It was a dark and stormy night. Yes, I know that's the most cliche story beginning in the history of the world, but this time it happened to be true. One of the worst thunderstorm systems of the year had been moving through the area all afternoon and after dark showed little signs of letting up. Lightning and thunder flashed for the umpteenth time of the evening as I tried to ignore it and read. The wi-fi and been out for a couple of hours so after I ate, I found an old volume of World War 2 naval history to occupy my time with.
I took a sip of my coffee that was sitting on the side table next to my armchair and picked up my book again. I started the next section on the leadup to the Battle of Midway and was a few paragraphs in when through a thunder blast thought I heard a knocking sound. I quickly glanced up as though I would see anything through a solid wall. When I didn't hear anything for a few seconds I looked back at my book and continued reading. A few lines in and I heard the knocking again. This time it was clear since there was no thunderbolt coinciding with it. Four clear knocks followed by a split-second break followed by four more even more insistent knocks.
"What the hell is going on?" I wondered to myself as I set my book down on the side table next to my coffee and got up. Whatever this was it couldn't be a social call. Nobody in their right mind would be calling in this weather this late at night for no reason. I proceeded slowly towards the door. Twenty years as an intelligence agent, nearly fifteen of them in undercover oversees operations, had left their impact on me and even though I had been out of that line of work for over five years that 'on guard' mindset never leaves an agent.
As I neared the door, I opened a small drawer on the table in the foyer and pulled out the small pistol I kept here. At the door I quickly turned on the porch light and stooped down to look through the peephole. I was shocked by what I saw and instinctively looked away and through the hole again to make sure I saw what I thought I saw. Standing on my doorstep drenched by the monsoon blowing out there was my ex-girlfriend Sandra, whom I hadn't seen in over five years.
I quickly opened the door and storm door and ushered her inside. In spite of the somewhat acrimonious end to our relationship leaving her out there to drown clearly wasn't the right thing to do. After I shut the door behind her I turned and got a better look at her. She was indeed soaked head to toe with her long brown hair clinging to her face and upper body. The jeans and t-shirt she was wearing were clinging to her as well leaving nothing to the imagination as to the shape of her body that I had come to know well years back. But what got my attention more than that was what appeared to be a bruise. I could barely make it out from under the curtains of hair partially obscuring her face. I wanted to ask, but figured all those details would come if I was patient.
"Well, this is certainly an unexpected surprise." I said looking down at her. She gazed up at me nervously.
"David, I'm sure you're wondering what I'm doing here after so many years." she said tentatively.
"The thought had occurred." I said dryly. She then opened her mouth to say something else but before she could a shiver ran through her body. So, before she could say anything I said, "But first I think you should get out of those wet clothes. We don't need you getting sick. Follow me." She shyly nodded and followed me to my bedroom where I ushered her into my bathroom.
I grabbed a towel and my bathrobe and a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt and followed her. "I'm afraid I don't have anything in your size." I said dryly. "But maybe you can draw the string of these in enough to where they'll fit you. Get dried off and we can put your clothes in the dryer and talk." Again, she shyly nodded as I made a quick exit.
Back in the kitchen I grabbed a coffee mug, the jug of milk and a container of hot cocoa mix. I wasn't the biggest hot cocoa fan, preferring coffee, but I knew she preferred it and even taught me how to do it years ago and she needed something to warm her after being out in that monsoon. I got the cocoa made just in time to see her re appear with my bathrobe on and her wet clothes draped over her arms. I couldn't help but chuckle to myself seeing her in my robe that dwarfed her. I could barely see her feet it was so long and only the tips of her fingers under the sleeve of her free arm.
"Better?" I asked and again she shyly nodded. I couldn't help but wonder why she had become so shy all of a sudden. She certainly hadn't been that way when we were together.
"Well, you know where the dryer is." I said. She silently crossed the room to the small door that lead into the laundry closet. I closed the distance between us as she opened the dryer and put her clothes in and started it. As she turned around, she saw me holding the mug of hot cocoa out to her.
"Here drink this." I said as she took the mug gently. "It'll help warm you up. We don't need you getting sick."
She took a long pull on the hot cocoa and swallowed, and I saw relief flood through her face. After she swallowed, she looked at me and smiled and I was taken back five years when I would have done anything to see that smile.
"You remembered." she said still smiling at me.
"Old habits die hard." I said. "Come." I said gesturing towards the living room. At another gesture she sat on the sofa while I topped up my coffee before sitting back in my armchair. After a few awkward seconds I said, "So, what brings you here Sandra? I can't imagine this is a social call after all these years or in this weather or at this hour."
"No." she admitted tentatively gazing at me nervously. "I didn't know where else to go."
When she didn't say anything right away, I asked, "And why would you need to go somewhere at this time of night and in this weather?"
"I left my husband." she admitted.
It was then my gaze was drawn down to her left hand. My skills as a spy clearly weren't what they once were. In all my observations that I had made since seeing her through my peephole I hadn't noticed that she was in fact wearing a wedding band. A small, but distinct gold band was on the ring finger of her left hand with no engagement ring.
She could see the gears working in my mind and answered the question I had before I asked it. "Yes, it's Rusty." she said. Rusty was the guy who came between us five years ago. The two worked at the same company, Sandra in the office as an accounting assistant and Rusty in the warehouse. I had met him at a couple of her company Christmas parties and could tell he was bad news, but that didn't stop Sandra from at first having a clandestine affair with him and then clearly after I found out about it and ended our relationship (breaking my heart in the process) marrying him.
