by Shealy James
“Um, no,” she scoffed. “Jameson was hitting on another girl in my group. He had been drinking, not that it’s an excuse, but we all had a lot to drink. I think her name was Angela. She was flirting with him. When he tried to take her back to his place, she refused and said she wasn’t that kind of girl. She was from fucking Nebraska or some shit. Anyway, it pissed him off, so he started yelling at her in front of everyone. I stepped between them and told him to back off. He pushed me down then threw a beer bottle down next to me. The glass went everywhere. Angela stupidly agreed to leave with him. I guess she was trying to stop him from embarrassing himself any further, but next thing I know, Angela doesn’t show up for her interview the next day, and she never answered her phone when any of us called.”
Jameson was a bad guy. I knew that now. Whatever happened between him and Angela could have been innocent, but based on the events of my day, I would be willing to bet that Angela ran as fast as she could in the other direction.
“Why wouldn’t you tell me before?”
“You left with him that night. You didn’t want to know.”
“You could have still told me. You know, warned me or something.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Would you have believed me?”
I dropped my head back on my bed and thought about it. As much as I hated to admit it, it was unlikely that I would have believed her. I was so taken with Jameson that I wouldn’t have believed anything negative about him. Suddenly everything he did was questionable though. “Point taken. I believe you now.”
“I’m sure you do. You all right? You want some ice for your face? Whiskey? A punching bag? What do you Southern girls do when you get pissed besides shoot things?”
I laughed. “Ice would be great. There’s been enough hitting for one day, and for some reason, I don’t think you’d be up for watching The Notebook with me.”
As expected, she looked horrified at the thought of watching The Notebook. “Uh, no, but I’ll get you some ice.”
She left the room and I went to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. A bruise had already formed on my cheek, so I inspected my arm. Five fingerprints were clear as day right above my elbow. I wanted to cry all over again.
Of course, my dad chose this moment to call and check in with me. “Hi, Daddy,” I answered with as much enthusiasm as I could muster.
“Hey, princess. How’s my girl?”
“Doin’ great, Daddy. I had my first interview today, and it went perfectly. I have another phone interview tonight. The guy moved to California, so I have to call him on the internet.”
“Sounds excitin’, baby girl. Mama and I are proud of ya.” I had to fan my eyes to keep the tears from burning. There was nothing like talking to my daddy after an emotional day. He was the best man I knew.
“Thank you. How’s everything on the farm?”
“Good. We started the cotton harvest this week. It’s gonna be a good yield, so I’m happy. Mama’s happy. That’s all that matters.”
“That’s wonderful, Daddy. I’m sorry I need to run. I need to prepare for my interview and make sure everything is workin’ right.”
“All right then. I was just checkin’ on ya. You call your mama this weekend. She’s dyin’ to talk to ya. I had to call while she was at the store just so I could hear your voice.”
“I will, Daddy. I’m glad you called.”
“You sure you’re all right, princess?”
Tears dripped down my cheeks, so I squeezed my eyes shut in an effort to hold in the sob that begged to release. “I’m great. Just busy.”
“All right then. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
I hung up the phone then wiped my face on a towel. When I opened the door, Lana was waiting in the hall with ice for me. “It’s never a good idea to talk to your parents when you’re emotional,” she said with a sympathetic smile.
I laughed. “No. Definitely not.”
“I hate to do this to you, but we’re running another trial in the lab tonight. I need to go check on the animals. You gonna be okay here?”
“Oh gosh, yes! Go. I’m gonna take a quick shower after I ice my face then prepare for my next interview.”
“Call me if you need anything and lock the door behind me.”
“Will do.” I nodded without looking up.
“And Sarah,” her tone warranted my attention, so I turned and looked her way. “I’m a great listener and friend if you ever need someone. New York can be a lonely place.”
