I read it three times. My stomach drops. I sit up straight, the remote sliding off my lap and hitting the floor. I don’t even pick it up.
“Fuck,” I say out loud to the empty room.
I type back fast.
Me: Yeah, it was pretty bad when I dropped her off. She hasn’t told me what happened.
Me: Is she okay? Did he hurt her?
The three dots appear right away.
Scarlett: No. Just yelled. She stood up for herself though.
I stare at the screen until it goes dark. My jaw is tight. I can picture it too clearly. Lucy in that house, her dad standing over her the way he probably always does, voice getting louder, her shoulders pulling in the way they do when she’s nervous. And she still told him about me. She still chose to stand there and say my name.
I rub my hand over my face. My chest feels heavy.
I open my chat with Lucy. I don’t want to push. I don’t want her to feel like she has to explain everything or defend me again. I just need to know she’s okay.
Me: Hey sweetheart. You okay? I’m here if you want to talk.
I set the phone on the coffee table and stand up. I walk to the kitchen, open the fridge, close it without taking anything out. I walk back to the living room. The phone is still dark. I pick it up again anyway.
It buzzes in my hand.
Buttercup: I’m okay. It was bad. But I don’t regret it.
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I sit back down on the couch, elbows on my knees.
Me: You sure you’re okay?
Buttercup: Yeah. Just tired. He was really angry.
I type and delete three different versions of what I want to say before I settle on something simple.
Me: I’m sorry you had to go through that because of me.
She answers fast this time.
Buttercup: It wasn’t because of you. It was because I finally said what I wanted and I’m glad I did.
I stare at those words for a long minute. My thumb hovers over the screen. I want to ask her if she’s still scared. I want to ask if she needs anything. I want to tell her I’ll pick her up right now and bring her here where no one can yell at her. But I don’t. I keep it light because she already has enough pressure on her.
Me: You want to get out of the house for a bit? I can come pick you up after your shift tomorrow. We can just drive around or park somewhere quiet. Just you and me.
The three dots stay on the screen for a while.
Buttercup: I get off at five. I can tell my mom I’m going to the library to study. She won’t question it. Where should I meet you?
My heart picks up. I type back before I can talk myself out of it.
Me: I’ll park a couple blocks from the clinic. Black truck. Text me when you’re walking out and I’ll pull up.
Buttercup: Okay. See you tomorrow.
The rest of the day drags. At four-thirty the next day, I grab my keys and head out. I’ve been thinking about her nonstop since her last message.
I park two blocks away and leave the engine running low so the air stays on. I keep the radio off and just wait for her.
