With my lips pursed in shame I shake my head a little and hang it to stare at my daughter’s quiet breathing.
“I have a phone number you can call. There are other women who have been where you are, and this organization will help you heal, if you want to move past this.”
“Of course I do.” I surprise myself at the harshness with which I said that. But I was defending my future.
Tonk holds my eyes before he asks them, “Is there anything else?”
“We have your information. Someone will be in touch.”
The woman asks me, “You want to prosecute?”
“Yes!”
“Some don’t.”
“I want him to stop hurting people.”
Before they disappear, the male cop points at Tonk. “You should go to the hospital to see if you have a concussion.”
“I will. I’m going to shower up first.” The door clicks and Tonk walks over to touch Celia’s sleeping head, his voice gentle as he tells me, “You know what’s really amazing? She’s young enough that this is not going to affect her as much as it could have. She won’t remember it.”
Daniel mutters, “Except at some point she’s going to realize who and what her father is.”
Tonk’s warm brown eyes are thoughtful as they rest on me. “By that time she’ll have been so loved she’ll be able to handle it. And if I’m lucky enough to be there, I will explain it to her in a way that she can understand. I’ve done it before. I can do it again.”
“If she’s lucky,” I correct him, my voice quiet.
He frowns at me as he traces my cheek. “Don’t worry. I have a feeling this is all going to be very good.”
A strong sensation pulls open my heart and at first I don’t recognize it, couldn’t explain it to anybody if I tried, not even myself. It isn’t until I see Tonk come out of the shower wearing fresh slacks with his hair wet as he buttons up a shirt for his hospital visit, that I feel it again so strongly it’s impossible not to be able to define it. It’s hope. I feel hope again.
A knock at the door brings a smile from his face because it was distinctive by two knocks then a pause. Then three knocks. “That’s my family.”
Daniel opens it. “I need a bong hit.”
Tonk’s dad hears this as he strolls in and a smirk tugs at his lips. He’s a handsome man, grey hair, blue eyes, very tall. It looks as if he works out every day for four hours. Celia is a beautiful girl, half-Latin like her brother, and they both have warm brown eyes and deeper brown hair. She’s more muscular than he is and looks like she should be in an action film. His father, too, especially with his leather jacket that has a C patched onto the sleeve, the back reading The Ciphers.
“Look at you, all cleaned up.”
“How did you guys know to come here?”
Celia walks over to where I’m sitting on the couch with my daughter, and as she passes Tonk she explains, “When you told me it was a domestic violence situation, red flag. I mean, I know you’re a badass,” she quickly adds like she doesn’t want me to think he isn’t one. “I just wanted to come up to New York and check on you.”
His father looks in the refrigerator, “And I was just in the neighborhood. Why is there no food?”
Daniel raises his hand. “Oops.”
Tonk Jr. looks at me with concern because now I’m aware he’s been discussing me. But these people don’t act like it’s any big deal, and that’s so confusing.
There’s no pity in their eyes.
He starts explaining, “I asked my sister for her advice when I suspected what was…”
“It’s fine. I’m so grateful. It’s okay.”
“I was talking about a highly personal aspect of your existence without your permission. But it was right after we met. I spotted a bruise on your arm.” I nod once that I remember that moment. I wanted to run under a rock and stay there forever. It wasn’t even that big of a bruise, but the way he looked at me expressed he understood more than I wanted him to. And I felt like it was wrong to lie to him.
I’d lied to so many other people without a problem, but when he asked, it was like he looked into my soul.
He’d know if I was lying.
My daughter's eyelashes flutter open to discover Tonk’s sister smiling at her. “Look at you, little beauty. Aren’t you a sight after a long ride.” She looks at me. “We live in Louisiana but we drive all over the states helping people. You may have noticed we’re not the least bit shocked by what’s happened to you. Some people like him can’t be understood—only dealt with. Understand? What happened to you, it’s over. Do you mind if I pick her up?” I shake my head and his Celia lifts my Celia, cooing and wrapping tiny fingers around her much longer ones, both a similar shade of dark gold. “What a strong grip you have, oh my goodness, yes you do. Oh look, she smiled!”
That makes all of us.
Tonk Sr. inspects his son’s head. “You don’t have a concussion. This is no bump. The gash isn’t bad. Little pressure and some ice should do.” He lowers his voice to a more private volume. “I know I said it before, but when we were driving around killing time with the cops here, I thought about what you did some more. I can’t tell you how proud I am, Junior. I mean it. This was a big deal, and you pulled it off.”
A smile tugs at the corners of Tonk’s mouth and their history gleams from his warm brown eyes. He nods his thanks and I get the feeling he did that manly gesture on purpose. A nod sufficed.
Sufficed.
Vic would’ve hated that word.
Fresh air fills my lungs as I realize that a
