Hodge Podge, Volume 4, Issue 1

Hodge Podge, Volume 4, Issue 1, is now available:

http://www.lulu.com/content/paperback-book/hodge-podge-volume-4-issue-1/8117346

Sneak Peek: THE WINDOW, Ch. 2

-2-

 

 

 

Turley jolted awake when she heard the breaking glass next door.  Vincent was up and standing at his window, looking out, watching as Katherine and her new man fought.

Turley got out of bed and joined him.

“Fuck you, you crazy bitch!”

“Go to hell, asshole!”

“If I go, I’m takin’ you with me!” the man called, heading for his truck.

Vincent and Turley watched as the man pulled out a shotgun from beneath the seat and began loading it.

“Shit,” Vincent said.  Turley was already out the door.

Out on the Mason’s lawn, Katherine, the man, and now Turley, stood yelling.  Vincent followed, clad in nothing more than blue jeans.

“Katherine!” Turley called, and the woman shot her a look before looking back to the man with the gun.

“Put the gun down!” Vincent yelled, moving toward the man, and the man pointed the gun at him.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m a friend of Turley’s, Katherine’s daughter.  Now put the gun down.  You don’t wanna do this…” Vincent said, inching toward the man.

The man glanced at Turley and then to Katherine.

“That true?  You got a daughter?”

Katherine scoffed, raised her hand to dismiss the issue, “Ain’t seen her in years.”

Out of the blue, Vincent lunged forward and tackled the man, punched him in the face and then took away the shotgun.  He stood up and unloaded it, and Katherine clapped her hands together and cackled.  “You crazy sumbitch, Vinny!  He almost shot you!”

Still laughing, Katherine staggered and then fell back onto her porch steps, managed to sit down.

Turley walked to Vincent and crossed her arms.

“He could’ve shot you.”

“He didn’t,” Vincent spat, his deep voice even deeper.  He continued with the shotgun until he had taken it apart, and then he threw the barrel into the back of the truck, the stock into the front seat, and put the bullets in his pocket.  Then he picked up Mister Wonderful by his shirt collar.

“You’re gonna get in your truck and drive outta here, and you’re not gonna come back, you got that?”

The man nodded, blood pouring from his nose, and Vincent opened the driver’s side door and shoved him into the driver’s seat.  The man started the engine and sped out of the driveway, and Vincent took the bullets out of his pockets and slung them over the broken fence into the garbage pile next door.

He and Turley walked to Katherine, who was still laughing.

“When you get back?” she asked with a hiccup, and Turley sighed.

“This morning.  I tried coming over but you weren’t home.”

Katherine shrugged, fumbled in her dress pocket for her fifth, took a swig, and then hiccupped again.

“When’re you gonna stop this shit?” Vincent asked.  “We’re getting tired of this all hours of the night bullshit.”

Katherine blew a raspberry at Vincent.  “Oh, go ta Hell, the both of ya!”

“C’mon,” Turley said finally, pulling Vincent’s arm.  After a moment he shook his head, and he and Turley walked back to his house.

Mark held the door open for them.

[1]“ Todo estas bien aquí, Hijo?”

[2]“Si, Papa.  Volves a la cama.”

Mark turned the porch light off and locked the door once Vincent and Turley were inside.  He bid them both goodnight, and Vincent and Turley went back upstairs.  Unable to sleep, Vincent turned the television on, grabbed a t-shirt and pulled it over his head.

He sighed.  “She should be committed.”

Turley shrugged, and Vincent looked at her.

“The only reason my parents never called CPS on her is because they knew you’d be better taken care of here.”  He shook his head in anger, let out a long breath.  [3]“A veces me gustaría quebrarle como un palo.”

“What was that?”

Vincent sighed.

“Nothing.”

After a moment he patted his lap, motioning Turley over, and she went.

He put his arms around her, and she laid her head on his cool, broad chest.

“I’m sorry that you still have to deal with her shit.”

Turley shrugged.  “I’m used to it.”

Vincent looked at her.  “That’s just it, Turtle.  You’ve become numb to it.  Do you have any emotion toward her at all, other than indifference?”

Turley thought a moment and then looked up at him.

“Not really.”

“Then why do you bother?”

“Because she’s my mother.”

“No, she gave birth to you.  There’s a big difference.”

Turley sighed, and Vincent hugged her.

“Let’s try to get some sleep,” he said and then picked her up.  He carried her to the bed, gently lay her down and covered her up.

He turned the television off and climbed in bed beside her, kissed her forehead and again put his arm around her waist.

[4]“Buenas noches, Tortuga.”

“Buenas noches, Insa.”

 

~

 

Morning found Turley lying beside Vincent, her leg across his legs, his hand upon her thigh, his free arm around her.

Emma knocked on the door, waking them, “Good morning, [5]ninos!  Breakfast is ready.”

Vincent yawned as Turley stretched and then sat up in bed.  “Thank you.”

“We’ll be down in a bit, Mama.”

Emma Castraletti smiled and went back downstairs as Vincent kissed Turley on the cheek.

“Sleep good?”

Turley yawned.  “Mm-hmm.  Felt safe,” she said with a smile, and Vincent hugged her.  “Good.  Because you are.”

Vincent got out of bed and put on his shoes as Turley went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and put her clothes on.

After breakfast, the two headed back to the garage, where Turley got her car and followed Vincent back home.  They then took the motorcycle back out to the garage so Vincent could finish working on the ‘63 Thunderbird.

Vincent turned the stereo on to Don Henley, cranked up the volume, took his shirt off, and got to work as Turley looked around the garage.

She noticed that all of the postcards she’d sent him over the years were pinned on a large bulletin board by his office; there must have been twenty or more.

Vincent slammed the hood shut on the Thunderbird as Henley’s All She Wants to Do is Dance began to play, and Turley began to dance around the garage.  Vincent wiped the sweat from his forehead, smiled, and watched her as she danced, her hips keeping time with the beat of the music; she could light up any room—even a greasy garage—and Vincent was glad she was back, if only for a short time.

He wiped the interior of the car down, glancing every now and again to Turley, who kept dancing, and he smiled to himself.

When he’d finished with the car, he made a phone call to its owner, telling him that it was finished and he could pick it up anytime; the man said he’d be right over, so Vincent sat down on his toolbox and waited as Turley danced toward him.

She took his hands and pulled him to his feet, pulled him closer by his belt loops, and Vincent laughed, put his hands on her hips and began dancing with her.

When the song ended Turley laughed, and Vincent still held her.  She stared at him, and when he leaned closer, someone cleared their throat, breaking the silence.  Vincent turned around to see the owner of the car.

[6]“Hey, hombre.  Ella todo se hace,” he said as he moved away from Turley.  He got a set of keys from a pegboard in his office and tossed them to the man.  [7]“ Del guardabarros en pedido en espera.  Te llamaré cuando se trata.”

The man nodded, got in the driver’s seat and started the car and drove away, and Turley smiled.

“Let’s go for a ride.”

 

~

 

Turley put the top down and laughed, stepped on the gas, and Vincent shook his head as they sped out of the garage and down the road.

“You’re wild, Hermana!” Vincent laughed, and Turley smiled.

 

~

 

Vincent was giving her a pick-a-back ride through the field by the creek.

“What’s your best memory from childhood?” he asked, and Turley thought a moment.

“That time when we went to the beach and you let me bury you in the sand.”

