The Misogynist Ch. 08

Martin sat in the car and watched Cheryl walk toward Turner's. Once she went inside he'd pull closer. He reflected on how she'd changed. She gone through a lot, more than most, and certainly more than she deserved, yet she was stronger, stronger by a country mile. He couldn't imagine her doing anything as courageous as facing up to a bully like Turner when the summer began. She was such a jittery little sparrow in June, now she was a mature woman about to beard the lion in his den. He hoped she remembered what the cell phone was for.

Cheryl walked to the front door and rang the bell. For a nickel she'd run and let Martin do this, but she knew she had to be the one. She was just starting to understand she had to fight her own fights. She couldn't depend on other people, and she certainly couldn't let Martin do this.

Turner frightened her. He was mean. He hated women, and he especially hated her. But she had to try. Where did she get the nerve to try what she was doing? This was something clearly out of her territory. Of course she knew where her strength was coming from. Her strength was sitting back in the car. All summer, through all the horror, all the fear, the humiliation there had been one constant, one defender, one protector, and one compass, Martin. He'd been right all along. He'd been there all along, and he was there right now.

She still wasn't sure how she felt about Martin. That wasn't right. She wasn't sure how she wanted to feel about Martin. He'd been her rock, her great support. She loved him for it, but did she actually love him? If she loved him, really loved him, it would require more than what's happened so far. Certainly he was everything she'd have wanted in a man once, but that was before Turner and all the lies. Martin had been a part of that, a big part of that. Sure she felt gratitude, but she felt anger too. Anger at herself for being so starry eyed, certainly anger at Turner for being a cad, but there was anger at Martin too. Yes she felt gratitude toward Martin as well, but was gratitude the same thing as love. No she knew it wasn't.

If she loved Martin, if she was going to really love him, it would have to be based on something more than the terrible events of the summer. In fact, if she was going to love any man, whether it was Martin, or anybody, it would have to be as an equal. She knew to achieve that kind of loving relationship she had a lot more growing up to do. Before she could commit to Martin she had to commit to herself. That commitment began right here at the doorstep of the monster.

Cheryl heard someone on the other side of the door. They called out. "Who is it?"

"It's Cheryl."

"Is Martin with you?"

"No."

The door opened. "What Martin couldn't make it?"

"He's waiting down the street."

"What he was afraid to see me."

"No he's just waiting down the street."

Turner gave Cheryl a smarmy grin. He stepped back from the portal. "Won't you come in?"

Cheryl stepped in the house. She looked around quickly and thought, same shit hole as yesterday. "I'm here for my personal papers and the video tape."

Turner, still smiling, answered. "They're right over here." He turned, reached around, and lifted up a paper bag. "Here you go. Everything's inside. Go ahead. Check."

Cheryl stepped a few feet away and opened the bag. She pulled out her purse and looked through it. She saw a tape at the bottom of the bag. "This is the right tape?"

"Everything's there just like I said."

Cheryl closed the bag, and stood as erect as she could. "Thank you. I'll be leaving now." She started for the door.

Turner moved between her and the door. "Not just yet sweetheart."

Cheryl tried to move around him. "We're done. Let me by."

Still with the same ugly look. "Don't you want to kiss your Turner good bye?"

"No. Let me by."

He started toward her. "Why? What are you going to do? You said yourself the big hero is hiding down the street." He moved closer, she retreated back.

"He's waiting for me. If I don't leave soon he'll come get me."

"Who, you mean our Mr. Martin? I don't think so." He kept inching her further back, further away from the door. "Our little Mr. Martin can't stand up to me. I could break him like a pretzel, and he knows it."

Turner had her backed into a corner. She kept her hands behind her back. She knew what she needed to do, but couldn't push the button. "Leave me alone Turner. We're through. Just the sight of you makes me sick."

He was on top of her, arms straddling her body. He towered over her. "You don't mean that." He moved his hands to her shoulders.

For a second Cheryl thought she could kick him in the groin, but saw he had his legs at an angle. The move she contemplated was impossible. "I said let me go."

He started rubbing up and down her arms. "Nice jacket, nice blouse. Did Martin get them for you?"

She took her one free hand, the one without the cell phone and tried to push him back. "Let me go Turner. Martin will be here any minute."

