Zenith Falling (16 page)

“What do you mean, why? I told you: she has nowhere else to go. I don’t even know how she got here. She had no purse, no keys.
I must be her last resort. But there’s nothing else going on between us, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“No. I know better than that. I’m sorry.”

Joelle nearly groaned as the warm water seeped into her shivering, damp, rain-chilled skin. Her sensitive middle, and bruised sides hurt as she submerged herself in the healing water. She enjoyed the luxury of being in an indoor hot tub.
Curling her legs up to her aching chest, and forming a small ball, the enormous, sparkling, almond colored tub seemed more like a swimming pool to her. Of course, bathing wasn’t foremost in her mind; more like just returning some feeling into her numb, abused body. She was trembling and sick inside, still unaware of what happened to her.

After walking for what seemed like forever around her neighborhood in her efforts to get as far away from her house as she could, she finally sat down on a b
us stop bench. Eventually, a woman who was probably heading out for work, judging by her uniform, noticed Joelle on the bench and handed her ten bucks. That small kindness, that small amount of cash opened the waterworks and the tears she tried to ignore spilled from her eyes. It meant everything to her, and made all the difference between keeping her off the streets for the night and offering her a slim chance to escape. She boarded the next bus that arrived to get away from there. Eventually, she managed to get her bearings and find Nick’s building. She knew Nick was shocked, taken aback, and thoroughly confused at her sudden intrusion. He was also kind and gentle, respectfully not trying to grab her, or demand things from her she couldn’t provide. Like answers.

She jerked up
at the sound of a light tap on the door, which started to open. She curled up her legs, trying to hide most of her body as Erica entered.

Erica seemed like a blond
e goddess entering the gilded, almond and black bathroom. Her heels clicked on the floor as she came closer, and perched on the furthest edge of the tub, a respectful distance from Joelle. “I’m sorry for barging in on you. Nick suggested I check in on you, and I agreed.”

Joelle lifted her face finally, knowing there was only so long she could hide it. She knew Nick and Erica wanted to help her, as well as that there was no one else in the entire world right now. She owed them that: answers.

Erica flinched as she studied Joelle’s face. “Oh, Joelle. I’m so sorry.”

Joelle looked back down,
and stared at her hands, which she clasped over her knees. Erica was quiet for a moment, and handling the situation well. She remained calm and gentle, allowing Joelle to get used to her.

“Joelle?” Erica asked in a voice so kind and tender, Joelle wanted to let her embrace her, but she reflexively snapped back.
What a stupid reaction to another woman
, she chided herself. But there was something genuinely nurturing and healing in Erica’s manner. No wonder Nick chose her; she had far more in assets than just her obvious beauty.

“Did Nick tell you that I’m a doctor?”

Joelle raised her head.
No. No, he didn’t. She was a doctor too?
Joelle almost smirked at the revelation that this goddess-like, truly kind and gentle woman was also a freaking doctor. Joelle finally answered by shaking her head no.

“I’m sorry. So sorry
for what’s happened to you. I don’t know much about your situation. Nick said he believed it was your husband. Whatever the case, I urge you to be examined. I’m an OB/Gyn. You can trust me with anything at all, okay?”

Joelle nodded robotically.

“First of all, Nick believes you weren’t sexually assaulted. There is no shame, and I will tell no one, Joelle, but it is critical that you tell me the truth.”

Joelle shook her head, showing the first sign of emotion in her actions. “No.
I wasn’t. And I don’t want you to call the police.”

Erica nodded. “If you don’t want us to call the police, we won’t. That’s your call. We’re just here for you.”

Joelle blinked back the tears now filling her eyes. Why was Nick’s girlfriend so nice? To her, of all people? To her, no more than a bedraggled, beaten up, freak show stranger who barged in and ruined their dinner party… Why was Erica so forgiving and perfectly tolerant of her?

Erica waited a heartbeat, then said,
“When you’re ready, after you dry off, if you like, I’ll take a look at your injuries. Let me be the judge of whether you should go to the hospital. I’ll wait in the bedroom. It’s locked, and no one else will come in. Come out, but only when you’re ready.”

