“Well Re, here’s the thing,” Celine tells him. “I’m going back to the apartment and packing up everything that is mine and what I want to be mine, and I’m leaving.” Re opens his mouth, but Celine holds up her other hand, “Oh no, no, no. I’m not done.”

BY KIMBERLY COONEY

IMAGE BY ANNA BONDARENKO

The sun is an arrogant thing, always leaving the world behind when it tires of us.

The moon is a loyal companion. It never leaves.

It's always there, watching, steadfast, knowing us in our light and dark moments.

The moon understands what it means to be human.

Uncertain. Alone. Cratered by imperfections.

–Tahereh Mafi, Shatter Me

 

This morning was going to be one of those Monday mornings. She slips out of bed, not making a sound, not a creak from the mattress nor a ruffle from the sheets. Still as quietly as possible, she gathers her clothes for the day and tiptoes to the bathroom to get ready. She washes herself down with a facecloth, waiting until he leaves to take a proper shower. She fears the sound of the water will wake him. She dresses and slips off to the kitchen. She sets bread in the toaster and turns on the stove-top, preparing what she needs for his usual Monday omelet. She flips on the coffee maker, grabs a mug from the cupboard and sets it next to the machine.

Three. Two. One. She hears the alarm beeping in the bedroom. After the fifth beep, the sound ceases, letting her know it’s okay now to make noise. “Morning, dear,” she chirps as she grabs margarine from the fridge and places it on the counter next to a plate just as the toaster pops. One placemat has been set at the table. A plain white plate is decadently topped with a ham and cheese omelette, four strips of crisp bacon, and white bread toasted to a tan golden brown. She pours his coffee, adding in his usual bit of creamer and slip of Baileys. 

“Morning, Celine,” he grumbles back as he takes a seat and begins to dig into his breakfast.

Re opens the newspaper Celine had picked up from the apartment mailbox. He begins to read, leaving Celine to finish making her breakfast. They chit-chat over articles in the paper that Re tells her about. The headline is about new evidence found in a recent domestic violence case that proved the wife had been abusing her husband psychologically for many years before she turned violent. Re snorts, commenting that the male victim was just being a pussy because he let a woman push him around and how Re’s strict father would never have put up with a guy like that. Promptly at 8:30 a.m., Re goes out the door to head to work. He works at a local lumber yard, mainly as muscle to carry out product to customers’ cars.

The second the door clicks locked behind Re, Celine is practically tripping over herself to get to the bathroom to take a proper shower. She is in high spirits; her favourite time is when Re isn’t home. The air seems cleaner and more breathable, she doesn’t have to justify her actions or defend her thoughts and comments. She doesn’t have to keep the peace. Celine finishes her shower and cleans the fog off the mirror. She makes sure her skin is dry and proceeds to put on her makeup. She hates wearing it, but what she hates even more are the looks people give her when they see the bruises. The hardest part for her is remembering what excuse she gave the last time. Now it’s gotten to where some people don’t bother asking what happened and the ones that do are either told not to worry about it or to mind their own business, if they persist. Celine gives her reflection one last look-over and once she’s decided that’s as good as it’s going to get, she goes out to the living room, grabs her purse, and leaves for work.

The bakery Celine works at opens at 10:30 a.m. The heavy smell of cinnamon almost masks the lingering yeast. The display cases are filling up with tarts, pies, and bread. Ms. Carter, the shop owner, greets Celine with a hug and a tap on the nose that always makes her smile. Ms. Carter had one child out of wedlock who died young, so she accepts her employees as if they were family. The shop started as a small business but gained so much popularity over time that it now spans three storefronts, having bought out the building on either side of its location when those businesses went under. Not many businesses in this small region have survived; most people now prefer the bigger franchises in the city, a twenty-minute drive out in good traffic.

