I Don't Need to be Saved, Pt.3
Pt.3 of 4, story by JJB
Later that night, he drove out to the address.
It was a cloudy night with rain in the air, and he took a wrong turn twice that put him on dirt roads to nowhere. He finally turned down Windmere, which was a collection of old—very old—colonials.
He pulled his car to a stop and turned off his headlights.
The colonial at Sarah’s address had several ornate colonnades. The windows were tall and wide, and there was a stained-glass window showing what looked to be a man and a wolf over the double-door entryway. It looked pretty in the dark, but he got the sense that in daylight it would show its age.
All of the windows were dark. The only car was a gray Volvo parked haphazardly in the driveway.
Nobody home.
There was a sound behind the car, like the clack of footsteps on the sidewalk. He looked in his rearview mirror but saw nothing.
When he looked back, he thought he saw one of the double doors move, as if closing.
He peered into the dark but saw nothing, and no lights came on in the house.
He shook his head and laughed.
Dude, what are you doing? Sitting out in front of someone’s empty house like you’re on a stakeout.
He started the car and left, but on his way out he debated whether or not he had seen the door close. He couldn’t shake the notion that he had.
The next few days were quiet and without incident.
He got up, went to work, saw no sign of her, and came home. He resisted the near-constant urge to drive by her house.
June turned hot and humid, and he began to appreciate the refrigerated feel of the grocery store.
On a break Thursday night, he saw her again.
He was sitting outside, hoping to catch some fresh air, but found none. He thought briefly about going to his car and turning the air conditioning on there.
The bar next door—Well’s—was busy for a Thursday, providing a parade of people in various states of drunkenness.
He sat for about ten minutes and watched as people walked, stumbled, and—in the case of one gentleman—staggered to their cars.
There was a pause. The door opened, and she came out, walking backward as she pulled another man along by his wrists.
The guy was older, blond, and tall. And judging by his gait, very drunk. He was smiling.
Must be the boyfriend. Or whatever.
Sarah was dressed in a sleeveless top and short black skirt. Her hair was back up in a bun like the first time he had seen her, but neater. Her sunglasses hung from her black bag.
Her face seemed pleasant, but there was irritation in her eyes.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
The man stopped in his tracks and howled. He took two steps forward, then one step back.
She waited with her arms lightly crossed.
He was too far away to hear her voice clearly, but her expression looked focused and irritated.
She positioned herself under his right arm and began to walk him into the parking lot. He stopped them twice to ask a question, but her answers were short, and she kept them moving.
Out in the lot, they stopped in front of a gray Volvo.
She opened the back passenger door and tried to guide him in.
He resisted and tried to grab her shoulders and kiss her.
After a brief kiss, she tried to extricate herself. Her voice was low and serious.
Tom tensed and leaned forward.
The man gave her a shove, and she skittered backward, bumping hard into the car.
Definitely the boyfriend. No wonder she needs Darvocet.
He was standing now, holding his breath, about to step toward them.
After a moment, she stood, straightened her skirt, and walked back over to him. She put her hands on his shoulders, then one hand on his cheek.
His face calmed. He looked enraptured.
He touched her arm, then got into the car.
She closed the door, walked around to the driver’s side, and got in.
A moment later, the car started and pulled away.
Tom watched it cross the parking lot, turn right, and disappear down York Road.
He let his breath out in a rush.
But what can I do?
Legs still buzzing with adrenaline, he walked back to the store.
A day later, she was caught shoplifting.
Tom was just coming out of the bathroom when Sid came running up to him.
“Dude, you know that girl you like just got caught in the lotions aisle with a bag full of stuff.”
Tom’s heart skipped.
“Wait, what?”
Sid didn’t need to repeat himself.
They both watched as Sarah walked stiffly out of the aisle, flanked by Ted, the store detective. He was carrying the same big brown bag Tom had seen her with before.
Tom stood rooted to the floor as they passed.
She was wearing a blue dress with flowers, her hair pulled back in a severe ponytail. As she walked by, he saw her arms were handcuffed.
She looked at him.
Far from sad or scared, her eyes glittered like jewels, and she wore a faint smirk.
Tom saw a small cut on her top lip that hadn’t been there before.
Ted opened the doors when they reached the back, heading, Tom assumed, to his office.
This is nuts.
Behind him, a small group had stopped to watch and was now beginning to disperse.
Tom stood staring.
Even Sid walked away.
