by MJ Knight
The officer looked impressed. “You’re good,” he said with admiration. “Let’s get this uploaded.”
It didn’t take them long to wrap up, and released from her civic duty, Julianne nearly ran to the salon.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she said once she’d introduced herself. “There was a man trying to kidnap a child. The police wanted to talk to me because I was the only one who really saw him.”
“Wait, that was you who stopped him?” one of the women asked.
“Well, yes, but--”
“Oh my god, ladies, here’s the woman who kept that little boy from being hurt!”
Everyone in the salon cheered her.
“My name is Ashley, and I own this place. We all know Cody. His mom comes in here regularly. Honey your haircut and manicure are on the house.”
Julianne was embarrassed by the attention. “That’s not—”
“No argument, now. Come along and we’ll get you started. So tell us everything that happened,” Ashley ordered as she put Julianne in the chair and tied a towel around her neck.
Julianne began to talk about how she had seen the boy crying and trying to pull away. Everyone was listening, some of them asked questions. She found herself enjoying the discussion that went from Cody to what’s-wrong-with-people-these-days? To something in the newspaper, to recipes, to who was doing what this week, which was the point where Julianne spaced out.
She found it odd that after having confronted a child molester, she was sitting comfortably in the middle of a group of women, being touched by a stranger and thinking nothing of it. It felt like the most normal thing in the world. It felt nice. She was enjoying this community.
Her ordeal wasn’t over. It would never be over. But she thought that perhaps she’d found a path she might walk that would take her safely through the worst of the memories. She thought of the kidnapper’s face, his expression, and she realized that he was only a man who was obeying some twisted impulse. She couldn’t feel sorry for him but she did understand what compulsion could do to someone.
“So how did you know?”
“What?”
The woman in the chair next to hers repeated her question. “How did you know he was... you know? A pervert?”
“I don’t really know,” she said with complete honesty. It wasn’t as if she had pedophile radar. She couldn’t spot them on the street at a hundred yards or anything. The incident that day was a lucky accident. She understood the situation, saw herself in the child and Uncle Gerald in the man who had been dragging him off. What she knew about that man was a gut level knowing, but it couldn’t be explained. She had felt his need almost as if it roiled up off his skin like fetid air. “The little boy was scared,” she explained, “but he said very clearly that the man was not his father. And then the man’s story changed so I knew I couldn’t leave that child with him.”
“You did good,” Ashley told her.
“Thank you. I wish I could have done more, but he was gone before anyone thought to stop him.”
“He’ll do it again,” one of the other women said.
“Yes.” Julianne nodded sadly. “Yes he will. If he can. I took his picture with my phone. The police have it.”
They applauded her again.
Chapter Fifteen
Adrian had gone out of his way to look good that evening. He went downtown for a haircut and shave from his favorite barber, and even opted for a manicure. He didn’t take good care of his hands, he realized. His nails were always ragged, and his hands were often covered with ink or paint. It was all part of the artsy image he had cultivated in school, along with ragged clothing and French cigarettes, both of which he’d given up when he began to work at the agency.
While he was out he bought a new tie, a black silk with narrow, diagonal stripes of French blue and deep violet, and a shirt in a pale violet to match. His suit was one that had been in his closet for several months but never worn, a black, double-breasted wool with extremely pale pinstripes. It made him look very sophisticated and devil-may-care. He had decided that even if he never got past the friend zone with Julianne, he was going to make it an elegant place to be. He imagined the ads: FriendZone, for the discerning gentleman with him in a tux, looking very James Bond-ish.
Maybe he’d become The Friend Zone Guy who took women friends to weddings or class reunions. He would be the smart, well-groomed, reasonably attractive faux boyfriend who was attentive, a great dancer, and who had a cool job. He could go on giving Olivia what she needed, and enjoy the company of his girlfriends without a lot of relationship stress.
But as he chose his cuff links and tie tack, he came across the set Olivia had given him, the one he’d never worn, and he realized that being Friend Zone Guy might be amusing to think about but it could never be a reasonable way to live. He didn’t want to spend more time with Olivia as a fallback, and he didn’t want to be Julianne’s friend. He’d settle, but it wouldn’t be what he wanted. He put Olivia’s gift back in the drawer and picked out a pair of simple brushed gold links with a matching tie tack.
He took a cab to Julianne’s apartment. It was easier than trying to find parking. She was waiting for him on her front steps, looking like a dream.
“Your hair,” he said, shocked at the change from the severe pony tail to the soft bob that made her look so much more approachable.
“Don’t you like it?” She reached up and touched the dark fall of her hair.
“I love it. You look... Wow, you look wonderful.”
She blushed prettily. “So do you.”
“Let’s go dazzle the other theatergoers,” he said, offering his arm. He was pleased to note that she took it without hesitation.
* * * *
The play they were seeing was Romeo and Juliet done in 1920s style with Juliet as a flapper and all the men in flannel trousers and open-necked shirts or knickers and sweater vests. It was all very well done, and Adrian enjoyed it immensely. During the intermission they went out to the lobby and drank wine out of plastic glasses and talked about how beautiful the theater was. He thanked her for inviting him. “I’m really enjoying the play. I’ve never seen it done in this era, but it works, doesn’t it?”