Vincent smiled.  He almost asked her what her worst memory was, but didn’t; he already knew, anyway.

“What’s yours?”

Vincent laughed.  “The time I walked in on you in the shower.”

Turley squealed out and tightened her grip around his throat on purpose.

[8]“Bastardo!”

Vincent, choking from Turley’s grip, laughed heartily and then thought a moment.  “No, no.”  He paused.  “I think my favorite memory is when you and I first found this place,” he said, putting Turley down and looking out in front of him to the tall grass.  The dandelions were in full bloom and the smells of lilac and mint filled the air.  Vincent put his hands on his hips and took it all in, sighing deeply.

“I think if there’s a Heaven that it’s close to this.”

Turley sat down and then lay back in the grass.

“I think Heaven is having copious amounts of butter pecan ice cream and not gaining any weight.”

Vincent laughed and joined her in the grass.  He turned on his side to face her.

[9]“ He le nunca dicho cómo bonita estás, Tortuga?”

“No, Insa, you haven’t told me how pretty I am.”

Vincent’s jaw dropped and Turley laughed.  “Did I fail to mention that I took Spanish classes?”

Vincent laughed and nodded, “Yes, you did fail to mention that.”

“Well, [10]gracias, Insa.”

[11]“De nada.”

The two were quiet as a soft breeze began to blow.  Out of nowhere, storm clouds gathered and it began to rain.  Turley and Vincent ran back to the car.  Soaked by the time they got there, and laughing so hard they could barely breathe, Turley quickly put the top up on the car and rolled the windows up.  Within minutes the windows steamed over, and Vincent leaned across Turley and drew a large heart on her window.  Turley stared at him, and, after a moment, climbed onto his lap and began to write on his window as well.  Vincent smiled when he saw that she’d written “I,” drawn a heart, and then written “you, too.”  Without saying anything, Vincent cupped Turley’s face and kissed her gently.

“What are we doing, Insa?” Turley asked after a moment, and Vincent shook his head, “I don’t know, Tortuga, but it feels nice.”

Turley nodded and kissed him again.

 

~

 

By the time they got back home the storm had become more fierce, thunder pounding and lightning striking, and they ran inside, getting soaked again as they did so.

[12]“Sustantivo prisa femenino, sustantivo prisa femenino!” Emma said, handing the two of them towels, [13]“ Seque antes de detectar sus muertes!”

Vincent and Turley took the towels and began drying off when Mark joined them in the hallway.

[14]“¿Dónde estuvo, Vincente?  Usted se supone que en el garaje hoy.”

[15]“ Terminé el coche, no se preocupe.  Tortuga y me tomó una unidad el pasado la quebrada, eso es todo.”

“Si, si,” Mark said with a nod, and he picked up the newspaper off the stand by the door and retreated to the living room.

“Dinner is ready,” Emma said, taking the wet towels, “wash up and come and eat.”

Vincent kissed his mother on the cheek and he and Turley went upstairs to wash their hands for dinner.

Midway through the meal, they heard commotion from next door again.

Vincent sipped his milk, glancing from Turley to his father and mother, and then he wiped his mouth and tossed his napkin down.

[16]“ Estoy cansada de este mierda,” he said as he stood up, and Mark looked at him.

[17]“Siéntese, Vicente!  No es su lugar!”

“Papa!”

“Sit down, Vincent,” Emma repeated, and Vincent did as told.  They finished their meal in silence until the noise got louder, and then Mark walked into the living room, turned the television on and turned the sound up loud.

“There,” he said finally as he sat back down.  “That’s better.”

Vincent looked at his father and shook his head.  [18]“Nos hemos puesto con este absurdo para sucediendo treinta y seis años, papá.  Basta.”  He sighed.  [19]“Simplemente llamar a la policía, ya, antes de que alguien obtiene muerto.”

A door slamming, more cursing, and Mark pounded his fist on the table.  “No!” he said finally, and Vincent stood up from the table.  He took Turley by the hand, and without saying anything, the two went upstairs.

Vincent slammed his door, put his hands on his hips.

“Estupido, estupido!” he mumbled.  “Someone’s going to get killed before it’s over with.”

Turley shrugged, “At least then it would be quiet.”

Vincent looked at her, took her in his arms.  “She’s made you cold, Tortuga.”

“Not cold.  Just…indifferent, like you said.”  She sighed.  “It’s not like I love her.”

“But you should.  A person should love their mother.  They shouldn’t fear their own parent!”

Vincent shook his head and sighed, walked to the window and looked out.  He saw the porch light at the Mason house go out, and a door slammed a final time.

“Thank Jesus,” he said after a moment.  “Maybe they’ll quiet down for the night.”

Turley sat down on Vincent’s bed and yawned.  “That’d be nice, for a change.”

Vincent scoffed.  “Tell me about it.  What time you were away…” he shook his head, “…it got pretty bad at times, Turley.  Katherine has been to the hospital several times already.”

“Well that’s what you get when you screw anything that walks and expect there to be no strings attached,” Turley said, her voice emotionless, and Vincent looked at her.

After a long while he sat down on the bed beside her.

“Is that why you’ve never had a boyfriend?  Because of the way Katherine uses men?”

Turley put her head down.  “You know how people would treat me in school, the horrible things they’d say to me because of her.”  She paused.  “Guys always thought I was easy, just like her, so I tried to just avoid males at all costs.  Besides,” she added, “you’re a boy.  Well, a man…and you’re my friend.”  Turley smiled.  “Boy.  Friend.”

Vincent smiled and kissed her on the cheek.

“Aye, [20]caramba!” he said with a smile, and Turley lay on her stomach on the bed, a pillow propped beneath her chin.  Vincent lay sideways beside her.

“So you wouldn’t have turned me down for a date then?  Huh.  Now I wished I would have asked.”

Turley smiled.

“What’s your idea of a romantic evening…for a first date, I mean?”

“Well…dinner, maybe.  A walk on the beach at night, when the sky is clear and the stars are out and there’s a soft breeze blowing…”  Turley sighed.  “That would be heaven, right about now.”

Vincent thought a moment, and his eyes brightened.  “I’ll be right back,” he said, and then he was out the door.

He came back a few minutes later carrying a large box, and told Turley to close her eyes.  She did as told, and when Vincent told her to open them, she saw a large telescope pointed out the window, up toward the sky.  She laughed.

“Can’t do anything about the sand or the waves,” Vincent said.  “Unless you wanna go get in the bathtub with me.”

Turley giggled and then stood up, walked over to the telescope.  She looked inside and saw the stars, and Vincent explained the constellations to her.

“This is a nice scope.  Where’d you get it?”

“Dad bought it for me for Christmas one year.”  Vincent cleared his throat.  “I used to use it to spy on you.”

Turley laughed but stopped when she realized that he was serious; at ten, he loved her.  At thirty-six, he loved her still.

Turley touched his face.

“Why couldn’t you have been this sweet when we were kids?”

Vincent laughed.  “Okay, first of all, if you think that being spied on is sweet, then you’re definitely twisted.  Secondly, I didn’t know how to act around you as a kid.  And puberty was hell, let me tell you…”

Turley laughed.

“I’d get so nervous around you that my palms would sweat and I’d feel queasy…”  His brows furrowed, “I loathed Katherine for hurting you, and I wanted nothing more than to be big and strong to protect you from her, from anyone who’d hurt you.”

“Well, you’re definitely big and strong now,” Turley said of Vincent’s stellar physique, and he chuckled.

