But it doesn’t feel as simple as guilt over flirting with a stranger when you’re taken. This was friendly banter easily written off by anyone with nothing to hide and no one to be afraid of. Or maybe I’ve got it wrong. Perhaps it’s because she’s attracted to me and knows that’s not right. But the anxious way she’s hushing her child feels ominous. I’m good at reading people. I plan to make a living at it.
Adding to the mystery she throws me a hurried, “I have to go,” before pushing the stroller away from my concerned observations.
“Stacy!” She looks up and pauses, frowning but curious. “Do you have a boy or a girl? I feel like a jerk for running into you a couple times now and not asking about your baby.”
“She’s a girl. Her name is Celia.”
“That’s my sister’s name!”
Her eyes narrow. “No way.”
“I’m completely serious. I’m not joking anymore.”
A sparkle lights her eyes again. “Not joking anymore means completely serious.”
“A lady who understands redundancy and holds the bar higher for my intellect. Can you be any more attractive?”
She glances to the sidewalk as her eyelashes flutter. Within two seconds I’m inside my apartment and running to the door, throwing it open, ignoring Daniel’s curiosity, exploding into the hallway where my sprint takes me down two flights of stairs and a seven step stoop.
My sister said to spy and confirm my suspicions or drop it for good. If he’s hurting Stacy, I will happily take her off his hands. But if not, I’ll go on with my life. At least I’ll have an answer, and maybe I can help someone who needs it. As far as romantic interest goes, I haven’t touched anyone since I met her. My hormones hate that. But nobody has piqued me. Lots of people in the world but none have sparked that what-is-happening feeling I felt when I locked eyes for the first time with Stacy.
I catch up to her and slow down, panting a little. “Hey, how’s it going?”
“What are you doing?” She eyes me from profile, pushing the stroller north.
To home?
It’s my best guess.
We shall see!
“Just thought I’d walk with you for a little while, if you don’t mind.” Staring ahead I remain as friendly and neutral as possible. “It’s a beautiful afternoon, especially with the sun at this particular angle.”
“You don’t talk like other people. How old are you?”
“Damn, you caught me. I was born in another era. I’m actually two-hundred and fifty.”
“Stop it,” she laughs.
I lean forward a little so I can lock eyes with her, insisting, “I am only visiting here. So you don’t have to worry about me falling in love with you. I’ll be disappearing soon and you’ll never see me again anyway. So why not take a casual stroll while we have the sun on our side?”
One of her thumbs is lightly caressing the stroller-bar. I’m trying not to think of that bar as something else. But hey, I’m a man. And I want her. But I’ll take friends if that’s all fate wants to gift me.
“I don’t remember what your name is. It was a weird name, I know that.”
“If you’re going to call it weird then I’m never telling you what it is again.”
“Was it Funk?”
“It was definitely not Funk.”
“Monk?” I shake my head so she tries again, “Junk?”
“That’s it. You got it right. My name is Junk.”
She laughs at my dry delivery and cries out with the cutest smile, “Just tell me what it was!”
“What it is. My name hasn’t changed. What it was is what it is.”
“Okay, okay! What is your name?”
“Tonk. My name is Tonk Jr. Lewis.” Laughing at her expression I explain, “I know it sounds weird. But it doesn’t feel weird to me. It’s always been my name. My father’s name was Leonard Lewis. When he joined a motorcycle club they gave him that nickname because it sounded a little like a thud. When you sound out the word it’s almost like the word bonk. And my dad was really young, the newbie. He’s a good man, very loyal, but not terribly bright. The guys teased him with this nickname, especially Jett, and it stuck. There’s a certain weight to it that I like. Tonk has an actionable pressure when you say it: Tonk. It’s meaty.” She’s been watching me, and her attentiveness is really beautiful. The way she listens and the slowness of her footsteps has made me feel important. I don’t normally reveal intimate things about my personal life with anyone, much less someone I just met. Of course with her, she could ask me anything and I’d vomit it out without thought of consequence.
