Accidents Happen

Chapter 13 - Pave Paradise, Put up a Parking Lot

    Getting moved to a room wasn’t bad. I wound up staying for three days, instead of two; I was getting discharged on Thursday morning. I had a different roommate each day, which was weird, for me at least. The officers only made an appointment with me to come make a statement, since the room wasn’t private.

    Jason sat in a chair across from the bed, where he has been since his discharge two days ago. “Are you sure you want to stay, alone, in your apartment?”

    “Jason, I keep telling you, I have people on call and Ann is staying overnight the first two nights.”

    “And after that is the weekend and …”

    “I have another paper to write and research to do. I have to make up lost time. No. You cannot come and babysit me. How did you get out of classes, anyway?”

    “Post-concussion protocol. I can go back tomorrow, but have to sleep if the headache comes back,” Jason explained. “I have to submit my projections tomorrow. Are you sure that you don’t need me tonight?”

    I sighed. “I am fine. The Uber will take me to get my car. I am physically cleared for normal activities, including driving. My exercise evaluation will be in a week at CU Health Center. I am an adult, you know.”

    He looked at his shoes. “I just feel responsible.”

    I looked at him. He didn’t know it, but I was afraid he would try to touch me. Every dream I had had since admittance was of Enrique’s fist connecting with my face while he kept repeating “I love you” and hitting again, and again. I felt nauseated every time. I couldn’t tell Jason that. Or Fran k. Or the crew of doctors who came on a daily basis to poke and prod me. I settled for, “It’s not your fault.”

    “Doesn’t change how I feel.”

    “Frank feels responsible, too.”

    “He should. But I’m the one who made you bring me. I could’ve left in the morning by bus. I already put you out for two nights. What was one more?”

    “Look. This is getting us nowhere. I am going back to finish my degree. You are staying here to finish yours. Life goes on.”

    “But …”

    “No. No buts, nothing else. I am going home, and it is time for you to go home, too.”

    “My mom had some information on Fes.”

    I had forgotten about the whole situation.

    “She said that she can have him call me.”

    “Oh.”

    “Do you want to know what he says?”

    “I guess.” I was so confused by what happened, that I forgot what we were doing and the problem Jason needed help solving.  I felt awful. “I mean, I really don’t know what to think or feel right now.”

    He took a deep breath. I noticed he hadn’t looked at me in the face at all today. “I will marry her if Fes thinks it will keep you safe. It hurts my heart to see you in pain.” He looked at his toes.

    “Tell me something. If you hadn’t fallen in love with my picture, would you have married her?”

    “No.”

    “Then you shouldn’t marry her.”

    “I will talk to Fes before I make the final decision. But after talking with Frank, this is the best solution.”

    “Okay.”

    Anabeth walked in the door, she was today’s CNA. “Okay. I have your wheelchair. Let’s get you home!”

    “Thanks.” I tried to smile at her, but winced instead. I hadn’t told Jason, but I was going to the Police Station to make my statement after I picked up my car.

    *    *    *    *    *

    When I got to the station, the desk officer took my name and contacted one of the officer’s who saw me at the hospital. After a short wait on one of the most uncomfortable plastic chairs ever made, I was taken through a magnetically locked door, down a short hallway, and into a small room with four chairs and a rectangular grey table. I sat on one of the surprisingly comfortable wooden chairs and waited about five minutes.

    There was a sharp rap on the door and a petite brunette woman carrying a clipboard came in. “Are you Charity Jones?”

    “Yes Ma’am.”

    “I am Delores Peña. I am from Victim’s Advocacy Center, and I am here to help you tell your story. Before I give you my spiel, do you have any specific questions or concerns?”

    “Not yet.”

    She smiled. “You are to call me Delores. I will stop the officers if you raise your hand or if I feel they are asking an inappropriate question. With that said, you do need to discuss the intimate details of the assault.”

    “Uh-huh.” I felt very uncomfortable.

    “This is the most difficult part. Telling a stranger about a crime and the specific details is difficult, if not downright painful. It is, however, critical. For you it can be the first step to recovery.

    “Recovery? What do you mean by that?”

    “Coming back to being fully yourself. Trusting others who are there for you. Standing up for yourself. Living without fear.”

    “Oh. I want to live without fear again, but I don’t feel like I lost the other things.”