“You always said that guys with muscles turned you off, though.”

Turley shrugged.  “Not on you, they don’t.”

Vincent leaned closer to her.  “That’s good to know,” he whispered before kissing her.

Turley put her arms around Vincent’s neck and returned the kiss, and then they heard Katherine scream.

---

[1] Everything okay out here, Son?

[2] Yes, Dad.  Go back to bed.

[3] Sometimes I’d like to break her like a twig.

[4] Goodnight

[5] children

[6] Hey, man.  She’s all done.

[7] The fender’s on back order.  I’ll call you when it comes in.

[8] Bastard!

[9] Have I ever told you how pretty you are, Turtle?

[10] thank you

[11] You’re welcome.

[12] Hurry, hurry!

[13] Dry off before you catch your deaths!

[14] Where have you been, Vincent?  You were supposed to be at the garage today.

[15] I finished the car, don’t worry.  Turtle and I took a drive down past the creek, that’s all.

[16] I’m sick of this shit

[17] Sit down, Vincent!  It’s not your place!

[18] We’ve put up with this nonsense for going on thirty-six years, Papa.  Enough is enough.

[19] Just call the police, already, before someone gets killed.

[20] Good Heavens!

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Sneak Peek: THE WINDOW, by Adie Bishop

-1-

The Jeff Healey Band’s Confidence Man blared from the small garage.  Vincent Castraletti was busy working underneath a ‘63 Ford Thunderbird when she walked in, stopping at the car.

“Hey, [1]Pequeñito,” she said, and Vincent dropped the socket he had in his hand.  After a moment he slid from beneath the car and took her in from bottom to top, and then back again, before he spoke.

[2]“Tortuga?”

Turley Mason smiled as Vincent stood up and took an old rag from his back pants pocket and wiped his hands.  He extended his hand as Turley shook her head and removed her sunglasses, went into his arms and hugged him, and Vincent laughed and picked her up.

[3]“Tu espanol tener consegues mejor, Hermana.”

[4]“Gracias, Grande Hombre,” Turley said with a smile, looking him over after he’d put her down.  She touched his muscular arms and laughed.  “I can’t call you little anymore!  Look at you!”

Vincent smiled, shrugged.

He wiped the sweat from his face and shaved head, and Turley continued to shake her head.

“You’re not the little boy I remember.”

Vincent raised an eyebrow, “And you’re not the [5]chica I remember, Tortuga.”

Turley smiled.

“So, watcha think?” she asked, turning in a circle, “Think LA has done me good?”

Vincent nodded.  “Definitely,” he said, his deep voice sounding pleased, and Turley hugged him again.

“I’m all sweaty…”

“You’re fine.”  She sighed, ended the embrace.  “God, how I’ve missed you!”

Vincent sighed, put his hands on his hips, and shook his head again, looked at her.  He walked over to the stereo and turned the music down, walked back over and leaned against the Thunderbird, crossed his arms.

“How long are you in town for?”

Turley shrugged, “At least for the summer.  After that I’m not sure.”

Vincent nodded.

“We’ll have to hang out.  Like old times.”

Turley laughed heartily.  “What, so you can break my arm again?”

Vincent blushed, put his head down, finally shook it again.

“I was ten.”

“You were a mean little shit!”

Vincent nodded.  “Granted, but you were annoying, following me around all the time.”  He paused, thought a moment.  “What was it you used to call me?  Vinsa?”

“Insa,” Turley corrected, and Vincet nodded at the memory.

He had been four and she three when he’d knocked her off of the slide.  “Insa, pway,” she’d begged.  She’d skinned both knees and cried, and Vincent’s father spanked and scolded him, “[6]Vincente, Vena aqui ahora!  Tu sabes mejor a este! Por que empujes ella!  Vena qui, pequenita!” and then took the both of them home.

Turley’s mother was rarely home, and she spent most of her time with Vincent and his parents, Mark and Emma, growing up.

Neighbors, the Castralettis and Masons had grown up together for three generations, which was why the Castralettis didn’t mind keeping Turley so much.  When Turley’s mother Katherine was home, she was usually with a new man, and usually, fighting ensued; Emma had to run and get Turley away from the commotion on more than one occasion.

“How are your parents?” Turley asked.

“They’re good.”  Vincent paused.  “How’s Katherine?”

“Katherine’s Katherine,” Turley shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I haven’t been there yet.  Was heading there next.”

Vincent nodded.

“Wanna go with me?” Turley asked with a nervous chuckle, and Vincent let out a sigh and crossed his arms.

“Turtle, you know how your mom is.”  He shook his head.  “Mom, Dad, and I haven’t seen her in about a week.  The last time any of us saw her, she was heading out the door with a new guy.”

Turley nodded and then grimaced.  “You know how she is.  I don’t know why she’s like that, but she is.”

Vincent nodded in agreement.

“I know she put your parents through a lot, and I apologize for that…”

Vincent put a hand up to stop her, [7]“No se preocupe, Tortuga.  Everyone knows how your mother is.”  He shook his head.  “Besides, I was always glad to have you around.”

Turley grinned.  “Yeah?  Then how come you were always so mean to me?”

Vincent smiled.  “That was my way of showing you that I liked you.”

Turley shook her head, hugged him again, breathed in his scent of sweat and motor oil, and then sighed.  “You guys saved me, y’know?”

Vincent hugged her tighter, mumbled into her hair, “Any time, chica,” and Turley broke the hug and wiped at her eyes.

Vincent looked at her.  College in Los Angeles had been good for her.  She was tan (her skin almost glowed), her eyes were bright, her smile exuberant, her physique strong and healthy; she was no longer a pale, sickly child, but a beautiful and intelligent, grown woman.  For a moment, not the first moment, and probably not the last, Vincent pitied her for having gone through what she did as a child.

Katherine Mason was the type of woman to go with any man, and it was no secret that she did just that.  Turley spent most of her childhood and teen years with the Castralettis, and although Mark was, to put it lightly, mean at times, life with them was a fair sight better than life with her mother, who, more often than not, neglected the girl.  It was nothing for Mark and Emma to go in to Katherine’s house to find her passed out while Turley sat in the floor in a dirty diaper, sick, cold and hungry, and they constantly weighed the option of calling child protective services on Katherine.  Figuring that Turley deserved better, however, they began to take care of her on a regular basis, as Katherine didn’t seem to mind, or even notice, that her six month old daughter was gone.

Turley’s father had left before she was born, and, one to hold a grudge for an eternity, at present, Turley wasn’t too interested in finding him.

Vincent smiled at her.  “You look really good.”  He paused.  “How was school?”

“College was great.  You should try it.”

Vincent laughed, stretched out his big arms and glanced around him, “And leave all of this?  No way!”

Turley laughed.

Vincent shrugged.  “Books aren’t my thing, Tortuga.  This is where I belong,” he added, turning back to the Thunderbird and pulling the dipstick, “Besides, I’d probably just get into trouble for beating the shit out of one of your boyfriends.”

“One of my boyfriends?  Ha!” Turley laughed, and Vincent wiped the dipstick clean, reinserted it.

“I don’t have any boyfriends, thank you very much!”

Vincent wiped his hands off again, turned back to her.  “Well that’s good, then.  Less ass whippings to disperse while you’re here.”

Turley laughed and shook her head as she remembered Vincent punching Billy Cruddep in the face in high school for grabbing her behind; despite his meanness toward her, Vincent wouldn’t allow anyone else to hurt or disrespect her, in any way.