"So, you finally wised up and realized what I told you was true and he's bad news." I said. "But why this night of all nights and why to come to me?"
She looked up at me and for the first time since she had gotten there the damp curtain of hair she had fell back far enough to where I could fully see her left eye and that side of her face. My initial assessment was right, it was a bruise from a nasty right hook. Most of it was next to the eye socket and near the back of it looked like a scab as though there were a laceration.
My blood instantly boiled. Yes, Sandra had betrayed me, but she didn't deserve this. A tear escaped her eye as she said, "I couldn't take it anymore. And I didn't know where else to go. My family disowned me after I married Rusty. Said if I was going to marry a bum than I was on my own."
"Wait here, I'll be right back." I said and she again nodded shyly. I went again to my bathroom and pulled out my first aid kit. As I checked to see if I had all the supplies, I needed I couldn't help but let some dark fantasies run through my mind about how I would handle Rusty. I went back to the living room and found Sandra sitting where I left her looking sad and broken and sipping her cocoa. So many conflicting emotions were flowing through me. Part of me wanted to tell her to get lost, that she had her shot with me and decided to betray me for an abusive bum. But, my sense of moral duty, as always, won out and I knew I had to at least help her get back on her feet. What happened next was still a mystery.
As I made my way back into the living room, I grabbed my phone off the side table with my book and coffee before sitting down next to Sandra on the sofa. I set the first aid kit down on the coffee table and took my phone activated the camera. I pushed her hair back over her shoulder and said, "Now hold still."
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Preserving the evidence." I said as I hit the button to snap a picture. "Now look straight at the camera." I said and she did, and I took another picture.
As I glanced at my pictures to make sure they were good she asked, "What do we need pictures for?"
I couldn't help but scoff a little as I said, "Surely you can't be that naive. As soon as this storm lets up, we're going to the police."
She suddenly looked scared as she said, "Oh no I can't do that."
"What do you mean you can't do that?!" I asked incredulously. "Of course you can. This madman must be stopped. If not, he'll do it to someone else."
When she didn't say anything right away, I continued, "Look, you know what I used to do. I'd be lying if I said I've never given anyone a right hook before. But I'd sooner cut off my right fist before I used it to hit a woman less than half my size."
"What if he comes after me?" she asked still clearly scared.
"That's why we call the police." I said. "They'll protect you." I then got up and walked to the table in the foyer and picked up the pistol I had gotten out and quickly set there after letting Sandra in. I pulled the clip out to inspect it and quickly pushed it back in, before saying, "And if they don't, I will."
As I moved back across the room, I set the gun down on my side table as I saw Sandra's eyes start to well up. Seconds later the floodgates opened, and she started balling. In spite of my conflicted feelings, I couldn't just let her cry without comforting her. I sat down next to her and pulled her close as she buried her face in my shoulder. I soon felt her hot tears soaking through my dress shirt as she sobbed.
"Oh, David you were right, you were absolutely right about him he's been horrible to me ever since we got married." she said as she lifted her face off of my shoulder still sobbing.
Once I was certain she was through crying, I pulled the first aid kit towards me and again pushed her hair behind her shoulder. Grabbing a small bottle of peroxide and a small cloth I wet the rag with it.
"This may sting a little." I said and she nodded. I dabbed the peroxide on the wound near her eye and immediately saw her flinch. Once I got the wound clean, I applied some Neosporin and put a bandage on it. Then I found some bruise ointment and applied it to the bruising around her eye.
"I never knew you were so adept at first aid." she said as I finished.
"You have to know these things as a field agent." I said. "When you're undercover in central Africa you can't just pop into the urgent care clinic if you get a bit banged up. Any other wounds?"
"Some more bruising on my upper body." she said timidly.
I grabbed the jar of bruise ointment and said, "You can apply some of this and it'll help with the pain and swelling."
"Do you mind?" she asked gazing at me nervously. I have to admit that this surprised me.
"If you feel comfortable with it." I said. She untied the bathrobe and let it fall off of her shoulders. Slowly and shyly, she raised up the grey t-shirt I had given her to wear. I was shocked to see a good portion of her upper body was purple and blue. It was clear this madman used Sandra for a punching bag. I suppressed the anger that shot through me as I again grabbed my phone and took a few snapshots before applying some of the bruise ointment to her wounds.
"Better?" I asked and she nodded and gave me a small smile as she pulled the robe back on fully.
"It was all so great at first." she said without any prompting. "After you and I broke up Rusty and I moved in together and we were as happy as we could be. Then he got laid off during a round of corporate cuts and he never got over the fact that he lost his job, and I didn't. He somehow got it in his mind that it was my fault that he got laid off. After milking his unemployment for as long as he could he was never able to hold a job down for more than about 6 months before being fired for one issue or another, usually his attitude. He always seemed to have a chip on his shoulder.
Sandra continued, "Of course that meant paying the bills became my responsibility as well as running the house, because he wasn't going to do it. And here's where I really messed up. Before he was laid off, he had proposed, and I said yes and after seeing his attitude change and no desire to get himself together, I still married him. By this point my family was saying the same things you were saying that I should cut my losses and move on, but I still loved him and thought he would come out of it."
"But he never did." I interjected and she nodded.
"He got worse. On top of his chronic inability to work he started drinking." she said. "And when he's drinking is when he becomes abusive. It started out as verbal abuse and for a while that's all it was. But within the last year or so he's gotten physical. It started with slapping but has only gotten worse. Tonight, would have been worse if he hadn't passed out during his rampage."
After a few moments of silence she said, "Go on you can say it."