Chapter Twenty-One

MAGNOLIA

Monday morning comes too soon, and before I know it, Simon and I are walking into the courthouse with the police report we picked up on the way. We pass through the metal detectors and make our way back toward the court administrator’s office.

Even though the chairs in the waiting area are empty, Simon walks up to the take-a-number dispenser mounted to the wall and grabs a ticket. I glance at the piece of paper in his hand. It reads 4, and the large, digital display mounted on the wall reads 3. At least the wait won’t be long.

Or so I thought. It honestly feels like we’ve been here an eternity. Other than the sound of typing from inside the office and the incessant ticking of the clock on the wall, it’s silent, and it’s killing me, giving me way too much time to think—or should I say rethink this decision, wondering if this is the right thing to do. The thought of facing Grant in court, even with my strong Simon by my side, terrifies me.

Grant has this way about him. He somehow always managed to reduce me to nothing while making me feel ashamed and stupid for ever thinking I could be more. The thought of Simon seeing that side of me causes embarrassment to burn in my chest. Would he think less of me if he knew how weak I really was?

“Simon,” I hiss out of the side of my mouth.

“Sup, Goldilocks?”

“Ev-everything’s gonna be okay, right?”

He twists around in his chair so his knees are pointing my way then takes my hand in his. With his eyes never straying from mine, he nods, and for some inexplicable reason…I believe him.

After waiting long enough to watch paint dry, a high-pitched beep fills the room, signaling the number on the display changing from three to four. Simultaneously, Simon and I stand. Hand in hand, we walk back into the admin offices and over to the second desk.

The woman seated there is a welcome sight: older, with kind eyes and a cheery smile. “Hello, how can I help y’all today?”

“I-I’d like to file for an or-order for protection.”

“Okey-doke.” The clerk rummages around her desk before producing a stack of papers. “Just fill these out, dear, and let me know if you have any questions.”

Simon helps me fill out the forms, which are more complicated than you’d think. When I’m satisfied with my answers, I hand them back to the clerk. She scans over the pages before tapping them all together on her desk, forming a neat stack. “Is this everything? Can you think of any other important details?”

“Um…we, um…” I struggle to collect my words, the clerk patiently waiting me out. Simon takes my hand in his, offering me his strength.

Noticing my hesitation, the clerk glances back down to the forms and addresses me by name. “Magnolia, dear, I’m Gladys, and I want you to know you can tell me anything. There won’t be any judgment or condemnation. We just want to have as much information as possible to sway the judge to rule in your favor.”

Gladys’ kind nature sets me at ease, and even though it’s hard, and it hurts to relive these memories—again—I share my story with her, doing my damnedest to remember approximate dates and any relevant facts.

By the time I’m finished, Gladys is sniffling. She tries to hide it behind a cough, but I can see the glisten of unshed tears in her eyes. “My gracious. I’ll get this filed, and when the judge makes his decision, I’ll phone to let y’all know. Have a nice day, dear, and keep your chin up.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Simon says, shaking her hand before rising from his seat.

I shake her hand after he does. “Thank you so m-much, Gladys.”

Hours pass while waiting for Gladys to call, hours that feel like a lifetime. We kill time by grabbing lunch at Dilly’s, which is coincidentally where we met when Simon came to my rescue because some jerk was harassing me for bumping into his truck. Never, ever would I have guessed we’d be here now—together, in love, and blissfully happy. Never did I think something like this was in the cards for me.

After lunch, we head down to the beach. Leaving our shoes in the truck, we walk along the shoreline, letting the waves tickle our toes.

“Gonna be beach weather soon,” Simon states, splashing water my way.

“I’m excited. I didn’t go to the beach much back home, and the g-gulf is a lot warmer.”

“Sure enough. Maybe for spring break we can book a condo?”

“That sounds a-amazing, the perfect chance to wear the sw-swimsuit I b-bought last weekend with the girls.”

Simon stops in his tracks. “You bought a swimsuit?” His words sound stiff, and I worry I’ve somehow upset him. Should I have asked him first?

Slowly, I give him an unsure nod.

“Damn, pretty girl, I can’t wait to see you wearing it.” Will this man ever stop surprising me? I sure hope not.

