Captive Vow

by Alta Hensley

  I looked down at the lit cigarette in my hand with the smoke swirling around the tip. “I know. I’ve been trying to quit.”

  “Well, you share that curse with my son. I’ve been trying to get him to quit for years. But he’s just so darn stubborn and refuses no matter how much I try to make him see reason.”

  “Momma! Come on! We need to get going.” The deep, booming voice came from a large pickup truck that sat idling in the parking lot. There was a man standing by the open driver’s door with a look of impatience on his face.

  “That’s my son,” Viv said. She waved for her son to come over. “Pope, come meet my friend,” she called out.

  Hating I now had an audience watching me smoke, I dropped the cigarette to the ground and stomped out the flame with the sole of my shoe.

  The man walked over with clenched fists, still leaving his truck running. “Momma, we need to go. I have someplace I need to be in ten minutes and still have to drop you off. I’m late.”

  As he got closer, I could see he was indeed the son of Viv Montgomery. Though she had claimed he was a spitting image of his father, I saw so much of Viv in his appearance. Dark hair, warm brown eyes, and a subtle Asian presence in his face. He was tall with broad shoulders, so clearly he didn’t get his height and stature from his small-framed mother. He wore pressed khakis and a three-button black polo. His hair was slicked back, and he had nicely groomed facial hair. It couldn’t be denied the man was extremely handsome. He was casual yet professional in appearance. Maybe he was heading to a business meeting since he was dressed nicer than any other man in this denim-wearing, cowboy boot-adorned town. If that were the case, and he was indeed late for a meeting, I would try my best to excuse his agitated demeanor. I didn’t like to be late to things either.

  “Let me introduce you to my friend first,” Viv said. “Pope, please meet Demi. Demi, please meet my son, Pope.”

  I gave a weak smile. “Nice to meet you.”

  He didn’t return the smile. If anything, he seemed to scowl before he looked at his mother with stern eyes. Ignoring me completely, he said, “We need to go, now.”

  A pinkish hue tinted Viv’s olive-colored cheeks, as the quivers in her body seemed to intensify. “Oh, I…”

  Her son was a rude bastard. All she wanted to do was introduce us, and she had been so excited about it.

  Clearly irritated, he grabbed Viv by the wrist, which made her flinch in pain. I glanced down at her raw and bruised flesh and remembered how I had seen the injury on her wrists earlier. Pope didn’t seem to care, which made me want to kick him in the balls—hard. Now I wondered how she’d actually gotten those bruises and damaged skin. Did he have any part in it? Was it possible for a son to hurt his own mother? Was Viv Montgomery in danger, and should I make a call to Elder Protective Services?

  Trying to not pick a battle that wasn’t mine, I swallowed back all the words I truly wanted to spew. “Let me walk you to your truck,” I said, managing to control my anger. I knew the last thing Viv would have wanted was for me to cause a scene, even though it took all my might not to.

  “I have it handled,” Pope snapped as he pulled his mother to his side, leading her away.

  He didn’t look at me at all which I suppose was a good thing. If he had, he would have seen my anger and distaste for him. Viv was a frail little old lady, and he was handling her like a criminal. Her tiny little body next to his much larger and muscled one were polar opposites. Strong versus weak. Young versus old. Bad versus good.

  Viv looked over her shoulder at me with a worried look as she was led briskly to the truck. “Another time, dear. When my son doesn’t have to be somewhere…”

  I gave her a reassuring smile and lifted my hand to wave goodbye. Pope tugged her again, which forced her to look away from me. My heart went out to the woman. I knew her well enough to know she was embarrassed by her son’s behavior—who wouldn’t be—but I wasn’t going to make her feel worse by appearing as if it had bothered me. At the very least, the asshole did assist her into his high truck by lifting her gently inside. Once he closed the door and walked around to his side of the vehicle, he did take a split second to glance at me and in that fleeting moment, we locked eyes. Hopping in, reversing the truck, Pope and Viv drove off, leaving me with a sick feeling in my stomach.