"No he won't. He's afraid of me. That's why he didn't come in himself."

Cheryl didn't answer him. She kept trying to push him with her free hand, while she kept her hand with the phone hidden. "Let me go."

He had her jacket open and started unbuttoning her blouse. "I think you need to get undressed Cheryl. I have a nice little bedroom upstairs for you. Remember? We'll go up and make mad passionate love, just like we used to."

She pushed the button and dropped the phone on the floor. Using both hands she tried to hold him off. "Let me go."

Turner had her blouse open and was squeezing her breasts when he heard something hit the floor. He saw the cell phone. "Awe. Did we call our Martin?"

She was trying her best to keep his hands away, but he'd already slipped her bra over her breasts. He started squeezing her nipples. It hurt horribly. "Yes, and he's going to fix you good."

Turner kept manipulating her nipples. They were turning an angry red. "Oh please now Cheryl." He leaned forward. "Give your old Turner a kiss."

Just then the front door opened.

Turner looked ahead at the wall past Cheryl's face. Shit he thought when he reached to get the paper bag he'd forgotten to lock the door. The idiot's in the house. A voice confirmed his thought.

"Let her go Turner."

He Turned and saw his old friend standing at the door. "Sure Martin." He started for his old friend.

Martin didn't hesitate. He knew all Turner's tricks. He moved forward and threw the first punch. It swept through empty air.

Turner swung back and hit Martin a glancing blow on the chin.

Martin threw a round house at Turner's jaw and clipped him a glancing shot.

Turner stepped back, but not before hitting another arching blow at Martin's jaw.

Martin made a leap forward and threw a quick combination to the chest and the stomach. The stomach shot got him. Turner crumpled over.

Martin ran to Cheryl. "Get your things let's get out here."

Cheryl fell into his arms. "Martin I was so scared."

"You did good Cheryl. That took courage to come in here and face him alone."

Cheryl looked up. "Martin! Look out!"

Turner had grabbed a large heavy green glass vase. It was easily two and a half feet tall. He swung it down with both hands. The blow was directed squarely at Martin's head. Cheryl threw up her hands to ward off the blow. It hit her left hand full on. She heard the sickening sound of breaking bone. But the vase still connected solidly with Martin's head.

It was a shattering shot, through Cheryl's upraised left hand right into the back of Martin's head, just behind the ear. Martin collapsed to the floor.

Turner stood over Martin. Still wielding the vase he laughed. "So it goes for our one time hero."

Cheryl was desperate. She knew her hand was broken, but if she didn't act fast Turner would land another, perhaps lethal, blow on the now helpless Martin. There was a stand with several umbrellas beside the door. It was all she saw. She ran for it!

Turner spun around intent on preventing the girl from escaping.

Cheryl reached for an umbrella, turned, and swung with all her might at her attacker.

Turner tried to avoid the blow. He stepped back, not far enough! The heavy handle of the umbrella missed his head but landed heavily on his left clavicle. There was a loud crack! He screamed! "You broke my collar bone!" He fell to the floor crying out in pain.

Cheryl delivered another punishing shot at the same spot, and received another welcome cry of pain. She threw the umbrella across the room and ran to where Martin was slumped on the floor. "Martin! Martin!" She screamed. There wasn't any response.

Turner was crying on the floor. "Get an ambulance. You've broken my collar bone."

Cheryl was apoplectic! She was certain Martin's injury was serious. She was a teacher. She'd had some training in first aid. He'd been hit on the head, and he had passed out. Certainly it was a concussion, and a serious one. Every second mattered! She fumbled with his body. She knew she had to act fast. What did they say? Shock! What happens when the body goes into shock! She remembered! It's like when one has car trouble, the first thing a person does is to turn the engine off. If she didn't act fast his whole system could shut down. He could die!

"Martin! Martin!" She yelled." She got his head flat and started doing the only things she could think of. She slapped him on the cheek. She pushed his stomach in. Thank God he's breathing! She yelled again. "Martin! Martin! Wake up! Oh please wake up." She felt him start to stir. It had been three maybe four minutes, a long time for a concussion. His eyes were open. She cradled his head in her arms. "Martin. Oh please God make him wake up." She kissed his face, his eyes. Her hot wet tears dribbled on his brow. "Oh God please don't let this man die."

There was a faint murmur. "Cheryl?"

