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9
Rescue
Griffin
Juliana.
It’s embarrassing to admit but having her tell me her name is the most rewarding experience. More than graduating from college, the academy, or any other accomplishment so far in life. It feels like I’ve been gifted with something precious.
Growing up, a German family in our apartment complex gave us a leather-bound book with all of the Grimm Brothers’ fairy tales. It was a Christmas present, and Abuela, never one to dismiss the kindness of others, read the stories to me every single night. She did it both to practice her English and also to spend time with me and my sister. Those nights reading are some of my favorite memories with her.
“Rumpelstiltskin” is my favorite tale in the collection. After hearing the story a hundred times, I developed a similar superstition about the important nature of names. Living for years as a man who doesn’t really exist for this assignment only reinforces the idea. Names are a person’s identity in so many ways. So knowing this woman’s name, a person I already count as part of my soul, is like being gifted breath itself.
It feels good to have Juliana’s gaze on me, her complete focus. The way she holds no fear in her eyes calms me.
She has captivating indigo eyes. They sparkle like geodes, and their color deepens as you gaze further into them. Her laugh lines are beautiful, and I want to see that expression on her face, to witness her unfiltered happiness. I want to be the person who does that for her. I want to bring her joy.
“Well then, Juliana, it’s lovely to meet you.”
Not knowing what to do next, I stand abruptly. She looks up at me a little startled. But before I’m able to move away, she surprises me by patting the bed. She wants me to sit with her?
After everything, it makes no sense for her to be so relaxed around me. For her to want to be near me seems counterintuitive. It’s surprising but no less satisfying.
In the academy, I saw victims and heard stories from the veteran officers about how survivors of violence, especially sexual violence, react afterward. But her face is still trusting, and she looks at me as though I am a longtime friend who came over to visit.
No way in heaven or hell will I pass up this moment.
I move tentatively to her side. She places the straw between her plump lips, and I want to kiss her. Possess her. Protect her. But I suppress the instinct to take what I want, no matter how normal she appears. She’s gone through things no one should have to live through. The wounds I’ve cared for are evidence of that. So I’ll be as patient as she needs. My own desires are secondary to anything she needs. I can’t afford to frighten her or push her away. If I do, I may never gain that trust again.
That kind of loss would crush me.
We sit quietly while she drinks, and she looks around before speaking.
“Why are there no pictures?” Her voice is returning. It’s melodic and seductive with a slightly raspy quality. It only adds to her allure.
It’s not what I was expecting at all. I would think she would want to know where she is or when she can leave. Instead, she’s asking me about pictures? I look around the room, trying to see as she does.
“You have some of athletes, I guess? But nothing personal.”
“Oh, yeah. Well, um… I don’t live here all the time. That’s part of it. But also, I don’t want to leave a whole lot of evidence around that I was here,” I explain. “Wait, do you not know who Craig Biggio is? Altuve?”
Cheeks flush with embarrassment, she redirects. “Evidence?”
Well, I guess this is as good a way to tell her as any.
“Yeah. Um…” I think about how best to tell her. Out of habit, my hand goes to the back of my neck, and I tug at my hair slightly. A curious fire sparks in her face in response. “Look, I can’t tell you a whole lot yet. I need you to trust me, okay?”
“Oh, okay,” is her only response.
Confused by her reaction, I press on. “You’re at the headquarters of Mathieson Enterprises. It’s a compound of sorts. I live here most of the time.”
“Okay.”
“I’m sure you have questions,” I say, thinking maybe a prompt would get her to open up.
“Probably, but not yet.” The way her words feather over me nearly makes me groan. But she’s acting oddly, and I can’t figure out why.
“Look, I want to get you out. This isn’t a place you want to be.”