Blushing, I attempt to flirt back. “We…we’ll have to remedy that over your b-break then.”

Simon moves to step toward me when my phone rings. The number is local. “H-hello?”

“Hi there, Magnolia, Gladys here. Wanted to let you know the judge has issued the order.”

Hope soars through my chest. “H-he has?”

“He has.”

“I feel like there’s a b-but coming.” Hopefully, I’m wrong.

“There is. It won’t be effective until he’s been served.”

“Oh.” I deflate at her words.

“Don’t fret. It’s a small town—if he’s here, they’ll find him.”

§

True to her word, Seraphine drives out to Simon’s bright and early Tuesday morning so we can carpool to work. However, since Simon has a faculty meeting after school today, she’ll also have to take me to pick my car up from Mateo’s garage.

Not gonna lie, I’m excited to get my little Honda back, even if I won’t get to drive it as much, thanks to my asshole husband. God, I hope they find him and serve him soon.

Deep down, I know it’s just a piece of paper, but still, it gives me peace of mind. Maybe it’ll show him I’m serious and he can’t control me anymore. Maybe he’ll get the hint and move on.

Or maybe this will tip the scales and send him over the ledge, the voice inside my brain taunts—the same voice that paralyzed me with fear throughout the course of our marriage, the voice that sounds oddly like my mother.

I’m prepping for my third color of the day—a new client who was referred to me, though I’m not sure by who.

I’m toting my supplies out to my station right as Seraphine walks my client back. “Magnolia, this here’s Mary Katherine.” Her name gives me pause, because one of the many women Grant cheated with was named Mary Katherine. I accidentally saw some of their texts once, and…Stop being silly! You’re in the South—Mary Katherine is a very common name. Breathe and act like a freaking professional, Magnolia!

Extending my hand to her, I say, “H-hey there, I’m M-Magnolia. You can have a seat here.” I gesture toward my chair. “And we can chat a little bit about what you’re wanting to accomplish t-today.”

Seraphine turns and walks back to the front desk, leaving Mary Katherine and me alone—well, not totally alone as Myla Rose and Azalea are both busy at their stations with clients of their own.

Once Mary Katherine sits, I pivot the chair to face the mirror, running my hands through her long, tawny-brown hair. “So, did you b-bring any pictures or anything?”

“Actually, I did.” She fishes her phone out of her purse and toggles open her gallery. All of the pictures she shows me are fairly similar. “I really like this sombré look—or maybe it’s balayage?” Mary Katherine tilts her head to look at me, her perfectly sculpted brow raised in question.

I smile a small, private smile—I may not be comfortable in the real world, but this? Hair? It’s my domain, my safe haven.

“Sombré is a subtle color transition. I typically try to keep the base and ends within two levels of one another. So, with your base being a warm level six, I would take your ends to a really pretty caramel color. Balayage isn’t actually a look, it’s a method. It means the highlights are hand-painted to create a soft, natural look.”

Mary Katherine contemplates my words. “Okay, yeah. I like that, and I know my man will like it, too.”

“Oh, that’s g-good.”

“Yeah, Eddie will love it. He’s so sweet, paying for me to come get pampered today!” Once again, her words have rendered me immobile. Eddie…Grant’s middle name is Edward. Surely this is all coincidental, and I’m just being paranoid. Yeah, that must be it.

I make quick work of sectioning her hair into five deep V-shaped sections and begin painting the lightener onto the hair near her face first. I saturate the ends and feather the product up to create the subtle color transition she’s looking for. I lay each painted section onto a sheet of cling wrap before moving to the next, shifting around the head from left to right and front to back until I’m satisfied.

“Okay,” I say to Mary Katherine as I peel off my gloves. “I’m g-gonna let you pro-process. I’ll check on you every t-ten minutes until we reach the desired level. Would you like some w-water?”

“Water would be amazing,” Mary Katherine replies, dragging out the last word.

I quickly set my timer and grab her a bottle of water. To kill time while waiting, I situate myself at a chair in the dispensary, pull out my phone, and fire off a text to Simon, even though I doubt he’ll be able to check it.

Magnolia: Just wanted to say I love you!

Not expecting a reply, my phone slips from my grasp when it vibrates in my hands.

Simon: Love you too, pretty girl.

