Weak

     On the ride home Simon and Rebecca were quiet. He finally asked, “what did you think?” 

     “The food was amazin’, as always. Della is great.” Rebecca answered, keeping her focus on the road. 

     “About Evelyn’s story?”

     “Fake.” 

     Her answer was so fast, it shocked him. His thoughts wondered. “What makes you say that?”

     “Women know these things.” She said confidently. “Lack of emotion. And I mean; look at her, who would want her? I mean other than the sheriff, of course. He’s love sick and you can see it. It’s written all over his face. I bet she even made her ex husband up.”

     “What would be the point?” Simon was not happy with this side of his wife. In all the years they’d been married, where had this woman been hiding?

     “Make people feel sorry for her. You saw how they fawned over her. That’s probably the most attention she’s ever gotten in her life.”

     “What if you’re wrong?” 

     She shrugged her shoulders and casually reported, “then I’m wrong.”

     “Do you remember how she looked that first day?”

     “More or less.” 

     “Don’t you think she’s gained a little weight?”

     Rebecca slammed on the breaks almost throwing Simon through the windshield. Good thing he had his seatbelt on. He was not expecting that. 

     She whipped her head around, “you’ve been lookin’ at another woman.”

    He was shocked, “what the hell!? It’s not like that and you know it. How many conversations have you and I had about Maggie when she was battling cancer? Or random people at church that looked under the weather? Or when they start lookin’ better after an illness? We’ve talked about the pastor and how sad he’s been since his wife passed. You’ve encouraged me to pay attention so we could talk about it.”

     Rebecca was about to speak when there came a peck on her window, it was a deputy. She screwed on a big smile as she rolled down the window. “Officer, is there a problem?”

     “I was gonna ask you that question. You’ve stopped your car in the road.”

     “Oh, my husband and I were just havin’ a heated conversation.”

     The officer lowered his head to look at Simon, “sir, are you okay?”

     “Yes,” he sputtered. “Yes.” He said confidently, “we are fine.”

     “Driver’s license and registration please.”

     “What?! For what?!” 

     “You are blocking traffic.” 

     She angrily handed her information out the window. Simon looked out the passenger side window so she couldn’t see him smile. As the officer handed her information back, she snapped, “why don’t you go catch a real criminal?”

     He held onto the papers as she tried to pull them from his fingers, “how would you like to do a field sobriety test?”

     “What?!” She screamed. “We are going home after being at the community dinner. If alcohol was served, perhaps you would like to investigate the hostess.” She snapped. 

     “Get out of the road.”

     “Damn!” Simon glared at her as they drove away. He had to add, “did you notice she was wearing an engagement ring.

     Rebecca slammed on the breaks again. Jerking Simon forward again. This time she heard the siren. “What now?!” 

Dinner in the park

     She, Della, and Stella buzzed around like bees. It gave her plenty to do so she didn’t think about the speech. Dillon and Bradley showed up as others were getting their food. Dillon pulled her aside, “are you okay?”

     “Nervous.”

     “I’m right here.”

     She blushed, “thank you.”

     As everyone was eating, Povol got up. She thanked everyone for coming. Was impressed with the size of this year’s crowd. Explained that October was domestic violence awareness month and gave an overview of what d.v. was. Thanked law enforcement from the officers to court house staff for doing such a fine job. Then she explained about the victim speaker. Silence filled the park as she introduced Evelyn. 

     As she walked to the steps of the small stage, she knew Dillon had an idea. He had read reports, saw pictures. Her dad had visited her once while she was in the hospital but didn’t know much. This wasn’t going to be fun for anyone. Povol gave her a great big hug and handed her the microphone. She accepted it and sat on the top step of the stage. 

