Wednesday night.

Content warning: abuse

The steady flashing of the police lights are etched into her vision, burning like the after-glow of a sunset through her closed lids. Elena could still feel the bite of the paramedic’s ice pack on her raw skin, could still hear the doubt in the police officer’s question as he asked her if she was sure she felt comfortable sleeping at home. 

It had been hours since the cops had left. Elena lay in bed, listening to the rhythmic sound of her sons’ breathing as they slept in the makeshift cot on the floor. They always tumbled into her room after a bad fight, claiming they had a nightmare, or complaining their beds were too hard and they would rather sleep on the floor next to her. 

Had they seen it? Certainly they had heard. Elena’s mind flashed to John’s angry fist pounding his way through the door. His ragged breath, heavy with gin and the promise of a painful ending to the evening. The bruised skin of her collarbone prickled at the memory. Elena tried to flush the all-too familiar feelings of shame, rage, and fear that roiled through her mind. She rolled to her uninjured side in an attempt to coax her body to sleep. 

Eli sat at the breakfast table clad in pajamas, pushing the cold eggs around his plate. 

     “Mama. Where’s Daddy?” He asked, looking down. Elena turned to look at her youngest son. Normally, Eli sat with the perky rigid posture all toddlers seemed to possess, feet aimlessly swinging off the edge of the chair. Today, his little shoulders were rounded and hunched, his legs still. The sight of her deflated three year old nearly broke Elena’s heart. Daddy is probably just rubbing the crust out of his eyes in a jail cell crammed full of other drunks. 

   “He is visiting his friend. He will be back later,” Elena said, as brightly as she could muster. Eli’s head lifted a little as he warily asked, 

    “Daddy’s coming back soon?” 

    “Yes baby. Probably by tonight!” Elena plastered on a broad smile, but faltered as her swollen cheek smarted with the movement.

   “Why.” Elena turned and saw Jacob, her eldest son, leaning against the kitchen door frame. He hadn’t asked it as a question. Though only seven years old, he wore the disenchanted look of a grown adult, and had tiny bags under his little brown eyes. 

    “Daddy lives here, Jacob,” Elena said. “We are a family,” she mumbled, as she turned back to the sink. Because if I didn’t let him back in, he would pick you up from school early and never let me see you again. Because if I were to ever raise my voice to him, tell the cops what was really going on, or threaten to leave, he would make me pay. Make us all pay. Jacob let out a loud sigh and slouched out of the room, ignoring the plate Elena had left for him on the table.

After dropping the boys off at their schools, Elena returned to the apartment. Her body shuddered as she walked the hallway to pick up the items that littered it. The heavy books John had thrown at her, the hammer he had smashed above her head to scare her as he pinned her to the wall by her throat, yelling obscenities into her ear. 

Five more weeks. You can make it five more weeks. Just play along, and this will be over soon. Elena had repeated this mantra to herself over and over since she decided over six months ago that she was going to get out. Each time, peeling one more day off on her countdown to freedom. She had been working double shifts and had finally convinced her cousin in Minnesota to let her and the boys stay with her for a few weeks until she could get a place of their own. Other than her cousin, Elena had told no one of her plan, fearing word would somehow get back to John and he would fly into a murderous rage. Luckily, John would get so drunk or stoned by the afternoon, he usually wouldn’t notice Elena coming home hours after she normally did. 

Elena looked at the clock. Twenty minutes till her opening shift at the coffee shop. She tried to cake on as much of the $5 CVS-brand concealer that her swollen face could hold, and put on a high-necked shirt to cover up the galaxy of bruises that were beginning to bloom across her chest.

“That mother fucking bastard!” Mari yelled when she saw Elena’s face after she entered the coffee shop. Elena quickly closed the door, its little bells banging loudly as she tried to keep Mari’s barrage of obscenities from floating out to potential patrons passing by. “WHAT did that SHITHEAD asshole of a husband do to you?!” Mari stalked from around the counter to inspect her best friend. Elena stood as Mari fussed over her and continued to rage over the damage John had done. Elena let Mari’s wrath wash over her, and it felt like being bathed in sunlight on the first warm day after a long winter. For the first time since last night, Elena’s shuttered body began to thaw and relax into the safety of her friend’s outrage.

Mari could scream all the things Elena could never bring herself to say. Of course, they had been through this dozens of times before. After the first few incidents, Mari had even turned that anger on Elena, confounded by the fact that Elena wouldn’t leave John. Elena had tried, and failed, to explain the complexities of the situation. “John isn’t this person,” Elena had said at first. The man she had married had been slowly carved away by alcohol and bitterness, until all that remained was a shell of a person she barely recognized. Once Elena understood that John was never coming back, she stopped trying to defend him. Elena had tried to explain to Mari her crushing fear that John would turn his anger on her boys. It was better for him to take it out on Elena. Sometimes, if the boys were being particularly noisy or boisterous, Elena would even try to provoke John, so his outburst would be directed at her rather than Eli or Jacob. Better to control what she could.

“What did you tell the cops?” Mari asked. Elena’s focus snapped back to the present as Mari’s laser gaze met her eyes. 