Even Daniel doesn’t know my family are the key members of a Robin Hood-like vigilante biker club. But then again, he doesn’t know what month it is, either.
“It’s hard to see you with a father who rides motorcycles. You’re so…clean cut. I would’ve expected you to be a lawyer’s son.”
Watching the world pass us by as we stroll in the sunlight, I explain, “My dad and I don’t have a lot in common. He’s blonde haired and blue-eyed. Doesn’t enjoy reading. Loves to fight. For the right reasons. They help people. He’s not picking fights just to do it.” I add, just to make sure he’s painted in a true light.
“I understand.”
“I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately because I moved away from him and my family when I came here to study Psychology and become a family and marriage therapist. It’s given me some distance from who I used to be. I think I was always living in the shadow of what he wanted from me. Do you know what that feels like?”
She stares ahead. “Yes.”
“Where are you from?”
“Michigan.”
“How long have you been living in the city?”
“I moved here three years ago.” Her eyelashes fall to the stroller. “I was going to Columbia.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “That’s where I go. What were you studying?”
“I came here to study business because I heard that was a good thing to major in. But I don’t have an entrepreneurial mind. I’m not really a self-starter.” Defensively she adds, “Except when I’m really passionate about something. Then I have more motivation. But I get distracted easily.”
“We all do.”
“I think I do more than most.” Chewing her lip, she realizes how far we’ve walked. Her back stiffens. “I have to go.”
“Are you happy with him?”
She blinks, the seriousness in my tone unmistakable. “I…what? Why are you asking me?”
“Because…” I trail off.
She frowns and won’t meet my eyes. “He’s the father of my baby.”
“Does he make you happy?”
“That’s not important.”
“Isn’t it?”
Dragging shaking fingers through her hair she says, “I can’t be seen with you. Please, Tonk.”
Of course I stop walking.
I know something is up with this guy now. And I hate seeing her afraid.
She apologizes and I reassure her with a soothing voice, “It’s okay.”
“Thank you,” she whispers.
Beautiful eyes lock onto me as I ask, “Walk with me again tomorrow? Just a walk. Just friends. I’ll be at the faun and bear sculpture in the park at 3:30 PM. Same time you were by my place today, so it’s not far if this is the route you like to take with Celia. In fact I’ll make it 3:15. I would like to be your friend. In fact, I’ll be there every day until you show up—how about that?”
She stares at me a moment, her expression unreadable. Continuing to her home, I watch for a moment before heading back to mine so I don’t get her in trouble.
When I said just friends, I may have lied to my future wife. Not exactly the best way to start a relationship.
CHAPTER 5
STACY
Hairs float on the back of my neck as his key turns in the lock. I hurry to bring Celia to her crib, removing the bottle from her mouth and hoping to God she doesn’t cry. She won’t
latch onto my nipple no matter how hard I try, and she has to eat. Does he want her to starve? I use a breast pump and save the milk in a bottle for her. He thinks it’s cold and wrong.
Tucking the nearly empty bottle behind our bed, I make a mental note to rescue it before it starts to smell. Last time he almost caught on to what I’ve been doing, after I’d forgotten to retrieve one before it expired. He complained about the odor and I took the blame, saying it was my socks. He slapped me and called me a dirty whore. “Why don’t you bathe and clean up your filth?”
It could have been worse, so I didn’t mind that much.
“Stacy, where you at? You better be home. I had a shit day at work and if I find you out with –“
I force a smile and jump into the hallway so that he can see me, walking quickly to him as I say, “I’m right here, baby. I didn’t hear you come in.” Adjusting my bra I flick a glance back to our bedroom. “I was just feeding Celia. I guess I got sleepy. It makes me really drowsy, you know that.” My laugh doesn’t sound too nervous as I gauge his reaction. I’ve gotten pretty good at faking laughter. “What happened at work? Tell me about it.”
