30. Tessa

As the weeks passed, I started to experience genuine happiness, something I’d questioned could ever be possible. My life was peaceful. I loved my job. Eric seemed to have accepted Adam easily into our world, and Rich was finally a neutral presence in my life. I would never forget how horribly things had gone with him, and I would never forget the way he treated me. But him ignoring me was a feeling beyond relief.

I often went to locals’ night at Fireweed Winery before Adam and I started dating. Now, it was a weekly event because the Cannon family showed up in force.

I enjoyed going with Adam. I felt as if I was a part of something. McKenna had been one of my closest friends for years. During those years with Rich, I felt brutally alone, even when I was in crowds. It was so nice not to feel isolated anymore.

I squeezed Adam’s hand lightly before tugging free. “I’m going to the restroom,” I whispered. He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, and heat tingled under the surface.

I loved being with him so much. I felt like a teenage girl sometimes—starry-eyed and in love. Yet there was a strength stitched into the fabric of our connection. We had both seen the dark side of others and how badly things could go. What we had together was precious.

Still smiling, I slipped into the restroom. When I stepped out of my stall a few moments later, Rich’s girlfriend, Lisa, stood washing her hands at the row of sinks. Her eyes met mine in the mirror. That worry in the back of my thoughts scurried forward. I didn’t know how to have the conversation I wanted to have with her. The damage Rich had done was so deep I sometimes wondered if it was me, if I was the reason he had been abusive and controlling.

I tried to look anywhere but at her, as I glanced down at the sinks. As my eyes bounced around, they landed on some bruise marks on the inside of her forearm. I could see it in the mirror. I knew what had happened. Fingertips pressed deeply into her skin with a force that hurt at the moment and left behind dark purple bruises. I recognized those bruises because I’d had them. More than once.

Abruptly, nausea welled in my throat, and my heart started pounding in a sick, dread-filled beat. I took an unsteady breath and swallowed as I lifted my eyes to hers. She was looking down at the counter. I presumed she was studiously trying not to pay attention to me, just as I would have when I was with Rich.

“Are you okay?” My words came out rougher and louder than I intended

Her eyes whipped up to meet mine in the mirror. I gestured to the bruises on her forearm when she turned off the water. She stared at me for several beats. I scrambled up my depleted courage.

“He left bruises on me just like that. He cracked one of my ribs once. I went to Juneau for the X-rays and lied about who I was at the hospital. He didn’t hurt me much. It was the rest—the constant monitoring with the app on my phone, with the tag he put in my purse and on my car. If I can help you, I will. All you have to do is call me or text me. I’ll come at any time. I got away, and I know you can too.”

Her eyes were wide and bright with unshed tears as she stared at me. Her swallowing was loud in the room before she whispered, “Thank you.” She started to turn away.

Reflexively, I reached for her, touching her lightly on the shoulder. Tears sprang to my eyes when she flinched. I stepped back, quickly dropping my hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Can I at least give you my number? I went to the shelter. That’s what they told me to do. Save my number under somebody’s name from work or something like that. You can call me whenever you need anything.”

Her hesitation stretched. Just when I thought I’d made a huge mistake, she tapped her phone screen and handed it to me. I quickly typed in my contact, saving it under Joan when she told me to use that name.

Later that night, my body reverberated from little shocks of fear. From my therapist, I understood my system had been kicked into a trauma reaction—fight, flight, freeze, or fawn. She told me some people had a primary response, and others’ reactions varied. Sometimes I wanted to fight. Sometimes I froze, and most of the time, I fawned. I’d done everything I could to smooth things over with Rich when we were together, to soothe him, to keep him from getting angry.

Eric was at the kitchen table doing his homework. “Mom, can you help me? I’m stuck.”

“Maybe,” I said, trying to keep the anxiety out of my voice.

“It’s math.” He sighed in frustration.

I reviewed the worksheet and the instructions. I knew the answer, but I remembered his teachers reminding me to help him get to the answer himself. This little math problem gave me something to focus on.

After walking him through to the solution, Eric grinned up at me. “Yay!”

I chuckled, lightly ruffling his hair. After Eric went to play his allotted time for video games, I wondered what time Adam might text me. He wasn’t over every night, but more often than not. I was anxious about him coming over. I didn’t know if I should tell him about my conversation with Rich’s girlfriend. He knew I worried about her, and he’d reminded me time and again that I couldn’t control the situation.

My phone rang, and I glanced down to see Rich calling. I didn’t answer his calls, and I wasn’t about to now. But he began calling over and over. Nausea was bitter in my throat as I tried to keep it at bay. After the fourth call, a text came through.

Rich:You fucking bitch. If you ever talk to Lisa again, I will make you fucking regret it.

My hands shook. I swallowed and took an unsteady breath before forcing myself to screenshot the text. I did that so he wouldn’t know I read it. The full text showed on my screen.

My fingertips were numb and cold. I debated whether I should try to call Colin when another text from Rich came through.

Rich:You better dump that fucker.

I tried to take a deep breath, but I couldn’t. That old, familiar sense of panic rose swiftly inside, causing black dots in my vision. I tried to breathe. I reminded myself frantically that this feeling would pass.

I had enough presence of mind to screenshot the second text. After that, I leaned over and put my head between my knees. I didn’t know how much time had passed when I heard Eric’s voice. “Are you okay, Mom?”

He sounded worried. I took an unsteady breath and straightened, trying to put something like a normal expression on my face. “I’m fine, honey.”

“You only look like that when Dad says something scary.” Eric stood in the archway between the kitchen and the hallway.

“I’m fine. I promise.” That was a lie, but I needed to fake my way through this.

“I like it better when I just have to have dinner with Dad and don’t have to stay the night. Can we keep it that way?”

I clawed up every ounce of composure I had and nodded. “I’ll check with him.”

I’d never promised Eric that I would leave his dad, but I promised him thousands of times in my heart.

He blinked. “Okay.” He walked into the kitchen and put his small hands over mine where they were clasped together over my knees. “Things are better now. Just remember that. Adam is really nice.”

I hugged him, holding on maybe too tight for a second. When Adam texted a little bit later, I lied and said I had a migraine.

Adam:I can still come over.

Me:I really just want to rest.

Adam:Okay, text me in the morning. ?? ?? ??