by MJ Knight
“What happened? I mean, if you don’t mind talking about it.”
“No, I wouldn’t mind, but I think it’s a story for when I know you better. Y’know what, though?”
“What?”
“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that you’re my best friend. You’re my only one, it’s true, but...”
He snorted. “I return the compliment. All of it.”
“Okay, I should go. I have a couple of things that have to go out tomorrow, and I’d like to finish them tonight so I don’t have to worry. See you tomorrow night?”
“With bells on,” he promised.
“That could prove disturbing on many levels.”
They said good-bye a few times, then a few more times until Adrian’s call waiting tone became so irritating that he finally said, “Let me go take the call. I’m tempted to do a fake voice and pretend I’m not at this number anymore.”
“I think that would be amusing,” she said in a funny, fake voice that made him laugh again. He loved it that she made him laugh a lot. He’d never met anyone who could do that.
“Okay, you go. See you tomorrow.”
“Right, bye.” He clicked over to the waiting call. “Yeah?”
It was Olivia. No surprise there. “Where the hell are you?”
“At home.”
“I know that.”
“Then why did you ask?”
“You know you’re supposed to be here.”
“I don’t know anything of the sort, Olivia. I’m tired and I need some rest. You’ll have to deal with it.” There was that phrase again. And there was the meanness that crept into his voice and attitude when he was talking to her. She took it from him, and he despised her for it. He had to stop, he couldn’t break free of her until he stopped treating her so badly and disliking her so very much.
He took a couple of deep breaths. “I’m sorry. Look, I’m not prepared to come by tonight. I should have phoned because I should have known you were expecting me.”
“Well...” It was grudging, but she didn’t have much of a choice and she knew it. “You should have called.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” he repeated.
“Will I see you tomorrow?”
“No.”
“Sunday?”
“Liv, let me call you, okay? From now on don’t expect me unless I call and tell you I’m coming over.”
“Are you sick? What do you mean “from now on”?”
“I mean that I am no longer prepared to be a habit. We will discuss this like adults when we sit down together. I will see you soon.”
There must’ve been a note in his voice that let her know he was serious. She changed her tone from aggrieved to sympathetic. “You know I’m just worried about you.”
He thought she was more worried about herself, but didn’t say so. “Thanks. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”
“Okay. Night, lover.”
“Good night, Liv. Sleep well.”
He hung up before she could say anything else.
“I’m not a good person,” he told himself, feeling depressed. “I need to be a better one.”
For Julianne. He needed to be a better person for her, to deserve her.
Chapter Fourteen
Julianne was over the moon with happiness when her conversation with Adrian ended. She felt that the whole day had been a kind of victory against her monster, who had been tormenting her all week, telling her that nothing she could ever do would rid her of his presence. He had told her that Adrian could never love someone as damaged as Julianne was and that he only wanted to use her and throw her away. He told her lies and she knew it, but she couldn’t stop his voice.
Yet when she sat in Dr. Lange’s office and made the decision not to ask for approval or guidance, her monster blithered angrily at first and then fell silent as if there was nothing more he could say. She hadn’t heard another thing since, not even while talking to Adrian, not even while talking about her past. The monster hadn’t even giggled when she spoke of Martin’s disappearance or the suicide of the other young woman who had testified against Gerald along with Julianne and Martin.
And now she had a date with Adrian for the next night and she felt as if she could do anything. She decided that she would go out the next day and buy a new dress to wear that evening. She deserved to look amazing.
And then she went to bed, and as soon as she fell asleep the nightmares began. The monster was sneaky that way.
It was often the same thing, she was in Gerald’s big, beautifully appointed home. She was with him in his study on a hazy afternoon because, he said, they were going to practice their reading together. The door was locked—why did no one else in the house ever ask why Gerald locked the door if he was only reading with those children? It was locked and Julianne knew she wouldn’t be able to get away from him. He would chase her around and around the desk in her dreams, around and around until he caught her in impossibly long arms and began to touch her all over with his soft, fleshy fingers.
He seemed so old, so old to her, like some ancient, evil spirit pressing down on her, smothering her, whispering words that she didn’t understand like wicked spells to hurt her and her family.
It was past three when she woke in tears, filmed in sweat so that even her sheets were damp. She got up, walked unsteadily into the bathroom and threw up. It was a bad dream this time, it seemed to have gone on forever.
Julianne brushed her teeth again and as she was rinsing she looked up and saw the monster’s face over her own. Grinning. Giggling inside her head.
“I can make you do anything I want,” it whispered. Uncle Gerald had said that to her when she tried to fight him. And he’d been wrong. In the end, he’d been wrong.
Julianne was through being afraid of him, the monster, Uncle Gerald. “You can wake me up with nightmares every hour on the hour and I will still never give in to you,” she told the ugly, leering face. “I’ll go without sleep if I have to but you will never hold me back again.”
The thing gibbered softly in the dim light.
