Turning Point

by Deborah Busby

  "There you two are," she said a little bit too cheerfully.

  As she stepped out from behind the counter and came into full view, I took note of her outfit. She had on a white halter-top, which allowed her ample cleavage to overflow, and had paired it with a blue jean miniskirt and knee-high black leather boots.

  I wanted to look over at Landon and say, "Remember earlier when I told you how Hannah lives off of attention? Case in point.” Was it possible for my sister to go one day without being the center of attention?

  I turned to Landon, who seemed unaffected by Hannah's outfit. Instead of gawking at her, which most young men his age did, he looked at me with of concern on his face. What was he so concerned about? My sister? My bruised arm? That his admission of having feelings for me would get him fired?

  He seemed to sense I needed a moment alone with my sister, so he touched my shoulder and said, "I'm going to head in the back and finish up with those boxes."

  "Okay," I watched him leave. When I was certain that he was out of earshot, I turned back to my Hannah. "Nice outfit. A little inappropriate for work, don't you think?"

  "Take it easy.” She held up her hands. “I just thought since Landon blessed us with such beautiful scenery while we work that I thought I would return the favor."

  I rolled my eyes.

  "What?" she asked.

  "Nothing. Nice of you to show up to work after over a week off.” I walked right past her.

  "What's that?" I turned and found her, pointing to my side. My shirt had ridden up above my waist, as I had been walking, and just a hint of bruise showed. Was that what Landon was so concerned about? Had he seen it too?

  "Nothing," I responded quickly and yanked the fabric down. "I was walking around in the dark the other night and ran into a door. It's nothing."

  "You're a klutz...either that or you bruise easily."

  "Whatever, Hannah. Are you here to criticize me? Or did you actually plan on doing some work today?"

  "Well, if I’d known you rode your broom to work, I wouldn't have come in at all."

  "I can't believe you’re the older sister. Grow up."

  "Fine!" she yelled at me.

  "Fine!" I yelled back.

  I knew she wouldn't storm out yet. Leaving would look too much like retreat and my sister never backed down. Instead, she stomped over to her table, sat down and proceeded to scowl at me for the next two hours. She looked so pissed off that two customers who came in looking for a palm reading walked right out without even approaching her. Landon came out a couple of times to ask questions and check in but even he sensed the storm brewing between my sister and me and didn't stick around.

  The boy was smart.

  Finally, not wanting to fight with my sister anymore, I gave in, just as I always did. I walked over to where she was sitting, her arms folded, glaring into her lap. I knew she had heard me coming, even though she didn't acknowledge me.

  "Listen, Hannah. I'm sorry. I'm really stressed out, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

  She gazed up at me with her best wounded sister face. "You aren't the only one who has stress, you know. I have stress too."

  Of course, my sister couldn't apologize in return — life had to revolve around her —nothing was ever her fault.

  "I know, sweetie. I'm sorry. Is there anything you need?" I was too tired to fight anymore.

  "Well, actually there is. I have to leave early today," she said brightly. "A friend is having a birthday party and hired me to do psychic readings."

  "Okay," I let out a sigh, "How early?"

  "Now?" She squeaked out in her sweetest baby voice.

  "Sure." I nodded, relenting because there was no way to fight the unstoppable force that was my sister. "Go. Enjoy the party. Give no thought to us little people slaving away back here at the store."

  "Thanks. You're my favorite sister!” She stood and gave me — her only sister — a brief hug. "And just to show you my gratitude, here is some leftover Chai tea."

  She reached back to the table, picked up the half-full mug, and handed it to me. I took the cup from her. She only wanted me to clean it out for her. I didn't drink tea — ever — and she knew that. I watched as she grabbed her bag and was out the door with hurricane speed.

  "Thanks," I said, "Bye." But the store was silent.

  I turned around, headed to the back room to dump it out, and ran straight into Landon. I hadn’t even seen him. My hand went up to his chest, his hands went to my shoulders to steady my balance, and the cup of tea spilled, soaking the front of my shirt.

