Triggers

Others were milling about as they put chairs away. Bazinga and Luckless came near, carrying the table they’d been using over to the wall.

He didn’t know if this was the right moment—didn’t know if there’d ever be the right moment—didn’t want to shatter the happiness she seemed to be feeling just now. “Umm, Jan, can I speak to you for a moment?”

Her eyebrows went up, but she nodded. He led her across the room, over to near the door with the Hulk on it.

“Yes?” she prodded.

He took a deep breath, then: “There’s a women’s shelter in Bethesda. They’ll take you in, give you counseling, protect you. And I’ll help you get a lawyer.”

She started slowly shaking her head. “I can’t.”

“Can’t what? Can’t leave him? Jan, I know he hits you. I know what happened last night.”

“Eric—Dr. Redekop—it’s none of your business.”

“I wish that were so, but I can’t stop reading your memories.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to change things,” she said.

Eric tilted his head. “I’m not trying to change things; I’m trying to help.”

“I don’t need help,” Jan said.

Another memory of Tony yelling at her came to him: You think you can just leave me? You’re a fucking addict! I tell them that, and you’ll never work as a nurse again.

“He can’t ruin your career,” said Eric. “There are treatment programs—you know that. I’ll see you get the help you need.”

Jan was trembling. “You should go,” she said softly.

“No,” said Eric. “We should go. Jan, please, let me help.”

Luckless came over to them. “Everything all right?” he asked, then, looking at Eric: “Who are you?”

Eric looked at him, pissed off, but Jan’s memories came rushing in. Luckless knew all about Tony’s treatment of Janis. He was interested in her—hell, all of the guys here were interested in her—but although Janis had literally cried on his shoulder more than once, Luckless had never taken advantage of her being despondent; Eric had to give him points for that.

“I’m Eric Redekop.”

Luckless’s eyes went wide. “You’re the guy who saved Jerrison.”

“I work with Jan,” Eric said simply.

“Whatcha doing here?”

Eric looked at Janis, then back at Luckless. It wasn’t violating a confidence; Luckless knew Tony was abusive. “I want to take her to a women’s shelter.”

And suddenly he knew things about Luckless, including why he was called that: it didn’t just have to do with his unerring ability to get the wrong numbers to come up on the dice, but also with his sad history of going to work for small computing companies that folded almost as soon as he’d been hired; he had been out of work for eight months now.

Luckless looked at Jan. “You should do it,” he said.

Someone was knocking on the outside door. The same fellow who’d opened the door earlier for Eric opened it again and—

Oh, shit.

Eric’s stomach knotted, and he tasted bile at the back of his throat.

He’d never seen him in the flesh before, but he knew him at once. Hair buzzed short, jug ears, brown eyes, and a long, thin face. There was no doubt: it was Tony. But what the hell was he doing here?

Eric never paid any attention to clothing; without looking down, he couldn’t say what clothes he himself was wearing right now. But Jan did, and what Tony was wearing now was doubtless what he’d also been wearing earlier this morning when he’d left the house. Eric concentrated on the clothes: a red plaid work shirt with a sky-blue T-shirt underneath visible through the open collar of the other shirt, and denim jeans, but brown not blue, and—

And it came to him: Jan’s memories of this morning. A tense conversation with Tony over breakfast. Tony saying the job site he was going to be at today was only a few blocks from the Bronze Shield, so he’d drop her off…and come by to join them for lunch. What Tony presumably hadn’t seen, because Jan had fought so hard to hide it, was her disappointment at this. She’d wanted to say please don’t come; she’d wanted to say it was her one time out a month; she wanted to say they were her friends; she even wanted to say that none of them liked him—because, of course, most of them had previously seen the way she deflated in his presence. But she hadn’t said any of that; she’d just nodded meekly and gone back to eating her Rice Krispies—a taste that came now to Eric, one he himself hadn’t experienced since childhood.

Eric thought about leaving; after all, there’d be other opportunities to get Jan to the shelter. But seeing Tony triggered more memories.

Of him screaming.

Of him throwing a can of soup at her.

Of him berating her for the house being a mess.

Of him choking her during sex.

And he was going to drink again tonight; he was doubtless going to get drunk.

Meaning he would hit her again tonight.

And Eric could not let that happen. He took a deep breath, then: “Jan, let’s go.”

“Go where?” demanded Tony, crossing over to stand near Jan.