"Yes Oh yes! Martin you're awake."

He was incoherent. "Cheryl let me get breakfast."

She realized he was out of it. Short term memory loss! Yes, she remembered that much. "Martin please stay awake for me! Stay awake!" She crawled the few feet to where the cell phone had fallen. She found it and punched in the 911 signal. Thank God for 911 and the new cell phone systems.

There was an answer on the other end. "Hello. 911."

"Yes send an ambulance to." She shouted Turner's address. "My boyfriend has a terrible concussion. Hurry He may die!"

The operator on the other end started to give her instructions. She advised her to stay calm. Help was only a matter of minutes away. They kept Cheryl on the line, keeping her calm, and giving her help. She cradled his head, kissed his cheeks. She wiped her tears from his forehead. She heard the sirens. Yes, help was on the way! "Stay awake! Martin! Please God make him stay awake!"

The paramedics rushed through the front door. One spoke up. "Who's hurt?"

Turner cried out. "Over here! She broke my collar bone!"

Cheryl was holding Martin tightly. She called out over Turner's whining. "No over here! My boyfriend has a terrible concussion."

One paramedic looked at Turner's injury. "Don't move!"

They then went straight to Cheryl and the still hallucinating Martin, while one went to work the other asked. "What happened?"

Cheryl pointed to Turner then the vase. "He hit my boyfriend with that vase"

The paramedics worked feverishly. Stretcher on hand, body board too, neck brace materials at the ready. In an instant they had Martin on the stretcher and headed for the ambulance.

While working one of the paramedics looked at Cheryl, and then pointing to Turner who was still crying and whimpering. "We'll get someone here for him in an instant."

Turner whimpered. "She broke my shoulder."

The other paramedic reminded him not to move. "We'll get another team right away." A third paramedic had already made the call.

They wheeled Martin to the ambulance. Cheryl followed.

One of the paramedics saw her hand. "Let's look at that. It looks like you broke your hand."

Cheryl responded. "Don't worry about me." She Pointed at Martin. "Take care of him."

The paramedic answered. "We can get you're hand too."

On their way to the hospital one paramedic ministered to Martin. The other saw to Cheryl's hand. As they traveled they saw the second ambulance speeding to the house. "You're other friend will be picked up in a few seconds."

Cheryl already stuffed with some sort of pain killer said. "That man's nobody's friend."

They sped to the hospital, and got Martin settled. He was awake and somewhat alert, but wasn't thinking clearly.

"Where are we?'

"We're at the hospital darling. Turner hit you on the head with a vase."

"Why'd he do that?"

"Don't worry. The doctors are fixing you up."

"You called me darling."

"Yes I guess I did."

"You're kind of fuzzy. I must be dreaming."

The doctor looked at Cheryl and interjected. "That's not unusual. He sustained a pretty hefty blow to the head. He'll be in and out." Having already been apprised of the essentials he added. "Your broken hand might have saved his life."

Cheryl leaned down and kissed his cheek. "Here that. I saved your life. It's not every girl can claim they saved their sweethearts life."

Martin was having trouble getting a clear visual image, but he heard every word. He was starting to remember. The trip to Turner's to get the stuff, the fight, Cheryl's courage. Mostly he was thinking about what she'd been saying. "You called me your sweetheart. I'm your sweetheart, and you called me darling. I know I'm dreaming."

"You're not dreaming." She looked up. "Is it all right for him to talk like this?"

"Let him talk. Keep him awake. We'll be taking him for tests in just a few moments. You'll have to wait here."

Martin heard the doctor. "You'll wait won't you?"

"Of course I'll wait."

"You're very courageous Cheryl."

"You're starting to feel better aren't you?" She responded

"I'm so proud of you. You're a brave little girl." He paused and sighed. "You're my brave little Cheryl."

Cheryl stiffened. That was the kind of thing Turner used to say. From now on she wasn't going to be anybody's little girl. Not anymore. Not ever.

A few seconds later they were wheeling him out to take tests.

Her hand tightly wrapped Cheryl stayed at the hospital. Martin was given a series of tests. The doctor returned with some information. He had been hit quite solidly, and there appeared to a slight fracture, almost imperceptible but present none the less. There was no internal bleeding, and no serious swelling. Yet his brain was certainly bruised. They recommended he should stay in the hospital for a few nights, and then return home for complete rest for at least two weeks.