“Boy, I’m hungry,” Julianne said as heartily as she could manage. “I’m going to have a sandwich.”
She marched out to the kitchen and fixed herself some cheese on toast, the most comforting sandwich she could think of, and ate it with a glass of apple juice.
The monster whined softly like a lost dog. “Don’t you like our games?” it asked.
“I do not. Leave me alone. I can hurt you,” she promised as she rinsed her glass and plate, put out the light and went back to bed.
When she dreamed this time it was about nothing special. There were birds, she swept a floor and took a ride in a car. There were flowers in her hair and the glass on the sink was filled with juice. She drank it again and it made her feel good, cool and refreshed.
Julianne woke late the next morning and felt surprisingly rested in spite of her broken night. The sunlight streamed across her bed and made her feel as if she’d come through a storm.
And there was no monster. Only Julianne and the sun.
One of the most important things in her self-imposed program was keeping her promises, not only to others but to herself. Julianne went out early to look for a new dress. She went to her favorite store, a little shop in a very old building, where the hardwood floors were the originals newly refinished to make all the dings and stains of age look quite lovely. There was a decorative tin ceiling painted pale pink, and the walls were painted the same color. There were crystal chandeliers, thick taupe rugs and soft, putty-colored chairs and a love seat where she sometimes sat and had coffee and cake with the sales women. Julianne loved shopping there, it made her feel special and sophisticated. She told, Carla, her favorite saleswoman, what she wanted the dress for.
“It’s a first date,” she explained. “And we’re going to the theater. Then out to dinner. There may be dancing,” she explained. There would be if she had her way; she’d made reservations at a restaurant with a da
nce floor, and a reputation for not being loud and rowdy.
Carla raised an exquisitely shaped brow in surprise, then smiled and nodded. “I think I have some things that might suit you.” She showed Julianne a dress in pale blue chiffon. “This color would be so good with your eyes.” The dress was pretty enough, but it didn’t feel like something Julianne wanted to wear. It was too little-girlish.
“I was actually thinking about a little black dress.”
“Audrey Hepburn. Of course, I should have thought of that right off with your bone structure and beautiful eyes! I have three here that you should look at.”
The first was a strapless dress with a sequined top and a very short chiffon skirt. Julianne was pretty certain that wasn’t the one but she put it aside to consider it. The second had a plunging neckline that made Julianne’s eyes bug out. “No, I’m sure Audrey would never have worn that one,” she insisted, and Carla laughed.
“I think you’re right,” she said. “Okay now this one... this is my favorite.” She produced a skinny, sleeveless black jersey, with full-body gathers. As simple as it was, it had a lot of personality and movement.
“That’s elegant,” Julianne breathed. “I like that.”
“I thought so, too. Perfect for a pearl choker or even just a sparkly pin on one shoulder.
“I’ve got to try it on.” Julianne raced into the fitting room and slipped into the dress. Even with her pink polka-dotted socks it looked fantastic. “Oh, this is perfect,” she breathed. She knew she looked wonderful in it and imagined Adrian telling her so.
“I’ll definitely take it,” she said when she stepped out to model it for Carla.
“It’s so perfect on you. The others are good, but you needed something more understated and elegant.”
“I think I’ll need a wrap or something. Nights are still a bit chilly.” She went back into the fitting room to change back into her own clothes, but she took a moment to look at herself in the mirror again, and was surprised at how truly pretty she was with her pale skin and large blue eyes, her dark hair and the faint dusting of color on her cheekbones. She looked like an adult and the idea made her happy.
Carla showed her a shawl which was nice, a coat which was too expensive, and a beautiful black wool shrug with tiny, faceted black beads knitted into it. Another perfect choice, she thought. The universe was with her on this one.
While she was paying for her purchases, Carla asked her “How are you going to wear your hair?”
Julianne froze, horrified that she hadn’t even thought about it. She normally wore her hair in a pony tail, and hadn’t had it cut in years. Usually she just hacked a few inches off the bottom of the ponytail and went about her business. “Oh. Oh gosh, I don’t know.”
“Don’t worry. I have a friend who works at the shop two doors down. Let me call her and see if she can fit you in.”
Carla spoke to her friend then told Julianne, “She can take you about twelve-thirty, is that okay?”
“It’s great.” It was two hours she had to kill, but she figured she could do some more shopping. “Wait, ask her if there’s anyone who can do a manicure.”
She was in luck. The manicurist would be able to take her about noon, so she had Carla make both appointments for her.
“Can I leave these things here and pick them up on the way home?”
“Of course! I’ll want to see the hair and nails anyway.”
“Great! Thank you.” She walked over to a tiny shop to buy some makeup. She needed new mascara, hers was tragically dried up, and she chose a new shade of lipstick, a beautiful deep magenta that looked amazing against her skin tone. Then, in spite of herself, she chose a new cologne.
