A Life Less Broken (5 page)

10 a.m. on
day one thousand and twenty-three. My door bell hasn’t rung yet.

What if
Dominic doesn’t come today?

What if he
doesn’t want to help me anymore?

What if he
left me?

They
always leave.

Standing in
my family room with my coffee cup cradled in my hands, I eagerly look toward
the door.

He said he’d
be here. Where is he?

I suppose it
doesn’t really matter, I probably wouldn’t have opened the door anyway.

I’m not
ready for that yet.

No I’m definitely
not ready. I’m crazy if I think that I’d actually let him inside, there’s no
way that I’d open those doors.

It’s not
time to open them yet, my soul’s not willing to accept it.

I turn away
from the front door and am on my way back into the kitchen, when the doorbell
rings.

He’s here
and he wants to help me.

I put my coffee
cup down and walk to the door. I look through the peep hole and Dominic is
standing tall on the other side.

Taking a deep
breath in through my nose, I close my eyes and lean my forehead up against the
heavy, brown wooden door.

“Allyn, I’d
like a cup of coffee please,” he says through the door, no louder than his
normal speaking voice.

He knows I’m
already at the other side.

“I…” I’m not
sure what I want to say. I’ve convinced myself that I can’t open the door for
him. The fear is gnawing at me and the monsters’ voices keep coming at full volume.

Am I stuck
inside my beige world forever?

“What time
is it, Allyn?” Dominic asks.

I look to
the huge wall clock that’s been above the hallway table since I’ve moved here.

“Ten minutes
past ten,” I answer.

“Have you
had a coffee yet?”

“I was just
drinking it before you knocked.”

“Great, now
we can have one together. Cream and sugar, please, Allyn,” he says in a sure
tone.

He wants to
come in. He told me yesterday that I was going to the open the door and let him
inside.

And I think
I can do it.

It’s just
two doors.

I grab for
the panic button that’s around my neck and grasp it tight in my hand.

Okay.

I can do
this.

I turn off
the alarm and open the wooden door. Dominic stands slightly to the side of the
screen door, clearly expecting me to open it. He smiles at me benignly as I
nervously try to unlock the latch.

My hands are
shaking so badly that I fumble with it.

“Do you have
regular coffee or that decaffeinated shit that seems to be the all the rage?”
Dominic asks as I concentrate on putting the key in.

“Um, I only
drink the real stuff. I’ve got a coffee machine, so I’ll make you a real
coffee.”

“Oh, you’re
a barista? Well, then I expect a latte. I don’t drink them often, ‘cause it’s
not really cool for a guy to order one when he’s out in public with others, but
seeing as you’re skilled in making coffees, you can make me a latte,” he says
and chuckles.

He does that
often, laughs at his own jokes. I find that a smile always finds its way to my
lips too.

I’d go as
far as to say that I’ve smiled more the last three days than I have in the last
three years.

Before I
know it, the latch has turned and the screen door is unlocked.

Fuck.

There’s nothing
protecting me now. I’m totally exposed, vulnerable to the tall man standing on
the other side of the door.

My fingers
once again grasp my panic button. I can feel the forearm of the hand holding it
begin to ache because of my incredibly tight grip.

My heart
races at a speed I’m all too familiar with. Sweat beads and then rolls down my
back, beginning to soak my t-shirt.

Small black
butterflies dance before me and I can feel myself beginning to slip into the
unknown.

“One, two,
three, four,” Dominic starts counting. I hold onto the door jamb for balance.
“Five, six, seven.” His voice gets that deeper, more serene tone. “Breathe in
through your nose and hold it,” he instructs me.

I breathe in
and hold it as I listen for Dominic to tell me to let go of the breath.

“Let it out
now, Allyn,” he says and I listen. My body is calming even though I haven’t let
go of the panic button. But I have loosened my grip on it and the black
butterflies no longer crowd my vision. “Now, may I please come in so you can
make me that coffee?”

With a huge
lump in my throat and a parched, dry feeling in my mouth, I turn the handle.

I open the
door.

I fucking
open the door.

I opened the
fucking door.

