Reclaim Me Read online

  “No, that’s not necessary. May I?” He took the wallet to inspect my license. My fire identification badge was right below it, and he noticed it right away. “PFD? Which house?”

  “Firehouse 8. My name is Jack McCoy. My friend, Rita, asked me to come and check on Willow. She said Willow was assaulted by her boyfriend, fled from her apartment, and hid in here. She has a spare key.”

  The cop nodded and continued his investigation, “Do you know what exactly happened up there?” He poised his pen over the report page to jot down my answers.

  “Only that Willow ran and hid. But when I arrived in here and was about to knock on the door, I saw a guy going up the stairs. He was agitated and inquired about Willow.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I told him the truth—that I hadn’t seen her. That was before I even knocked on the apartment door. He ran up the stairs, and that was it. Willow wouldn’t let me go there.” I shook my head, keeping my resurfacing frustration in check.

  The Raquel Welch look-alike asked Willow several more questions, including one about a history of the abuse. I could tell Willow struggled with the reply, and that didn’t sit well with me. That asswipe of a boyfriend must’ve hurt her before—either physically or emotionally. Or both. I made a mental note to get more out of Willow about that if she didn’t give the cops a clear answer. She said Seth—that was his name—has never physically assaulted her before. That, at least, put me more at ease.

  After the police report was completed, the male cop said, “Miss Conrad, I advise you go to the emergency room to have your injuries examined right away. It is important to get a proper medical attention but also to acquire a report from the medical staff.”

  “Will you arrest him?” Willow asked, twisting the hem of her sweater in her hands. “I’m afraid he will come back and…”

  “We will obtain an arrest warrant. Since the perpetrator fled the scene, we aren’t able to arrest him on the spot,” the female cop explained. “You may consider filing for a restraining order. That would need to be done in person at the county courthouse.”

  I looked at Willow, hoping she wouldn’t for some strange reason object to that advice. She nodded and gingerly touched her cheek, as if remembering the injuries Seth inflicted on her. I doubted she was able to forget even for a moment.

  The male officer pointed to her face. “Take some photos today and in two or three days again.”

  “Why in two or three days?” Willow’s eyes grew round.

  “Because the bruises will change in appearance then, so the comparison to today’s photos may be beneficial to your case, ma’am. Save the photos in at least two different places to make sure you have a backup.”

  That cop was sincerely trying to help, and I appreciated that a lot. “We’ll snap some pictures right away,” I said to Willow.

  She nodded, but didn’t comment.

  The police left a full copy of the statement, along with their cards, in case Willow and I needed to call if anything new happened or if we remembered any more details to add to the report.

  “Do you know where he went?” I asked.

  “I’m sure he took off as soon as he noticed the police car from the window. But it’s anybody’s guess where he is, now. Probably went to one of his buddies.” Willow frowned. “He has a sister in town, but they aren’t close. In fact, she doesn’t want to do anything with him.”

  “Do you know her phone number? Her address?” I asked.

  “I gave the police her name and phone number. She works at the Bank of America branch in Lloyd District. That’s the only phone number for her I know.”

  “How about his friends? Did you give the police any names and addresses?”

  “I know a few of them, but have no idea where they live or work.” She shook her head and started to pace. “Seth mentioned his uncle a few times. He lives somewhere in Oregon. Down south maybe?”

  Before I opened my mouth to say anything else, she stopped me. “Look, Jack. Thank you for coming here. I really appreciate this, but I need to take care of this mess myself.”

  “I wasn’t trying to impose. Just came here to help.” I tried very hard not to feel taken aback. Was she still upset about what happened with us in the past? Maybe. I know I was, but then again—I was the one to blame. “Okay, listen. I’m not sure what you might think, but I really didn’t know who I’d find here. When Rita called and asked me to come here and check on you, I simply agreed, without questioning who I was offering my help to. You seem to think this was somehow arranged or something. No, it wasn’t. Rita, most likely, has no idea that you and I used to date.”

