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I press on my phone again to call and it finally goes through. Typical. As I speak to the operator and explain the situation I watch David as he is forcefully walking the man backwards towards his van. The guy tries to fight him off as he stumbles, but he may as well be hitting stone because David is immovable. He doesn’t falter. I watch in my rearview mirror as their blurry outlines get farther away when David pins him against his own van, hands behind his back. The operator tells me they’ve contacted the closest officers and they’re minutes away.
Several long moments pass, and it feels like I’m going to lose my mind waiting. I can see that David is still pinning the man to the van, with his arms held behind his back as he struggles against David’s hold. Just a few minutes later I see police lights from far away getting closer and closer. I breathe out a breath of relief. The police car parks behind the van and I can make out two more figures joining David. I get out of my car now, pull up my hood and slowly walk to the back of my car and stand there, not sure if I should talk to the officers yet or not. I hear muffled voices and David slowly releases the man, who tries to lunge at David before the cops grab him and restrain him.
David immediately turns and walks towards me, his steps hurried and frantic. He reaches me and I immediately wrap my arms around his neck, my hood falling back and rain soaking through me completely. His arms are around me instantly, lifting me and holding me so tight.
“You’re okay,” he says again, but this time I can hear the words as well as feel them.
I cry into his neck, great big ugly sobs that I had been holding back. “Thank you for coming.” I say it over and over and over. His grip around me only tightens and I feel the warmth radiating from him, as it always has. It fills my coldness and covers me.
“Always. I’ve got you, sweetheart.”
FIFTY-FIVE
NOW, SUMMER
It feels like my bones are soaked, colder than they’ve ever been. Can bones be cold? Can you even feel your bones? I have never thought about that before.
“Ana, where do you want me to take you?” David asks as he helps me into his car, after answering a million questions from the police officers and making a statement. I barely remember what I said but I’m pretty sure that I pulled the ‘my dad is a lawyer and you’ll be hearing from him’ card.
“Home,” I tell him.
“You don’t want to go to Madeline and Elliot’s?” he asks, making sure. “Can I call them?”
I shake my head. “Home,” I repeat, my voice hoarse and barely a whisper. Why is my voice hoarse?
So David drives us to my apartment and parks the car. He must carry me inside because suddenly I’m in my little foyer, dripping wet and shivering. It shouldn’t be this cold, it’s almost summer, right?
“Ana, you’re scaring me. Maybe we should go to the hospital. Just to make sure everything is okay?” David asks, tenderly. He’s just as soaked. His rain jacket doing nothing to stop his coaching uniform from being sopping wet, sticking to him.
“I’m okay,” I whisper.
“I know, but you’re probably in shock. And that’s okay,” he says. I nod my head, thinking that that makes sense. I try to remember what shock feels like. I’ve felt it before but I forgot how disorientating it makes you. This time feels different than the last time I was in shock.
David nods his head. “Okay, how do you feel now?”
I must have said that last part out loud. Oops.
“Like—” I take a breath and shake my head, trying to clear the fog. The haziness. I don’t want to feel like this anymore. The last time I felt like this I wanted to die. I don’t want to die this time, I just don’t want to deal with it. “Nothing even happened,” I say, eyebrows furrowing. “Why am I so worked up?”
“It could have been really bad. You were almost assaulted, Ana. That’s not nothing. That’s traumatizing,” he says softly. He still stands about a foot away from me. “You should change into something dry and warm.”
I nod, thinking that that sounds like a good idea. I unzip my rain jacket and it drops to the floor. I go to unbutton my pants and David grabs my hands to still them. “Not here, Ana.” His eyes wide. “Let me call Madeline. She can help,” he pleads. I nod my head and his shoulders drop in relief. He steps away and pulls his phone out of his jacket pocket which has miraculously remained semi dry.
I turn and walk towards my bedroom, and when I walk inside I unzip my work pants, letting them drop to the ground. I pull my underwear down and step out of them both. I strip my shirt off and walk to the dresser to grab some sweatpants and a hoodie. I put them on robotically, barely noticing what I’m even doing.
“Ana?” I hear David call from outside my room.
“I’m clothed,” I call back. He steps inside cautiously, like he isn’t sure if I am telling the truth or not. He sees that I am in fact clothed and he walks to stand in front of me.
“You don’t want to take a hot shower or anything right now?” he asks. I walk by him and out to the living room. He follows along quietly. I sit on my couch and lean back, letting my head drop behind me and look up at the ceiling.
“I was so scared,” I whisper.
“I know,” David says, matching my volume.
“Nothing happened. It could have been worse,” I muse. “So many others have had it worse.” I think for a moment before saying, “But it was still really scary.”
“Just because it could have been worse, doesn’t mean what you experienced is any less,” he says and it reminds me of what I once told him about grief. My fog lifts the tiniest bit. I look over to David who is standing beside the couch, clothes still wet.