Pushing it
wide open, I look at a man with a huge smile on his face.

We stand observing
at each other. He doesn’t try to come in, and I don’t move aside for him.

He’s waiting
for me, and I’m gathering all my courage to take that final leap of faith. To allow
him access inside my home,
and inside my head.

I look up at
Dominic and his encouraging smile hasn’t faltered. He’s not looming over me,
trying to intimidate me. He’s standing far enough back so I can close the door
if I choose to.

We simply
stand looking at each other, and a silent conversation passes between us.

He’s giving
me time and space to back away from this if I have to, and I’m trying my
hardest to step aside and let him in.

He’s letting
me make the decision on my own.

Maybe a
moment passes.

Maybe an
hour.

Round and
around we seem to go. I’m holding my broken life together, and he’s giving me the
time to adjust to his presence in my isolation.

The hole in
my soul tightens and becomes that tiny bit smaller.

I step to
the side and wordlessly invite Dominic inside my home, and my life.

“Now I’m
hungry too, Allyn. Thank goodness I bought us some banana bread. How about that
coffee?” He steps through my threshold and stands a mere two feet away.

The moment
he’s inside, I quickly lock the doors and turn the alarm back on.

“This way,”
I say as I step in front of Dominic and lead him into my kitchen.

“May I sit?”
he asks as he points to the beige chairs around my kitchen table.

“Of course,
please. I’ll just make you your latte.”

I gather the
already ground coffee and start making his latte. I can feel his eyes on me. Even
though my body is perpendicular to him, I can feel the piercing, penetrating
look he’s giving me. I also make a fresh coffee for me and when both are done,
I take them over to the kitchen table.

Pulling a
chair out from beneath the table, I sit, pulling my knees up to my chest and
wrapping a protective arm around them.

I wait for
Dominic to ask the questions I know he will ask.

He brings
the coffee cup up to his lips and slightly blows on the beige liquid before
taking a sip and trying it.

“What is it
about coffee that you like?”
He’s asking about coffee?
“To me a good
coffee tells a story. It talks to me and describes the journey it takes from
the time the coffee cherry is ruby red and ready to be picked. The hand that
pulls it off the tree, who belongs to that hand and what they have to do in
order to get to work every day. Then there’s the drying method, where the
coffee cherries are laid out in the sun and turned several times a day in order
to prevent the cherry from decaying. The drying process can take weeks; did you
know that, Allyn? Weeks of turning the cherries several times a day. Now how
boring a job would that be?”

“But if
that’s what they’re employed to do, then it’s probably not boring to them.
Especially if the money they earn from doing that goes back to feeding their families,”
I say as I take a newly appreciative sip of my coffee.

“You make a
very good point, which will cause me to enjoy this cup of coffee even more. Milling
the beans is another three-step process, and that’s before we can even test or
taste the coffee.”

“You seem to
know a lot about coffee,” I comment as I continue sipping on mine.

“I know a
lot about it because I found it intriguing how the humble coffee cherry can go
from a deep red to create a brown liquid when mixed with water that many of us
need desperately. I like knowing how and why things work the way they do.”

“And what
have you deduced about the coffee bean?”

Dominic
smiles at me and relaxes back in his chair. “Honestly?”

“I only want
the truth,” I answer.

“Without
this deep, full-bodied, dark brown liquid, I wouldn’t be able to think properly
in the morning. And I take my hat off to the men and women that pick and
process the beans that make this coffee for me.”

“I made that
coffee you’re drinking, so you should say thank you to me, too.”

“Ha!”
Dominic throws his back and lets out a rumbly laugh from deep inside his chest,
and I find that I smile too. “Well, how rude of me! Thank you, Allyn, I very
much like my coffee.”

We both
drink our coffees and it dawns on me – today is the third day of talking with
Dominic, and he’s yet to ask me anything about the cause of my condition.

“Dominic,” I
say as I take the last mouthful to finish my coffee.

“Yes.”

“Why haven’t
you asked me about what happened?”

“Because
when you’re ready, you’ll tell me.”

“What if I’m
never ready to tell you?”