  I needed another smoke. I knew it was bad, but I didn’t actually get to finish the first one. Maria did say I could take my time, and I had covered for her many times in the past. However I wanted to justify it, once again, my body demanded I smoke another. I was weak, and my urge was strong.

  Lighting up another cigarette, darkness knocked at my door. What time was it? What time was it? What time was it? Three gut wrenching knocks to my delicate psyche.

  I glanced at my watch, not being able to resist. 1:59.

  One minute left. My mother had one minute left.

  What was she thinking? Was she scared? Was she crying? Was she finally having regrets? Was she thinking of me as I was thinking of her?

  Thirty seconds…

  Was there a heaven? A hell? Where would she go? Would she meet the devil himself?

  Fifteen seconds…

  Would the families of the murdered men get closure now? Could they heal as they all deserved to do?

  Five seconds…

  Would I survive this? Or was I doomed to be fucked up forever? Was it possible to find closure of my own?

  Two o’clock. Death time. The end.

  It was two o’clock and my mother was dead. Maybe not quite yet since I assumed the lethal injection took some time to work, but the end was now. No more appeals. No more waiting. My mother was dead.

  The sound of crying surrounded me. A loud, all consuming wail ricocheted off the brick building of the diner and engulfed me in the miserable sound. I was on my knees, staring at the cigarette I had dropped, still burning on the asphalt.

  Warm arms were around me, rocking me back and forth. “It’s all right, Demi. I’m here. I’m here.” Maria spoke the words. She was holding me. It was then that I realized those anguished howls were my own. I couldn’t breathe as I cried into the shoulder of my friend. Over and over, she rocked me until she softly asked, “What’s going on?”

  I shook my head, not wanting to tell her the truth. What would she think? How could I even say the words? The fabric of her shirt was now soaked to her skin as I continued to sob. I couldn’t stop, and I feared I never would.

  “You’re scaring me. Are you hurt?”

  I shook my head again.

  “Please tell me what I can do.” The sound of desperation in her voice and the way she held me told me she cared. Maria truly cared.

  “My mother,” I began to confess, “is dead. She died.” That was all I could say. Those words were enough. And as I hiccupped and choked on my own agony, Maria continued to rock me like a mother consoling her baby.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered against my hair. “I’m here. I’m here.”

  Maybe it was an hour, or maybe it was five minutes. Time had no bearing in my grief. But finally my tears dried up, and my heart seemed to beat again. Pulling away from Maria’s shoulder, I looked into her tear-filled eyes. “Thank you.” I could see she was pained by my sorrow, and I knew she didn’t have to be there for me. “Thank you,” I repeated, not sure how to express what it meant to me that she was there.

  She helped me up off the ground and wiped her hands on her apron. “Are you going to be okay?”

  I nodded, though I had no idea what the true answer to that question really was.

  “I want you to go home. I’m going to go back in and cover your shift.” When I opened my mouth to argue, she raised her hand in the air. “Go home, Demi. You just lost your mother and are in no condition to work. I have this covered. Go home.”

  Feeling the wobble of my knees, I knew she was right. I’m sure I looked like a disaster with red, swollen eyes, and I seriously doubted I could speak more than a few coherent words at a time.

/>   “Okay,” I softly said. “Thank you.” I appreciated she wasn’t asking for details. She wasn’t firing questions at me I didn’t want to answer. I wasn’t sure I could answer even if she did.

  “I’ll check on you after work.”

  “No, please. Get home to your baby. I’ll be fine. I just want to close my eyes and escape the pain.” I gave her a weak smile. “Or I’ll run away and join the circus. Start a whole new life. One where I don’t have to face my shitty past and present.”

  Maria smiled warmly and gave me a hug. “You better not leave. You owe me a shift trade now.”

  Enjoying the security of her arms around me, I whispered, “Thank you. You are a good friend.”

