Page 109 of Another Love, Another Time
“Do you know anyone who is in that house?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“Do you know what this house is?” he asks.
I shake my head again.
“I’m assuming you followed the kid here. Would you be the reason he has a black eye?” I look down, but I don’t answer. He deserved it. “We do not put up with any abuse in this house. Seeing him hurt could trigger some of the kids when he volunteers.”
I quickly look up. “Volunteers?”
“Look, I know a little bit about the kid’s past. He told me when he first started volunteering eleven months ago. And to be honest, you look like you’re out to kill. If you want to— ”
I ignore his comment. “What is this place?”
“Can I trust you not to tell anyone where and what this place is?”
“Yes.”
He must decide he can trust me because his next words are, “We are a women’s shelter for abused women. We house women and children who have come from abusive situations.”
I have no words. Why wouldhebe here?
“The kid comes here every week and volunteers,” he continues. “He spends time with the kids, doing various activities. It helps take the kids’ minds off the shitty situation they are in while their moms can focus on planning the next steps of their lives. The kids love him. He’s really good with them.”
Again, I’m blindsided. I should have hired a PI because I was not prepared for this. I feel myself softening towards him. At the same time, I’m trying to stay mad.
“Thank you,” I respond. “I promise I won’t say anything.” I swing my leg over my bike and put my helmet on. The guy steps back, and I take off for my hotel.
~~
I went back to my hotel room to regroup. The past year, all I could think about was beating the shit out of this guy and finding out answers. I was basically obsessed with this, driving myself crazy. I needed to make him pay, make him feel what I felt when he attacked me.
But after last night and today, I’m not sure about anything. The guy who attacked me and the guy I’ve come face-to-face with don’t seem like the same person.
I need answers. I send him a message to meet me at a restaurant down the road from my hotel room in an hour. I pack up my stuff. After today, I’m leaving to visit my parents.
I leave a little early and get a seat at the restaurant. When I see him arrive, I start to get a little nervous. What the hell was I thinking? I should have just turned him in.
I pull out my list. He looks rough. I really did a number on him; he’s cleaned himself up from last night, but he’s done a poor job covering the bruises with concealer.
The hostess walks him to the table, and he sits opposite me. We don’t say anything for the longest time. We just sit there and stare at one another. The waitress comes up, asks what we want, and goes to fetch our drinks.
I asked him here, so I try to start the conversation, but he speaks first. “I just want to start to say how sorry I am about what I did to you—what I almost did to you.” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “There is no excuse or reason I could ever give you that would ever be able to justify my actions. I will always regret what I did to you. I’m not sure why you never told the cops that it was me. I was out of it and completely fucked up, but I know that you recognized me. You could have easily identified me. I’ve spent the last year looking over my shoulder, asking myself, ‘Is today going to be the day they show up?’”
I shrug. “You’re right. I did know who you are. I’m not sure why I didn’t tell the cops. You said something while you were attacking me that I kept thinking about, and I think I was afraid that if I turned you in, I would never get the answer.”
He furrows his brows. “What did I say? Again, I’m not making excuses, but I was out of it. I’ll answer any questions you have.”
I nod. “You said,‘Iknow you want this too; she told me you wanted this. She told me you would try to fight, but you like it rough.’I need to know who‘she’is.”
He rubs his hands down his face. “‘She’is your cousin Melissa.”
I don’t know what hits me. I don’t know if it’s the year I’ve been obsessing over this answer or that my gut instinct was correct, but I start crying. I don’t want to show my weakness, but it’s like I’ve been validated in my thinking.
I knew it was her, but this is still a shock. As much as I dislike her, I didn’t believe she would do something like this to me.
He goes to grab my hand to comfort me, but before he can make contact, I pull back. He lets me compose myself and hands me a napkin. I take it and dry my eyes.