The day goes on as usual. The regular customers buy their coffee and weekly bread at noon. When school lets out the local kids hang around, spoiling their dinner by loading up on cookies and cream-filled doughnuts. Every now and again there is a pitying glance or a too-large tip. Celine knows it’s because of how ragged the bruising makes her look. She tries to respond politely to the glances and slips the large tip amount into a jar under the counter that is divided between local charities. As it approaches closing time, Celine does what she can to prolong the trip home. She wipes down every table at least twice and checks if any gum or whatnot needs to be scraped off the underside. She handwashes the last few dishes of the day and sweeps and mops the floors. Some nights, Celine even scrubs the restrooms till they sparkle. But, eventually, Celine must go home.

Celine drags herself up the stairs of the five-storey walk-up that is home. She slides her keys into the lock and takes one last deep breath before plastering on a fake loving smile. To her surprise, Re isn’t on the couch with two empty beer bottles on the floor next to him and a third in his hand, as usual. He isn’t mumbling at the TV as if the players of whatever sports game he’s watching can hear him or would listen to his instruction. He isn’t home at all. Celine notices the flashing light on the answering machine and pushes the button to pick up the message.

“This message is for a Ms. Celine Hera. This is Officer Maximous Vere. We have a Mr. Re Brochan at the 23 Division station. Please arrive at your earliest convenience to settle a matter regarding Mr. Brochan. Thank you.”

Clearly, Re is still working off the last bit of alcohol from his Friday night outing, Celine thinks. Every third Friday of the month Re goes out drinking, and he always takes things too far. Celine often wonders how he hasn’t gotten alcohol poisoning or completely killed his liver by now. He probably got stopped for speeding or something and didn’t pass the breathalyser.

Celine stares at the machine. She wonders about just leaving him at the station for the night to give herself some time alone. But then she considers Re’s reaction and the consequence once he is out of the drunk tank. She picks up her house keys and heads back out the front door. While on the short bus ride to the station, Celine can’t help but think of the last time she had to pick him up from the drunk tank. Re had gotten into a fight a few months ago and had broken a pool cue over some guy’s head. The other guy hadn’t been seriously injured and no charges were pressed.

Once she arrives, she approaches the reception desk and asks for Officer Vere, regarding a phone message about having her boyfriend in a cell. A very tall man with a name plate reading ‘Vere’ meets her at the desk. Celine is only about 5′3″ so a lot of people may seem tall to her, but Officer Vere is beyond tall. He thanks her for coming and asks her to please follow him. They walk down a small hallway and he escorts her into an office furnished with a desk, a large office-style computer chair on one side of the desk, and a simple almost kitchen-style chair on the other. He asks her to take a seat.

He flips open a thin folder Celine had not noticed was already lying on the desk. He informs her that he has a few questions for her and asks about recording the conversation. Celine then notices there is also a small recorder on the desk. She agrees to be recorded. Officer Vere then proceeds with his questions. How does she know Re? They are dating. How long have they been together? Off and on for years; they were friends growing up and started dating near the end of high school. What type of person is Re? After a moment of hesitation, Celine explains that Re was raised by an alcohol-dependant father and his mother had left them when Re was young. He was quiet for most of their early years but, as he was bullied, he would become aggressive at times to stand up for himself. Does she know of his problem with alcohol? Yes, he got that from his father. Does she know he’s been drinking at work? Celine goes quiet then shakes her head. Officer Vere leans in closer to Celine, examining her face. He asks her to stand up and he comes around the desk to stand in front of her. He places two fingers under her chin and tilts her face up toward the light, to get a better view of the bruises. Celine’s makeup has been partly washed away by sweat and water from her day at the bakery. The officer asks her how many times he’s hit her. She looks into the pitying green eyes of this man she doesn’t really know and begins to cry.