“I found it a little disorienting at first,” she confessed. “But I’m liking it a lot now. It’s funny how time changes your perspective on things, though.”
“How so?”
“I loved this play as a teenager. I loved that they died.” She held up her hand. “I know what you’re going to say.”
“No you don’t. Teenagers are morbid. I get that. I was. I used to watch horror films and identify with the monsters. Poor misunderstood Adrian.” His secret was that he still identified with them.
“No one was more morbid than I was, trust me. Death was my only love.” Julianne pressed the back of her hand to her forehead in a dramatic gesture. “Fortunately I got over it before I could damage myself.”
“I’m glad you did. What happened?”
“A lot happened when I was sixteen, good and bad. But I have a cousin to thank for at least part of the changes I began to make. I hadn’t seen her in quite a while, not since before Uncle Gerald went to prison. And this was before the suicide I mentioned to you. I met her at a family gathering, and she was ice cold to me, which didn’t actually surprise me since as I told you on the phone, a number of my family members thought I was a lying bitch.”
“Why on earth did you go?”
“My grandmother was dying and she wanted to see us all together once more. I didn’t mind since I loved her. She’d always supported me. I wondered if she hadn’t somehow known about Gerald, who was her younger brother. Not enough that she knew what he was doing, but that there was something wrong about him, you know?”
Adrian nodded. “Yeah, I’ve met people that just seem wrong, but there’s no telling why.”
“Exactly.”
Suddenly a voice said, “Adrian? Adrian Castle?”
Adrian looked u
p to see one of his clients hovering nearby. “Dave, hi.” The last thing he wanted was someone intruding on their evening, but he had to be polite.
“I didn’t think Shakespeare was your style. Hello,” Dave said, looking Julianne up and down.
“Julianne, this is Dave, one of my clients. Dave, Julianne. She was kind enough to invite me to the theater tonight, and yes I do enjoy Shakespeare. Do you?”
“Not really, but the wife is on the theater board.”
As if on cue, Dave’s wife appeared at his side and Dave made the introductions. His wife, Ellen, was a stunning blonde who stood just short of six feet tall, exactly the sort of woman Adrian had always been attracted to. But on that evening he didn’t even feel a twinge of interest.
They chatted for a while and then Ellen asked Julianne where she’d gotten her dress. “It’s just classic, I love it.”
Julianne gave her the name of the shop. “Ask for Carla,” she added, hoping to throw some business Carla’s way.
“You two just look so cute together,” Ellen said, “like the figures on top of a wedding cake.”
“C’mon honey, Dave said. “I want to snag another glass of wine before we have to go back.”
“Wedding cake?” Adrian repeated softly after Dave and Ellen had disappeared into the crowd.
“I know, right? How funny. Though we do look great. Credit where it’s due and all that,” Julianne told him.
“We do. We really do.” The lights dimmed. “You’ll have to tell me the rest of your story at dinner.”
* * * *
After the play they took a cab to the restaurant Julianne had chosen. “I don’t really know anything about it,” she admitted. “I heard it was nice. I don’t get out much,” she added.
“It’ll be wonderful, I’m sure.”
The interior of the restaurant was a surprise. It was an immense, high-ceilinged, Art Deco room done up like a thirties nightclub with pale walls draped with shimmering white silk curtains, a bandstand with a live band, and a big dance floor. Tables ringed the room, and filled a balcony.
“This must’ve been an old theater,” Adrian observed once they were seated. “Look, there are twinkling lights in the ceiling!”
Julianne looked up and laughed. “I’ve never been in a place like this. How wonderful! I had no idea.”
“Well chosen, ma’am.” He looked out onto the dance floor where couples were swaying together to Moonlight Serenade. “Would you like to dance?”
Julianne bit her lip. She wanted very much to dance, but had to have a little time to prepare herself. She fingered the rubber band that she wore under her bracelet. “I’m a little hungry right now. Maybe in a bit?”
“That would be fine. I’m feeling peckish myself.”
They ordered cocktails, Gibsons because they were popular in the thirties, and split a plate of oysters Rockefeller because Julianne said she’d never tried them.
Adrian admitted that he hadn’t either. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen them on a menu. This place has a really good retro vibe.”
“I’m loving it.”
“So finish your story,” he told her as their drinks arrived.
“Oh, well... so my cousin wasn’t speaking to me, which didn’t surprise me at all. I’d decided not to care about my family except for my parents and grandmother anyway. I had decided I was going to be alone in the world, suffering in silence until the inevitable day when Death came to make me his bride. I wrote tortured poetry about it. You know, typical teenage stuff. But then my cousin, the same one who had been pointedly ignoring me all day, cornered me out near the pool and she was scary angry, just hissing. She said that her parents were divorcing and it was my fault.”
“How was it your fault?”
The waiter placed the plate of oysters between them.
“Wow, those are very green,” Julianne said. She smiled at the waiter, then leaned forward and whispered to Adrian, “Are they supposed to be green?”