Her kindness overwhelmed me and tears started leaking again. “Thank you, Lana.” She nodded with a shy smile and walked out of the apartment. It was a little strange that I hardly knew my roommate. We really only used the apartment to sleep, and we even did that on different schedules. She was a night owl, so she stayed at the lab late. I was a morning person, so I woke early to start my day. Sure, we had dinner together a few times in the past couple of years, but we never really had a heart-to-heart. We talked about school and research or told funny stories. With this whole Jameson thing happening, Lana seemed to be someone I could count on, a real friend. It was nice to know I had one person I could trust in New York.
I went to my bedroom and dialed the first person in my favorites. She answered on the first ring. “Oh. My. God. I can’t believe it! Sarah Grant is actually sparing a minute of her time to call me.”
“Shut up, Maggie.”
She giggled. “How are you?”
That was when the sob broke free. “Awful,” I cried. I sobbed uncontrollably as I told her the entire story starting from the incident on my fourth date with Jameson.
At some point, she must have put me on speaker because I didn’t hear anything from Maggie, but Parker roared into the phone in her place. “Sarah, I swear I will get on a plane and hunt that asshole down tonight if you give me the word. Maggie is sitting here crying, and nobody makes my two favorite girls cry like this without having a word with me.”
I sniffed and felt my lips almost smile. “While I appreciate your macho enthusiasm Parker, I think it is entirely unnecessary for you come up here and defend my honor. I’ve already decided that I’m going to have to tell my professor that I can’t work with Jameson anymore. Either I’ll get put on another study or he will, but I have a bruise on my face and fingerprints on my arm that say he’s not allowed anywhere near me ever again.”
“Sarah, you need to go to the police. Or file a report with the university, at the very least. He shouldn’t be allowed to stay in school at all.” This was coming from a sniffling Maggie, and I could tell that she had been crying. She was a good friend, the best, in fact.
“We’ll see. Maybe this is all over, and he’ll choose to leave on his own. He said he was done with me. I don’t see any reason for making a big deal out of it if it’s over.”
“It’s a huge deal, Sarah! He physically hurt you.”
“Don’t yell at her, Parker!” Maggie scolded tearfully.
“Sorry. I just don’t want him to have the opportunity to hurt her again.”
“Surely he doesn’t think he can get away with this,” I throw out there, breaking up their tête-à-tête.
“They always think they can get away with it. That’s why they do it,” Parker snapped angrily again. His tone didn’t offend me because I knew his anger was directed at Jameson. I knew Maggie was probably shrinking into her shell at the very sound of his anger, though. She hates any drama and emotion. It makes sense considering everything she’s been through.
“Look, I appreciate y’all worryin’ about me, but don’t. I’m a smart girl, and I’m no one’s victim. I’ll talk to my professor tomorrow and see where we go from there. He won’t get his hands on me again.”
“Maybe you should take a self-defense class. Living in a city like that can be dangerous. You need to be prepared,” Maggie said.
“That’s actually a good idea,” Parker added.
“You sound surprised. You know your wife is brilliant, ri
ght?”
“That I do,” he said proudly.
“Okay, if we’re getting mushy, I’m getting off the phone. I have an interview in fifteen minutes anyway. I need to go clean up my face and prepare myself to be a professional again.”
“Call me later. We love you,” Maggie reminded me happily. It used to be she who had to call me for emotional support. Now I was the one who needed someone. Oh, how the tables have turned. That was what friends were for though, right?
“Love y’all, too. Bye!”
I felt a million times better after talking to them. I had a plan and didn’t even feel afraid of having that conversation with Dr. Wright. At this point, I was willing to do anything to never face Jameson again. Unfortunately, Jameson had other plans.
Halfway through my online interview, my phone started buzzing from my bed. I had to ignore it, but it continuously went off through the rest of my interview. The second my interview with Corporal Lance ended, I grabbed my phone. I had twelve missed calls.
Jameson.
