answers.

  “Hey. Where are you?”

  “At Michael’s office with the law—”

  “I’m on my way.” I don’t give him time to finish before I hang up and quicken my pace toward my car. I need to see my husband and have his strong arms wrapped around me.

  Chapter Eleven

  Landon

  I remove the phone from my ear and stared at it, wondering what is going on. I had received a call from Donald a few hours ago, telling me that Mel was leaving work early. When he said she was going to the hospital, I almost lost it thinking she was hurt, but breathed a sigh of relief when he said she was visiting a student there. Yeah, I had hired Donald as a security guard to watch over Mel while she’s at work. Her school is in a rough neighborhood, and there are times she works early mornings or stays late at night for events. I have no shame in doing my best to protect her.

  It’s been two weeks since our argument when I stormed out, and I know she still wants me to open up about what is happening with this case, but I just can’t. I’m doing everything in my power to make sure she isn’t hurt by Mindy’s bullshit. Now, as I stare at the phone I wonder what has her so rattled. She sounded odd over the phone.

  “Who was that?” Michael’s question brings my attention from my phone to everyone else in the room.

  “That was Mel. She’s on her way here.”

  Michael raises his brow at me, but I don’t say anything more about her visit.

  “Hurry up and finish what you were telling me before she arrives,” I say, looking over at Tony, impatiently.

  Another twenty minutes pass, as Tony gives me more details on what Mindy has been saying and what the prosecutors are now claiming. They’ve approached him a number of times to try to work out a plea deal and each time I’ve told them to shove it up their ass. I refuse to admit to doing something I unequivocally did not do.

  Before long, Michael’s assistant rings his phone. “Michael, Ms. James is here to see Mr. Rogers.” I frown at that, hating that Melody and I still have not made it public that we are married. Even though she has legally changed her last name to Rogers, she still goes by James professionally. And with all the scrutiny we’ve been under lately, I figured it would be better to wait until this blows over to make it public, to help keep Mel’s life as private as possible.

  “Send her in.” I hear Michael say, but I’m already at the door, opening it.

  As soon as I see her, I know something is wrong. Her eyes are a little swollen, and it looks like she’s been crying. I pull her into my arms. “What happened?” I question.

  “Nothing. I mean, something,” she corrects when I frown down at her. “We can talk about it later. I just needed to see you.” She smiles up at me, but the sheen over her eyes tells me whatever something is, it’s serious. I figure it has something to do with the student she visited at the hospital. Mel can get very attached and emotional about her students.

  “I’m better now,” she says, rising up on her tiptoes to give me a peck on the cheek.

  My own mood improves tenfold from that small token of affection. “We were just finishing up. Come on in Michael’s office and sit, and then we can go home together,” I say, already pulling her by the hand toward the office.

  “Hey, Mel. Good to see you,” Michael greets her with a warm embrace. Although innocent, I still feel that pang of jealousy, and I pull her closer to me. Mel notices it and smirks up at me knowingly.

  “Mel,” Tony says with nods. “I would give you a hug, but this guy may try to deck me,” he jokes.

  I shrug. “Keep your hands to yourself,” I suggest. Everyone in the room chuckles except for me. Mel squeezes my hand reassuringly. I grin at her and pull her toward the couch in Michael’s office and grab a bottle of water out of the small fridge in the corner of the room.

  After handing Mel the water, I turn to Michael and Tony and ask, “Did you have anything else you needed to discuss with me?”

  “You don’t have to hurry your meeti
ng up for me. I just wanted to see you. I don’t mind waiting,” Mel chimes in.

  I begin shaking my head, only to be interrupted by Michael’s assistant. Instead of calling, she is now at the door. “Michael, you guys should turn the news on,” she says with an anxious look on her face.

  Michael immediately uses the remote control to turn on the flat screen mounted on his office wall.

  “We break now to the press conference of Lisa Turner, one of the alleged victims accusing Landon Rogers of sexual assault.” The MSNBC news journalist says.

  My heartbeat kicks into overtime and I can feel the blood rushing through my veins. I stare at the TV as an image of a blonde-haired woman behind a microphone comes on. This is the first time I’m seeing the face of the second woman who is now accusing me of assaulting her. At first I’m too livid to hear the words coming out of her mouth. I feel something in my hand and turn to see Mel now standing beside me as she stares at the screen, gripping my hand. I don’t want her to see this. I feel powerless in this moment, and there is nothing I can do about it.

  “We were drunk…blacked out…woke up naked…” are the few words I make out of Lisa Turner’s string of lies, still not believing what is happening.

  Minutes later, the press conference ends, and journalists go on to give their interpretation of what happened and voice their opinions about whether she is telling the truth or not.

  “Cut it off,” Tony advises Michael, and he does.

  “She’s fucking lying!” Those are the only words I can think of right now. I have no idea who that woman is. I try to search my mental rolodex for any memories of her and I come up blank.

  “Landon, we know,” Tony reassures.

  “She’s some chick who got drunk at a party, probably fucked a whole frat and now wants to pin her kid on me,” I roar. Lisa Turner claims her child was a product of her so-called rape. Of course, a simple DNA test would prove I’m not the kid’s father, but I’m pissed to have to even go through that.

  “She’s not lying.” Mel’s voice is low, distant.