    “That is good. I am guessing that most of the impacts haven’t hit you yet. Just know that honest retelling of the facts will make you stronger.

    “Okay.”

    There was a knock at the door.

    “Hello, Delores.” The woman was tall, thin, fair-skinned and dark haired.

    “Good afternoon Officer O’Rourke.”

    “This is Officer Greene.” She gestured to the handsome red haired man. Then she gave delores a smile, “I got the promotion. It's Sergeant O’Rourke, now.”

    “Congratulations.”

    “So, Miss …” She looked at a small notebook, “Jones. My name is Sergeant Marion O’Rourke. I am the lead officer assigned to your case.” She handed me a business card. “This is my partner, James Greene.” He handed me a card and nodded at me. “Let’s all sit, shall we?”

    Delores sat to my right and the officers sat across the table, Sgt. O’Rourke across from me and Ofc. Greene across from Delores.

    The questions ranged from boring: “What is your full name?” and “What’s your date of birth?” to embarrassingly invasive: “What did you think when you found you couldn‘t move?” and “What indication did you have that he had penetrated you?”

    It was an awful experience. I retold what happened about five times, but it felt like a million. At the end, I didn’t want to be alone. But I had to get back to Boulder since I had classes the next day.

    “Thank you, Miss Jones, for your cooperation. I do hope you didn’t have too terrible a time.”

    “Actually, Sergeant,” I surprised myself with my honesty, “it wasn’t as awful as I expected. I really thought that I would be made to feel at fault, but you just gathered information.”

    “Thank you, miss.” Officer Greene said. “Just like Joe Friday, Just the facts, ma’am.”

    Sgt. O’Rourke gave him an elbow and a frown, then they left the room.

    “That was nice of you,” Delores told me.

    “What was?”

    “Telling them that it wasn’t that bad.”

    “Oh. I just said what I thought.”

    “I know. So do they.”

    “Is there anything else I need to do before I go home?”

    “No. The prosecutors will be in touch in a few weeks.”

    “A few weeks?”

    “Yes. Because you took the brave route and took the Law Enforcement option of the SANE exam, prosecution is the path your case will travel.” She handed me a manila envelope. “ you will be kept updated by the prosecutor’s office. If you think it has been too long, call the prosecutor’s office or the police for an update. Their cards are in the envelope, as well as our office’s list of protections and responsibilities for you. There is also a copy of your mandatory protection order. Abide by it. Do you have any questions for me?” She looked at her watch, with a mild look of surprise.

    “No. I just want to go home.”

    “Drive safely,” she said and turned and walked away.

    I looked down the hall and saw the exit sign. Once I was outside, the tears started leaking. I told myself it was the cold wind.

    *    *    *    *    *

    I got home and called Ann. “I’m Home.”

    “I’m on my way. Be there in fifteen minutes.”

    I sat on the couch and let my head rest on the back. I closed my eyes.  Once again: the fist coming at my face, switchblade in his teeth, the feeling of suffocation and his voice were running over my psyche. I heard the knock at the door.

    I got up and let Ann in. She looked at me and gently touched my cheek. “How long have you been crying?”

    “I’m crying?”

    “Yes.” She sighed. “You didn’t even know you were crying.” She shook her head, slowly. “You can’t be alone. I already contacted the girls. We got you.”

    I hugged her. She guided me to the couch, ignoring my wince. “I am here and will be with you except for classes tomorrow. I will sleep on the couch all this week. Honoré has next week and Julia will do the evenings when Honoré has to close. Oh, meals by Julia - no argument allowed. I tried.”

    “Please tell her to bring Jessica. I want to see our baby!”

    “Okay. I don’t think I need to.” She looked at me kindly. “Candi is a mess. Persimmon is staying with her.”

    “Not Paul?”

    “Paul is trying to find Enrique.”

    “He’s missing?” My heart raced.

    “He’s hiding. He sent a text to Paul and Candi that he f****d up and had to disappear. Paul gave the text to the police in Ft. Collins. He even let them use the phone to locate Enrique’s phone. They found it in a truck stop dumpster near the Kansas/Nebraska border. Paul thinks he is in Kansas.”

    “He’s missing.” I was seeing his fist and hearing his voice loud and clear, again.

    “Charity?” She sounded scared. “Can you hear me?”

    I nodded.

    “Breathe.”

    I took a deep breath-two-three-four. Hold-two, out-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight. I did that four more times.