Six
Michael
Randy’s race was the following weekend, so we were all working to get his car ready. Every time he tested it, something felt off. It had to be in perfect condition to win the race, so we had to address every possible problem before he could drive it. This would have been a lot easier if I could have just climbed in the car and driven it, but just the thought of sitting in the driver’s seat made me so sick that I had to take a break.
“I still need more traction on the turns. We need weight on the right side,” Randy announced as he climbed out of the car after yet another failed test. “And it’s still too slow. Ten seconds won’t cut it.”
I was already examining the right front tire of the car. “Let me check your shocks and adjust the weight jacks. You’ll have to test it again ‘til we get it right. We can install larger jets on the nitrous to get more oxygen to the engine. It should speed up the car.”
“We’re running out of time.”
“Then I guess you should quit yapping and let the man work,” Joe called out from another bay. Joe hated when Randy told us how to do our jobs. He knew enough to get by, but he wasn’t the one building cars day after day.
“I’m going to go work out,” Randy grunted. “Call me when it’s ready.”
Phil was rolling in as Randy was leaving. When Randy walked by him without speaking, Phil raised his eyebrows toward me. “What crawled up Cinderella’s skirt?”
I stood up to my full height to grab some tools then sat on a stool, so I was closer to Phil’s height in his chair. “Joe told him to shut up and let me get back to work. What’s up? What’re you doing down here in the slums?”
“Good for Joe. He knows you don’t have all week to spend on Randy’s car.”
“What’re you talking about? This is the only job I have this week.”
“You need to do the interview,” he reminded me.
I groaned. “Give it up. I’m not going. I spoke with Dr. Wright a few weeks ago then saw Dr. Hoffman for a refill on meds.”
“This isn’t the same thing, and you know it.” He turned his chair around and taunted me by saying, “Besides, I think you’ll change your mind.”
“Why’s that?”
“A couple of reasons. If you don’t think therapy helped, they need to know. Maybe there’s something else they can do for you.”
I ignored the idea of trying something else. No need. “What’s the other reason? The real reason.”
“Wait ‘til you see the chick interviewing us. I don’t know why the good doctor thought it was a good idea to stick her in a room alone with a bunch of soldiers, but damn. She’s got this sweet Southern accent and a body that will have you drooling.”
“You’re married, remember?”
“You’re not.”
I climbed off the stool and carried my wrench back over to the car. I was done with this conversation. “I’m not looking for some chick to screw around with. I told you that the other night.”
“Trust me. You’ll change your mind. Besides, you owe Dr. Wright. He made it so you could sleep again, pal.”
I hated that Phil was right. While the intensive therapy we went through when we returned home didn’t cure me of my night terrors or panic attacks, he did make it so I wasn’t functioning in the black fog I was before.
An hour-long interview with a hot girl didn’t sound so bad after considering what he had done for Phil, Moretti, and me. As far as sacrifices go, this was only a blip on my radar.
Sarah
My phone continued to go off. Voicemails and text messages kept coming through, and I continued to ignore them. I would have turned my phone off, but I kept thinking that each vibrate would be the final one. Finally, I had to turn it off after sending a message to my parents, Seth, and Maggie that I’d be out of commission for the night without explaining what was going on. They’d worry, and I didn’t need their concern on top of my own. To be honest, I couldn’t figure out why Jameson wouldn’t leave me alone. I thought I had made it pretty clear that we were done after the incident earlier that day.
When the phone calls went unanswered, Jameson showed up in the middle of the night at my apartment. The buzzing on the intercom started just after one in the morning. Lana had been running an experiment at the lab, so I figured she forgot her keys. No such luck. When I peeked out the window and saw Jameson on the street, I quickly ran from the window. I didn’t want him to know that I was home, especially since I was alone. Like a baby, I hid in my bed and tried to cover my ears with my pillow to block out the buzzing and maybe even the fear that was building up in me. Even muffled, the sound relentlessly continued. “Please go away. Please, please, please,” I begged. He wasn’t getting the message, and he was starting to tick me off.
