CHAPTER TEN: THE COPPER MONKEY
That morning, Rose had turned in her apartment keys to the building manager, packed up her clothes, and drove herself to a small hotel on the other side of town. She didn’t seek medical attention for her cuts or broken ribs, afraid that it will only draw unwanted attention to her.
Feeling relatively safe inside the hotel room, but not safe enough to leave it to get pain medicine, she curls up on the bed and places her cell phone next to the pillow. She keeps staring at the Detective’s business card she set out on the small table next to the bed, grappling with whether or not she should risk contacting him. By reaching out to him, will she be in trouble for leaving the scene of the brutal murders? What happens if she contacts the police, and her husband will find out? Somehow he already figured out she was in town.
Her safest choice was to stay put and not contact anyone who might drag her into the spotlight.
She drifts in and out of dreams, trying to use sleep as a painkiller. Her whole body hurts. She tried a hot bath earlier but it only agitated the pain. The cuts on her face and lip are swollen and her eye black. She looks and feels like she was hit by a truck.
Truck. Violent angry mobster. Not much of a difference, she thinks bitterly.
She lays in misery on the hotel bed throughout the day and into the evening hours, not eating or drinking, absorbed in pain and wracking her brain about what to do. Finally when she nods off, her cellphone rings, jarring her out of her light dream state. She glances at the alarm clock on the hotel nightstand; it’s seven in the evening. The caller’s identification reads Krav Maga.
“Oh no,” she mumbles to herself, realizing she’s supposed to be in class. She considers answering the call, but panics and instead sends it to voicemail. She sighs and tosses the phone back down on the bed, closing her eyes. She jumps when it rings again. It’s the same caller.
She sighs and groans when rib pain jolts through her. She curses under her breath. She picks up the phone, thoughts going to the kindness Michael showed her already, and answers it.
“Hello?”
The voice on the other line is familiar. “Hello, Rose?”
“Yes,” she says quietly.
“This is Michael, from the Krav Maga school. I just wanted to see if you’re coming in tonight, like you were scheduled to?” His voice is deep, soft, and comforting. Almost since meeting him, she’d felt at ease with him.
“Um, I’m sorry, I can’t. Something came up and …” She struggles to sit up and to her dismay, her words are cut short as more sharp pain causes her to groan aloud.
“Are you okay?” Michael asks, concerned.
“Um,” she starts, twisting in an effort to get comfortable but her movements only make things worse. She’s unable to talk while she struggles to catch her breath and waits for the pain to subside.
“Rose, are you okay?”
“No,” she finally answers. New pain, coupled with her difficulty breathing, render her close to crying again. “No, I’m not okay. I’m in trouble.”
“What’s wrong?”
She opens her mouth to speak and is embarrassed by the sob that emerges. Afraid of showing a stranger how vulnerable she is, she nonetheless is plunging once more into the fear and agony that haven’t give her any peace since the incident in the van.
“Do you need help?” Michael asks in a hushed tone. “I can help you, Rose. Just tell me where you are.”
No longer able to manage her emotions or the pain, Rose realizes she really needs help. Of everyone she’s met in New Orleans, Michael is the one she’s felt most comfortable around. He could also beat up anyone else Antonio sends after her, at least until she was able to run again.
She tells Michael the name of her hotel and asks if he can bring pain medicine. He arrives faster than she expects, but she is glad. When she opens the door to let him in, the look of shock on his face makes her feel worse.
“What happened!” he exclaims.
“Come in,” she says. She’s too distraught to feel embarrassed or shy this time, and his handsome face and warm brown eyes are a welcome sight. She secures the three locks on the door before throwing him a weak smile.
He’s already opened the bottle of pain medicine and shakes out three white pills into his hand. He only takes his eyes off her to go to the sink and fill a plastic cup with water. She sits down on the bed. He hands her the pills.
“Here, take these,” he says. She puts all three in her mouth and takes the water from him. She swallows them down, desperate for them to kick in fast.
“Thank you,” she says. She pushes herself back towards the headboard and leans against it.
He watches her as she grunts and grumbles in pain. He waits for her to get comfortable, then pulls a chair up next to her from the adjacent table and sits down.
“What happened, Rose?” he asks gently.
She chooses her words carefully, still guarded about what to say to whom. “When you asked me if there was a reason I wanted to take self-defense, the answer I gave to you wasn’t the truth.”
“That’s okay.”
“The real reason I came in is because of this,” she said, pointing to her face.
“Who did this to you? Did you go to the police?”
“No,” she answers.
“Why not?”
“I don’t know,” she says, gazing at the Detective’s card on the table behind Michael. “I just don’t think it would be a good idea.”