She hadn’t worn cologne or perfume for a long, long time, so she had no idea what was available, but there were dozens of testers on display. After a few false starts, she found one that was rose-based with notes of sandalwood, cardamom, vanilla and a touch of jasmine. It was sweet, warm, woodsy, and a little spicy, and it made her feel very sensual. It cost a lot of money; this whole evening was going to cost a lot of money, but she so rarely spent anything beyond rent, food, and Dr. Lange’s appointments that she didn’t begrudge it at all.
Things weren’t as tight now as they had been a couple of years earlier. She was getting more and better jobs and, she reasoned, she would eventually have to start getting out in the world and meeting people. She had to look good and feel good. Cologne would help. It was all part of that new face she wanted to show the world.
She had a fair amount to time to kill before her manicure so she went to one of the little coffee shops that dotted her neighborhood. The barista took her order, and drew a moon and stars in the foam on her latte. She thanked him and he gave her a free biscotti and a warm smile. “Don’t be a stranger,” he told her.
“I won’t!” That was another promise she was going to have to keep. Promises were important. They were like good magic. If you kept them everything became better.
At about ten minutes before noon, Julianne stepped out of the coffee shop and started back towards the salon. She felt so at peace with the world that she almost missed the sight of a little boy, being half dragged down the street by a man in a threadbare coat. The child was crying, repeating “no, no, let me go” and nobody was paying any attention.
Julianne froze for a moment knowing exactly what was going on, then ran over to the child and took his free hand. “Wait,” she said with as much authority as she could.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing lady? Take your hands off my kid.” He was her nightmares made flesh, an angry, hungry predator with his innocent prey. Some instinct made her want to back away, to drop the child’s hand, but she looked down at the boy who was weeping with fear and asked, “Is this man your father?”
“NO!” he howled. “He’s not my daddy!” He wrenched free of the man’s grip and swung around to hide behind Julianne, still clutching her hand.
Julianne fished in her purse and brought out her phone, opened the camera app and took the man’s picture.
“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“We’ll see if you’re his father or not,” she promised.
“So I’m his uncle. Big deal. You better let him go.” He moved around to confront Julianne and almost without thinking she put her hand up and held him back.
“Don’t you come near either of us,” she warned.
“What are you going to do about it?”
In a soft voice she replied, “I put one pedophile in prison when I was a child. I will not hesitate to do it again. I will hurt you,” she promised.
For just a moment she saw the anger fade and there was confusion on his rattled face, and something that looked like sorrow. Then the monster was back.
“You can’t do anything to me,” he growled.
Just then a woman ran up and grabbed the little boy. “Cody, oh my god, I’ve been looking everywhere.”
The man’s expression changed again, this time from aggression to fear, and he backed away. Julianne watched him go. She shouted, “Don’t ever show your face around here again!” at him and he turned and fled.
“What’s going on?”
“Is he okay?” Julianne asked.
“He seems fine. Who was that man?”
“A bad man. He was trying to take Cody.”
“A bad man?”
“I don’t want to scare Cody,” Julianne said quietly. People were starting to gather and ask what was going on. “If I say that there aren’t many things a grown man wants with a child, will you understand my meaning?”
Cody’s mother went white. “Oh my god,” she breathed.
A crowd was gathering. “Did that guy try to take that kid?” someone asked.
“I believe he did, yes,” Julianne said.
“Someone call the cops!”
Cody’s mother was starting to look unhinged. She was clutching her son so hard he was squeaking.
“Come and s
it down,” Julianne said, guiding her to a bench nearby. “We can wait here for the police.”
She refused to say anything else about the incident until the police arrived. A few of the people lost interest, but one or two remained.
When the police finally did arrive, Julianne said she would prefer to give a statement where Cody couldn’t hear what was being said. The older of the team escorted her back to the squad car while the younger one got a statement from Cody’s mother.
“I saw a man dragging the child down the street,” Julianne explained, and gave a brief description of the kidnapper. “It looked wrong to me. The child was crying and the man seemed unkempt, not the sort who would be with a child that well dressed.”
“Good catch.”
“Thank you. When I stopped them, I asked Cody if the man was his father and he was adamant that it was not. The man told me he was the boy’s uncle, but I had the sense that he was a stranger and meant no good.”
“It was pretty brave of you to try and stop him, but dangerous, too. He could have hurt you. You should have phoned us and let us confront him.”
“No. No, I don’t think so,” Julianne said, momentarily disconnecting from the moment, thinking of Uncle Gerald standing in a void, seeing him objectively for the first time in her life. “Child molesters are mostly cowards.”
“You think so?”
She looked into the cop’s eyes and he flinched. “I see,” he said. “It was very, very brave of you.”
“It was the right thing to do. And now I’m very late for an appointment. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“If you could come down and look at some pictures?”
“Oh! Oh that’s right.” She dug in her purse for her phone and brought up the photo of the man. “I nearly forgot. This is him.”