Magnolia: Shouldn’t you be busy shaping young minds?

Simon: I’m never too busy for you. Also, they’re taking a test.

Magnolia: On a Tuesday? You’re cruel.

Simon: Gotta keep ’em on their toes, Goldilocks.

Magnolia: You’re something else entirely. See you tonight.

Simon: Looking forward to it.

I tuck my phone back into my apron pocket right as my timer buzzes. After silencing the alarm, I check Mary Katherine’s hair. “S-so close. I think ten more minutes and we’ll be g-good.”

Mary Katherine doesn’t bother to reply, too consumed with texting someone. Without consciously meaning to, I glance down at her phone screen.

I try to pull my eyes away—truly, I do—but right there, on her screen, clear as day, is a thread with Grant’s number at the top, though the name on it is Eddie.

My heart hammers in my chest. My vision blurs. Cool sweat slips down from my hairline, skating over my temple. My hands shake and my breath whooshes out of my lungs. The room is spinning.

Stumbling, I flee back to the dispensary. I don’t know what to make of this. Why is she here? Why is she doing this? Does she know who I am? Is she going to hurt me? Questions race through my mind at warp speed. Panicked, I do the only thing I can think of and call Simon.

It rings and rings, as I knew it would. Finally, his voicemail picks up, and after the beep, I spill my guts, telling him what’s happening.

I lay my head on my arms, propping them on the table. Practicing deep breathing, I don’t hear anyone entering the room. “You okay?” my cousin asks, and I damn near jump ten feet off the seat.

“No,” I whisper.

Seraphine lays her hand on top of mine. “What’s going on, honey?”

I relay to her the same story I did to Simon’s voicemail, and she’s instantly ready to go to war. “What the fuck? Do we need to call the police?”

“I…I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “Maybe?”

“How about I’ll keep a close eye, and the second she acts weird, I’ll call?” Seraphine suggests.

“Y-yeah, I guess that’ll work.” I pull my timer from my pocket and realize I forgot to reset it. “Crap! It’s been longer than ten minutes!”

Regardless of who she is and who she’s dating, I have no desire to damage her hair, so I fly to my station where she’s still seated and texting away. “Let’s h-head to the shampoo b-bowl!” I exclaim, pivoting her chair to face the washroom.

Mary Katherine beams up at me and tucks her phone into her purse before following behind me. I go through the motions of rinsing the lightener from her hair, relieved and pleased with the tone. I lather her up with some shampoo and do a deep conditioning mask, which sits for five minutes.

After rinsing her hair with cool water, I wrap her head in a towel and lead her back to my chair. “Are we c-cutting today?”

“Oh, no. No, thank you. Eddie likes my hair long.” I have to hold back my snort, because she’s right; Grant never allowed me to have my hair shorter than my waist. So, naturally, the first thing I did after I fled was cut it up to dust the top of my chest—a small rebellion in hindsight, but a start, all the same.

“Got it.” I towel-dry her hair before spritzing it with a bit of blow-dry spray. I section her hair again and blow it out, styling it into long, sleek waves. I turn her to face the mirror and she leaps from the chair, tilting her head and inspecting the results from every angle before she throws her arms around my neck.

“Oh, Magnolia! This is even better than I hoped for! Eddie brought me down here with him on a business trip and didn’t want me to be bored, so he booked me an appointment here! I just know he is gonna love this!” Mary Katherine looks down, biting her lip. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but he hated my hair the last time I had it done, and he didn’t speak to me until I went and had it redone. I had to save up for two months!”

I just about choke on my tongue. “O-oh, um…w-well, hopefully he’ll like this.”

“I know he will,” she assures me, hugging me again.

“Gr-great. Seraphine will check you out up front,” I say, urging her to go, because my God, I feel like I’m going insane right now.

I trail behind Mary Katherine, lingering just behind the partition that separates the reception area from the main salon. She and Seraphine exchange a few pleasantries before Mary Katherine heads out the door.

I watch on in shock as a black Audi A4 pulls to a stop out front. “Seraphine! Call the cops! That’s Grant!” The words have barely passed my lips before Seraphine has the phone in her hand.

She relays the pertinent information to the dispatcher, and now we just have to hope they’re able to catch and serve him.