by Juliette Panes
The Speaker’s Mother:
“Hey ma’, sorry to get you out of bed.”
“What happened sweetheart?”
“Leo and I went to the movies tonight and something awful happened.”
“You two are alright?” Lauren’s husband had woken up and she put the phone on speaker mode.
Without answering, she told her story. “We stayed at a bar for a couple of drinks—”
“Oh, Gaby, you didn’t drink and drive, did you?” Her daughter’s crying made her reproaches seem inappropriate and she waited for the rest.
“It’s not that, mom. When I was driving back to Leo’s place, we saw a woman walking alone, she was totally drunk, couldn’t walk properly. We offered to give her a lift home but she refused. We saw someone else walking behind her, so we decided to wait two blocks further.”
“That’s nice of you.”
“The man was also trying to help her and we got out of the car. She kept talking about her husband, and she was trying to call him. A man joined the four of us and began to drag her on the ground, telling her to come with him.” She paused. “That’s when we actually saw her face for the first time.”
“Was it someone we know?” asked Lauren.
She was covered in bruises, mom.”
The Speaker’s Significant Other:
The comfort of his arms contrasted so much with was she had witnessed that she felt the urge to tell him about Thursday.
“Something happened on Thursday babe.” She loved how he would never interrupt her, he showed he was paying attention by holding her tighter. “I was going home with Leo and we saw this woman, she was so wasted. We wanted to drive her home but she refused. Good thing we stuck around cause a man came and dragged her by the hair. He was telling her to come home with him, insulting her, and Leo called the police. We understood that what made her walk funny was not the alcohol. They were gone by the time the police came, we had to stay up in case they called us again to testify.”
“Staying there was so brave, you did the best you could, honey.”
“I hope she will file a complaint because otherwise they can’t do anything.”
“Abusive relationships are so messed up.”
“I mean, how can you do that to someone you love?”
“You can’t.”
The Speaker’s Sister:
You have one new message from October ninth, five thirty-four PM.
“Hey Gaby, mom told me you had a rough night… Just a friendly reminder that you can call me whenever you need sis’. Love you.” Of course, her mom had to tell her sister, she couldn’t help it. Gaby was not in the mood for a phone call, but typing would take ages. A vocal message was the perfect compromise.
“Hi Michaela, thanks for reminding me that you’re here. Leo and I witnessed an aggression on Thursday. It was a 30-year-old woman and her husband was abusive. God it was so scary! The fact that she was almost blacked out drunk made it even more shocking… maybe it hurt a little less that way? Leo was kinda tipsy so I was the one who had to talk to the police officers. You never realise how violent people can be until you witness such horrors. I haven’t been able to sleep properly, maybe you could come over and watch a movie tonight? Be safe, love you.”
A person the speaker has talked with once:
“Hey, coffee friend. (I don’t know if I can call you friend just yet, but I must admit that I think about last week’s conversation a lot.) My name is Gabriela by the way, but you can call me Gaby. You did not show up today so I left this for you at the counter. I need to tell you about something. On Thursday, a friend of mine and I witnessed terrible violence near Seacole Gardens. I don’t fancy telling you exactly what happened, but it made me think of what you said about passion. What I saw that night cannot be described as passion. It does fit your description, but I could only see pure violence in this man’s eyes. I think some people are sick and evil, even though it’s much less poetic than believing you can hurt someone because of how much you love them. I do hope we can still get along and talk about it and a thousand other things. I was asked to testify in court next week, on Wednesday. I’ll be around afterwards and maybe we can have a latte together? There’s also some poetry I wrote that I’d like to discuss. Whenever you read this, I wish you a wonderful day.” Gaby told the barista to give this to the girl with the pink hat next time she would come, and she paid for her order in advance.
The Judge:
“Good morning Mrs. Ailey. Your testimony as a witness will be crucial for both the accused and the plaintiff.”
Gaby had never been in such a situation and although the judge was putting her at ease, it was hard not to overthink her formulation. She proceeded to explain what happened that night in the right order, she had gone over the events so many times in her head that it almost sounded mechanical.
“I was driving with my friend as we saw this… inebriated woman.”
“Who were you with?”
“My friend Leo Thompson.” The clerk of the court was typing without looking away from her keyboard.
“The part where your side of the story is most needed is the aggression in itself. Please tell us everything you remember, this will be decisive considering the victim was intoxicated at the time of the occurrence.”
Gaby forgot no detail, not even the slightest. She stopped caring about how she sounded, she spoke the truth, as raw as it was. The blood, the clump of hair left in the man’s hand after he had dragged his wife onto the concrete, the words he said to her, everything was told. She felt no emotion except hope that her words would cut that stranger’s chains.