But he was.
“Thanks.” I took a tissue and dabbed under my eyes a little too roughly, causing me to wince. My bruises had faded but were still sensitive if I touched or rubbed them too hard. At least the cut on my lip had healed enough that it no longer attracted attention.
“What happened after he got home?”
I told Jamie I’d stopped working to make him dinner while he sat on the couch and drank beer. He’d started mumbling, loud enough for me to hear, about how I should manage my time better, that dinner should be waiting for him when he got home, and about how useless I was. I apologized, and focused on making dinner but he lost it when I said I didn’t have time to make meatballs. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back, meatballs.
The absurdity of it caused me to choked out a laugh, “I got beat up over meatballs.”
Neither of them laughed. It wasn’t funny, not in the least, but it just sounded so damned pathetic.
I tried to keep my voice from shaking while I told them the rest of the ugly details. It wasn’t easy, my body shook as Iremembered how scared I felt knowing he’d probably end up hitting me. And how terrified I was he wouldn’t stop once he started. It wasn’t helping that I could see the anger in Chris’s tense body and hear his occasional muffled exclamation.
I didn’t even look at Jamie, I couldn’t.
“I kept apologizing and promised I’d make him his favorite meal the next night. He huffed and said ‘Whatever’ before grabbing another beer and going back to the living room. He put on his favorite show and left me alone. I was grateful he wasn’t yelling at me anymore, and hoped he’d calm down while I finished making dinner.”
Chapter 5
Jamie
It was taking every ounce of effort I could muster to keep my face neutral while I listened to Emily tell us what happened that night. Luckily she kept her head down most of the time, focusing on the thumb ring she kept twisting, so she didn’t see me struggling to maintain control. Chris and I made eye contact occasionally, and I could see the anger rolling off him in waves. Not that I blamed him, that asshole had abused his baby sister, and he hadn’t known about it.
He hadn’t been trained to hide his emotions while taking witness statements, but I was. It sounded cold and impersonal, but as a retired cop I knew it wouldn’t help her if I showed too much emotion. So, I did my best to hide my anger. Focusing on her words and body language gave me something to think about besides finding, and beating, Craig. She probably didn’t realize it, but she was telling me two stories, her words indicated some level of acceptance and indifference to hisabuse, while her body was screaming that she was terrified of him.
She tried to maintain her composure, but told her story in stops and starts. Pausing to wipe her face and blow her nose. I couldn’t help but admire her strength, she might be struggling to get through this, but she was determined not to give up. She reminded me a little of Meg when she'd finally decided to open up to us and ask for help. I had a feeling Emily would turn out to be a fighter too, she just needed someone to remind her that she had it in her.
Recognizing this was going to take longer than I’d originally anticipated, and not wanting to interrupt Emily, I quickly emailed Meg and asked her to clear the rest of my afternoon and to order us lunch. I wanted to give Emily as much time as she needed, not cut her short because I had another appointment. It didn’t take long before Meg replied to let me know Dad would handle my only other appointment and she’d ordered a variety of sandwiches and a large salad. She wanted to make sure there’d be something Emily would like.This is what makes Meg so invaluable.I probably would’ve just ordered a pizza.
It was difficult to ignore my instinct to comfort her. Hell, I might’ve reached out to hold her hand, my need to comfort her was that strong, if it was appropriate.But it’s not. Instead, I grabbed a box of tissues and a bottle of water and set them on the table beside her. It wasn’t much as far as comforting gestures went, but at least it was something.
I lost my composure when she told us Craig bitched non-stop while they ate then threw his plate against the wall,breaking it and making a huge mess. She told us he slapped her when she didn’t get up to clean it fast enough, then grabbed her by the hair and punched her a couple of times before shoving her to the ground. He’d kicked her as he yelled insults at her, then threw his beer bottle adding to the mess on the floor when it shattered. She said a neighbor must have heard him yelling because someone called the police.
“I was still on my hands and knees, bruised and bleeding, when they knocked on the door. Craig told them to go away, but they insisted on coming in.” Emily paused to wipe the tears off her cheek. “They threatened to kick-in the door, so he finally opened it, but only a crack.”
I knew the tactic; I’d used it when I was still a local cop and knew I didn’t have time to wait for a warrant. Once we’d knocked, the abuser would often get more violent, so time was of the essence. The responding officers would have known this wasn’t the first call for a domestic at this address, so they wouldn’t leave without checking on everyone inside. And every experienced cop knew that someone not opening the door all the way after yelling go away, was hiding something. Threatening to kick in a door, with the implied ‘with guns blazing’ threat attached to it, was often enough to get the offender to open the door. A crack was all we needed to gain entry.
Emily said she looked up when she heard Craig yell “What the fuck?” and saw the door get ripped out of Craig’s hand, as the officers forced their way inside.
“When they saw me, one of them grabbed Craig, pushed him against the wall, and cuffed him. Craig tried to fight backbut was too drunk. The other officer helped me off the floor and made sure I was okay-”
“Okay? You weren’t okay!” Chris interrupted, outraged.
I explained that in this situation okay meant she wasn’t in need of immediate or emergency medical attention, otherwise they would have dispatched an ambulance. Emily added that she’d asked them not to call an ambulance, she didn’t think she was hurt enough to go to the ER. Chris still wasn’t happy but sat back when I encouraged Emily to continue. I didn’t miss the look he shot my way; he wasn’t happy I wasn’t taking his side. But I had a lot of experience he didn’t, so he’d have to trust me on things like this.
“There isn’t much left to tell. Craig kicked and screamed as the officers forced him out of the apartment and into the police car. More cops came and one of them followed me to the station so I could give my statement. That’s when I told them I wanted to press charges; I’d been too afraid to say it in front of Craig. Then a social worker came and took pictures, and gave me a bunch of pamphlets with resources for help and support. Then I went home and packed.”
She took a long sip of water.
“And I left.” She gave a sad laugh. “He’s going to kill me for not cleaning up the mess before I left.” Her voice wavered at the end, stirring my protective instincts.
“That’s not funny Emily.” Chris looked scared, and rightfully so. Emily had just admitted, however unintentionally, that she believed Craig was capable of murder.
Before Chris could hijack the conversation, or scare her any more than she already was, I said, “I’m not going to let that happen.” I stood up and moved to kneel in front of her. Against my better judgement, I blurred the professional line when I reached out and gently held her hands. “He’ll never hurt you again, I promise.”Fuck. I know better than to make a promise I might not be able to keep. But I couldn’t stop myself.
Emily looked at me, then at Chris, and then back at me. I looked over to see Chris staring at me. Apparently I’d shocked them both with the intensity of my promise.That makes three of us.
“I asked Meg to order lunch, so let’s eat, then you can tell me about the other times, and I’ll fill you in on what I found out. Then we’ll decide how to move forward.”