He fists my hair, tugging my head to the side so deep I have to bend at the waist. “You think I can’t handle my own shit? I don’t need your help. Why would I tell you? You think I’m dumb just because I didn’t go to college like you did?”
“I think you’re the smartest man that I know,” I sputter, fear’s bile rising in my throat. His intelligence is always the trigger. “I asked because I knew you’d found a smart way to handle what had happened! I wanted to hear about that!”
When I met Vic, he was so impressed with the fact that I’d gotten in on a scholarship, full ride. All I had to pay for was housing and food. He said, “Even your textbooks are covered?” and I saw a glitter of something behind his eyes but wrote it off as surprise, not jealousy or inadequacy.
He used to really brag about that to his friends before we started living together. But he didn’t go to college. He didn’t even finish high school. It was a sore spot and I felt for him. And while a lot of people get away with that, his wasn’t because he didn’t like school. It was because of his temper. Something I didn’t find out about until he gave me a key and I’d already unpacked.
“What’s there to eat?” He releases my head with a shove sending me reeling and grabbing onto the couch so that I don’t fall. “I’m starving.”
Shit, something really happened to him today. He hasn’t been in a mood this bad in a while.
“I…uh…bought us some sandwiches from the deli on the corner today. Just like you asked me to.”
He stalks into the kitchen muttering under his breath, “Good. I need to eat.”
Calming my breath so as not to antagonize him further, I follow him into our small kitchen. It’s not big enough for a dining set. We usually eat standing up next to the counter. He opens the refrigerator and just like all the other times, does not see the extra bottle I have hidden in a container of decaf tea I keep in there. It’s one of those old tin cans they’ve brought back because it’s a retro and cool product design. For me it’s the perfect place to hide things because Victor hates tea and he thinks decaf is absolutely useless in any form.
Dragging the paper bag across chilled, wire shelving, he slams the door, and plants dinner on the counter in front of me so fast I jump.
“How was your day?” he asks, tearing it open.
Shrugging I smile, “Uneventful. I walked to the store to get this for you and then came back home. I’ve just been spending time with Celia. We watched a couple talkshows.”
“Anything interesting?” He mutters as he unwraps roast beef and sharp cheddar. Taking a huge bite he waits for me to hang myself. I know he’s curious if they talked about anger issues, domestic violence, leaving your partner—any of these hot topics. He’s demanded to know before and I slipped up. The idea that I might escape infuriates him and he wants nobody inspiring that.
I used to plot it every night.
“Nothing very interesting. Some people bought a house in another country and had lost it due to…” I stop myself from saying the words ‘civil unrest’ because he would accuse me of sounding too intellectual. He’d be furious, like I’m acting above him again. “Due to war. It was like, just really crazy over there.” I wave it away.
He smirks, “People don't know what the fuck they’re doing. They’re so fucking dumb. Why buy a house in another country anyway? What’s wrong with this country?” He chuckles and shakes his head, scarfing the sandwich in the most unattractive way.
Everybody thinks he’s hot.
I did once, too.
Dirty-hot, I used to call him to the friends I used to have.
We’re not far from Hells Kitchen where most of the gay bars are. Victor enjoys telling me how much he’s whistled at when he walks down those streets. He tells me the dirty things they whisper to him every time he walks by. It used to make me jealous. Then I realized that was his aim. And I felt confused.
“I missed you,” I say out of habit. “I get bored here all alone.”
His fingers run a soft caress down my cheek. “I missed you, too.” He hands me my sandwich I wouldn’t dare touch without him offering it. “Why aren’t you eating? I’m already done.” Unwrapping it for me, Victor breaks off the bite of my turkey and avocado sandwich, and offers it to me. I eat from his hand. He doesn’t do this often, and I know it’s a bad sign.
