A Hazel Haven

Interlude IV

"Thank you for the ride," Vanessa said quietly but remained seated, staring blankly ahead. With each failed attempt, she grew more and more despondent about getting her child back.

"Are you sure you'll be all right here?"Lawrence eyed the area. It was dark and somewhat deserted, even though cars passed by. He had parked at a bus stop, where Vanessa planned on boarding a taxi instead of having him drive her all the way.

"Yeah......" She turned her head on the headrest, studied his bruised, hard face in the dim illumination offered by the street lights. "He hurt you. Why do you let him do it?" Vanessa reached up, and he held her hand, warding her off.

"We got into a fight."

"I noticed, saw bruises on his face as well, which was a surprise, considering how much he hates anything marring it. You guys always fight."

"I hit him first this time. My fault."

"You?" Vanessa stared, incredulous. "I find that hard to believe. You're always level headed. Of all the children you were the least to lose your cool. But," she regarded him with an earnest, solemn countenance, "that's not what I mean. You let him take out his anger on you. I never could figure out why. Ever since you were children, he'd beat you up. You never said a word. When the caregiver asked, you lie. That's abuse, Chinedu--"

At the mention of the name, Lawrence clenched his jaws against simmering anger. He raised a hand. No one called him that, except his brother. "It's Lawrence. Don't make the mistake of calling me that again."

"I-I'm sorry." Vanessa fell quiet. She'd forgotten how touchy he was about names.

"What were you thinking going there? You knew he'd be around. It was no mistake." He grabbed the wheel. "You could have been killed."

"I was thinking about my baby!" She shouted it, pain in her eyes. "I miss him so much. Every time by breasts would feel heavy with milk, he's not there and I remember why. I wanted to see his beautiful face, to know if he's well, and to hear him laugh. I'm his mother, dammit! I want to be there when he starts crawling, when he takes his first step. I want to hear him call me, 'mama' someday. At this rate, none of that will happen." She laughed hysterically then broke down crying, covering her face.

He's already started crawling, he thought, knowing that would further distress Vanessa. Discombobulated by seeing a woman cry, Lawrence fumbled for his handkerchief. "If you don't mind a little sweat," he said, proffering it without looking at her. "Keep it after."

She smiled through tears, said,"You've always been awkwardly sweet. Thank you," and began dabbing under her eyes, careful not to smudge makeup. "I'm sorry,"--another laugh-"I've been a mess these days. Always crying. It must be hormones or something. It didn't matter. Without my baby, I feel dead." Sighing, she settled back into the seat. "I don't regret going anyway. If I hadn't, he'd have raped that girl. How old is she, sixteen?"

"How did you know? She could have been a prostitute. They could have been role playing."

Chortling, Vanessa said wryly."She isn't his type. He likes them mature and experienced. And I could easily tell that she was no prostitute, just a victim of circumstance. A lot of experience, I guess." Her tone became somber. "He'd have killed her, you know. When he gets into one of his dark moods, he usually loses control. Whatever he did, he did angry. Sex was worse. I mean, he's an expert lover in bed, but at times like that, he becomes something else. There'd be pain because he'd skip foreplay and just dive right in. He doesn't stop. Sometimes, it felt like I was going to die. The girl wouldn't have survived such a thing."

"I guess she owes you her life, too."

"And I owe you mine. Even though you hate me, you protected me. Thank you." She smoothed her hair, feeling more composed. "I didn't cheat on him. I don't know what he told you but I didn't. I couldn't if I wanted to because I was too scared. He's just this handsome, terrifying man. I couldn't handle him; I thought I could overlook it. Every time I thought about leaving, he'd be sweet again. The passionate love making after would confuse me, hold me spell bound. I'd be trapped again, and I'd think, 'look at me. I'm not a beauty in anyway, but I'm the one he's spending time and money on. I'm the one he loves. I'm lucky.' But he didn't love me; he doesn't love anyone, just cash. The man, my so called 'lover', frequents my boutique. I'd met him in a bookshop before then-he owns it. I always go there to buy books that'll help me learn how to read. I usually go there after the adult classes. One day, he was distributing this handbill for a church crusade and gave me one, smiling while he told to come. It was a sweet smile. Ryan's never smiled that way at me---come to think, he never smiled genuinely around me. I didn't go. I mean a church?" she snorted. 'I thought, 'he must be fucking delusional if he thinks I'd ever step into one'. That place spooks me and infuriates me, you know--hypocrites speaking and swallowing nonsense."