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“You won’t ever be good enough.”
“I shouldn’t expect more from you.”
“You’re such a disappointment.”
The words he used to tell a child when no one else was around. That doesn’t even include the things I overheard him say to my mother when he thought I was out of the room or sleeping.
My hands tighten into fists. I had every intention of going straight to Monique’s gallery to check in with her after work. But I don’t want her to see me in this state.
Another round at the underground fight club before I go to see her. It’s either that or the other method I use to alleviate that dark, angry feeling that comes over me. But I can’t bring Monique into that world.
I won’t.
CHAPTER11
Monique
As I look around the now empty space, I can’t believe it. “This is going to be my gallery,” I whisper, which is silly since there’s no one around. The construction crew have gone home for the day.
The progress that’s started in only a few short days since I signed the contract makes my heart soar with pride.
“Mrs. Richmond?” someone calls from behind me.
It’s John, the building owner. His smile is sincere. “I’m closing up for the day.”
I nod. “I just wanted to look around before leaving.”
“Envisioning what it will be like once your gallery opens, huh?”
“Yes,” I admit.
“It’s a great thing you were able to come up with the money for it. In the past three days, I’ve had to turn down three offers to businesses who didn’t know that I’d already contracted with you.”
An image of Diego comes to mind. It’s because of him that I even found this space and was able to afford it without having to take out a massive loan or wait for my grant applications to go through.
My heart squeezes and warmth rolls over me as the memories from the night of Kyle’s wedding flood my mind. It’s been a little over a week and we haven’t been able to see much of each other.
Everything inside of me yearns to see him.
“I’m going in this direction,” John says, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“I’m headed that way.” I point behind me. “See you later,” I tell him and start off for the women’s clinic I found a week ago to volunteer at. There are many in Williamsport, including a women’s shelter where my Aunt Kayla and her family run.
My mom volunteers there as well.
The place I found is called “Victoria’s Home” and is specifically for women and victims of assault.
“Hello, my name is Monique Richmond,” I introduce myself to the receptionist. “I have a six o’clock appointment with Joseline Burke.”
She smiles and checks the planner in front of her, confirming my appointment, before telling me to take a seat. As I do, I notice the pamphlets on the coffee table in front of me.
So many pamphlets on how to get involved with rape prevention, how to advocate for yourself or someone you love, numbers to call, fundraising events, and more. I briefly squeeze my eyes shut to push out the negative memories and thoughts that want to invade my consciousness.
Not only the imaginings of what my mother went through all of those years ago. And how she had to deal with it all alone. But what almost happened to me because I was selfish and dumb.
“Monique?”
My eyes pop open to find a tall Latina woman, not much older than me, smiling before me.