When Joelle finally emerged, wrapped in a towel, Erica handed her a clean t-shirt and turned her head away while Joelle put it on. Then she began to examine her. She
spent a good ten minutes with Nick’s first aid kit, cleaning the wounds and scrapes on her face, and putting butterfly Band-Aids on the cut above her eye. As Erica worked, she barely touched the afflicted areas.

“You should go to the hospital. Your ribs are bruised.”

“No. I won’t. I’m not going to die from any of this, am I? I mean, won’t I heal?”

Erica looked into her eyes, then nodded begrudgingly. “No, you won’t die. You will heal. But I really don’t like you not getting an X-ray.”

Joelle smiled shyly. “I got your help, and that’s a lot more than I expected.”

Erica smiled back as she squeezed Joelle’s hand. “Yes, you did; and you will continue to.”

Finally, when Joelle’s face was all cleaned and bandaged, Erica helped her get into the king-sized bed. It nearly swallowed Joelle up with its excessive size and heavy, dark wood frame. It filled the room like a giant, sleeping tiger.

“
I’ll wash your clothes tonight.”

Joelle gingerly scoot
ed towards the head of the bed and slipped under the covers. She leaned back against the headboard, letting the bedcovers come to her waist. She felt like she’d wilted, and died. She almost wished she could. Closing her eyes, she felt grateful to be dry, warm, and for the silence. The quiet serenity of Nick’s condo and his life comforted her. She was mostly grateful to be there, safe at last, and taken care of.

Erica left briefly and returned with several ice packs, one for Joelle’s face, one for her chest, and one for her arm.

“I think you’ll heal up just fine. But I wish you’d let me take you to the ER. I’d rather err on the side of safety.”

“No.”

The quiet room engulfed her, and Joelle didn’t open her eyes again for a few moments.

“What am I going to do?”
Joelle’s eyes suddenly popped open. Was that really her? She never spoke like that to anyone. So unguarded, and without any prompt or cue, to a stranger.

Erica lightly caressed her cheek.
“Stay here. You’re safe. You let Nick help you, why don’t you let me help you now?”

“Why? Why should you?”

“Human decency, Joelle,” Erica replied, as she stood there looking around, visibly uncomfortable, and anxious to do more. Finally, she said, “You should get some rest. I’ll bring you some aspirin. And maybe a nice cup of hot tea? Would that help?”

“Yes, it would.”

Erica stood there for a moment longer, her lips tight with sympathy and emotion. Finally turning, she said, “I’ll be right back.”

Nick was pacing out on the balcony. He didn’t know what to do. He felt like a caged tiger. How long would Erica be? How was Joelle? How badly was she hurt? What the fuck even happened to her? He heard a sudden “thud!” and rushed inside, stopping abruptly when he saw Erica leaning into his washing machine, with her hands pressed on the glass and her forehead against it. The washer, by then, was foaming with soap.

She slammed
her fist.

“Erica?”

She turned at the sound of his voice, and fear shot up his spine. Why was Erica, normally so composed and serene, crying against the washing machine?

“I washed her clothes.”

“Okay,” he said cautiously. “Won’t she be needing them?”

“What if she was raped?
She said she wasn’t; but what if she’s covering it up to protect her husband? I’ve seen it happen plenty of times. I should have thought of that before I started the fucking laundry machine!”

Nick
froze in an expression of horror that mirrored Erica’s. People might have been surprised to know Erica had a mouth like a cross-country trucker. “What if I screwed this up for her? Nick she’s–”

Nick came forward and grabbed her as he brought her into his arms, and held her tightly. He was as
shocked as she was. Erica pulled away, and looked up at him. “She’s a mess. Her face, her ribs, her stomach, her sides… even her thighs are bruised, red, and swollen. She could hardly move. She’s in a lot of pain. Serious pain. But physically, she’ll be okay. She should go to the hospital, but doesn’t absolutely have to.”

“What did she say?”

“Very little. She was willing to let me help me her out of the tub, and into your bed. The only time she expressed any feelings, or any real emotions was when I suggested calling the police. She was sure she didn’t want to do that. Why? Why shouldn’t that be the first thing she’d want to do?”

“I guess it’s different from her perspective than it is from  ours. That was my first thought too.”

“What’s her story? Who did this to her?”