Nausea spins as the feeding continues. It happens a little faster so I have to chew as quickly as I can in order to make room for the next bite. His eyes grow intense. The hairs raise on my neck again. I swallow hard, wishing I had some water. This bread is so dry. They didn’t put enough mayonnaise on it. I’ll have to ask them to make sure they do that next time. Don’t forget, don’t forget, don’t forget.
Victor wipes his fingers on my shirt and tugs it up. I’m chewing and swallowing as he unzips my pants and flips me around. I don’t know if you can call it rape because I’m not telling him to stop. It would just get worse if I did. He so rarely does this anyway. I can survive it, I can survive it, I can survive it.
He zips up, “I needed that. You ever just need to fuck to release some steam?”
It’s like hearing someone speaking from a parallel universe that you don’t belong in.
I nod because I know I have to.
My daughter needs my strength.
He’s not always like this.
Victor’s just had a bad day at work. He didn’t have the good parents I had. His luck has been bad. He tries, he tries, he tries.
“You wanna watch a movie?” His voice is gentle and loving again. “We could watch anything you want. I’ll even sit through a girly flick and not complain.” His winning smile flashes and I hang onto it for dear life.
“That would be great. Let me get Celia and she can watch it with us.”
He laughs, “She’s only five months old, Stacy. She can’t watch TV yet. But bring her in. Can’t hurt since we’re watching one of your stupid romcoms. You get her while I clean up here.”
As we’re watching one of my favorite brain candy films, the heroine smiles at the handsome hero, and his face is replaced by Tonk’s.
Tonk…the type of guy I never would’ve looked twice at before. He’s pretty-boy handsome, dresses like he’s going for a job interview, except for the bracelets. There’s not a drop of darkness in his soul.
I was always a good girl.
Dark shadows enthralled me.
Now I want to live with light.
But it doesn’t matter, does it? I’m stuck here.
Stuck, stuck, stuck.
As Vik picks Celia up and puts her on his lap, fear slithers into my heart.
If he hurts me and says he loves me, then why would she be exempt?
Exempt.
Another word I could never use here.
“You watching the movie? Why are you looking at me?”
“I was ju
st thinking how that guy is not very cute.”
Victor sneers, “He’s a jackass. There’s no way those two would ever be together in real life. She’s gorgeous. Look at her fucking body. It’s like yours used to be. She would never go for a wimp like him. Girls don’t want a guy like that.”
He touches our daughter’s face, then drops his hand on my knee and goes back to watching the movie.
When we go to bed we have sex again. I’m a receptacle. He pumps away until he’s finished, which doesn’t take long.
It was only after a series of instances, that I realized I might be in an abusive relationship.
Then I found out I was pregnant.
I’ve no idea exactly what day things turned toward a direction I never ever wanted, but I know that when it happened, I denied it, and stuck my head in the proverbial sand.
Proverbial.
He would hate that word, too.
CHAPTER 6
T ONK JR.
A t the base of a stone staircase on the eastern edge of Morningside Park I wait by the iron Faun and Bear sculpture. It stands about seven feet tall, a curious bear overlooking the edge of a rock at a faun, half-man half-goat tucked delicately away below.
I’ve been friends with this silent duo for a week now, every day at 3:00 so I wouldn’t miss her if Stacy decided to show early.
Now I feel as though she won’t. Ever.
“I should have followed her home,” I mutter for the hundredth time. “I was so in the moment that it didn’t occur to me.”
Especially after she asked me to leave. Of course I wouldn’t think to sneak around and stalk her.
This is why I never made a good Cipher.
The first few days I was positive she would come. I thought I saw it in her eyes that she wanted to meet me.
There are different varieties of self-consciousness, and this was the good one. At least that’s what I believed.
Day three, doubts crept in.
Day four, five, six, I hung on by fewer threads.
Now it’s May 7th and my skin is crawling because what if she’s been walking by my apartment this whole time and I could’ve tried another tactic? Or at least offered to watch her house if she needed someone there. Maybe just that suggestion would’ve been what she needed.
Tonk Jr. (Cocker Brothers Book 19) Page 3