  “Is she … is Rita your girlfriend?” Willow asked hesitantly.

  “Rita? No, not even close. She’s just a good friend.” I couldn’t help laughing, but stopped abruptly when Willow’s expression changed. She looked … relieved. Or maybe I wasn’t reading her well.

  “She’s my good friend, too. My best friend, really.” Willow stood up abruptly and asked, averting her eyes from me, “Do you want anything to drink or eat?”

  “No, I’m fine. Go ahead, but then I’m taking you to emergency room,” I stated and took my phone out. “Let’s take those photos.”

  She didn’t argue. She was still the same quiet girl I remembered from high school—nice to everyone, always putting others’ needs ahead of her own, and giving all she could, no matter who needed her help. She was never one of those popular girls back in school—quite the opposite, really. The popular chicks had always given me shit for dating her. But I couldn’t have cared less. Willow was my first and only love. I just wished I knew back then how special she was, and how stupid I was for not realizing what I should’ve given her.

  “Let’s go to the kitchen. I want something hot to drink. You can take the pictures there.”

  I followed her to the kitchen, deep in thought, remembering our time together. I was an idiot back then—a testosterone-driven, angry teenager who couldn’t avoid fights and other kinds of conflict. I was drawn to anything that meant potential trouble. That was my way back then. Willow tried to save me, to make me a better person. But even she couldn’t do that. She put up with me for three years until prom night, when she finally called it quits. I knew it was my own damned fault and I got what I deserved.

  “So, what do you do for living?” I asked, desperately trying to quiet the uproar in my mind. I couldn’t think of that rocky past now. This wasn’t the time.

  I turned the ceiling light on and asked her to stand still for the pictures. I took several of them with my phone and hers. And then it hit me—these were the first pictures of Willow I’d have since we broke up years ago, and they weren’t the kind I would ever want to see of her.

  She put the kettle on the stove and turned the knob. A series of clicks sounded and the fire sprouted from the burner. For a moment, I watched the blue-and-yellow tongues of fire lick the metal kettle, but then I had to quickly avert my eyes. Fire always reminded me of my time served in Afghanistan. I witnessed too many tragedies there, too much death and suffering; and fire always seemed to be the part of those memories. It was strange to remember mostly the fire, but maybe that was my way of coping with the horrors of that place.

  “I teach Kindergarten at Highland Elementary,” she said, opening one of the cupboards and pulling out a white mug. “Are you sure you won’t have any tea?” She turned to look at me.

  My heart constricted at those big blue eyes framed by the bruises and at her sad swollen face. I wanted to pull her close and hold her, but I couldn’t do that. She wasn’t mine anymore. That thought immediately roused my anger, because she, in fact, belonged to another man—a man who physically and, most likely, psychologically abused her. He had to pay. There was no way in hell I would let that go. I would find that asshole and break each bone in his body.

  Willow asked me not to go after him, but how could I honor that request? Or could I? Wasn’t that just how I used to respond to her pleading with
me in the past whenever I was about to get into another fight, or start any other kind of trouble? I’d always had a reason to justify my actions, while her reasoning never stood a chance.

  “Jack?” her gentle voice brought me back. Her eyes opened wider as if wondering what was on my mind. She didn’t need to know.

  “Ah, yeah. Sorry.” I smiled. “Got lost somewhere in here.” I pointed to my scull.

  She nodded. A shadow of a smile crossed her face. She lifted the mug and her eyebrows in a silent question.

  “Okay, I will have a cup.” I shrugged. I wasn’t a tea drinker, but that hardly mattered now. I just wanted to make Willow feel comfortable around me. The barrier between us seemed to grow with every passing moment. I felt its overwhelming size loom over me. She probably felt it too.

  Willow took another mug from the cupboard, inspected it, and put it back. She stood on her tippy toes and tried to rummage inside. “I can’t reach it.”