“What ifs
don’t exist in my world. There are no what ifs; there’s only what happened in
the past, what’s happening now, and what we can do to avoid something bad happening
in the future.”

I look away
and I can feel my eyebrows furrowing together as I consider Dominic’s words.

“I can avoid
something bad happening in the future by never leaving my house,” I say as I
stare at Dominic.

“Yes, but that’s
not living life. It’s a black existence. And we all deserve to live in color.”

“Hmmm,” I
say to myself, thoughtful.

“But for
today, you had a mini-lesson in the life cycle of a coffee bean. Tomorrow I’ll
be late, but I’ll be here.” Dominic stands and takes his knapsack off the
floor. “Oh, I forgot that banana bread. Here you go,” he says as he opens his
bag and puts two plastic-wrapped slices of banana bread on the table. “Banana
bread is best served warm with pats of butter. If you don’t want to eat any
tonight then save it for our coffee tomorrow.”

I stand and
move toward the door. I turn the alarm off and unlock both doors, opening them so
Dominic can leave.

“I’ll see
you tomorrow,” he says as he steps outside and goes to his car.

I lock the
doors and reset the alarm.

I stop at
the kitchen table and look at the two innocent pieces of banana bread that
Dominic brought with him.

It’s then
that it dawns on me.

Two very
significant things are happening. They’re so big that I can’t deny them or shut
them out of my head.

I opened both
doors today, and I let a new person inside.

And…black in
my life just acquired a tinge of color.

“I was
taken,” I begin. Dominic sits in the same seat he’s used for over a week, and
looks at me as calmly as he always has. Not judging.

“When?”

“Three years
ago. It was the day that changed my life. It was also the day that my life stopped
being normal.”

“Normal is
subjective, Allyn. It’s different for everyone,” he says as he continues to
look at me.

“Do you want
to take notes?” I ask, procrastinating, trying to avoid recounting the horror-filled
story I know I’m going to have tell him.

“If you want
me to, I can, but I’d prefer to just listen for now.”

I simply nod
and slide my coffee cup off the kitchen table. Not saying a word, I get up and
go sit in the spot where I spend most my days. I perch on the kitchen counter, looking
outside at a world I cannot be part of.

Today, the clouds
are dark again, a deep gray that holds the promise of a heavy rainfall. They
bunch together and ominously hang over my house with foreboding authority.

Are these
severe storm clouds an omen that my life will be altered after today? Are they
warning me to keep my mouth shut? Warning me not to attempt breaking out of my
existence and try for a new life? I can’t think about that now.  Dominic is
waiting. “That day was different. When I woke up and turned the radio on, the
news was talking about Trisha Mackenzie, a young high school girl who went
missing on the way home from school, and how her body had been found.” I
continue to stare at the gloomy, dark sky outside.

“I worked in
a clothing shop at the mall.  The girl who usually worked with me called to
tell me she was sick and couldn’t come in that day. That was right around the
time that there was a virus sweeping through the city, a twenty-four hour bug.”

If only I
had been sick that day too.

“I called my
boss to tell him that I was short-handed and needed help, but his other stores
were going through the same thing.” I take a sip of my coffee and tears begin
to well in my eyes.

“I was so
busy, but I had a pesky feeling something bad was going to happen. It was
sitting there all day, in the pit of my stomach. I just knew something awful
was coming. Looking back now, I should’ve closed the store and refused to let
anyone in.”

I’m not sure
if Dominic is listening. I haven’t looked at him. I’m so intent on remembering
and trying to put words to what happened that I can’t even bear to peek.

“It was a
busy day with racks of new clothes coming in and the store was filled with
customers, so when the boss called at midday to say he’d been caught up and
wouldn’t be able to get there ‘til after four, I thought that since I’d already
handled half the day, a few more hours wouldn’t hurt me.”

The first huge
drop of rain lands halfway down on the window, startling me, and rolls quietly down
toward the sill.

“At about 3:30
a guy came into the shop asking about a dress his girlfriend had seen at
another store but wasn’t available in her size. I know now that it was just a ruse
to get me away from the front of the shop so no one would see me struggling or hear
me screaming. How stupid was I? Why did I believe that the girlfriend sent him?
Why wouldn’t she want to come in herself to try it on? Probably because there was
no girlfriend and it was all a plot to get to me.”