Celine is escorted by a female officer to the washroom to clean off her makeup. Then she has pictures taken of her and is brought to an interrogation room. Officer Vere explains that this will be recorded too, for video and sound. He slides over some papers across the table for Celine to sign giving her consent to more in-depth questioning. She is interviewed for over an hour and starts to cry as she tells of other things Re has done to her. Celine tries to defend Re when the officers use the term ‘rape’ when she explains how he would wake her up some nights after he drank and try to have sex with her. He would already have his clothes off, and she would wake when she felt him trying to undress her. She would say no but he would get violent, knocking her to the floor. She would crawl to the bathroom and lock herself in while he banged and yelled at the door, calling her names she would never imagine someone using in everyday conversation. She would only come out of the bathroom when things got quiet. Then Re would plead and say he was sorry and hug her and gently kiss her. In the end, she would give in and let him have sex with her. He enjoyed it and she didn’t. She is asked the last time this occurred, and Celine says around a month ago, but she had been persistent in holding him off the last couple of times because she hadn’t been feeling well. The female officer asks Officer Vere to leave the room and discusses a few more personal details with Celine.

When all the paperwork and recording is finished, Celine asks to see Re. Officer Vere says okay, but only for a few minutes and that he will accompany her. Once in the holding area, Celine asks officer Vere to please give her and Re some space to talk; a few minutes was all she would need. Re was angry when he saw Celine. He swore at her, demanding to know what was taking so long to get him released. A sickly-sweet smile spread across Celine’s face when Re finally stopped talking.

“Well Re, here’s the thing.” Celine wraps a hand around one of the bars of the holding cell and pulls herself in as close to Re as she can. Her voice is low, almost seductive. “I’m going back to the apartment and packing up everything that is mine, and what I want to be mine, and I’m leaving. You will be moved to a more suitable holding facility until you get called to trial for public intoxication, and physical and sexual abuse.” Re opens his mouth but Celine holds up her other hand. “Oh no, no, no. I’m not done. When you are charged, and I’m sure you will be, I’ll never have to see your slimy, dirty, drunk ass near me again. Because even if by some miracle or trick from hell you get off of any charges,” Celine pulls a folder out of her purse, “I have a restraining order against you. So, you will never see us again.” Celine turns and starts walking away.

“Who the hell is ‘us’?” Re calls after her. Celine turns back to him and gently rubs her hand over her stomach. The wicked grin reappears on her lips. Re looks so dumbstruck; he simply sits back on the useless wire frame that passes as a bed.

Officer Vere drives Celine back to her apartment. On the drive, he commends her for her bravery. He explains that his brother is a survivor of domestic violence, but he could not imagine what she had gone through. He goes on to give her some names of local support groups he knows of and has done volunteer work for that help survivors get back on their feet. Once at her building, Officer Vere escorts Celine right up to her door. He hands her his card and says if she has any questions, concerns, or whatever, call him. While he is speaking, Celine flips the card over and sees another number handwritten on the back. She looks at the officer with a puzzled look. Officer Vere cracks a smile.

“Anytime you need to call, you call,” he says as he taps the handwritten number on the back.

Celine smiles and, before she can overthink it, stretches forward and quickly kisses Officer Vere on the cheek. They are both blushing and quiet for a moment. Then the officer tips his hat and wishes her a good night. “Call me when you have everything packed,” he says as he starts down the stairs. “I’ll help you move.” She holds up the card, exposing the number on the back.

“Will do, Officer Vere,” she chimes.

“With that number,” he smiles, “you can just call me Max.”

They hold each other’s smile before each turns away. Max’s footfall on the stairs echo up as Celine unlocks the apartment door. Stepping inside, she takes a deep breath and looks around at everything.

“Time to start over.”

 The sun is revolving around the moon.

–Tahereh Mafi, Shatter Me

Kimberly Cooney is a graduate of the Professional Writing and Communications program at Humber College. Her background is in English and Creative Writing and her hobbies include photography, watching hockey and lacrosse, and drinking hot chocolate. She can be found on Twitter and LinkedIn.

Image: Anna Bondarenko, Accident, acrylic on canvas, 2019.

Edited for publication by Mel Daniel as part of the Creative Book Publishing Program.

The HLR Spotlight is a collaboration between the Faculty of Media & Creative Arts and the Faculty of Liberal Arts & Sciences and Innovative Learning at Humber College in Toronto, Ontario. This project is funded by the Applied Research & Innovation.