Cheryl listened and marked her calendar. The doctors assured her he'd have good care while in the hospital, and once home he could be left on his own much of the time if he agreed to stay put. Cheryl decided, as long as her hand didn't interfere, there was no reason why she couldn't prepare her school room, and start school on time. When Martin was released from the hospital she'd bring him to her apartment. He'd be able to manage alone for the few hours she was at school. When she explained this, Martin seemed more than just a little happy.

He listened to Cheryl's suggestion. Martin relished the idea of staying at her place.

The hospital staff found Martin a bed. Cheryl spent the night. Martin was in and out all night. Sometimes he was coherent. Other times he lapsed. He complained of headaches, but that was to be expected. From time to time his vision blurred, but mostly it was his confusion that worried her.

During the long night Cheryl found herself almost desperate to share some affection with him. Martin lay there so helpless. She wanted to cherish him. It wasn't love, not the kind of love she'd always fantasized about. It was more like the love one develops for a wounded animal, a bird with an injured wing. Twice she climbed in beside him on the bed while he was in one of his delirious phases. She wrapped her arm around his head, careful not to cause any more harm.

She occasionally leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Once she kissed his lips. They felt softer than before, almost feminine. He looked so vulnerable, frail even. He was a good man. Yes there was real goodness in him. But he'd done wrong things. He'd done, or allowed to be done wrong, bad, things to her. Could she forgive that? Would she ever be able to forget that, probably not?

On one occasion during the long night when he was out of it she lay her head on his chest. She pulled open the gown he was wearing. His chest was hairy, not like Turner's almost nude chest. Martin had a good hairy chest, not too much hair but enough to make him look manly. She rubbed her hands through his chest hair. It had a good feel.

She looked at his belly. Turner's had been rock hard, abs of steel. At first she thought that was wonderful, but it occurred to her it was more a mark of vanity than real manliness. She looked at Martin's stomach. It wasn't soft, but it was a little rounded. He had body fat, and it didn't seem to bother him. She rubbed her hand over his stomach. It felt warm to the touch. She liked it. Cheryl leaned down and kissed his stomach just above the navel. She plucked his navel. He had an inny. She kissed his stomach again. She rubber her cheek against it, he felt warm and smooth.

She found herself fantasizing. She liked this man's body. It was real, not the product of hours in a gym.

Cheryl checked out his arms. He had muscles, but they weren't as big as Turner's. Martin's arm strength came from honest effort, not some metal machine.

There was another place on his body that inspired her curiosity. Dare she look? Cheryl peaked down at his groin. It was covered by the bed sheet and a thin blanket. She shouldn't look. But what difference would it make if she did? She slowly slid the coverlets down to the tops of his legs. They had cut his underpants off. She remembered he wore boxers, a man's underpants. She kept her head on his stomach while she looked at his crotch. She couldn't see his thing. She slid down a little further to get a better view. There it was! It was really pink, he had been circumcised, and for what it was worth considering she thought in all the pictures she'd seen they were funny looking, his thing looked kind of nice.

She wondered if she should touch it. Or maybe just touch near it. Turner made her touch him once or twice. She hadn't liked it. She never looked at Turner's, didn't want to. There was something different about Martin, always had been. She wondered what it was that made him so different to her.

She slowly slid her hand across the lowest part of his tummy down to the top of his body just above his place. He had curly hair down there. Her fingers were at the edge of the hairy area. She took her fingertips and softly rubbed just above his thing. Should she? She reached just a little further and put her fingernails just at the top of his thing. She used her fingertips and carefully skimmed across the top. It moved! She touched it again. It started to move again. She pulled her fingers and hand away. She'd seen and done enough.

Suddenly she felt something caress the back of her neck. She felt shivers going up and down her back. Martin had awakened and he had placed his hand on the nape of her neck. His touch had sent a tingling sensation up and down her back. Now it emanated out all over her body.

"Cheryl?" She heard Martin's soft voice.

"Yes Martin." She quickly got up and moved back to her chair, pulling his covers up over his body as she moved. His eyes were only half open.

"Oh nothing I must have been dreaming."

"That's right Martin. They said you'd dream and hallucinate all night. How do you feel?"