Nick took Erica’s hand
and led her back into the kitchen. She leaned against the counter, and he looked out the window over the night skyline of traffic lights, shadows and stars. He told Erica everything he knew about Joelle: Rob, meeting her in front of the Al-Anon meetings, always in denial of why she was there. He told her about the band, the house, the way things were deteriorating over the last few months, and how Rob kept Joelle completely isolated. He explained how she was trapped by a problem-filled marriage, very little money, no family, and all her friends were connected to the band. He said how Joelle refused to acknowledge or admit the dangers he tried to point out, and how things could go very bad for her.

“Did you know things would get like this for her?”

“First time I saw the house she lived in, I wondered. I told her to call me if she ever needed anything. Just seemed like she didn’t realize she didn’t have to live like that. Or put up with that. If I’d had any inkling that things would have gone like this for her, I’d have insisted a lot harder.”

“How come you didn’t tell me any of this before?”

Nick shrugged. “Seemed irrelevant. I helped her out on several occasions because, at the time, there was nothing else to do but that. She was so desperate, so alone, and so in denial. I thought maybe, you’d take it wrong.”

“I might have. But not now.”

“Thank you. For tonight. I don’t know what I’d have done with her. She wouldn’t let me near her, except to bring her in. I just didn’t know what else to do. I still don’t know what to do.”

“I do. You need to go talk to her. Find out what really happened. How bad it got. She’s dry now. And feeling better. She has a rapport with you, and she trusts you. You need to find out who did it to her.”

“Now? Maybe I should wait until tomorrow.”

“I doubt very much that she’s going to roll over and easily drift off to sleep. Besides, she’s expecting hot tea
and some aspirin. You take it to her. Try to get her talking.”

“How?”

“However you’ve managed to talk to her ’til now. She’s the same girl; except now, she’s been traumatized and humiliated. Be sensitive to that, but do get her talking.”

“Why not you?”

“She may let me look at her, but that doesn’t mean she trusts me.”

“How do you know she trusts me?”

“She came here, didn’t she?”

Nick nodded as he took the hot tea Erica handed him and the three aspirin she found in his kitchen cabinet. H
is stomach started churning, having no idea what to say or how to face Joelle. How could he look her in the eye without staring? Or showing his horror, pity, and utter revulsion over what was done to her? How could he talk to Joelle, and pretend as if her world hadn’t been completely turned upside-down on its axis?

“Joelle?” Nick whispered as he entered the room, stepping quietly and cautiously. It was almost as if he were approaching a scared, stray animal that could bolt at any moment. For some reason, he had a feeling that Joelle was emotionally ready to do just that. “I have tea and aspirin.”

At first, she didn’t move;
but finally, slowly, she slid towards him, and gradually raised herself until she was leaning back against his headboard. She winced and grabbed at her side as she moved by inches.

He set the cup on the nightstand, but stood at the side of the bed, holding the aspirin. He waited for her to look at him, to show him, or let him see what she suffered.
She swung her eyes up towards him and lifted her chin just far enough. He stared. What else could he do? Her left eye was black and blue, swollen, and puffy. Her cheek was a red gash, and her mouth was very swollen on one side with a deep, angry, red line where her lip split. He gently took her hand, but she stiffened at his touch. Placing the aspirin into her palm, she looked down, surprised at first, then clutched them. Carefully, she swallowed them one at a time.

He stood there silently as she finally took a sip of tea, wincing when the cup met her ragged lip. He collapsed into the bedside chair.

“What happened?”

She sucked in a breath as tears instantly filled her eyes.
“He didn’t do all this.”

“Then who did? And how much did he do?”

“I came home and found someone in our room. The intruder was big and he rushed me, and threw me against the door. He hit me, and pulled me by my hair, all the while yelling at me.”

“Yelling what?”

“He wanted to know where Rob was. I was terrified. I was sure he would kill me. He kicked me, hit me some more, and threw me against the wall. I fell on our dresser. I think I blacked out for a few moments. When I woke up, he was gone, but I think he found the money.”

“What money?”

“Rob had some money taped to the back of the heat register.”

“Cash?” Nick asked, surprised. Picturing the en
velope she’d recently given him. What was Rob into to be keeping cash strapped to a heat register in the bedroom he shared with his wife?

