“I know my words don’t mean shit, but I swear I’m not a threat. You are safe here, Lou.” I step away from the door, leaving her ample room to move inside. She won’t have to pass me or feel trapped with me between her and the exit.
“I’ve been over there telling myself that if you were going to hurt me, you’d have already tried,” she whispers from her place on my porch.
“You made it this far, that’s progress enough,” I say. “We can do it from where you’re at.”
“You made it this far,” she repeats, more to herself than me. With tense shoulders, she steps across the threshold, a plate of cookies held so tightly her knuckles are white. She holds them out to me, not making eye contact. “I hope you like chocolate oatmeal.”
“I’m an equal opportunity cookie lover,” I say, taking the plate from her. “These look great. Paige will be jealous.”
“I can make some for her, too.”
“She’d love that. I’ll have her back in eleven days.”
“It’s cute you keep count like that,” she says with a small smile that I take means she’s relaxing into the situation.
“My kid is my favorite person. It’s hard being a weekend warrior parent,” I say. “We video chat every day, but it’s not the same.”
“I bet,” she says and takes another step into the house as I move to set the cookies on the eating bar that separates the kitchen and the living area.
She watches as I pull out the bin that I keep medical supplies in. I sort through the items we’ll need and set them on the counter.
“You left the hospital before you were discharged,” I say.
“Couldn’t afford to hang out there as long as I did,” she says.
I don’t think she means financially.
“Are there other injuries?” I ask. “Besides the ones I can see, I mean.”
“More bruises, a few fractured ribs.”
“Fuck, Lou. How are you moving around?”
“The physical pain is easy,” she says, running a finger over one of the splints I’ve set out. “It’s the other that’s harder to hide.”
Her words are sad. Her delivery is…I don’t know, content or resigned. As if it’s simply the way of life to be burdened withmental anguish. Maybe it is if you’re under that sort of duress long enough.
“When Juliet and I were young, not much older than Paige, maybe ten, I overheard a conversation that Irma had with Jules. She told her to treat all men like a loaded weapon. None of them are safe until you’ve cleared the chamber yourself,” I say, looking her up and down. “I’m assuming this was a man.”
“Yes,” she replies, her eyes watery as she picks at the fraying bandage wrapped around her hand.
“It hit me hard that it wasn’t a warning anyone ever gave me. I got the standard stranger danger talk that I’m sure all kids receive. Girls are different. You grow up with a separate set of dangers. I’m sorry you had to experience that.”
“I’m sorry I never had an Irma to properly deliver the message. She seems like she was a great woman.”
“She was up there with the best,” I tell her. “Can you pull that off and let me see what we’re working with?”
Her whole body shakes as she reaches her hand across the counter to me.
“Can you try?”
“I can.” Barely touching her, I get to work. “Do you have siblings?”
“A brother who is twelve years older than me. Almost to the day,” she says, her eyes tracking my every move. “I was a shock.”
“A surprise, you mean?”
“No, I had it right the first time,” she says with almost a grimace.