“You don’t think they can help you?”
“I don’t know,” she lies, not wanting to discuss the murders she witnessed.
Michael isn’t fazed by her unwillingness to go to the police. “You know, it might not be my place to say this, but you don’t have to face this alone. Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith and trust someone to help you. It’s not always easy to accept help, but you should never be ashamed to ask for it.”
Rose considers his advice. He’s right, but her fear still gets the best of her and she stays quiet.
Sensing her hesitation, he offers her a reprieve. “Just think about that, okay?’
She nods, appreciating that he’s taking the pressure off her to open up, but also disappointed in herself for feeling so fearful. Michael is clearly a good person to be there with her.
“In the meantime, is there anything I can do to help you?”
She gazes around the hotel room. “I need to find somewhere to live. I left my apartment this morning, that’s where … this happened,” she cringes internally for telling another lie. “But I can’t stay here forever.” She looks into his warm brown eyes and feels comfortable asking him for help. “Maybe you could help me find a safe place to live?”
“I definitely can,” he says, enthused to have a task to help her with. “I’ve lived in New Orleans all my life.”
“Thank you,” she says, relieved. “Thank you for the pain medicine. And for coming here. I really needed to see a friendly face.”
“Do you want me to stay for a while?”
Yes, but … It’s not just the physical pain that’s hurting her. It’s the emotionally violent climate she’s had to live in for so many years. Marriage was precious to her. She respected it. Adhered to its rules. Remained faithful and loyal to a sociopathic man who used her talents to his advantage. She expected it to bring her love, happiness, and protection. Instead, it all but destroyed her.
Tired of fighting tears, she lets them well up in her eyes and doesn’t care when they roll down her face. She looks into Michael’s kind eyes as he watches her with true concern.
“Do you know what the worst thing about this is?” Her voice catches in her throat, and she waits for the hidden sob to retreat before continuing. “It’s the embarrassment.”
Michael appears puzzled. “What do you have to be embarrassed about?” He rests a hand on her knee. The heat from it warms her cold bones.
“I’m an adult. I should be able to handle things. But all I’ve done for the
past eight years is hide my fear of my husband. And then, I just run away,” she says emphatically, flinging her hands up in the air. “I run away and think that’s going to solve everything, but it doesn’t. It just made things worse.”
“Rose, you are not at fault for any of this! You’re dealing with some really bad men.”
His insight catches her off guard. Men? “How do you know that?”
Michael pauses thoughtfully, then continues. “I mean, you’re dealing with a really bad guy. It’s pretty obvious from the looks of your injuries. And it sounds like you survived so long with him, I mean, if anything you should be so proud of yourself for making it this far!” He scoots the chair closer to her. “You did the right thing by leaving him. It doesn’t matter how you did it, it matters that you did it. You took a huge step towards making your life better. That takes guts!”
She smiles, his encouraging words soothing what is left of her demolished heart. “He was supposed to be the one person in this world that loved me and that would protect me. How stupid was I to think that!”
“No,” he says. “There’s nothing stupid about you. It was just the wrong guy.”
She shakes her head, still silently beating herself up for being a naïve fool.
Michael takes her hand. “There was a monster behind his mask and you were unfortunate enough to see it.”
She looks at him, stunned by the accuracy of his words. He pulls his hand back and straightens in his chair. His gaze grows distant, as if he’s thinking of something unpleasant, and darkness crosses his features.
“Are you okay?” she asks when the silence stretches on. “It looks like you went somewhere… dark.”
He instinctively jerks his head to clear his thoughts and focuses on her. “I’m sorry. Um. Would you like me to hang around for a while? Make sure you’re okay?”
She wants to say yes but doesn’t. “No, I’ll be fine. I’m hoping the pain medicine will help me sleep.”
“All right. If there is anything else I can do to help, just let me know. I’m serious, Rose.”
She smiles even though it hurts her aching lip. “Okay. I appreciate it.”
“You should get as much rest as you can,” he says, setting the bottle of painkillers down on the table behind him, next to the Detective’s card. He reads the name on it but says nothing.
“Yeah,” she says in agreement.
Michael stands up and for the first time appears nervous. He fidgets with his hands but then shoves them in his jeans pockets. “I’ll check on some places for rent around here. You should be able to find something pretty fast. There’s a lot of open real estate.”
“Thanks.”
“Let me know if you need me ... I mean, need me to do anything.” He backs up to the door and bumps into it. Turning around quickly to unlock and open it, he steps out of the room and flashes a concerned look over his shoulder. “Make sure you lock this!” he says as he closes it behind him.