     Her voice cracked as she said hello. She cleared her throat, “hi. As most of you know, I’m Jack’s daughter.” She decided to focus on Dillon; instead of weaving her attention on different members of the crowd. “Some teenagers are encouraged by school officials, parents (not mine),” She smiled. “Mom and dad would’ve been just as happy if I’d stayed in Sunshine Valley. They are encouraged to go off to school, learn all you can. Grab Atlas by the balls and hold on tight. Get a good job. Well, I did those things: got a good education. Good job. Got married. Together, we were kickin’ the world’s ass. We had the big house. The nice cars. We went on lavish vacations. I was able to fly my parents out for my wedding. So, my ex knew my family. Knew where I was from. It was never a secret. My parents had a good marriage. Though my relationship with my mother was tumultuous. I’ve since learned a lot of teenage girls go through that phase. I had no idea what domestic violence was. That happens to other people.” Povol brought her a bottle of water. She mouthed thank you and took a drink. “I have worked from home long before working from home was popular. Had an office set up in the basement. One evening, I came home from work, as it were. My ex was watching football. I decided not to disturb him. So I took a shower. When I came out of the bathroom, most of you know how we’re dressed. Wrapped up in a towel. Hair is in a towel. He ripped the towel off my head, drug me through the house by my hair and tied me to the foot of the bed. I stayed like that for a month. Dad got to missing me and called in a wellness check. That’s how I was found the first time. During that month, he sold my horse. Riding was amazing. And I was good at it. That was the first thing to go. We did okay for about 6 months.” She paused, “not okay. Someone asked, ‘why didn’t you leave’? Since we didn’t have any children and he had sold my horse, he threatened to have my dad killed. After that ‘I’m sorry, I’ll never do it again period. Or honeymoon phase.’ I paid for it dearly, he beat me so badly, that he got scared and took me to the e.r. Not for my sake but because he was afraid he’d gone too far. Even told police that. He said that we had gotten into a verbal altercation, it escalated, then he lost control. Some asked, ‘why didn’t you tell the e.r. staff you were in trouble’? He never left me. And from that point on, was always in control. I’m not going to go into the messy details, overall I was taken to the e.r. 6 times. Again, I was asked, ‘why didn’t you run’? I knew him well enough to know that all he had to do was make a call and he would have killed my dad. As a child, could you live with that kind of guilt? Each time I was taken to the e.r., I was at deaths door. My ex locked me in a closet and was for the most part starving me to death. Had it not been for the bravery of my dad, I wouldn’t be here. For,” Evie stopped, thinking. “Untold years, he fought the power of money for my life. Right now, my ex is in prison. He shot a cop. I’m using this time to try to put back as much of my life as I can. Thanks to amazing people, I have a strong support system. Domestic violence doesn’t care if you are rich or poor. What your ethnic background is. What school you went to. It doesn’t care if you’re a doctor, lawyer, or a fry cook. It doesn’t discriminate. It blacks eyes, breaks bones, breaks your spirit and crushes your soul. Threatens your very existence and the existence of the people you love.” 

October 

     Dillon put his arms around Evie. She planted a soft kiss on his lips. “I’m worried about you and this dinner.” She scooted as close to him as she could get. 

     “Your concern is appreciated.” She set up. Dillon was lounging on the pillows. She rested her hands on his stomach, “I’m not good at saying ‘love stuff’. I’m more of a show-er. When you leave in the mornin’ and I say, ‘go save lives lawman. First and foremost being your own’, I pray you know that I’m saying I love you.” She cringed that the words as they left her mouth. They sounded weak. Stupid. Less than words to her ears. 

     He caressed her cheek, raising her chin slightly, “we can learn together.”

     Tears streamed down her face, “I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

     “Disappointed?”

     “I have no other word for me.”

     “Come back here.” He guided her head to his shoulder. When she was settled, he kissed her on the forehead. “When you don’t have, or can’t say the words, feel free to show me.”

     Evie hadn’t been able to go back to church. Pastor Sam hadn’t tried to reach back out to her. She had been watching the services through a local t.v. station and he looked sadder than usual. The sermon this Sunday was about domestic violence leading up to dinner in the park. 

     Dillon had gone to work. Leaving her to second guess her decision to speak. Some experts thought that 5 years was the magic number of years to heal. Before that, the experience was too new. And you were in no shape to help other victims. While others argued, you never got over the trauma. 

     She suspected more people would be at this dinner than if it was at someone’s house. Povol (with good reason) didn’t want it at the shelter. ‘Dear God,’ she prayed. ‘Let me do the right thing. Say the right words.’