Chapter 10

Graham

On Tuesday morning, I call Britney to check up on her. James is still in jail, so for now, she’s safe, but I worry about her. I know that she lives in fear. The one thing she shouldn’t do — according to him — is make him mad. Calling the police on him and earning him another charge for domestic violence is exactly the kind of thing that will make him lose his shit all over again. He can’t reach her where he is now, but she’s so used to living in fear, I don’t think she can do anything else.

“How are you doing?” I ask her when she answers.

“I’ve been better,” she says. “The kids are calm, which helps. I’m trying to stick to a normal routine with them. They know their father is in jail, and they don’t want to see him.”

“I don’t blame them,” I say.

“I guess I can’t, either. Am I a terrible mom? Did I do this to them?”

I don’t know how to answer that. She did do this to them by deciding to stay. But I also understand that James had such a powerful grip on her, like all abusers do, that she didn’t really have a choice in the matter. James had manipulated her and controlled her for so long, it was a miracle she called the cops at all.

It’s a huge step in the right direction, and I’m not about to shit all over her for not taking that step sooner. She needs support right now.

“You’re doing what you can,” I say. That’s the truth. Just because she doesn’t have what it takes to run away doesn’t mean that she means for this to happen. And with James in jail again, it might mean the end of his abuse. She’s leaving him, but if he doesn’t get a long sentence once he’s tried, I’ll be surprised.

Then again, abusive people walk so easily. I just hope Britney doesn’t drop the charges again. I’m worried she might change her mind like she did before.

“He requested bail,” Britney says softly.

“What? What did the judge say?”

“It’s his second charge, so he won’t get bail. But I’m scared, Graham. I can’t sleep at night. I can’t. I’m so scared.”

I close my eyes. “I know, Britney. You’ll be okay. I’m working on it.”

I’m more terrified now. I’m scared something will go wrong. Britney’s fear is contagious.

“I’m scared my time is running out,” she says. “I don’t know how he’ll get out, but I’m scared he’ll find a way. You know him, Graham. You know he’ll find a way.”

“He can’t escape,” I say, but I can feel her urgency. I need to get her into a different house as soon as I can. I talk to her a while longer, trying to reassure her, and when I’m sure she’s calm enough for me to let her go, I end the conversation.

I must do something. I need to make a plan for them to stay in a place where she can create a safe, stable environment for her kids for Christmas. The worst is to have to unsettle them because of the mistakes their parents made.

I’m running through all the options, unable to calm down. One by one, I tick off all the tenants I can’t evict — because the property is too small for an adult with three children, they live too far for Britney to be close to me, or because they’re too old and frail, like Mrs. Reeves.

The closest property is Sarah’s house.

With Britney right next to me, they’ll be able to create a semblance of a normal life, and they’ll be close enough for me to look out for them if it’s necessary.

The only problem is that I will have to kick Sarah out. And she’s been a great tenant, not to mention that she’s a fantastic person.

Fuck, this is why I don’t get personally involved with my tenants. It would be so much easier to put her out of the house if I didn’t know her. Doing this is going to be damn near impossible. I feel like I don’t have a choice. I’m terrified for the sake of my sister and the kids, and I know that Sarah has Monica and Lindsay to turn to if she really needs help. Her family is loving and caring. They won’t leave her out on the street.

I walk to the window that looks out over Sarah’s place. She’s home now. Her car is in the driveway. What is she doing now? I don’t know anything about her personal life, or who she is behind closed doors. Maybe I don’t know her nearly as well as I thought. Maybe she’s still a stranger to me.

That doesn’t make me feel any better about evicting her. I still like her, and I’m still attracted to her. I can’t put her out of her house and not feel like I’m doing a terrible thing.

But Britney has been through worse. I need to keep that in mind. Whatever Sarah will have to go through if I evict her, it won’t be nearly as serious as what Britney has been through the past ten years.

By the time night falls, I’ve made up my mind. I must do something, and kicking Sarah out is the lesser of two evils. I feel like absolute shit for even making the decision, but I feel like I don’t have a choice.

I sit down in front of my computer and pull up the landlord contract I have with all my tenants. There is a clause in it that I found ridiculous when my lawyer drew it up, but now, I’m relieved. I read over it three times. It states that I’m allowed to evict any tenant who signs the contract — and they all did — if I personally need the use of that home for whatever reason. I don’t need it personally, of course, but that’s a formality, a little white lie.

I start typing the letter. I erase it and start over a couple of times. I sound either too friendly or too mean. I must sound emotionally uninvolved, which is one thing I’m not.

When I’m finally done, I print it and read over it another time. I put the letter in an envelope and walk to the window again. It’s late, and all the lights in Sarah’s place are off. I think she’s sleeping, but I don’t know for sure. Just to be safe, I wait until well after midnight.

I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I went to bed anyway.

I unlock my door quietly and sneak out of my house to her front door like a criminal. I feel lower than low when I creep across her yard and stick the envelope to her door. I get out of there again as soon as I can.

When I’m back home, I feel like shit. I stop myself from going back there and taking down the letter. But I’m doing this for Britney. I keep reminding myself of that. I need to think of her and her children first, and family comes before tenants. No matter how great a tenant Sarah is, no matter how much I like the woman, family will always come before someone I only met recently.

So, instead of going out there and getting back that damn letter before Sarah gets it, I get undressed and crawl into bed. I hope to God I’ll fall asleep easily. I don’t want to lie awake, tormented about what I could have done, would have done, should have done.

Thankfully, sleep come easily, but there is no rest for the wicked. When I close my eyes, I flash on Sarah’s face. Her laugh, her smile, her blush. I know she’s going to haunt me in my dreams. And I deserve it.