“Yes. Cash.”

Nick didn’t know what to be happier about: that Joelle wasn’t killed by the intruder; or that it wasn’t Rob who beat her up. He jerked to attention, realizing he might have to call her son of a bitch husband to come and get her. Rob might not even know that Joelle
was
attacked, assaulted, and brutalized. Maybe she only ran to Nick because she was scared, after she couldn’t find Rob. He nearly groaned at the thought of surrendering Joelle to her sleazy husband. He wasn’t sure he could do that.

“Do you want me to find Rob? Is that why you came here? Because you couldn’t find him?”

She turned her head, and made eye contact with him. “You’d do that for me?”

Her eyes were dark and big, and his heart fell to his feet. He shut his eyes.
“I’ll do anything you ask me to do.”

She nodded and whispered back, “I know.”

Moments ticked by as they stared at each other. Finally, Nick cleared his throat. “Do you want me to call Rob?”

“No. I don’t want you to find him. He already knows.”

Nick sat forward in his chair. “What do you mean he already knows?”

“After the intruder left, I went into the hallway, trying to
get to the phone. I was confused, and scared. I was sure the man would return to finish me off, and I desperately wanted to call the police. Then he came back.”

“The intruder?”

“No. Rob.”

There was an eerie
tone in her voice.
Something. Rob had done something to her.
“Rob came home? Then why aren’t you in his arms right now? Why isn’t he taking care of you? If Rob knows what happened to you, why are you here with me? What did he do to you?”

“He was high. I don’t think he even really saw me. He came at me when I was in the hallway. I was cowering there
, and he wanted to know what happened, then… Suddenly, he was angry at me.”

“About what?”

“About the money.”

“The money?” Nick’s tone was flat
, lethal.
The money.
That was what Rob cared so much about? A lousy few hundred dollars? Really, how much money could Rob have?

“The money is all Rob cared about?”

“Yes.”

“What did he do to you?”

Her head dropped down, and she twisted her fingers together on top of the bedspread. “He was just rough with me.”

Nick sighed and scooted to the edge of the chair. He rubbed at the crimp that was now growing in his neck.
“Rough how?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters. It all matters more than everything.”

She shook her head.

“Did he rape you?” Nick finally asked, his voice a ragged whisper. His entire body was frozen by his taut nerves.

She jerked
back, and her eyes flashed onto his. “No. No he didn’t. He pushed me against the wall. Yelled at me. Kissed me. That’s not what hurts so bad.”

So, Rob walked in on Joelle, finding her curled up on the floor,
beaten, bloodied, and abused. And his reaction was to pin her against the wall and
kiss her?
She winced in pain each time she swallowed or moved her lips. She sought Rob’s care, compassion, and help. And what does Rob do? He kisses her? Nick had no doubt it was an ugly, brutal kiss, because nothing else would have sent Joelle running into the dark, wet night all alone, scared and beaten up. Blindly fleeing with nowhere to go.

“Was he trying to rape you?”

She grew silent and he knew the answer. He waited for her to say it, to come to terms with it. “He stopped.”

“None of it is your fault. You get that
, right? Nothing. He shouldn’t have had his drug money hidden in your bedroom. He practically invited any thug to hustle him. And as to Rob manhandling you: that isn’t okay.”

“I ran. And I kept running.”

“You were running for your life, and your safety. You get that, don’t you?”

“I think so.”
Her tone was quiet, sincere, and eerily honest, so Nick quit pushing her. He took a breath, and decided to deal with her husband another day.

“How did you get here?”

“Someone gave me ten bucks for bus fare.”

“Joelle what that stranger did to you was bad, really horrible. You’re hurt all over. But your husband? His uncaring attitude, and failure to react how any normal human being would at seeing you like that, of all times, really matters. It matters a lot. I know you think you love Rob. You excuse his behavior by claiming he’s just confused, high or drunk. Whatever. He’s not. He’s
dangerous. Whatever he is, and to whatever extent, can’t excuse this.”

“I can’t think about that yet.”