“Where are you staying?”

Turley shrugged.  “I don’t know that, yet, either.  I guess it depends on Katherine.”

Vincent looked at her, crossed his arms again.  Turley had insisted on calling her mother by her name ever since she was old enough to say it.

“Well, there are always the windowsills,” Vincent said after a moment, and Turley tossed her head back, laughing.  She and Vincent had spent night upon night sitting on their adjacent windowsills, talking.  Sometimes, when things were bad at Turley’s, she would sneak through Vincent’s window and sleep in his room with him.  She would curl up next to him and he would hold her and assuage her fears.  In the mornings they would eat breakfast and get ready for school, and she and Vincent would walk the half mile to school and talk.

Sometimes the two would skip school to go to their favorite hangout spot, a creek in the nearby woods, just large enough to swim in.  It was the same creek that Turley had landed in when she was nine and Vincent had shoved her down the hill and she’d broken her arm.  Quiet and peaceful, the two would stay at the creek sometimes until after dark, when they would finally run home and get a scolding in both Spanish (for Vincent) and English (for Turley) from Vincent’s parents for staying out so late.

“Well,” Vincent said, “let me go get cleaned up and we’ll go.”

“Your bike or my car?” Turley asked, pulling a set of keys from her pocket, and Vincent smiled.

~

Vincent tightened the strap underneath her chin and she gave a thumbs up.  She climbed on the bike behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist as Vincent started the motorcycle, and then they were off, speeding down the road toward their street.

Turley looked around her, noticed that the small shops and stores that she’d gone to as a child had long since closed; the place looked like a ghost town now, and she wondered how Vincent was able to make a living working in the garage when there weren’t many people around.

When they reached their houses, Vincent shut the bike off and the two got off and removed their helmets.

“I’ll wait here for you.”

Turley nodded, headed to her front door, knocked, and waited.  When there was no answer, she motioned for Vincent, who followed her to the side of the house.  Turley opened the window and Vincent cupped her bottom and gave her a shove as she climbed inside.

Vincent went around to the front door of the house and Turley opened the door for him.

“She’s not here,” Turley sighed, and Vincent nodded, checked the time on his watch.

“Probably won’t be back ‘til tonight, I’d say.”

Turley walked out onto the porch and sat down, and Vincent joined her.

“Just stay with me,” he said finally, tapping her on the knee, and after a moment, Turley nodded.

“‘Kay.”

[8]“Que?” Vincent asked on purpose, and Turley laughed at him.  “O-kay,” she corrected, and Vincent laughed and stood up.  He took her by the hand.

“C’mon.”

~

[9]“Ella se convirtió en una bella dama, Hijo,” Mark Castraletti said, and Vincent nodded.  [10]“Yo conocer, Papa.”

Emma passed a platter of mashed potatoes to Turley.

“How has school been?” she asked as Turley put a spoonful of the potatoes onto her plate.

“School was great.  It was a whole other world.”  She paused.  “So who’s Katherine with now?” she asked, changing the subject.

Emma looked at Mark, and Mark looked at Emma.  Vincent glanced at both of them, tried changing the subject.

“Whattaya say we all go see a movie after while?”

“We don’t know who she’s with now, Sweetheart,” Emma said after a moment.

“They come and go, as I’m sure you remember.”

Turley nodded and shrugged, began eating.

[11]“Estupido, tonto puta,” Mark mumbled, and Emma scolded him.  Turley looked at the two of them and then went back to eating, glad that she didn’t speak Spanish fluently.

“Let’s go down to the creek,” Turley said after she’d finished eating, and Vincent wiped his mouth and nodded.  The two then stood and began helping Emma clear the table.

~

“Turn around.”

Turley rolled her eyes.  “I’ve seen you before, Insa!”

Vincent crossed his arms, repeated himself, and finally, Turley did as told.

Vincent pulled his t-shirt, pants, socks and shoes off, and dove into the water.

Turley swam in her underwear, and she turned to face Vincent.

“It’s not like the water’s opaque, either.”

Vincent grinned.  “The last time you saw me naked, we were kids.”  He swam around her.  “I’ve gotten…bigger,” he added with a smirk, and Turley splashed water on him.

[12]“Pendejo!”

Vincent laughed, splashed Turley with water.  She wiped the water from her face and began floating, leaving little room for Vincent in the creek, and he moved toward the bank, sat waist deep in the water on top of a rock, and watched her.

“I missed you, Turtle,” he said after a long while, and Turley stopped floating, moved toward him.  She put her hands on his knees to steady herself.

“I missed you, too, Insa.”

Vincent caressed her cheek as she stared at him, and then he cleared his throat, moved back into the middle of the water.

“So, do you wanna go back and try to see Katherine tonight?”

Turley swam toward him.  “I don’t know yet.”

“You know she’ll be with someone.”

Turley nodded.

“You know she’ll be drunk.”

Turley nodded again.

“You know if she hits you again I’ll have to hurt her.”

Turley sighed.  “I’ll be fine.  I’ve gotten bigger, too, y’know.”

Vincent shrugged, “I’m just saying.  No one will ever hurt you while I’m around.”  He paused.  “The only reason she did it when we were kids is because I was too little to do anything to stop her.”

Turley looked at him.

“I’d get so mad at her for hitting you.  Papa would bring you over to the house…you’d be half naked, crying, with bruises on you…” his voice faded, and then he continued as he swam, “and cigarette burns from those pendejo boyfriends of hers…”  He shook his head.  “It wasn’t right, Turley.”

“I know.”

Turley swam to the bank and climbed out and sat down, leaving her feet in the water.

Vincent swam to her, tried to avoid looking at her body.  Finally, he picked up her left leg and examined her knee.  “And you still have the scar.”

Turley pulled her leg free and curled her knees beneath her chin.

“Yeah.”

Vincent climbed out of the water as Turley turned around, and he dried off and got dressed.  He handed Turley a towel, and she did the same.

She didn’t like to talk about the scar.

It was dark when the two walked back through the woods, and Vincent held Turley’s hand as they talked quietly.

“It’s hard to believe, Insa.”

“What’s hard to believe?”

“That we’ve been friends since we were toddlers.”  Turley smiled to herself.

“Yeah,” Vincent said as he helped Turley over a log, “sorry for being so mean to you back then.”

Turley shrugged, “It’s okay.”  She paused, thought a moment.  “Remember that guy who used to spit on me in high school, and you beat him up and got detention for it?”

Vincent thought a moment.  “Yeah…what’shisname…Andrew, something.”

“Right.  Well, I never knew it, until high school, but he was in love with me.”

“How do you know that?”

“My English teacher let me read a letter that his sister had written her.  In it, she talked about her brother having a huge crush on me, blah, blah, blah.”  She paused.  “So, I kind of figured out that your being so mean to me was because you liked me.”  She shrugged, “At least I hoped so, anyway.”

Vincent chuckled.  “And look at us now, all grown up, still hanging out at the creek, still walking through the woods, and still afraid to confront your mother.”  He laughed, shook his head.  “Funny how things can change and, at the same time, stay so much the same.”

“No kidding,” Turley agreed as they reached Vincent’s bike.  When they returned back home, they heard cursing and yelling from inside Katherine’s house, and Turley sighed and looked at Vincent.

“Sleepover?” she asked.

Vincent nodded.

~

“Can I borrow your toothbrush?”