  "Oh!" I was mortified by our collision. The liquid seeped into my clothes and ran down the front of my body.

  "I'm so sorry. I heard the door, and I was just coming up to check and see if you needed any help. Oh my God. Are you okay?"

  I squeezed my eyes shut tight and nodded. "Don't worry, it wasn't hot. How bad is it?"

  Landon paused for a moment. "Ever been in a wet t-shirt contest?” My eyes flew open, and he chuckled. "Because you would rock at a contest like that, for sure."

  I pressed my lips together. "For someone who claims not to have gotten a boss-flirting manual, you sure have picked it up quickly.” I pointed to the back room. "I'm just going to go clean up."

  He let go of my shoulders and took a step back.

  I hurried into the storeroom and pushed the door closed behind me. I went on the hunt for a box of t-shirts we had printed up for a promotion last year. Every year the town had a sand castle contest, and I had a bunch of t-shirts made for the occasion. I knew they were in here somewhere, but with all of Landon's organization, I couldn't find them.

  "Landon?" I called out just as my eyes found the box I was looking for. Ripping open the top and pulling a clean, dry shirt out, I made certain to get an extra-large, so the sleeves would hang down far enough past my elbows to hide the bruises.

  I lifted my own wet, sticky shirt above my head. As the soggy material hit the floor and I felt the cool air of the storeroom tickle my skin, a gasp came from behind me. I turned and found Landon, staring at me in horror.

  "I heard you call my name..." He didn't finish the last word and took a step toward me, holding out his hand to point at my back. "What happened to you?" he whispered hoarsely.

  I looked down at my fading bruises, horrified that he was seeing me this way but suddenly grateful this same scenario hadn't occurred a few days earlier. The bruises were much lighter now than they were even yesterday, although they still looked hideous.

  "It's not as bad as it looks."

  "Does it hurt?"

  "No. Not anymore."

  Landon stepped toward me. I stood before him in only a bra, my bruises standing out in stark contrast to my pale skin. I saw the reality of my situation — my life — wash over his face as the pieces of our earlier conversation at the beach clicked into place.

  "Anger issues, huh?" he asked me simply.

  I nodded.

  "Fell against a door jamb?"

  I nodded again.

  "Belle," he said in a hoarse whisper and took two giants steps, crossing the room.

  I didn't know what I expected him to do. He was just a child. He’d probably never seen anything like this in his life, if he even knew what it was at all.

  Nothing could have prepared me for what he did next.

  Landon knelt at my side and slowly, gently pressed his lips to a dark purple bruise on the side of my ribcage. I tried to pull back; shocked by the gesture and the surge of emotion it created inside of me.

  "Landon, no. Stop."

  "Shhhh," he whispered against my skin and placed his hands on my waist and held me close to him.

  He continued to kiss my bruises, one by one. His warm lips pressed repeatedly to my skin. It was the most exhilarating feeling...pleasure versus pain. I resisted at first but eventually, slowly, gave myself over to him running my fingers through his hair, touching him for the first time. I held onto him like a lifeline, so overcome by his unexpec
ted tenderness and compassion. Tears stung my eyes and began to roll down my cheeks. I couldn’t stop them.

  The sobs broke one by one from my chest, slowly at first then building up, until I stood there crying uncontrollably. My hands went to his shoulders and his arms wrapped around me.

  In that moment, Landon offered me more than anyone I had ever known — he allowed me to heal. He loved me without hurting me.

  It was all I ever needed, but never gotten.

  After my breakdown in the back room, I pulled away from him, apologized, and pulled my shirt on again. Then I walked out of the room, left the store in his capable hands, and went home without another word.

  Ten minutes later, I curled up in my bed and in my shame, cried myself to sleep. The tears that ran down my face and soaked my pillow were not tears of pain or heartache. They were not tears of the disappointment of my marriage or my life.

  Instead, they were born from relief, because someone finally knew my pain.