  I got up, took three large steps, and stopped behind her, looking inside the cupboard. There were two more mugs on the upper shelf but they were pushed to the back. I reached past her arm and my chest bumped against her head. Something so familiar, but also forgotten stirred inside me. A faint fragrance of her perfume, mixed with her own scent, wrapped its soothing fingers right around my heart, and I remembered more—her touch, her laugh, and all that she gave me all those years ago. All of that sweet goodness I had thrown away with my stubborn, stupid actions.

  My hand shook when I clasped the mug, and I had to concentrate on keeping my fingers wrapped around the handle or the mug would clatter onto the kitchen counter and break.

  “Thank you.” She reached out and took it out of my hand, turning to look at my face.

  A pang of sadness ran through me. How could she be such a gentle person? Even after that asshole beat her up so badly, she wouldn’t let me set the record straight. Or, did she love him? God, did she really? That would be horrific. She deserved so much better. She deserved to be cared for, protected, and loved with no boundaries.

  Before I could say anything, she turned away and busied herself with getting the tea ready. The kettle whistled feebly on the stove, blowing out the steam in a steady rush. I turned the knob and moved the kettle onto another burner.

  “Careful, it’s really hot,” Willow said quickly. “Oh, sorry. That’s the Kindergarten teacher in me.” She chuckled. The sound of that little laugh was amazing. It made me grin and forget why I was even here. This was the Willow I remembered.

  I stood, gaping at her, a silly grin plastered on my face.

  “What?” she asked, still smiling, but only with the right side of her mouth. The left side of her lower lip was swollen and, although it had stopped bleeding, it looked painful.

  I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t want to spook her with some idiotic declaration, so I just shrugged and changed the subject, “How do you like teaching little kids? It must be difficult at times, right?”

  “Yeah, at times it is, but I can’t complain. I love working with children because, to me, it is a fulfilling career. They are so capable, so eager to try new things. I feel blessed to be the one to teach them all they need to learn at school.” Willow picked up the kettle from the stove, carefully removed the whistle, and poured hot water into each mug. She held the tea bags by the threads, dipping them in and lifting them up half-way out of the water, until the liquid became dark-brown. She finally removed them and dropped them into a small ceramic bowl on the counter.

  I watched, fascinated how efficient and coordinated her movements were, and how composed she remained, regardless of what happened to her today. Or was that only today? Was she abused more than once? If so, why had she stayed with that man? Maybe this wasn’t completely my business, but I had to ask. So I did, “Willow?”

  “Mhm?” she didn’t look up from the mug of hot tea, but remained staring into the contents as if seeing something mesmerizing in there. Her hands were wrapped around the mug. I noticed a Band-Aid on her thumb.

  “I know you already told the police, but I need to ask this again, and I hope you will answer honestly. Has he ever mistreated you before?”

  She didn’t look at me. She didn’t say anything, either. I waited. My cell phone vibrated in my pocket, but I ignored it for now. It could wait.

  I reached my hand out to her. “Willow, please.”

  Her eyes flicked to my hand, and she inhaled deeply. She lifted her face and looked at me. The swelling around her cheek had gotten bigger and the bruising seemed to spread even more. I had to take her to the emergency room really soon.

  Willow turned to the sink, tore a piece from the paper towel roll and, folding it into a square, ran it under cold water.

  “He’s … lost, he needs help,” she said. “I’ve been with him for five months, and although he’s never hit me before, he gets angry often. In the past, he’s yelled at me, or would just leave and slam the door on his way out; but he’d always apologize and promise not to do that again.” She gently patted her lip with the wet paper towel.

  Why would she stay with that kind of a person? I knew exactly why. Unless she had completely changed in the last few years, I was pretty sure my answer was spot on: Willow was the kindest soul alive. She practically lived for helping others, even if that meant sacrificing her own safety, her dignity, and her happiness. It wasn’t easy to understand Willow. Back when we were together, everyone with at least an ounce of sense questioned her sanity, because putting up with a wild, completely fucked up guy—like I’d been back then—was far from any normal teenage girl’s dream.

