Page 52 of From the Ashes
“It doesn’t hurt to try.” He nods with a light smile.
It doesn’t hurt to try.
And if I don’t, I’ll never know.
LANA
“You’re telling me he just came to your house like it was his?! Oh my God, give me my phone, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind!” shouts Nancy with fury as I explain to her what happened five days ago. We just finished having brunch with them, and the kids are playing in the garden while Alec is having a nap on the couch after overdosing on croissants. We’re both cleaning the last bit of food and putting the fruit salad leftovers in the fridge while Nancy makes us two cups of tea.
“I can’t believe you did not call me. I could have been there, helping you, protecting you, too. Why didn’t you call me? I feel like….like I failed you.” She sighs, crossing her arms with her beautiful beige dress, her wavy chocolate hair covering her shoulders. Why didn’t I think about it?
“I… I’m sorry, I guess I forgot that I could. Back then, when…” I shake my head, “when he would hurt me, I’d just be too ashamed to talk about it.”
“Why would you feel ashamed when he’s the one hurting you?” Her eyes turn glossy. Nancy found out about the physical abuse when I moved in last year and came with my suitcases, my son, and my story. She never suspected anything. I would cover my bruises with makeup, and when we were in public, Ben always made sure no one could suspect anything. I knew she couldn’t know. When I told her about it, she begged me to file a complaint. She still does.
“Because…” She looks back to make sure Noah and the girls are an earshot away. “Because I accepted it, I never tried to defend myself. I should have left years ago, I should have protected Noah better. I’m the one who failed us. That’s why I’m still ashamed of it.”
“That’s why you still let him do that,” she mutters, and I nod. I nod because I know how crazy this sounds, but abuse isn’t simple. I mean, it seems simple when you’re watching a movie and you’re yelling at your screen for the character to get out of a relationship. But I guess real life isn’t that easy.
“Yes,” I admit in a whisper, shame coating me like a thick layer of paint. Like it always does. If I didn’t have Noah, I sometimes think that… I wouldn’t still be there. Because the weight of it was too heavy. Worse than a quick overdose of pills that I could have easily gotten from work. Shame is worse than any kind of poison you could ever drink. It paints you in bright neon color impossible to remove and you just have to go withit, knowing wherever you go, you’re caring it on you, this awful thick layer of paint, and even though no one sees it, you know it’s there, you just know because no matter what you do, no matter how hard you try to rub your skin in the shower, it stains. It never goes away.
I’m sick of carrying this. I’m sick of trying to watch the paint going down the drain each time I shower. Mentally visualizing it to tell myself that it's okay, I’m clean now. But I’m not. My hands are still dirty from betraying myself all those years. From staying with a monster when I could have left. From accepting the crumbs of affection as proof of love and redemption, as if it could have erased all the bruises.
“Hey,” Nancy tells me gently, bringing me back to the present, “you know what’s good now?” Lifting slightly a corner of her lips, her kind chocolate eyes watching me with love and tenderness. “You’ve got people in your corner now,” she nods, “we’re here, whenever you need. Andhe’s here now, too.” The mention of Carter makes my heart jump as I swallow, reminding myself that I still haven’t heard from him. I want to give him space, but…I miss him already, really. “You’re not alone, you’ll never be. Stop thinking like you used to. He’s the bad guy, okay? Now, I know you hate to talk about this, but I think it’s time to talk about filing a complaint again,” crossing her arms. I know she’s right, but I’ve been a people pleaser and a professional conflict avoider my whole life, so this is hard.
“Sooo, I’m guessing your silence is a yes. Do you think you could gather proof or people who witnessed his abuse?”
I shut my eyes.
People? Maybe, a few from where I used to work. But most of them acted like they didn’t see anything, and the few who asked about it, I pushed them away, pretending they were the crazy ones. But proof? I have lots of them. So many.Too many. Dozens of pictures and a few videos I took with my phone aftera week where he was particularly angry after being denied a promotion at work. Those are bulletproof, I know it because I looked it up online. Videos are impossible to deny, especially the ones of him beating me in our kitchen. His face and voice are on full display, unmistakable. “Yes, I have a lot of them.”
“Good,” she chokes out, even as her eyes begin to gloss over. “We’re gonna make him pay, okay, Sis? I think it’s time, don’t you?” I manage a sad smile. It’s bittersweet, but I’m grateful, grateful she’s here, not judging, just standing by me. I’m still not sure about filing a complaint, but just knowing it’s an option… That’s already a huge step.
“Now come on,” she says with a shaky laugh, rounding the island toward me. “Let’s hug it out before I turn into a complete mess.” She wraps me in a tight hug.
I’m not alone anymore.
I havepeoplein my corner.
15
CARTER
It’s been a week,and I guess it’s time to stop spiraling and call her to explain myself. I acted like an immature, awkward idiot, and she deserves an honest apology. I reach for my phone on my bedside table as I go to bed. The gray room makes everything dull and, honestly, bland. There’s no color to my world. Not when she’s not here.
Me
Hi sweetness.
Sweetness
Hi Carter.
She answers after a few minutes.
Me
I’m sorry I left the other day.