“I told them he had been drinking,” said Elena uncomfortably as she began to tie the work apron around her waist and turn on the coffee machines.

“And they just accepted that? They didn’t ask why you were all fucked up?” Mari’s disgust was palpable in her tone.

Of COURSE they asked why I was fucked up! They ask me every time! It’s humiliating to lie for him. It’s humiliating that we are the house who regularly has cops show up at our door. I can’t stand the look in my neighbors’ eyes when they see me the next day and wonder why I am not doing anything to keep him away.

“They always ask if I feel safe,” Elena replied, dodging Mari’s question. Elena could feel Mari inhale deeply, hold her breath for a few seconds, and slowly exhale. She knew her friend was trying to be supportive, but this was taking its toll on Mari. Elena turned to face her.

“I am okay. I will be okay,” Elena tried to say as steadily as she could. Mari looked at her for a long minute and slowly shook her head. She started to open her mouth to respond when the cafe’s front door bell tinkled and their first few customers walked in.

The day had been long and mercifully busy. It was always helpful to throw herself into work the day after a particularly bad fight. Even Mari was too consumed by the endless requests for lattes to pester Elena more about it. Since Elena worked the closing shift as well, Mari had left without the chance to corner Elena about John. 

Closing up the shop was a cathartic routine for Elena. The hum of the coffee machines quieted as she turned them off one by one. Switching the lights off, Elena stood alone in the darkness and silence for a moment, appreciating the peace of the empty shop. With a final breath, she braced herself for the evening ahead. John would be home from jail by now, having long ago been released. Elena knew she would come home to one of two versions of her husband: apologetic and shamefaced John, or already-drunk and pissed off.  

Elena opened the front door to her apartment and heard Eli’s laughing coming from the living room. Elena tentatively walked forward to the doorway and peeked inside. John and Eli sat on the floor, plastic trains strewn about them with their backs to Elena. Eli excitedly showed his father how the trains fit on the little track he had put around the base of the coffee table. John heard Elena stirring at the door and turned around. Their eyes met and for a brief second, Elena could recognize the man she had married. Then his eyes turned doleful and heavy with regret. He mouthed the words, “I’m sorry,” and held up his hands. 

The hands that had squeezed her throat till she could barely draw breath less than twenty-four hours before.

Get away from my child, you sorry son-of-a-bitch! Elena wanted to scream at him. Take your apologies and get the hell out of my home and out of our lives. We are done with you and your bullshit. Her face must have hardened because John’s apologetic half-smile flickered.

“Mama’s home!” Eli bounded happily to her knees and Elena bent down to give him a hug. 

“Hi honey!” Elena inhaled the sweet, slightly sweaty smell of her little boy’s hair.  “Did Miranda already leave?” Elena looked around the room. Miranda was the high schooler who lived across the hall. Miranda watched the boys during the gap between when school let out and before Elena’s second shift ended. Eli nodded happily and ran out of the room towards the kitchen.

“Didn’t your shift end at 3?” John’s voice came out steady, but Elena could feel the steel creeping into the edges of his question.

“Mari asked me to swap with her today,” Elena replied, avoiding John’s eyes and putting her purse down on a chair.

“Hmm.” Elena felt John standing and moving quickly beside her. He caught her elbow with his hand and pulled her towards him. Elena tried to relax her stiff body as John tried to fold himself around her. 

“Sorry about last night,” he mumbled into her hair.

Which part? Elena wanted to ask. Sorry for blaming me for your missing car keys? Or sorry for putting another dent in our wall when you slammed a hammer inches from my skull when I couldn’t tell you where they were?

“It’s okay,” Elena whispered. She lingered a moment and was careful not to pull away from him too quickly, lest she incite another outburst. “Dinner will be ready in twenty.”

Elena started a pot of rice, and threw the leftover pot roast into the oven to reheat before making her way to the boys’ room. Jacob lay on his bed, absently tossing a baseball into the air above his head. Elena sat on the edge of his bed.

“How was school today?” She asked timidly. Jacob kept his eye trained on the ceiling and continued throwing the ball. “Jakes. I know you’re mad. Talk to me,” Elena tried to place a soothing hand on her son’s ankle. Jacob stopped throwing the ball and sat up.

“He’s never gonna stop,” he said quietly. “I hate him.”

Elena wanted so badly to tell Jacob he only had to make it through a few more weeks. Just a little over a month! She would whisper in his ear, bundling him close. I know you hate him. I hate what he has done to our family. I am going to take you so far away from here. We are going to see the snow! We are going to hide so far away he will never find us. She would cradle his body, already too big for cuddles, against hers like she used to do when he was a small boy after waking up shaking from a bad dream. 

Instead she patted his leg and simply said,  “I know.” 

“Everything okay in here?” Both Jacob and Elena’s heads snapped in the direction of John’s razor thing voice. His hulking frame filled the doorway and his face was inscrutable.

“Yep! All good!” Elena replied in a cherry tone. John nodded and walked away.

No, everything isn’t okay, Elena thought to herself. But it will be soon.