Joey's Past

The coffee shop was crowded to an almost standing-room-only capacity. Joey didn’t know how she would be able to have the conversation that was coming up in the midst of so many people. What if someone overheard? What if someone she knew happened by and overheard? Maybe this was a bad idea. She’d gone this long without ever telling anyone what happened. Why did she feel the need to do so now?

But Joey knew why. She knew she had to share this piece of her history, and it had to be now. She had lost enough sleep already. Besides, as she saw her college roommate enter through the side door, she knew if she tried to come up with some other reason for insisting on this impromptu meet that Frankie would see right through her. The look of concern she saw slide across Frankie’s freckled face told Joey that she would be unable to hold anything back today.

“Hey, there chickadee!” Frankie gushed breathlessly as she hung her purse and sweater across the back of the chair. “Why do you look like you’re about to stand before a firing squad?”

Joey thought she could feel her eyes filling with tears, and she fought to prevent them. She pasted on what she hoped was a cheerful smile and quipped, “Oh, Frank! You’re so silly. Where would you get an idea like that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. The fact that you look a little green and can’t stop fidgeting,” Frankie stated, matter-of-factly. “Now. Just tell me what’s up. Don’t waste time denying that you have something to say. I can see it written all over you. Remember, we lived together for years in quite close quarters in college. We learned a lot about ourselves during that time, and even more about each other. So, tell me what has happened.”

Joey glanced at her dearest friend, took a deep breath, and continued to tear the paper napkin in her hands to shreds. She felt a shudder run through her as she tried to settle herself in preparation. She took another deep breath.

“You’re right, of course.” Joey said, barely louder than a whisper. “Not about something happening. Well, something did happen, but it not recently. Well, stuff has happened recently, you know?” A half attempt at laughter, sounding more like a strangled croak of a frog, escaped Joey’s throat.

Joey sat up straight, looked at Frankie, and cleared her throat. “I, um, there is something I need to, well, um, something you need to know. I haven’t always told you everything.”

Frankie held up one hand and said, “Wait, what? Why are you…? What is going on? If there is something in your past that you haven’t already shared with me, then I’m sure there’s a really good reason. You know I love you and nothing you say will ever change that.”

Joey was stunned. “No,” she stated, “this is about our plans.”

Frankie felt gut-punched. “Wh-what about our plans? We already made to down-payment. I already turned in my notice.”

“I was arrested ten years ago,” Joey started, “domestic abuse.”

The room had become ice-cold, and like it was completely empty except for the two of them, in spite of the ebb and flow of caffeine seekers. Frankie sat, speechless, gazing at her longest and closest friend. Then, as it began to penetrate her awareness what Joey had said, Frankie felt a bubble of laughter growing inside her. She tried holding it back because of the distraught look on Joey’s face, but it was impossible. It burst out like a bark; Frankie quickly covered her mouth with her hand.

“I’m so sorry!” Frankie gushed. “I know you are feeling bad about something, and I certainly don’t want to make you feel any worse. I shouldn’t have laughed, but seriously? Joe. There is no way in this world that you could ever commit domestic abuse, much less be arrested for it! The next thing you’re going to tell me is that you were put in jail.”

“Yes, I was,” Joey stated.

“That is not possible, Joey! Have you met you? This is crazy. Besides, why would you bring this up now? What has this got to do with Beans and Books?” Frankie was starting to sound frustrated.

Joey sucked in a quick sigh and released the remnants of the paper napkin. “Just listen, okay?”

“My first year of college I didn’t live in the dorm. I started to, but I had met a guy who had an apartment just off campus and we hit it off quickly. It seemed like the perfect relationship. He was smart, and funny, and kind. He suggested I move in with him instead of the dorm, and I was over the moon. He even said he wanted to put me on the lease and everything, just to show me how sure he was that the relationship was going to work. What I didn’t know was that the furnishings came with the apartment; he made me think they were all his and he had been living there for some time. We had never gone to his place before; he always had some reason why we couldn’t. The day I signed the lease with him was the day he actually moved in.”