    

  I woke up in darkness sometime around ten o'clock. I went into the kitchen for a glass of water and saw my phone, sitting on the counter next to my purse, blinking expectantly. There were two text messages from Landon. Both asked if I was all right. One came in shortly after I left the store and the other was sent about thirty minutes before I woke up.

  The last one said:

  Hope U R OK. Worried bout U. CU TMR

  I thought about calling him — wanted to hear his voice — but I knew it wasn't fair to him. I’d already sucked him into my drama; I wouldn't pull him in further. He didn't have any real understanding how dangerous Derek could be, and I didn't ever want him to find out.

  I typed a quick message into my phone:

  I'm okay. See you in the morning.

  I went back to bed.

  Chapter Seven

  As usual, Landon met me at the front door of Turning Point at nine in the morning, cup of coffee in hand. I did my best to pretend that the previous day never happened. Grabbing the cup from his hand, I brushed past him, opened the door, and he followed me into the store.

  I placed my bag and coffee cup on the counter, reached over and flipped on the computer. When I turned back around, Landon was right there, holding out a piece of paper.

  “What’s this?” I asked curiously.

  “Read it.”

  “Seaside Writer’s Group.” I glanced at Landon, puzzled.

  “It’s a writing group that meets up in Seaside once a week. They get together, bounce ideas around and read each other’s work. It’s all there on the flyer.”

  “And what does that have to do with me?”

  “It has everything to do with you. You’re a writer! This is a writing group.”

  “I’m not a writer, Landon.”

  “Yes, you are. Besides, they only meet once a week, on Monday nights…that’s your day off, right? It’s perfect.”

  He was so hopelessly clueless. Yes, I would love to go to a group like this but Derek would never allow it. Why didn’t Landon understand that?

  “Listen, Landon,” I began, the disappointment in my voice was apparent, “I appreciate it. I really do. But I can’t.”

  “Why not?” he challenged.

  “You know why.”

  “Because of…him?” There was venom in his tone as he said the last word.

  “Because of Derek, yes. He wouldn’t let me do it.”

  “Why does he get to tell you what you can and can’t do?”

  “Landon, stop!” I held up my hand even though I realized it would do no good. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I saw the bruises, Belle, so I do know what I’m talking about.”

  “What? Did you fucking Google that too? Did you go to abusive husbands dot com? A few bruises and an internet search and now you think you’re an expert?”

  I really hoped Landon was going to put the entire episode from yesterday out of mind and let the subject go.

  No such luck.

  "Why does he do that to you?"

  "What?" After what he saw on my body, I suppose it was an honest question. Landon was now privy to my deepest, darkest secret.

  "I'm sorry for putting it so bluntly. I waited as long as I could, before asking."

  I stared at him, not knowing exactly how to respond.

  "So, why does your husband do that to you?" Landon asked again and pointed at my side. The same bruised side that he had gently pressed his lips against yesterday. "Why does he hurt you?"

  I didn't give him an answer right away and instead, began reorganizing the book display as though my life depended on it.

  "Belle?" Landon placed his hand on my arm. I stopped moving, but didn’t look up at him.

  "I don't know." I shrugged my arm away. His hand fell to his side, and my arm suffered the absence of his touch. I wasn’t trying to evade the truth, although I knew he wouldn’t see it that way. I didn't know why Derek took out all of his frustration and anger on me. "What did Google tell you?”

  “I’d rather you tell me.”

  “I guess I'm the closest thing at the time."

  "That's not an answer."

  "Oh, yeah, Landon?" I turned on him at the audacity of his interrogation. My fuse was exceptionally short this morning.

  I’d spent the night tossing and turning, reliving his lips on my body knowing they most likely, would never be there again. In the darkness, I admitted what was happening between us was going nowhere fast. Taking my fear of Derek out of the equation, I wondered how I could have let any of this happen?

  I did this.

  I did all of this.

  It was all my fault.