[13]“Si,” Vincent said as he turned down his bed.  He turned the overhead light off and turned a bedside light on, climbed into bed, and waited for Turley.

She came out wearing one of his t-shirts and a pair of his boxers.

“I’ll get my stuff out of the trunk tomorrow when we go back to the garage.”

[14]“Esta bien.”

Turley climbed into bed and rested her head on Vincent’s shoulder.  She sighed a sigh of relief as she nestled into bed.  She and Vincent were quiet as they listened to the commotion next door.

It was a good five minutes before either of them spoke.

Vincent lay next to her, covered to his neck with a blanket.  He tried to sleep.

“Hey,” Turley said after a moment.

“What?” Vincent mumbled.

“How come you still don’t have a girlfriend?”

Breaking glass next door, and Vincent sighed.  “I did have a girlfriend,” he said finally.  “She broke up with me because she thought I was dating you.”

Turley snickered.

He paused.  “Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”

Turley shrugged.  “I guess I just never found anyone that I liked well enough.”

Vincent glanced at her.  “You like me.”

“Yeah, but you’re different.”

“Mmm,” his deep voice growled, “and how am I different?”

“Because you’re my best friend.”

“How ‘bout you let your best friend get some sleep?” Vincent mumbled, and Turley was quiet for a while.  Just as Vincent was about to doze off, however, Turley said, “Hey,” again.

Vincent sighed.  “What?”

Turley twirled a strand of her hair around her index finger, thinking.

“How come we never dated?”

Vincent rolled over to face her.

“I don’t know,” he said after a moment.  “I figured you’d say no if I asked.”  He closed his eyes again, and Turley looked at him.

“No I wouldn’t have,” she said finally, and then closed her eyes.

“Can I cuddle up to you?” she asked, changing the subject, and Vincent nodded, scooted closer to her.  She turned her back toward him and he instinctively put his arm around her waist; within minutes, Turley was fast asleep, and Vincent stared at her silhouette in the dark.

He thought about their first night together this way:  Turley was twelve and had snuck into his room through his window again.  Afraid, she climbed into bed with him and he held her all night, she scooted next to him, his arm protectively around her waist; now no longer a child but a grown woman, Vincent noticed how her body had changed, of course, but her mindset had remained, for the most part, childlike.  She was still afraid of her mother, still looking to the Castralettis for protection, for some semblance of normalcy, for love.

At that particular moment, Vincent Castraletti didn’t seem to mind.

---

[1] Little Man

[2] Turtle

[3] Your Spanish has gotten better, Sister.

[4] Thank you, Big Man.

[5] girl

[6] Vincent!  Come here now!  You know better than to push someone!  Come here, little one!

[7] Don’t worry, Turtle.

[8] What?

[9] She’s turned into a beautiful lady, Son.

[10] I know, Dad.

[11] Stupid, foolish whore.

[12] Asshole!

[13] Yes.

[14] It’s fine.

ROCK A BYE AVAILABLE NOW!

ROCK A BYE, by Adie Bishop, available Saturday, October 17th! Pick up your copy and don’t forget the soundtrack by Jerry Markham, available on CDBaby or jerrymarkhammusic.com!

The Window NOW AVAILABLE!

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Take care.

Eros, Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen:

It’s Not Over

“Love is not kismet.  You don’t choose it, it chooses you.”  Will paused, smiled.  “Open your books and read chapters one through three.”

***

Will got home to find Imogen in the office, studying and cooing to her growing belly.  He greeted her with a kiss and kissed her stomach.  She giggled.

“How was your day?”

“Good.  Yours?”

Imogen shook her head.  “I hate math,” she said, and Will laughed, kissed her again.

“And how was your day?” he asked to her belly, and Imogen smoothed his hair, smiled at him.

He took his suit jacket off and rolled up his sleeves, kissed her again.  “I’m going to go start dinner.”

“Okay.  I love you.”

“Ditto, my love.”

***

They lived a quiet, normal, peaceful life.  Will went to work, Imogen went to school, and they anxiously awaited the arrival of a baby girl.

On a cold night in November months later, however, their quiet, normal, peaceful life took a nosedive.

Will got off work late from grading exams and was driving home when he spotted Bobby Peterson walking down Main Street.  When the young man turned down the alleyway by John’s Move Rental, Will knew his chance for revenge had come.  He parked in the Rite Aid parking lot and followed him on foot.

Will swung before Bobby could turn, laying him out flat, and Will was on him in an instant, beating him in the face, cursing as he did so.

“You sick sonofabitch!  How do you like it, huh?!”

He beat him in the face until he couldn’t swing his arms anymore, then finally stood up, breathless.

Making sure no one had seen him, Will sprinted off on foot back to his car and then drove home.

He didn’t tell Imogen what he’d done.

***

Imogen was Christmas shopping with Sally when her water broke.

Sally called an ambulance and then called Will, and Imogen was rushed to the delivery room, where she gave birth to Amanda Belle Drake, seven pounds, three ounces.

Will held his daughter and caressed Imogen’s cheek.

“I love you so much,” he said with tears in his eyes, and an exhausted Imogen smiled.

***

Will decorated the tree as Imogen breast fed Amanda.

“I like the green and red ones,” Imogen said of the glass ornaments, and Will nodded, began hanging them on the tree.

He’d fumbled with the lights for over an hour, and Imogen giggled as she watched him untangle himself from them.

“My Baby’s all tied up!” she exclaimed happily, and Will laughed, kissed her.

After the tree was decorated and the last presents were wrapped, Will and Imogen put Amanda down to sleep and then went to bed themselves.

Around two in the morning Amanda woke crying, and Imogen got up to feed her.

She sat down in the rocking chair in the nursery and rocked back and forth as Amanda ate heartily.  Fifteen minutes later, after Amanda had gone back to sleep, Imogen went downstairs to get a glass of water.

Moments later, Will heard breaking glass, and hurried out of bed and downstairs to find an intruder with his hands around Imogen’s throat.  Before he could grab the man, someone else grabbed him and slung him against the wall.

Will fell to the floor as he listened to Imogen gag and cough, and the man who’d thrown him began kicking him and beating him about his face and body.  Will scrambled to his feet and managed to punch him, knocking him out, and then he grabbed the man who had hold of Imogen, swung him around, and punched him in the face.

Free, Imogen coughed and held her throat as Will fought with the first intruder.  After she could breathe well enough to run, Imogen ran upstairs and pulled the lock box from the closet, retrieved her father’s .38, and loaded it quickly, her hands shaking, tears in her eyes, her breathing uneven.  On her way back down the stairs she heard breaking glass as Will and the man continued to fight, and upstairs, Amanda woke and was screaming.

Imogen stopped midway on the stairwell and turned the light on, saw the man beating Will, and she aimed the gun.  “Stop or I’ll shoot!” she yelled, but the man wouldn’t listen.  Imogen repeated herself, louder, but again, the man wouldn’t listen, kept punching Will.  Bloodied, Will lie in the floor in a heap, and then Imogen pulled the trigger.

The man’s body fell on top of Will, and when Will rolled the man off of him, he discovered that it was Bobby Peterson.  The second intruder, unknown, lay unconscious in the foyer.

Imogen put the gun down and ran back upstairs to Amanda, carried her downstairs, and went to Will, who sat up, coughing, his face battered and bloodied.

Imogen brought him a wash cloth and he cleaned himself up, and then dialed 911.