He didn’t have a key, so I told myself I was safe, but the constant buzzing prevented my body from agreeing with my mind. My body seemed to know something my mind didn’t because, the next thing I knew, there was a pounding on my door.
I pressed my hand to the fingerprint reader of the gun safe under my bed and pulled out one of my guns. At the door, I made sure all the locks were turned and the chain was pulled into its holder. That was when I heard him yelling. “Come on, Sarah! I know you’re home. I saw you look out your window.” The pounding paused. “I just want to talk. I’m sorry about the other day. I was out of my mind.”
Another less forceful knock followed by what sounded like his head hitting the door. “Come on, baby.” I cringed at the pet name. I had learned that he only used them when he was apologizing or trying to sweeten me up. Otherwise, he called me Sarah. “I’m sorry. You’re all I think about, everything I want. The thought that someone might take you away makes me crazy.”
“Leave, Jameson!” I called out from my safe place inside the apartment. “I have a gun, and I will shoot you if you come through that door.”
“Please, baby.” More pounding on the door followed his plea. He was trying to sweet talk me, trying to convince me to fall back into his trap, his claws, his web. He had become a monster, and I had let myself fall for his trickery. Never again.
“Sarah, baby, please,” he continued to beg.
I would not fall for this. I knew this was how the cycle of abuse started. Victims would forgive once they heard how sorry their attacker was. There was always an excuse and an apology, some sort of emotional blackmail. I knew the pathetic whimpering outside my door was simply one tactic. When it was not successful, he would move to the next. I dreaded what came next but reminded myself that his behavior was predictable. If I gave in, the abuse would progressively get worse. I would be allowing him to make me a victim. Instead of shooting him through the door like my trigger finger was itching to do, I gave him one last warning. “I’m calling the police.” My trigger finger had lost its damn mind, and it was only by the grace of God that I was still thinking rationally at this point.
Another knock, even quieter this time stopped me m
id-dial. “Sarah, please. I’ll do anything you want. I’ve already talked to Dr. Wright about getting help. He’s referred me to someone. Please,” he begged again. It seemed like forever went by while I listened to him cry outside my door and beg while I went back and forth about hitting the last number on my phone to call the police.
Then something occurred to my tired and emotionally charged brain. Logic flew out the window, and some weird sense of empathy took its place. Maybe I could help him. I was going to be a psychologist. It was going to be my job to help people, right?
Mama and Daddy believed fate was what brought them together. They always said God had their life together planned from the beginning. Maybe I was supposed to meet Jameson and help him, not be with him. I thought I might be the person to save him. I hit the button on my phone that turned the screen black. It was time to be brave. I stood from the floor and took a deep breath in preparation for opening the door. Jameson was emotional and out of control, so I needed to have a steady plan in order for this conversation to be successful.
Sudden arguing in the hall brought me back to reality. He was arguing with someone. A female. Lana.
“Get out of here or I’m calling the cops!” Lana had yelled before the locks started to turn. I put the safety on the gun then ran over to unhook the chain right before she slung the door wide open. “You weren’t listening to that shit, were you?”
That was enough to remind me that I never wanted to be a victim, and not everyone could be helped. Foolish plan aborted, I decided it was time to lie my ass off before my roommate realized what a pathetic human being I was becoming. “No. Of course, not.” Thank God Lana snapped me out of my moment of weakness.
She looked at me suspiciously for a moment. “You sure? I can give you a hundred reasons to never see the man again, but I can’t think of a single one to make you go back to him.”
I showed her the gun and my phone. She knew I had them, but I kept one locked in a safe in my bedroom and a backup in a safe on the top shelf of my closet. This was the first time she had seen it out and loaded. “I have this, and I was giving him sixty more seconds before I called the cops. I certainly wasn’t thinking of letting him in.” So, it was a small lie, but from that point on, it would have to be the truth. I would not let him in.