    “Thank you, Ann. I needed that.”

    Ann just nodded.

    “My face hurts.”

    “It looks pretty bad.”

    “Great.”

    “I’m understating. You look terrible. I don’t know how he could do this to you.”

    I sighed. “I liked him.”

    “Enrique?!”

    “NO! Jason.”

    “Why are you talking about him in the past tense?”

    “Look at me. He wouldn’t touch me in the hospital. He wouldn’t even look at me. He’s going to go through with the arranged marriage.

    “What?! No way!”

    “The terrorist. He is going to marry her.” My eyes started welling up. “I look so terrible that he’d rather be with an unknown terrorist than me.”

    “I disagree. I don’t know what he said, but I saw him look at you. He’s in love with you.”

    “No, he’s not.”

    “I can’t argue with you right now. Just … don’t think about this, not now anyway. Promise?”

    She held out her pinky finger. I took it with my own pinky finger and nodded. “Pin in the conversation. Tell me about you.”

    She shrugged. “Nothing to tell.”

    “Yuh-huh. Frank. Karaoke night. Spill.”

    “Again. Nothing to tell.”

    “Hah. Plenty to tell! Friday at karaoke, he got all weird over you getting prettified …”

    “Tarted up. Call it what it was.”

    “Did you really not like it?”

    “It was fun,” Ann smiled. “I will do it again, with planning, some other time.”

    “He flipped out and hurt your feelings. You went back to your original look, then I had to sing. You and Frank were Pretty Friendly. What happened after that?”

    She looked me in the eyes. “You know I hate talking about my problems, right?”

    “I do.”

    “You look in pain. Do you need a painkiller?”

    “No. I need you to tell me. If you tell me what happened, I will tell you what Frank said.”

    “He talked about me?”

    “I kind of made him …” I rolled my eyes innocently.

    She snorted. “Figures.”

    “Not what you think. He really likes you.”

    “I doubt it. He just didn’t get sex..”

    I agreed. “No he did not. He didn’t want s*x, though. He wants to get to know you.”

    “Stop.” Her lip was trembling a little. “I will tell you what happened.”

    “Thank you.” I went in the kitchen and got two glasses of ice water, came back to the couch, handed one to Ann, and sat down next to her. “So you left with Frank on Friday night …”

    “Yeah. He was very nice and seemed to want to know things about me. I was very flattered- he was very cute.  I have never had such a handsome man interested in me before.” She stopped and fanned her eyes.

    “Honey, you tell it how you want, but what is making you sad?”

    “I am going to just tell … anyway … he asked me if I would take a walk with him someplace quieter. He said there was a park with a beautiful pond and it had migrating geese sleeping there. So I said I would go with him.  It sounded beautiful. You know, romantic and sweet; more like Jane Austin than Charlotte Brontë. So I agreed. He grinned and grabbed my hand, and we went. We got in his car and he was asking about me, what did I like to do when I wasn’t working or studying, things like that. He was so attentive and kind. I felt special.

    “Then my phone vibrated. I looked at it, thinking it would be you or Persimmon. It wasn’t. It was my dad.” tears started streaming down her cheeks. She sniffled and grabbed a tissue out of the box. After blowing her nose and wiping her eyes, Ann took a couple of gasping breaths and continued. “He caught Mom f*****g another one of his business associates, and he texted that he filed for divorce.” She looked totally shattered. “I can’t ever do that to someone. I can’t be responsible for that pain in someone else. I have accepted that I will be a crazy cat lady.”

    I grabbed her shoulders and gave her a hug. I just held her until she stopped sobbing. She didn’t notice me flinch when her cheek touched mine, but damnation it hurt.

    “So, you get it, right? I couldn’t do that to him. He really seemed to care.”

    “He does care, Ann.” I told her. “You need to give yourself a chance. You deserve to care, too.” I held up a finger to stop her interruption. “You are not your mother. In fact, you are more like your father. Let yourself love someone. Not everyone gets the chance.” Jason’s face as he told me he was going to marry a literal demon floated through my mind. “It might not be Frank, but it needs to be someone. Jason couldn’t get past how Enrique made me look and decided to marry someone else. I can’t really blame him. I mean, I have a mirror. I was really starting to like him, too.” I sighed.

    “Charity, I have a different take on that. But you have to really listen.”

    There was a sharp knock on the door.