***

The police ruled the shooting as self-defense, and after three hours, Will and Imogen’s house was cleared.  EMTs finished bandaging Will while Imogen comforted Amanda, and after a while, the small wonder finally went back to sleep.

Safe in her crib, Amanda slept peacefully, and Imogen was grateful.

She and Will spent the rest of the night cleaning up the mess that had been made (Will scrubbed away at the blood stains while Imogen swept up the broken glass), and after a long hot bath, the two sat in the kitchen at dawn, drinking coffee.  Imogen was still shaken.

Finally, she sighed.

“It’s over.”

Will nodded, took his wife’s hands.

“Immie, this is all my fault.”

Imogen looked at him.  “What?  No it isn’t.  They broke in.”

“I did something, and I didn’t tell you.”

“What did you do?”

Will sighed.  “Three months ago I caught Bobby out walking.”  He paused.  “I beat him half to death.”

Imogen blinked.  “What?”

Will nodded.  “I couldn’t just let him walk away.”

Imogen was quiet for a long while, and then looked at her husband.  “Well, he’s not walking now.”

Will kissed her.  “I’m sorry.”

“For what?  For trying to protect your family?  Don’t apologize, Will.”  She took a drink of her coffee, was unusually calm.  “Don’t ever apologize for loving me.”

Will nodded.

Eros, Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen:

Wedding Song

Imogen giggled, dabbed at her made up eyes with a tissue.

Peter whistled, and Sally laughed.

“Look at you!  You wanna get married?” he asked, and Imogen laughed as he helped her into the car.

At the church, about fifty guests waited along with Will for Peter, Sally, the kids, and Imogen to arrive.

They arrived at eleven forty-five, and Sally rushed Imogen to a back room as Peter took Mark and Stephen and met Will.

“You oughtta see your bride!” Peter chimed, and Will’s face lit up.  “She is gorg-e-ous!”

In a side room, Sally fixed Imogen’s veil and Molly picked up the train, waited for Mendelssohn’s Wedding March to begin.

Will took his place by the preacher as the music began and Mark and Stephen slowly made their way up the aisle.

Will held his breath until he saw Imogen, and then gasped, held his heart when he finally did.

Dressed in the satin wedding gown, baby’s breath in her curled hair and her made up face beneath the veil, Imogen looked more beautiful than Will had ever seen her.

Tears came to his eyes and Peter chuckled as he escorted Imogen down the aisle.

“Our boy’s cryin’ like a little girl,” he whispered, and Imogen giggled.

They reached the altar and the preacher asked everyone to bow their heads to pray, and then the ceremony began.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sign of God, and in the face of this company, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is commended to be honorable among all men; and therefore is not by any to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, discreetly, advisedly and solemnly.  Into this holy estate these two persons present now come to be joined.  If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

Silence, and the preacher continued, “Marriage is the union of husband and wife in heart, body and mind.  It is intended for their mutual joy, and for the help and comfort given on another in prosperity and adversity.  But more importantly, it is a means through which a stable and loving environment may be attained.

Through marriage, William and Imogen make a commitment together to face their disappointments, embrace their dreams, realize their hopes, and accept each other’s failures.  William and Imogen will promise one another to aspire to these ideals throughout their lives together, through mutual understanding, openness, and sensitivity to each other.

We are here today before God because marriage is one of His most sacred wishes, to witness the joining in marriage of William and Imogen.  This occasion marks the celebration of love and commitment with which this man and this woman begin their life together.  And now, through me, He joins you together in one of the holiest bonds.”  He paused.  “Who gives this woman in marriage to this man?”

Peter looked at him.  “I do,” he replied, and then moved to stand by Will.

“This is a beginning and a continuation of their growth as individuals,” the preacher continued.  “With mutual care, respect, responsibility and knowledge comes the affirmation of each one’s own life happiness, growth and freedom.  With respect for individual boundaries comes the freedom to love unconditionally.  Within the emotional safety of a loving relationship, the knowledge self-offered one another becomes the fertile soil for continued growth.  With care and responsibility towards self and one another comes the potential for full and happy lives.
By gathering together all the wishes of happiness and our fondest hopes for William and Imogen from all present here, we assure them that our hearts are in tune with theirs.  These moments are so meaningful to all of us, for what greater thing is there for two human souls than to feel that they are joined together, to strengthen each other in all labor, to minister to each other in all sorrow, to share with each other in all gladness.
This relationship stands for love, loyalty, honesty and trust, but most of all, for friendship.  Before they knew love, they were friends, and it was from this seed of friendship that is their destiny.  Do not think that you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, shall direct you.
Marriage is an act of faith and a personal commitment as well as a moral and physical union between two people.  Marriage has been described as the best and most important relationship that can exist between them.  It is the construction of their love and trust into a single growing energy of spiritual life.  It is a moral commitment that requires and deserves daily attention.  Marriage should be a life long consecration of the ideal of loving kindness, backed with the will to make it last.

Do you, William, take Imogen to be your wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony?  Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, for better, for worse, in sadness and in joy, to cherish and continually bestow upon her your heart’s deepest devotion, forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her as long as you both shall live?

Will looked at Imogen and smiled.

“I do.”

“Do you, Imogen, take William to be your husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony?  Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, for better, for worse, in sadness and in joy, to cherish and continually bestow upon him your heart’s deepest devotion, forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto him as long as you both shall live?”

Imogen smiled and nodded, tears in her eyes, and took Will’s hand.

“I do.”

“What token of your love do you offer?”

“We have rings,” Will replied, and Peter motioned for Stephen, who sprinted to the altar with the rings.  The congregation laughed, and Stephen sat back down.

“Place the rings in my hand, please.”

Will handed the rings to the preacher, and he blessed them.

“May these rings be blessed as the symbol of this affectionate unity.  These two lives are now joined in one unbroken circle.  Wherever they go, may they always return to one another.  May these two find in each other the love for which all men and women yearn.  May they grow in understanding and in compassion.  May the home which they establish together be such a place that many will find there a friend.  May these rings on their fingers symbolize the touch of the spirit of love in their hearts.”

Will took Imogen’s ring, placed it on her finger.

“Repeat after me.  ‘Imogen Renee Hassleby, you are now consecrated to me as my wife from this day forward and I give you this ring as the pledge of my love and as the symbol of our unity.  With this ring, I thee wed.’”

Will repeated the words, and Imogen began crying.  She then took Will’s ring from the preacher, repeated his words.

“William James Drake, you are now consecrated to me as my husband from this day forward and I give you this ring as the pledge of my love and as the symbol of our unity and with this ring, I thee wed.”

“May you always share with each other the gifts of love, be one in heart and in mind, may you always create a home together that puts in your hearts love, generosity, and kindness.
In as much as William and Imogen have consented together in marriage before this company of friends and family and have pledged their faith and declared their unity by giving and receiving a ring are now joined.
You have pronounced yourselves husband and wife, but remember to always be each other’s best friend.

What therefore God has joined together, let no man put asunder.
And so, by the power vested in me by the State of Virginia and Almighty God, I now pronounce you man and wife, and may your days be good and long upon the earth.”  He paused and smiled, “You may now kiss the bride.”

Will raised Imogen’s veil and kissed her gently, and the church erupted into applause and shouts.

***

The reception lasted until after one in the morning, when Will and Imogen were whisked away in a limousine to the Great Smoky Mountains to honeymoon for three days, as Will had to be back to work the following Monday.