I push my
shaky hands through my long, lifeless hair, and wipe away a lone tear as it rolls
down my cheek.

“I went out to
the back room to check the racks of new clothing to look for the dress. The rest
of them must have been ready nearby, because I wasn’t…” The tears are freely
flowing now, and my body remembers. Every sound, every smell, every small
detail.

The whoosh
of air being cut by a hand rapidly closing over my mouth.

The sweet
smell of the chloroform-soaked rag they clamped tightly over my face.

The big, hard
body that holds me against him, his arm immobilizing me.

The deep
laughter of another man who stands a few feet away, looking on and encouraging the
others with his mirth.

The way my
body instantly knew that I wouldn’t survive.

The way my
brain shut down, and gave up.

The way my mind
broke because it knew I was being carried to my death.

“I wasn’t
smart enough to know that it was all a trick. They wanted me, and they knew
what they were doing.”

Staring
outside at the angry clouds, I watch them as the voices scream at me. They
don’t want me telling Dominic my story. They’re bellowing harshly, and the
flashes of lightning from the clouds are my warning to shut up and keep the
truth hidden inside.

“When I woke
up, they had my arms tied above my head and my legs spread wide open, tied to
something else. My eyes were swollen almost shut so I couldn’t see them, but I
could hear them. And I could feel everything they were doing to me.”

Bolts of
lightning furiously crisscross the sky.

“They were
fucking me, tearing into me.”

Enraged
thunder echoes all through the house.

“My body was
shutting down.”

Bang –
another warning from the thunder.

“They were
taking turns fucking me and urinating on me.”

Crack –
bright, clear lightning.

“They cut
me.”

My tears won’t
stop.

“They used all
of me.”

My body is
shaking uncontrollably.

“They
laughed.”

“Shut
that cunt up, will ya, Mick.”

“They broke
me.”

My heart is
pounding.

“They
should’ve killed me.”

I can feel
my coffee coming back up.

“I wish I
was dead.”

Crash.

Crack.

Boom.

Crash.

The rain is
hurtling down now, the clouds screaming at me. The thunder’s more frequent and
the sky is lit up by electricity.  The violence outside reminds me of the violence
of what they did to me.

“FUCK YOU!”
I yell at the stormy day.

“FUCK YOU!”

I get off the
counter and run to the back door.

Disarming
the alarm and unlocking the door with absolution.

I don’t
fucking fumble. I can’t stop. The storm wants me dead.

I run out
the back yard and stand with my arms fully extended out.

“FUCK YOU!”
I yell up at the clouds. They want me? They can fucking have me. “I’m here!
Take me. Take me away. Kill me like you wanted to that day.”

I feel
Dominic close to me.

“I hate you,”
I scream. “Just fucking take me.” My tears mix with the cold, angry rain battering
my body.

“I can’t take
this anymore. I’ve been punished enough.” I fall to my knees and grab my hair
and tear at it, trying to feel something other than sorrow.

“I was
supposed to die!” I cry up at the monsters in the sky.

“Take me away,
please. I can’t breathe anymore. Just take me.” My head falls forward and my
chin rests on my chest.

Let me
die.

I don’t care
anymore.

“Help me
live by letting me die.” My shoulders slump and I breathe what I hope will be the
last breath I ever take.

I’m in
darkness, perpetual and everlasting darkness. Deep hurt, bottomless sorrow, and
an eternal hopelessness. I can’t hold on anymore. The hole in my heart is so
large that I’m sinking further and further into the black, an overpowering
ocean raging inside me.

I throw my arms
in the air and open my eyes to look through the tears and the rain, totally
destroyed and completely shattered.

“I can’t be
saved. Cocoon me in death. Just kill me.”

And then I sob.
Uncontrollably, tears freely falling down my face.

I struggle
to breathe, not wanting to.

I don’t
want to take another breath.

Dominic
wraps his arms around me and we collapse to the soaking ground together.

“The sun is coming,
Allyn.”