  She pulled away from the hug and wiped at the last tears on my cheeks with her fingertips. “I’m so sorry about your mother. I can see how much she meant to you. But right now you need to go home, take a sleeping pill, and face the new day tomorrow. You’re strong. You got this.”

  I took a deep breath, happy I had Maria’s strength to count on. “Okay. Thank you.”

  As she led me to the break room to get my stuff, she teased, “You would make an awful clown at a circus anyway. So I guess you are stuck at Blossoms Diner with me forever.”

  4

  Two sleeping pills and two large glasses of wine to wash them down with, and my tiny couch was calling my name. I considered going straight to bed, but since it was still the middle of the day, the couch seemed less depressing. The light blue, rough-textured couch was actually the only piece of furniture which I owned that hadn’t once belonged to someone else. Every piece of furniture scattered around my tiny apartment was either acquired from a second hand store, a garage sale, or given to me by someone who had bought something new and now considered their old piece of furniture trash. It wasn’t like my couch was anything fancy. It was part of a Labor Day blow-out sale, and it had a small stain on the cushion, hence the extreme discount, but it was all mine, and it was new. And the day I purchased that luxury item was memorable. I had suddenly felt like an adult. As if buying a couch finally gave me the adult card that allowed me access into the special adult club. Growing up with few possessions, I was one who never gave value to things such as fancy furniture. But that little blue couch gave me a sense of comfort every single time I walked into my apartment. It stood out to me against my brown and dull carpet. It shined and sparkled in a white-walled room. It was mine. It was a symbol that I would emerge from whatever hole I felt trapped in. It promised a time when I would someday drag myself out of my self-imposed prison and find the normal I so desperately craved. A blue couch was normal, and I now had a tiny piece of it.

  Normal.

  Someday I would be normal.

  But today was not that day…

  So, all I had was my normal couch to count on now. I could lie under a thick blanket and drift away as I watched a mindless movie as normal people often do.

  Stumbling my way over to the living room after putting on sweatpants and a white tank, feeling a bit light-headed, I realized I might had gone a bit overboard on drowning away my sorrows, but at the same time, I really didn’t care. I was a fucking disaster. But I also think it was fair to say that anyone would have given me a free pass for being one.

  There was a faint knock on the door and I paused, wondering if I was hearing things. My head was heavy, and I could barely keep my eyes open, so it was likely I could be hallucinating sounds too. There was another knock and then a third. It was too early for Maria to be stopping by and checking on me, so I questioned if I should even open it. Salesperson maybe? When the fourth knock came, I made my way to the door on shaky legs, feeling whoever this person on the other side was, wasn’t going to go away until I answered.

  Cracking the door open, I struggled to process why the little old lady was at my door. “Viv?” I opened the door the rest of the way. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m so sorry I dropped in unannounced like this. I wanted to come by and apologize for my son’s behavior.” She had her tiny hands clasped in front of her as she looked down at her feet. “May I come in?”

  I stepped to the side and motioned for her to enter, too stunned to do anything else. “I’m confused. How did you know where I lived?”

  She looked around the apartment—no doubt taking in my lack of decor—as she stood by the couch that was still calling my name. “I went back to the diner after my son dropped me off. I couldn’t leave having you think ill of him. It killed me knowing you may think so.” Her body shook as worry washed over her face.

  It seemed odd Maria would have given her my address, especially knowing how upset I was. But maybe she thought Viv could help in cheering me up. “We all have our bad days. I’m sure he was just in a rush,” I reassured her. “I hate being late for appointments too.” I didn’t mean any of what I said and still felt her son was an asshole, but if putting her mind at ease was what she needed, then I would.

  She clapped her hands together. “Oh, I’m so happy you understand. Yes, he had an important business meeting. He’s liquidating assets in a company he had a large stake in. He was…” she paused, looking pained by her thoughts, “he is a very successful and wealthy man. So sometimes work can be very demanding for him.”