  By time the sun rose over the horizon, I acknowledged that when Landon walked away from me, which I knew he eventually would, I would never again feel about anyone the way I felt about him. And that was the truth. I was falling in love with a boy, barely a man, I hardly knew. What a horrible thing I had done, allowed myself to hope, to dream of a better life, to love, and to allow Landon to be sucked down this rabbit hole with me was even worse.

  Today was not a good day to challenge me.

  I turned away from him, a pile of books in my arms, and slammed them down on the counter next to me. I swiped a few rogue strands of hair out of my face, turned back to him and looked up into his deep hazel eyes.

  His eyes would not get to me today.

  Today I would be strong.

  Today I would not melt.

  "What, exactly, is an answer you want then? What’s an acceptable reason to get the crap kicked out of you on a weekly basis? You seem to have all the answers, you tell me."

  "It's wrong!" He declared, raising his voice. His outburst seemed to surprise only himself. A look of shock crossed his face and I bit the inside of my cheeks to keep a straight face when I realized that he was upset because he had yelled at me.

  Ha! Landon yelling at me was small potatoes compared to what I had endured from Derek.

  "Yes, it's wrong. Thank you, Mr. Obvious!"

  “Does Hannah know?”

  “No. And you aren’t going to be the one to tell her.”

  He paused as he considered my decree and then shook his head, returning to the more important subject at hand. "Why do you stay? Why do you let him do that to you?"

  "Let him?” I scoffed. “Pick any of the stereotypes you'd like: I love him, I’m pathetic, and I don’t think I can do any better, whatever helps you sleep at night."

  "But none of those is true."

  "And how do you know that? How do you know that I don't love my husband?"

  "Because you never would have come looking for me if you did."

  "Excuse me?" I laughed bitterly. "I did not come looking for you! May I remind you, you came in here looking for work, not the other way around?"

  "But that day, every time I walked past the window, you were there watching me with this look on your face like you needed me to come back.” He took a step toward me, moving i
nto my personal space — so close that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. “I thought maybe you wanted me to come back," he whispered.

  "You’ve completely lost it, you know that? Are you on drugs?"

  "Don't, Belle. Don't do that. You know it's true."

  "And so what if it is? What’re you planning on doing about it, Landon? Are you going to ride in on your white horse and rescue me? Let me tell you something. In my world? Heroes don't exist."

  "Well, maybe they should. Somebody needs to do something since you won’t!"

  "That somebody is not going to be you."

  "Why not?"

  "Because you’re a child!”

  “Wait? I thought I was an old soul. Now I’m a child? Make up your mind, Belle.”

  “What I mean is you don't know the first thing about relationships or marriage or even what you saw. You think you’ve experienced life? You haven't even begun to know what’s out there or what can happen. You have absolutely no idea what it's like to have the one person in the world who’s supposed to love you more than anything, hit you, yell horrible things at you, and tell you that you are nothing..." My voice trailed off, breaking with emotion, and I blinked back tears.

  I would not cry. I would not cry!

  "Why do you want to do anything about it anyway?" I asked him after a moment, in a much calmer voice. "Why is this so damn important to you?"

  "Isn't it obvious? You are important to me. I thought I’d made that clear."

  "I am?" I laughed a cynical, sad laugh. "You don't know the first thing about me."

  "Yes, I do," Landon stated, with a quiet confidence.

  "Tell me...enlighten me! After only a couple of weeks, what on earth could you possibly know about me?"

  "I know that you come in here every morning looking like you’ve just escaped from World War Three. You have this…this empty look in your eyes...as if, everything you ever hoped and dreamed for is lost and you can't find it. I catch you looking at the literature books like they’re old friends...as though you feel you need to apologize to them but you aren't sure where to start."

  Landon took another step toward me. He was only inches from me…much too close.

  "I see you writing," he continued, practically whispering now. "I've seen you sitting down at the beach, in your car, in the back room...always with a notebook. But you’re hiding it, as though you feel guilty for doing what you love."