Joey took a sip of her coffee, grimacing because it had grown cold. “As we got settled in and got to know each other better, I started getting a bad feeling that something wasn’t right. He never wanted me to post pictures of us on social media. He said it was because he had an ex-girlfriend that would be jealous and harass us. The way he said it seemed to make sense, at least while we were talking about it.

“I never met any of his family members, even though he met my parents and my brother. We never hung out with his friends, and he never invited any of them over to our place, at least not while I was there. We always had a busy schedule, though, so I never really noticed or thought about it at the time. It wasn’t until after the relationship ended that I realized how odd it was.”

Frankie had a glimmer of tears in her eyes as she listened quietly to her friends retelling of a terrible event in her life. She reached across the table, taking Joey’s hands in hers. “You don’t have to do this, you know? I can see that it causes you pain.”

Joey attempted a smile, but she could feel that it didn’t reach her eyes. “I do have to tell you this. The location of our coffee and book shop is in a building that also has a dance studio; they offer dance classes to children. The contract for the space we are using requires that all tenants have a background check because of the proximity of the kids. So, this might become… a thing.”

Frankie, bewildered, whispered, “Ok, tell me the worst.”

Joey’s nerves were frayed. She knew she just had to get it out and get it over.

“Okay,” Joey gulped, “here’s the worst.

“I knew things were not going well in the relationship, so I told the guy that we should end it. I would move my stuff out of his apartment, and we could both get on with our lives. He just smirked and told me I’d have a hard time finding a place to rent to me if I left this one before the lease was over. I was confused, and I told him so. The lease was his, I just signed on it with him when I moved it. At this, he laughed out loud. He said I should check with the management office about that. He refused to tell me any more about it.

“I went to the management office to inquire about the lease. Of course, they said there was still six months left on the current lease. I explained that I shouldn’t be responsible for the lease since my boyfriend was already living there when I moved in; I just signed with him when I moved in as a sign of determination that the relationship would last. The manager was shaking her head. She said that he had come in a few months before I moved in to rent but was rejected as a tenant. They had told him he’d need a co-signer. When I moved in was when he moved in. He was so sly about it I never noticed him bringing his stuff in when I was moving in.

“I was stuck. If I broke the lease, I wouldn’t be able to rent anything else. I couldn’t afford the payment and fees required to cancel the lease and I couldn’t afford the rent by myself. When I got home, I found lover boy sitting on the couch, drinking a beer, and watching a movie on television. I was so angry. I was hurt, and embarrassed. I was beginning to see things so much more clearly. I told him it was over, and he had to move out. He laughed again. This infuriated me. I picked up his beer bottle and threw it to the floor. He thought this was fun and had videoed my action. I didn’t care. I told him he had to go and smashed the bottle on the floor. He said he’d go, no problem.

“I cooled off a little; cleaned up the glass and beer. I noticed he was standing next to his car and considered calling the police. I didn’t, though, because I didn’t want to interfere with their important work with this. But then I noticed a couple of police cars in front of our building. I was concerned. Was something going on? I left through the front door, heading to the office to see what was going on. As I was walking, a police officer called my name. He approached me and we talked for a bit. He said that I had been accused of domestic battery, and these charges were taken very seriously these days.

“He showed me a cell phone photo of my ex-boyfriend’s lip, which was split and bleeding. I was in shock. There’s no way they could think I’d done this. It didn’t occur to me to mention that he is about eight inched taller than me, and the split is on the right side. If I had hit him, wouldn’t it have been on the left side since I’m right-handed? And the split would be on the lower lip, wouldn’t it? I wish I had thought of these. Because he called emergency services and had an injury, they arrested me. Took me to jail. I could tell, and they mentioned, that they police thought it was bogus, but they had no choice.

“I spent the night in jail. I got bail the next day. I couldn’t afford an attorney, so I had a public defender. He got me off by going to anger management class. So, I didn’t back to jail, but it is still on my record.”

Frankie’s eyes were bright. She said, “The only thing I wish was different is that I wish you had actually hit the guy. I’m sorry you went through that, but we’ll be fine. We’ll get a lawyer and see what we need to do to get your record straightened out. We’ll get through the background check. You, my friend, are a rock star.”