Nick had to do something big, to make sure she didn’t end up right back with Rob. Back in that chaotic semblance of life, at the mercy of Rob, his friends, his band, and now, his apparent drug dealing. Nick sat back in his chair, deflated. This time though, he didn’t intend to play nice. He didn’t care if it was his place or not to help Joelle anymore. He had to drive Joelle away from her husband. He’d do everything he could to see she not only left Rob, but saw it through and finally divorced him, so she’d never so much as look at him again. Nick officially became Rob Williams’s worst problem.

If
Joelle returned to Rob and
Zenith
, it would be only a matter of time before she was hit again, beaten again, and hurt again. He decided he’d kidnap her if it came to that, just to keep her safe from everything Rob brought home to endanger her with.

She peeked at him.
“I had nowhere else to go.”

“I know that. You come to me. You can always come to me.”

“Why? Why can I always come to you?”

“Doesn’t matter. You just can.”

“You pity me.”

He shifted. “Yes. I do. What kind of person wouldn’t right now? Anyone who saw you would fee
l that way towards you: sympathy, sorrow, worry. Any human would show you some caring. Joelle, just look at yourself. And then you were forced to run out in the pouring rain, alone and broke. What should I feel knowing that? Vindicated, since I was right about Rob? What else could I feel but sorry for you?”

Love.
Shit. He could feel love for her. That thought loudly occurred to him as he gazed at her just then, lying so injured and small in his bed.

Her eyes held his for a moment, before she averted her gaze, saying softly,
“Maybe someday, you won’t have to feel so sorry for me.”

He looked at her
profile, and in just as soft a voice, he answered, “Maybe I won’t. Why don’t you start by letting me call the police now?”

“No.
” She held her neck stiffly. “No, Nick. I mean it. Don’t do that.”

“Why shouldn’t I? Any sane person would have done it two hours ago. Have you looked at your injuries?”

“I don’t want you to call the police.”

“Why not?”

“Because if Rob’s dealing drugs, what else might they find at the house? Then what would happen to him?”

“That’s not your problem. Your problem is all the bruises that now cover your body.”

“He’s still my husband.”

“Yeah. I see what his true love has done for you. Over and over.”

“Please. Do this my way.”

“Why? So you can go home to him tomorrow? Is that what you’re getting at? Getting ready to go right on home tomorrow?”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do. Not tonight. Just please… just drop this for tonight. It’s still my life. And my bruises.”

“You come to me like this and have the audacity to suggest it isn’t my problem too? God damn it! Open your eyes! How long before he puts you in the ICU? Or kills you? And now you dare argue with me that you don’t want to call the cops in order to protect him? You want to explain that to me and help me understand it?”

She nodded slowly, holding his gaze. Her tongue delicately ran over the swollen pulp of her lower lip. “Yes, I want you to understand that.”

He released a pent-up breath. He had to clench his fists to keep from raising his voice. She expected way too much out of him. But… she was all beaten up and in his bed, how could he deny her anything now?

“Fine. We’ll do it your way. But the cash Rob lost; what do you know about it?”

“I do
n’t know for sure. Look, I’m not saying I won’t ever do something about all of this. Just not tonight.”

He waited a long, drawn-out heartbeat. Finally, against every logical reason, as well as every natural instinct, he said, “Al
l right. What choice do I have?”

“Thank you,”
she whispered almost like a reverent prayer.

He got up then. “Will you be able to sleep?”

“Maybe. I can’t imagine what I’d have done without the help from you and Erica.”

As h
e shut her bedroom door, he leaned against it, wondering what the hell he was going to do about what he undeniably felt for
her
. He didn’t think he could possibly let her return to her former life, or Rob. These last few months of their impersonal, professional relationship wasn’t something he wanted with Joelle, and it nearly killed him to pass her in the hallway as if she meant nothing to him. Ignoring her and trying not to find out how she was doing got old really quick. His head rolled back in defeat. Depressed and heartsick over what happened to Joelle and knowing that if she had it her way, no one would ever pay the consequences for doing it were destroying him.  Knowing she was hurt and he couldn’t do anything, not even hold her, made his heart ache. He couldn’t admit to her how he felt at seeing her like that. How he felt just seeing her, period. Because, God damn it, he was starting to feel something unexpectedly rare, something of major importance toward Joelle Williams.