Page 58 of Love Rewritten

“It’s a self-defense class, Logan.”

He opens his mouth to say something but shuts it. Now he gets it. He looks toward the full room. There are about fifteen people in there. Mostly girls, but a few guys too. They’re starting with some warm-up stretches. I search the group for Abby and find her in the far back corner. I knew that it was her.

It takes all my willpower to not watch the class. I pull my eyes away to focus on the machines and weights around me, forcing my body to do the work. But my mind, it’s sitting in that room with her. It’s cheering, and crying, and angry, and irritated. I could think of a million words to describe how I feel right now, and none of them would do justice to the buzz of them all spinning inside me like a tornado.

I’m not sure if she’d be upset if she found out I know. I don’t know if I should stop her after class or say something at home. I decide to at least wait until we get home to say something. Bombarding her here in front of everyone seems counterproductive.

Logan and I finish up and head to our motorcycles out front. But just as we’re about to throw our helmets on to leave, Abby walks out the front door with her backpack slung over her shoulder and her helmet in hand.

All movement ceases when she notices us. Logan keeps putting his helmet on, not wanting to intrude on whatever is about to happen. Her features are flat and rigid, and she’s doing a good job of hiding any other emotion besides the obvious shock. I don’t hear it, but I see her say “Fuck,” before she drops her head.

“Hey.” I pause. I open my mouth to say something, but I’m not sure what. Abby cuts me off before I do.

“Can we not discuss this here?” She looks around at the trail of people leaving the building.

“Sure,” I say and offer a soft smile. I’m not sure it hit right, though. She holds up her helmet and continues toward the back of the lot where she parked her bike. Logan and I wait at the entrance for her before we leave.

At home, Logan heads inside, leaving Abby and me alone out front. She pauses next to her bike with her things.

“I didn’t know you two used that gym. I just wanted to take a class to see if working out was for me.” She stares at her bike, rubbing a smudge off the windshield.

“Abby, I know which class you took.”

Her head shoots up, and her face instantly turns red. “I just …” She bites the inside of her cheek while she thinks of what to say. “I want to feel like I don’t need you around every second of the day. It’s nothing against you. But I just—”

“You don’t have to defend your decision, Abby. I get it. I’m not upset with you. I’m proud of you for taking this step and for wanting to be able to stand up for yourself.” I take a breath because I can feel myself getting worked up. “I’m heartbroken that you’ve been put in a situation where you feel the need to learn to defend yourself, that everything has gotten to this point.”

She gives the smallest smile, but it's more empathetic than anything. “Sam made me feel so powerless, so incapable. I was so dependent on him. And now I feel so dependent on you. I want to prove that I’m not as helpless as I feel. More to myself than anyone else, I think. I hate feeling like that. I don’t want you and Logan to feel like you have to babysit me all the time.”

“I’ll speak for both Logan and me; we don’t feel like babysitters. He cares about you, too.” I put my helmet on the ground as well as hers before taking her hands in mine. “You know what Sam showed you? That you’re strong enough to take care of yourself in the worst of the worst situations. And you know what you’ve already shown me? That youcantake care of yourself, even if I don’t want you to have to.”

The tiniest smile blooms on her face, and then she hugs me tightly. She mumbles into my chest, “How do you always know exactly what to say?”

I shrug and kiss the top of her head. “You bring the right words out of me.” I wrap an arm around her shoulder and grab our helmets to head back inside. I ask how the class went, and she tells me how good and bad it was and that she’s going to be so sore tomorrow.

I offer to make her even more sore, and she smacks me on the arm.

But she doesn't say no.

We’re meeting in my mom’s office today instead of a conference room. I’m not sure why. She rarely has meetings in her office. She’s always said she much prefers conference rooms to keep her office as drama-free as possible. Maybe all the rooms were taken today.

Abby knocks on the open door when we approach to let her know we’re here before entering. Mom sits behind her desk, scanning a few documents.

She stands up and motions for us to sit. “Abby, Dallas, hope you two are doing well.”

She can kill the formality though I’m sure it’s part of the job. Abby closes the door behind us, and we each take a seat in the two chairs on the other side of her desk. They’re not very comfortable. The backs are too far back from where the seat stops, and Abby’s legs don’t touch the ground when she pushes herself to the back. She opts to sit forward instead. Abby passes the packet she got from the officer to my mom.

She looks it over and compares it to whatever notes she has on her side. “Okay. I wanted to meet here since there aren’t any windows for passersby to look in, just in case. Today might get a little emotional. I wanted you to feel comfortable if you needed to cry or get angry or whatever you feel. I promise whatever you need to express, it’s valid. No one is going to fault you for that.”

Abby looks over at me, though I’m not sure why. Reassurance maybe? I offer my hand, and she takes it, so I give it a little squeeze to let her know I’m with her in this. She looks back at my mom and nods.

My mom smiles and places both hands on the packet. “So, the first question is do you understand what you were given? Do you know what a subpoena is? You understand that this requires you to testify in court?” Abby nods with each question, and my mom continues. “Do you have any questions about it?”

Abby shakes her head and then holds up a finger. “Actually, uh, I have one question.” She takes a deep breath. “I think I already know the answer, but this doesn’t mean I have to talk to Sam, right? He won’t be the one asking questions?”

My mom shakes her head before Abby finishes her question. “Absolutely not. You will only be answering questions from me or his attorney. He will only be permitted to speak when spoken to.” Abby seems to relax at that. “How are you doing right now? I know this is the worst question I could ask, but I need a gauge to know how to help you through this best.”

I’m almost positive I catch Abby rolling her eyes when she tips her head up. But she collects herself and says, “I’m as good as I can be. I think I had decided that I didn’t want to be a part of the final court date, but here we are. And I realize there’s nothing I can do to change that, so I have no choice but to power through.”

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