  Figures. It seemed all wealthy men were assholes. At least the wealthy men I had encountered. Assholes. All assholes.

  “I thought you said he was a pilot.” My head swam with the booze and pills, and I worried that if I didn’t sit down soon, I would collapse. So, I walked over to the couch and plopped down.

  She looked down at me but remained standing. “Oh he is. As a hobby rather than a profession. He bought and sold companies before…”

  “Before he went to prison,” I finished for her, feeling it was always better to address the elephant in the room rather than skirting around it.

  “Yes, before that.”

  Yawning big, I said, “To be honest, I didn’t like watching him hurt you.”

  “He didn’t hurt me,” she defended. “Not at all.”

  I glanced at her damaged wrists. “He grabbed you.” I pointed at her injuries. “How did you get those marks?”

  She covered her wrists with each of her hands, trying to conceal what I could already see, and what I had already seen at the diner.

  “Did he do that to you?” I asked, even though I was pretty sure I already knew the answer was yes. The look on her face and in her eyes revealed I was correct in my assumption.

  “Not on purpose,” she continued to defend. “It was because I tried to break free.”

  A thick fog of sleep was rolling in, so it was getting harder to comprehend the conversation. What she said made no sense to me. “What are you talking about? Break free?”

  “Oh, it’s complicated. It has to do with my condition. Just know my son is a good, good man.”

  Exhausted, and not feeling able nor wanting to discuss this any longer, I decided to table it for another day. “I’m sorry, Viv. I’m not feeling very well,” I said as I rubbed my eyes with my hands. “I really need to get some sleep.”

  “Oh you poor dear,” she said as she came to me and placed her soft hand on my forehead. “Do you have a fever?”

  I shook my head. “I just need to sleep.”

  She glanced at the empty wine glass on the coffee table. “Let me get you a drink of water. I bet you’re dehydrated. You sit right there.” Without waiting for an answer, she walked over to the kitchen. I could hear a few cabinet doors open as she searched for where I kept my glasses, followed by the water running in the sink. A few moments later, she brought the glass of cool liquid to my lips, not giving me a choice but to drink from it. Her hands didn’t tremble at all which was surprising considering how badly they had shaken earlier in the day.

  “Thank you,” I said, wanting to be polite but really wishing she would just leave me be so I could drift off into the abyss of sleep.

  She forced me to drink some more. “This should make yo
u feel all better.” Looking at me with the most tender of eyes, she asked, “Is everything okay?”

  Fresh tears began to well up, and my lip quivered as I said, “It’s been a tough day.” A warm tear fell down my cheek. “I just want to close my eyes, wake up tomorrow, and start a new day. A new life. A new everything.”

  She wiped at a falling tear with her tiny and frail hand. “I’ve often wanted to do that too. But it’s not always that easy. Your demons always remain inside you, so no matter where you go, they go too. You have to learn to fight them off instead.”

  “They’ve won. There are more of them than me, and they have won.” My words slurred together in one jumbled mess.

  “No, dear. You are a strong woman. I can see that. You have such a wonderful life ahead of you. I know this with all my heart. You will find love and live happily ever after.”

  Giving up on fairytales years ago, I simply shook my head.

  “You’ll see,” she reassured. “You’ll wake up, and a brand new life will be waiting for you.”

  Finishing the last of the water, I rested my head against the pillow and closed my eyes. The pills were winning. “Viv, I’m really sorry for being so rude. I took some sleeping pills before you arrived, and I really need to just go to sleep. I appreciate you coming by, but would you mind coming back another time? Or maybe we can talk tomorrow at the diner.” I hoped my words were more coherent to her than they sounded to me in my fuzzy head.

  She reached for the blanket and covered me with it, tucking it under my chin. “I completely understand. But I insist on staying until you fall asleep. It’s the least I can do for causing all the trouble today.”

  I didn’t have the energy to argue with her, so I closed my eyes, nodded slightly, and snuggled into the blanket, ignoring the awkward fact that Viv stood over me, watching.