I’ve got to do something.
She was probably getting more bruise cream.
He started walking toward the door before he even realized.
I could talk to Ted. Explain the situation. Save her from getting arrested.
Tom didn’t think her boyfriend would understand if he found out.
He pushed through the door, turned left, and headed for Ted’s office.
He knocked, but was already opening the door before Ted said, “Come in.”
Ted sat at his desk drinking a cup of coffee. A typewriter sat in front of him.
Sarah was in the chair, her back turned.
Tom cleared his throat.
Ted, an aging vet with a short shock of gray hair, looked at him.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Ted started typing with two fingers.
“What for, kid? A little busy.”
“Fine,” Ted grunted, getting up. He walked around the desk without looking at Sarah and stepped outside with Tom.
Ted leaned against the door.
“What is it, kid?”
First off, I’m 21. Stop calling me kid.
“Listen, I think you should let her go. It’s not her fault.”
Ted’s eyes widened.
“Let her go? She had like seventy-five dollars of lotion in that bag. I watched her do it.”
Tom sighed.
“Right, but what if she had a good reason?”
“Good reason? Kid, there is no good reason to steal.”
“Yeah, but—”
Ted reached for the doorknob.
This was going nowhere.
Tom put his hand on the door.
“Okay, look—I didn’t want to have to bring this up. She’s a family friend.”
Great. Now I’m lying.
Ted folded his arms.
“Uh-huh.”
Might as well go all the way.
“Anyway, we think… we think her boyfriend’s abusing her.”
Ted didn’t look convinced.
Tom pushed on.
“Yeah, it’s kind of an open secret. If he finds out she was shoplifting, she’ll have hell to pay.”
Ted stared, but the wheels seemed to be turning.
Tom leaned in.
“You saw that cut on her lip. How do you think that got there?”
“Kid, I can’t just let her go.” But his voice sounded unsure.
Time to lay it on.
“Just this once? It would mean so much to my mom.”
Ted sighed loudly.
“Alright, kid. I’ll let her go. But she’s banned from the store. I mean it. If I see her in here again, the cops are the first thing I call.”
“Thanks, Ted. I—we appreciate it.”
Ted leaned in, jabbing a finger into Tom’s chest.
“And if I find out you’re lying to me, it’ll be your ass.”
Tom nodded.
“Right. My ass.”
Ted turned back to the door.
“Alright, get out of here while I clean this up.”
Tom backed away quickly.
“Thanks, Ted.”
Tom burst into the hallway.
Jesus Christ. What did I just do?
He was excited and scared.
He had done the right thing. He was sure of it.
But that look she had given him earlier bugged him.
Like she was happy to have gotten caught.
There had been something in her eyes that seemed different.
He ran back to the pharmacy and told them he was taking his break.
Josh’s response had been sarcastic. “I didn’t even know you were here.”
Tom raced to the front just in time to see her storm through the doors, barely giving them time to open.
He felt the humidity rush in.
Tom followed her into the night, trying to figure out his next move.
As she walked into the parking lot, he called out.
“Hey!”
She flinched but kept moving.
“Thanks for the help, but I would have been fine.”
She waved without turning.
He was losing ground.
say it.
“Does he beat you?”
She stopped and turned.
Her expression was blank. Her eyes flat, like a dark blue sea.
“What did you say?”
No time to stop now.
“The bruise cream. The makeup. The painkillers. You’re wearing a turtleneck in June.”
“Were you looking at my file, sport?”
Tom stepped closer.
“Am I wrong?”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Who beats me?”
Tom felt breathless.
“Your boyfriend.”
She laughed.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Tom pushed forward, voice tight.
“I saw you the other night. Coming out of Well’s. He was drunk.”
She folded her arms, smirking slightly.
He swallowed and continued.
“The car door was open. You were arguing. Then he pushed you.”
She glanced up at the sky, then back at him.
“Tom, you have no idea. Leave it alone.”
She turned to walk away.
“I can help you,” he said.
She stopped again and walked quickly up to him.
He caught the scent of lavender and cigarette smoke.
“You think I need saving?” she said quietly. “You couldn’t be more wrong.”
Her eyes were wet.
She was so close he had to fight the urge to kiss her.
A moment passed.
He didn’t know what to say.
She sighed.
***Pt. 4 of 4, coming soon ***
“See you around, Tom.”
She turned and walked back to her car.
He watched her drive away.
Goddammit.