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I watch her intently, fascinated by this woman who seems to have every reason to be terrified and depressed but might just be the happiest person I’ve ever met.
In stark contrast to the way she scarfed down her risotto, Mia daintily dabs at her mouth with her napkin when she’s done. The bruise on her face has grown darker and her right eye is partially swollen shut. Kat will check her over in the morning, but the sight of her battered features has my ever-present rage bubbling to the surface.
“Who did that to you?”
Her eyes flicker to mine. They’re hazel again now. “My husband. Like you said.”
I knew it. That fucking bastard. “Why?”
“Why?” The bitter laugh sounds unnatural coming from her lips. “You think there’s ever a reason to do this to someone you’re supposed to love?”
I silently curse myself for my careless choice of words. “No, but I meant did something provoke him?”
“Umm…” She presses her lips together as though deep in thought. “This morning it was because the cereal was too soggy.”
My brow furrows. “What?”
“I poured the milk too soon, therefore rendering his cereal inedible,” she says with a resigned shrug.
“So this was a common occurrence?”
“If you call once every other month common, then yes.”
“And it was always your fault, right? You made him act that way?”
“You know the script?” Her smile is sad but genuine.
I heard it many times with my own parents, but I don’t tell her that.
She stares at me so intently that I feel hot under her gaze. “And now you’re wondering why I stayed so long.”
“I never said that.”
“I’d ask me that if I were you. Ten long years I stayed with him. Hoping…” She shakes her head. “But hope’s a dangerous thing, right? Sometimes I think it’s the most powerful force in the universe.”
“You do?” My words drip with derision.
“Yes,” she says, straightening her spine. “We can live without most things, even love. But without hope, well, we have nothing left worth living for.” I frown at her, and she laughs softly. “I take it you don’t agree?”
I shrug. “I think life is full of hopeless situations, but people keep going without it.”
“They keep going because of that little ray of light in the darkness. That’s hope,” she insists.
My skin prickles with annoyance. “No. There isn’t always a ray of light, Mia. Sometimes there’s just darkness and nothing beyond it.”
She leans forward and gentles her tone. “But there’s a ray of light to be found in even the darkest of situations.”
Spoken by a person who hasn’t had their entire world crash down around their ears. The sound that rumbles out of my chest makes it clear I disagree, but she starts talking again before I can argue.
“It’s true. Sometimes you have to look real hard to find it. But it’s always there, even if it’s just the tiniest speck of light. And when you do find it, well, then it’s your job to nurture it until it grows bigger and the light begins to outshine the darkness. Eventually, light will be all that’s left.”
“That’s your philosophy, is it?” I snap, annoyed by her steadfast positivity. If I’m forced to listen to much more of it, she’s going to see just how little light I have inside me.
“It’s the only one I have,” she says in a softer tone.
Feeling the need to change the conversation before she can piss me off with more of her hippie bullshit, I place my palms on the table in front of me and lean forward. “So why did you stay with him?”
If she’s bothered by me shifting the conversation back to her abusive marriage, she doesn’t show it. “Same reasons everyone stays, I guess. First because I thought he could change. I thought I could change him.” She snorts a self-deprecating laugh and shakes her head. “Then I convinced myself it wasn’t so bad. That the good times outweighed the bad. The sex was incredible.” She arches an eyebrow.