They slept in the limo and once at the cabin, unpacked.

Will took her in his arms and kissed her.

“I love you, Mrs. Drake.”

“Ditto, Mr. Drake,” Imogen said and smiled, and Will kissed her gently.

“Will you help me out of this wedding gown?”

“Of course, my love,” Will said as Imogen turned.  He began unbuttoning the buttons on the back of the gown, and once finished, Imogen excused herself to go to the bathroom.

She ran a bubble bath and lit candles as Will prepared the bedroom by also lighting candles and placing rose petals about the room.

“Will, could you come here, please?” Imogen called from the bath, and Will smiled when he saw her in the bubbles.

“Care to join me?”

Will smiled, began getting undressed, and then climbed into the deep tub with his new wife.

***

Will put his pajamas on and lay in bed, waiting for Imogen.

When she came out of the bathroom dressed in a white silk peignoir and robe, his mouth fell agape.

“You look…incredible.”

Imogen smiled, noticing the rose petals, and climbed in bed beside him.

“Thank you,” she said and then kissed him, and after a few moments, Will pulled away.

“Immie, we don’t have to do this right now.”

Imogen looked at him.  “It’s okay,” she whispered, kissing him gently, “I want to.”

“Are you sure?”

Imogen nodded, and Will kissed her.

His fingers traced her shoulders in small circles, and Imogen wrapped her arms around his neck.  Will lay her back gently, supporting his weight on an elbow, and he slid the left strap of her gown down and kissed her neck and shoulder.  After a few moments, he moved to her breast, and Imogen let out a soft sigh.  Being ever so careful, Will took Imogen’s nipple in his mouth, circled it with his tongue, and sucked on it gently.  He moved back up and began kissing her again, and Imogen took Will’s shirt off, ran her hands down his back and over his chest.

He slid the other strap of her gown off and she rose up and slid out of the slinky garment, and then kissed him.  She cupped his buttocks and slid his jogging pants down, and he removed them.

Naked, the two lay together in bed as husband and wife, kissing and holding one another.  Will was gentle and took his time, and when he entered Imogen slowly, she sighed and then shuddered.  He moved as slowly and as easily as he could, and Imogen kissed him.

“I love you,” she breathed, and Will echoed it back to her.

Eros, Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve:

Heal the Pain

Will had paid his fine, and he and Imogen were on their way back to Whitby, the small coal camp where Imogen lived.

He pounded his fist on the steering wheel.

“Goddamnit!”  He was shaking mad.  “I cannot believe they let that sonofabitch go!”

“I can.”

Will looked at her and she shrugged, “His Dad probably paid the judge.”

Imogen was drained, physically and emotionally.  She put her hand on Will’s thigh.  “It doesn’t matter now, anyway,” she said finally.  “It’s over with.”

Will shook his head, furious.  “No, it isn’t over.  Not by a long shot.  I’ll be damned if I’m letting him walk free after what he did to you!”

Imogen looked at him.  “Will?”

After a moment, Will’s eyes met hers.

“Please, for me?  Will you let it go?”

After a long silence, Will sighed.

***

When they got back to Imogen’s, she took her pain medicine and lay down, while Will sat quietly in the living room, still pissed.

He couldn’t get the images of what they’d done to her out of his mind.  He pictured them beating her, raping her, saying what they said and then leaving, and he was so mad that he could barely control himself.  He wanted to kill them both.

And Jack, only getting five years.  He’d be out after that, for “good behavior.”

Will shook his head.  It just wasn’t right.

***

Peter couldn’t believe it, either.

“You’re kidding me!”

“No.  They let him go free.”

“Well he can’t just walk away.”

Will shook his head, thumbed the phone cord.  “He did.”

Peter grimaced, told Molly to stop hitting Stephen and to go find their mother.  Thankfully they did, and Peter continued.  “How’s Imogen?”

Will sighed.  “She’s exhausted, lying down right now.”

“Well that’s good, at least.  Let her rest.  Lord knows she needs it.”

Will nodded, and the bedroom door opened and Imogen stepped out, yawning.

“Pete, she just woke up.  Let me call you back.”

“Alright, Bro.  Take care.”

“You, too.”

Will hung up the phone, walked to Imogen and hugged her.

“How are they doing?” she asked.

Will smiled.  “They’re fine.”  He paused, led her to the couch.  “How are you?  Did you sleep well?”

Imogen nodded, yawned again.

“It’s nice to not have the nightmares.”

Will took her in his arms and she rested her head on his shoulder.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For this, for being with me.  For helping me through this madness.”

Will looked at her, kissed her forehead.

“Baby, I love you.  I’ll always be here for you.”

Imogen nodded, the tears stinging her eyes.  “I know.  I love you, too.”

Will sighed, smoothed her hair.  “Have you given any more thought to coming back to Athens with me?”

“I will, when I feel up to it, okay?”

Will nodded, kissed her forehead again, and she smiled.

***

Will laughed, stopped the catch his breath.  They’d been running for half an hour up hill, and Imogen grinned at him, stopped running.

“Awe, come on!  You’ve still gotta run back!”

Will doubled over, then raised up, holding his back, “I’ll walk back!”

Imogen laughed.

It had been three weeks since the trial, and Will had finally talked Imogen into going back to Athens with him.

President Beeslie reinstated Will, and he was to begin teaching again in two weeks.

They took a break from packing to go for a run, and Imogen took him through the old coal camp, up past the old mines to the mountains to see the view there.

“Just a bit further!” Imogen said, taking off again, and Will shook his head, laughed, and began running again.

When he reached Imogen, she was standing at the top of a hill, looking out over the mountains, and Will put his arm around her when he reached her.

“Wow.  It’s beautiful up here,” he said breathlessly, and Imogen nodded.

“Nothing like the rest of the camp.”

Will nodded.  “No kidding.”

They sat down, and Imogen took Will’s hand.

“I’m ready to go back now,” she said after a moment, and Will kissed her.

“Okay.  We’ll leave tomorrow.”

Imogen smiled.

***

They spent the end of summer unpacking back in Athens, and Will converted his guest room into an office for Imogen.  She’d decided to go back to Concord in the fall semester.

They spent the evenings holding hands and talking, and after a few weeks, Imogen asked Will to share his bed.  They held one another at night, and slowly, Imogen’s nightmares subsided.

***

Imogen sipped her tea as she and Will sat on the front porch, watching the leaves fall.

“Marry me,” he said suddenly, and Imogen looked at him.

“Wh—what?”

“You heard me,” he said with a grin.

“Marry me,” he repeated, and Imogen stared at him.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

Imogen shook her head, thought a moment.

“Okay,” she said finally, and Will smiled and kissed her.

***

“Ouch!”

“Well hold still, darlin’!” Sally said, and Imogen laughed, looked at her reflection again.  She couldn’t believe she was getting married tomorrow.

Sally put another stick pin in the wedding gown.  “I tell ya, it fits like it was made for you!”

Imogen smiled, looked at herself, and Sally grinned, clasped her hands together.  “You are a vision!”

Made of satin, the gown felt heavenly against Imogen’s skin.  Adorned with pearls and crystals, complete with a long train and veil, the dress had been expensive.

Sally had gone all out with decorating the wedding chapel and hall where the reception was to be held; there were over five hundred white roses, and the scent was amazing.

Sally had planned everything down to the tiniest detail, and Imogen didn’t know how she’d ever repay her.

