From Far Away

“Why are you crying, Mommy?”

Melody can’t answer her son. She wants to; she can feel the words sitting underneath the waterfall of tears inside herself, being drowned in her regrets. She shouldn’t cry- everything on her body is throbbing, a pain that won’t leave for weeks after her release from the hospital- but she never wanted her baby to see her like this. Never. He has a right to see her always smiling, always happy. Never bruised and battered, a broken woman unable to care for him.

“Want me to leave you guys alone?” Diane says softly. Without waiting for an answer, she closes the door. They’re alone. Bobby sits on the edge of the bed, watching his mother struggle to put a smile on her face.

“Don’t do it if it hurts, Mom.”

She’s been avoiding his eyes until now. After he speaks those seven sweet, unbelievable words, she meets them for the first time- big, blue, so beautiful she feels even more pain looking at them. “My baby,” she whispers. “Oh, God, I’m sorry.”

“Did Dad do this to you?” he asks, breaking the spell. “Did he… hurt you?”

All she can do is hold him. Ignore him when he asks again. Years later, she’ll find it was the worst kind of lie. But for now, she can pretend that what she’s doing is the right thing.

“What do you like to eat?” Bobby asks, as they stand in line at the sandwich shop he picked out. It’s kitschy, brightly colored mosaic tile over everything that stands still, and cooks with smiles locked in place. “They’ve got salads, burgers, sandwiches, wraps…”

“How original.”

He whistles. “Damn, you’re a tough sell.”

“Well, when it comes to food, I like a bit of variety.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time I pick up a girl from the police precinct.” He winks, and finally she relaxes a bit and smiles. It’s a pretty smile, actually. And that isn’t the only pretty thing about her. Her hair is long and silky-looking, her eyes liquid fire. She’s got a normal-looking body- not slender, but just enough for him to slide his hands over- but he isn’t thinking about it. Not right now, anyway.

He orders first- a turkey burger, no cheese, whole-wheat, and water. She goes for a ham and swiss Panini. “Ah, good choice,” he remarks. “I get that when I feel like pigging out.”

“Interesting. Do you know everything on this menu?” she asks, selecting a chilled green tea.

“Well, not everything… just the important choices.”

He pays for both meals while she’s not looking. Ashley notices the bill and looks at him. “Was there a reason for that?”

“My mom taught me to be a gentleman. Even to young women who swear at police officers.”

She blushes, her tanned skin paling a bit, and glances at the cashier, who hasn’t heard a word. “Yeah, well, if you only knew the half of it… let’s just sit down first.”

They pick a table near the glass storefront, and for a moment they’re quiet, taking the first bites and sips of their food and drink. She chews delicately, but he can tell she’s enjoying herself. “How is it?”

“It’s good. Better than some of the other places I’ve been to. Like that new place on Charlton?”

“Oh, that place? I’ve heard it’s pricey.”

“Yeah, and their sandwiches are burnt and half the size of this.” She shakes her head. “Amateurs.”

He chuckles. “So… I hate being nosy, but… what exactly was going on over there? With the cops?” He adds hastily, “Not that you need to tell me or anything, but… I was just curious.”

She studies him for a second over her tea, her eyes narrowed. Bobby feels the back of his neck growing hot. It’s not as though he’s unaccustomed to people looking at him- he’s fairly well-known, not a god by any means, but famous enough. But she’s not looking at him in that way. She’s sizing him up, judging his worth, it feels like. Making sure he won’t go running to tell anyone? Though whom does he have to tell? Not many people… no one who knows her.

Then, she speaks.

“It’s my dad. He… we have issues with him, let’s just put it that way.”

“Issues. Issues that are enough to make you want a restraining order?”

“Who said I wanted a restraining order?” she asks quickly.

“No one, I’m just… I overheard a bit of it, okay?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right,” she replies, pretending to let it dawn on her after a second. “I forgot you were being nosy then, too.”

“Gee, thanks.” He rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his water.

She giggles. “Your lisp is cute, by the way,” she blurts out, then gasps. “I mean… sorry if that offended you.”

“Nah, no offense. Something I’ve learned to deal with over the years.” He shrugs. “I bet everyone tells you your eyes are really pretty, for instance.”

She blushes again, the very gesture sending little butterflies through him. “Well… not everyone.”

“Oh, okay, everyone minus one asshole.”

She laughs. “Something like that.”

“So… what’s up with your dad?” he asks. “Why the whole cop thing?”

“Gee, you can’t let this go, can you?”

“Sorry. Curious nature, you know.”

She sighs. “I would rather not tell a perfect stranger.”

“I’m not a stranger. I’m Bobby. You know me- well, now you do.”

“Okay, sure, Bobby. How do I know you’re not some lunatic with a stolen identity working for my dad, hmm?”

“Well, for one, I’m way too cute to kill someone.”

“Oh, Jesus.” She rolls her eyes. “What’s cute have to do with anything?”

“It is completely relevant.”

“You’re a child.”

“You’re avoiding the subject. Is it illegal?”

“Why do you care?” she snaps, finally. “It’s not your business.”

She’s right, you know, his conscience tells him, as he sees the light in Ashley’s eyes darken into an anger that has already been tested once today. You don’t have much of a claim to know anything about her. She’s a girl you found in a precinct- one who could be lying, who could be in mortal danger right this minute. You’re an up-and-coming hockey player. You don’t need that shit.

But… I do, he answers silently.

“The truth?” he asks quietly. “I used to be someone very different from who I am now. And I know how it is to have a dad who does that.”

Her eyes widen. “And here I thought I was dealing with a perfect little white boy from Newport Beach.”

He chuckles. “You can find perfect in a fucking storybook, Ashley. Not in real life.”

“Well… I can’t lie and say I’m not interested. I just have to go right now. I already promised my mom I’d come straight back from the precinct, and I’m way late.” She gathers her purse and phone. “But… thank you for lunch.”

He nods. “Anytime.”

After a pause, she asks for his phone. “If you want to get in touch with me… just call me,” she says, putting her number into the contacts. “And not as soon as I get out the door, either. I hate that clingy shit.”

“I’ll try to restrain myself.”

“Good. Please. And thank you… really.”

The look in her eyes is indecipherable as she turns and walks away. Later that night, Bobby decides he’ll call it gratitude. And understanding. But he can’t be sure.