“Uh, they’re topped with greens,” the waiter explained, clearly at a loss.
Julianne laughed. “I know, I know how they’re made. I was just being silly. Thank you,” she said with a smile so winning that the waiter beamed.
“You have a way about you, ma’am,” Adrian observed.
“I guess I do. Where was I?”
“Divorce, your fault. Oh my god, these are good,” Adrian told her.
“I’m going to eat first, the story can wait.”
They gobbled down their oysters and finished their cocktails. Adrian began to laugh.
“What?”
“I’m having such a good time,” he told her. “I just needed to laugh, I guess, and be with someone who doesn’t make me feel like I’m always on the spot. Okay so now finish your story before we get stopped again. Divorce, your fault.”
“Right. So she told me that it was my fault and I said “What the hell are you talking about?” and she told me that her father realized that not only had Gerald molested her, he’d molested her mother when her mother was a little girl! Her father was furious that her mother never said anything and was divorcing her and demanding custody of my cousin. Then she shoved me in the pool and stalked off.”
“I... what?”
“I know you don’t get it, but the thing is that abuse victims hate admitting to the abuse. If they never say anything, it’s like it didn’t happen. I refused to admit it for a while, but my parents saw my drawings and knew something was going on. That was when I went into therapy for the first time and the whole story came out. I was so miserable. I thought I’d die of the shame and guilt and the memories that just wouldn’t go away.”
“So you said that the confrontation changed your life?”
“Yeah, they were fishing me out of the pool when I realized how crazy it was for a mother to not protect her child because of that. I mean, I got it but I knew it was wrong, you know? And about a week later I heard that the other girl, the one I was telling you about yesterday, she’d committed suicide and I had this moment of such clarity when I knew I couldn’t end up like that. That dying like that was so much worse than anything I’d endured so far. So I told my parents I wanted to go back into therapy. It got worse for a while, but then it got better. I’m not afraid all the time now, and I don’t want to die.”
The idea that she had ever wanted that made Adrian feel sick. She must’ve seen it on his face because she reached across and touched his hand, and said, “Don’t. Don’t torture yourself with pain that isn’t yours. Life is hard enough without taking anyone else’s icks onto yourself. Oh, Over the Rainbow! Let’s dance.” She gave his hand a gentle tug.
They moved out onto the dance floor and he took her in his arms, gingerly at first. But as they began to move to the music, he pulled her closer and felt her settle into the embrace as if it was the most natural thing in the world for them both. After a few moments, he felt her head lying softly against his shoulder. He could smell the subtle scents of cologne and shampoo, and felt her silky dark hair against his cheek. Julianne took his breath away. Adrian had his own moment of clarity; he was falling in love with her.
Chapter Sixteen
How long had she dreamed of feeling Adrian’s arms around her? And now they were dancing together as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Julianne sighed happily and pretended that they were an old married couple with no cares, no worries, no therapists or horrible pasts. Just two ordinary people who had loved each other forever. Would they end up that way? She wondered. Or was this just one of those things that might have been?
The band drifted from Over the Rainbow into Stardust. Adrian didn’t lead her back to the table, just held her close and swayed to the music.
“This is nice,” she said.
“I was about to say what a good choice it was. What made you choose this place?”
The dance floor, the romantic atmosphere, the prospect of you holding me in your arms, she thought. But what she said was, “My client menti
oned it when he gave me the tickets. Said the food was quite good and the setting was unique.”
“Good call.”
When the dance was finished they went back to their table and ordered their meal and a bottle of wine. Julianne tried not to think about how much of a credit card hit she was going to take over this evening. It was worth it. The evening was like a laundry list of things she’d wanted to do.
“So... tell me about you,” she said. “We talk about me all the time, but you’ve never told me anything about yourself apart from your work.”
“And the bests, worsts, and favorites,” he reminded her. “Oh well, when I think back it seems kind of dull.”
“Most of my life does too. The only exciting things that ever happen to me are ones nobody wants to have happen. What about your family? Any siblings?”
“Oh god no. I was enough for my mother. She had me, regretted it and probably had all her reproductive organs removed and burned on a pyre.”
“Oh no, I’m sure that’s not true.”
“You didn’t know my mother. My father got away as fast as he could after I was born. I never knew him. I was pretty much raised by nannies and then sent off to boarding school. I’m not sure my mother ever actually touched me,” he admitted.
Julianne, who had avoided touch for so many years, was struck with the sadness of his confession. She knew she’d cut herself off from something important, but she had understood what she was missing and had made huge strides back to the point where she could tolerate it from most people. She longed to welcome it. To hear that Adrian had been so touch-starved, not by choice but by the apathy of his parents, made her want to weep.
He must’ve noticed her expression because he said, “Oh don’t worry, I made up for it many times over,” and made her laugh out loud.
“God, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t get all mopey over things like that.”
“No, it’s okay. My mother was horrible and my father wasn’t much better, but I know it. I haven’t spent a whole lot of time and effort trying to get them to love me or anything. I expect they’re why I’m in therapy and I really should be sending them the bills.”