“It’s enough just knowing that you saved my brother-in-law from a life of solitude!” Sally said and laughed, and Imogen smiled.

“He’s so good to me, Sally.”

“And you’re just as good to him, Sweetheart.”

Imogen smiled.

***

Peter and Will were getting fixed for tuxedos.

“You’re awful calm, Bro.”

Will shrugged, smiled.  “I’m in love with her.”

Peter laughed.  “I’m glad you finally found someone.”  He paused.  “Tara was too high maintenance for you, anyway,” he said, burying the hatchet, and Will looked at him.

“Yes, she was.”

Peter hugged his brother.

“Congratulations, man, really.”

Will hugged him back.

“Thank you.”

***

Imogen spent the night at Peter and Sally’s, to avoid Will seeing her in her wedding gown.  They were to meet at noon at the church the following day for the ceremony, and Imogen and Will both had a hard time sleeping due to excitement.

“I’m so much in love with you that it hurts,” Will said on the phone.  “I’d do anything for you, Immie.”

Imogen smiled.  “I know.  And ditto.”

Will laughed.

“Is it weird that I miss you?”

“No.  I miss you, too.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Well,” Will said after a moment, “I guess we should try to get some sleep.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, my beautiful girl.”

“And I’ll see you, my wonderful man.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Will.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Eros, Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven:

Time After Time

Will turned, as did the rest of the attendees in the court room, and looked toward the large double doors.  After a minute the doors were opened by two police officers, and in walked Imogen.

Will smiled, whispered a relieved, “Yes!” and pounded his fist in his hand.

The defending attorney stood up, escorted Imogen to the stand.  She was sworn in, and then she sat down.  Her face still bruised, her body still swollen, the judge gave her a good once over, and then looked back at the attorney as he spoke.  “State your name for the court, please.”

Imogen leaned toward the microphone.

“Imogen Renee Hassleby.”

“And can you describe for the court the events that took place on the night of May twelfth?”

“Yes.”  Imogen paused and then began.

“I was walking back to my dormitory after mailing some letters out before finishing up my packing.  I heard Jack Walker’s voice saying, ‘Get her,’ and Bobby Peterson’s voice telling him to ‘Shut the fuck up’ so no one would hear them.  Jack grabbed my hair and they drug me down the embankment behind Wilson Hall, into some trees.”  She shrugged, “I guess so no one could see.  I screamed, and then Bobby punched me in the stomach.”

Will watched Imogen and grimaced, his fists clenched, his knuckles white, as she continued.

“I couldn’t breathe, and then Bobby got on top of me and began beating me in the face.  I started to choke on my own blood, but he wouldn’t let up.”

“He kept hitting you?”

“Yes.  Then he yanked my pants off and began raping me.  When he was finished he kicked me several times and told Jack to ‘get on’ or else he’d tell Dean Walsey that he’d done everything by himself.  Jack then climbed on top of me and raped me, too.  When he was finished, Bobby kicked me again, and then they ran off.”

Will frowned, was amazed at Imogen’s courage.

“So you lay there for over sixteen hours, beaten, bloodied, raped, alone in the darkness, unable to call for help?”

“Yes.”

“Did Bobby or Jack say anything while they were raping you?”

“Yes.  Bobby said, ‘I’m gonna show this professor fucking bitch what it’s like to have a real man,’ and Jack said, ‘Yeah, take it all, bitch.’”

Will put his head down.

“A real man,” the attorney repeated, looking at Bobby.

“A real man who beat you, raped you, and left you for dead…”

“Objection,” the prosecuting attorney said, and the judge nodded.  “Stick to the facts.”

“Can you tell us how you felt, while all of this was going on?” the defending attorney asked, and Imogen scoffed.

“I was in pain.  I had to have surgery on my face because Bobby beat me so bad.  I had to have my hymen reconstructed because of vaginal tearing…”  Imogen broke down, “They stole my innocence from me.”  She paused.  “I went back home and changed all the locks on my doors and windows.  I bought an alarm system.  At night I turn on all my lights and stay up until dawn.  When I sleep I have nightmares, so I only nap when I’m completely exhausted.  I carry a loaded .38 with me practically everywhere I go.  I feel like my life is over!” she cried.

The attorney patted Imogen’s hand, looked at the judge.  “No further questions.”

The prosecuting attorney stood up and buttoned his suit, walked toward the stand, and began his cross examination.

“It was dark that night, wasn’t it, Ms. Hassleby?”

“Yes.”

“So how can you be sure that it was Bobby Peterson with Jack that night?”

“I knew his voice.”

“Because you’d gone on one date with him, you say you knew his voice?”

“Yes.”

“And what happened on this one date with Bobby?”

“He tried to kiss me and I ran away.”

“You ran away?  Why?  Didn’t you have a good time?”

“Yes, I had a good time, but that didn’t give him the right to kiss me.”

“So you ran away?” he repeated, and Imogen nodded.

“Do you make it a point of telling people that you’re…excuse me…were…a virgin?”

“Objection, your Honor!  Badgering the witness!”

“Sustained.  Rephrase your question.”

“My apologies, your Honor.”  The man cleared his throat, continued.  “Would you consider yourself prudish?”

“Objection!”

“Sustained.”

“Ms. Hassleby, do you think that Jack raped you on account of your flaunting your relationship with Professor Will Drake around campus?”

“What?!  There was nothing to flaunt, and no, I do not!”

“You weren’t seen jogging together and holding hands?  You didn’t spend a night at his house, after the date with Bobby?”

“Yes, but that’s only because I was afraid and didn’t want to be alone!”

Will glanced at Dean Walsey, who looked away.

“There was semen from Jack Walker found in your vaginal cavity, but none from Bobby Peterson.”

Imogen shrugged.  “Then he must’ve had a condom on.”

“So you’re saying that the rape was premeditated?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t think you had it coming, parading around campus with a professor of the college, taunting Jack Walker with your virginity?”

“Objection!”

“You don’t think that Jack wanted you from day one, and tried to talk to you on several different occasions, but you ignored him and kept on with William Drake?”

“Your Honor, objection!”

“Sustained.  That’s enough.”

“Why are you here, Ms. Hassleby?” the attorney asked finally, and Imogen began crying.

“Because they need to pay for what they did to me!”

“Jack Walker will pay.  He’ll get no less than five years in prison.  But Bobby Peterson is innocent.”

“You’re a lying sack of shit!” Imogen yelled, stood up, and the judge banged his hammer once more.

“He did this to me!”

“Ms. Hassleby, sit down!” the judge ordered, and Imogen did as told, sobbed, “You don’t know what it was like!  You don’t know what it’s like to live alone for twenty-three years of your life and then finally fall in love with someone!  Someone you can give your heart and soul to, and then to have everything stripped away in a matter of minutes by some fucking assholes who can barely get it up!”

Bobby grimaced, looked at his father, who motioned for him to be silent.

“No further questions, your Honor.”

***

Both attorneys gave their final summations, and the judge went to his chambers to decide Bobby Peterson’s fate.

Imogen sat in the court room next to Will, who held her hand, and tried not to look at Bobby.

After almost an hour, the judge returned with his verdict.

“It is the decision of this court that Robert James Peterson be found not guilty of all charges for lack of physical evidence.  That is all,” he said coldly, and Will stood up, shouted, “What?!  Are you out of your mind?!” and then the judge held him in contempt of court.

Imogen watched as two bailiffs dragged Will out of the court room, still cursing at the judge.