  She took a spoon out from a drawer and leaned over her mug. I moved closer to her, bracing myself on the kitchen counter on my outstretched arms right across from her. I didn’t want to crowd her, so I kept my distance, but I stayed close enough to be in her line of sight. Willow drank the tea from the spoon, careful not to touch the sore spot on her lip.

  I drummed my fingers on the counter. “Okay, so you stayed with that guy because you hoped to change him for the better. Am I right?”

  She blew on the steaming liquid in the mug and then scooped some with the spoon and blew more. Finally, she sighed and gently put the spoon back into the mug. “There is some good in every person. It just needs to be extracted and nourished in order to blossom.”

  I could hardly agree with that, but what did I know? I used to be one of those fucked up people. Finally, the four years of service with the Marines broke me and put me back together the right way. I still had a really short fuse and my temper flared way too often, but that was just a small residual from my wild past.

  “That is a neat philosophy, Willow, but, as you can see, it doesn’t always work. You can’t try to change twisted minds without getting hurt in the process.” I watched her, hoping she didn’t shut me out after hearing my opinion on the subject. But I couldn’t just nod in approval when I didn’t share her views.

  She cleared her throat and said, “I agree that I’m not completely equipped to handle extreme cases, like Seth. But I just tried to help him and save our relationship.

  I wanted to bang my head against the wall. I was getting seriously worked up, but no way would I let her see how frustrated I was becoming. She was as stubborn on the matter as she used to be. Nothing had changed here.

  “Okay, so what’s next? Do you have any place to stay at?” My question was not only practical, because she needed to decide what her next step was, but it was a little selfish as well. I wanted her to accept my help. Something deep inside me urged me to stick around, to not let her out of my sight ever again.

  “Jack, I’m not stupid. I realize that I can’t return to Seth's. Besides, I don’t want to. I’m not one of those women who stay with abusive men for one reason or another. I tried to make him see how destructive his behavior was, but he finally went too far. I’m not letting him back into my life. We are done.”

  I exhaled with relief. She was still a smart and reasonable woman. I was g
lad that hadn’t changed.

  Chapter Three

  Jack was the last person I thought I would ever see walk back into my life; or was he just passing through? I didn’t want to figure the answer to that question now. Seeing him brought back many conflicting emotions, and that—coupled with what happened between me and Seth—was more than overwhelming. All I wanted now was to be left alone, maybe bury myself in some dark and quiet corner, where I wouldn’t have to deal with anyone or make any crucial decisions for a while.

  But I had to face my dilemma. My big-girl panties were always on, ever since I turned fifteen and finally stood up to mother’s boyfriend. All the pain, and the lessons learned back then, had molded me into whom I was today: a strong, independent woman who would get through whatever the life tossed at her. I had to, because I had no other option.

  Had I believed that I could change Seth into a better person? Was I naïve, thinking it possible? Why did I always try to see the good in everyone?

  My childhood certainly had a lot to do with it. Growing up with a single mother who never complained about anything, gave me the positive outlook on life. She wanted us to have a home, with plenty food on the table. She worked three jobs, six days a week—and still always made time to help me with homework, drive me to dance classes, and to soccer practices. She was the best parent I could have ever imagined, but even she didn’t recognize the evil that entered our lives when I was still practically a child.

  “Willow?” Jack’s voice took me out of my reveries. “Doing okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I nodded, turning to look at him.

  He drove us back from emergency room. He was a big guy, and seeing him folded uncomfortably into my Mini Cooper made me smile. It must’ve been some kind of a twisted fate that had him reenter my life. I could hardly believe it was a mere coincidence, although he assured me that Rita had no idea we knew each other. Coincidence then, but how strange…

  “You didn’t tell me where you’re gonna stay, Willow. At Rita’s? She should be back from work soon.” Jack’s question pulled me from my thoughts once again.