One Thing at a Time

One Thing at a Time

"Where's my fucking beer? How hard is it to remember ONE goddamn thing? Huh?"

She was so afraid she couldn't breathe. Literally, as he had his hand around her throat and her body pinned against the wall, trembling and praying he'd let her go. The rage in eyes was the worst she'd ever seen, and although she'd been afraid of him before, she'd never feared for life until now.

When he relaxed his grip, she gasped for air. She tried to talk but couldn't.

"You're fucking worthless!" he hollered as he turned around and poured the last of the whiskey into a glass. "One damn thing and you can't do it. Piece of shit!"

"I'll go," she finally managed to say. "I'll go right now! Just give me a few minutes, okay?"

She slid by him and hoped he wouldn't lash out at her before she could get her purse. She was trying as hard as she could not to cry, because she knew he'd stop her and berate her some more...or worse.

When she got to the truck her hands were shaking so badly she couldn't get the key in the ignition. She took three long, slow breaths and tried again.

"Please start, please start," she said when she turned the key.

It sputtered and grumbled and came to life.

"Thank you, God!" she said as she put it in gear and headed for the FastMart.

Vikki Kennedy was 23 and had already been married for nearly five years. Her husband, Michael, was the only man she'd ever been with or even dated. Prior to him asking her to their senior prom she'd never been asked out by a boy. She once had a guy flirt with her at a friend's house, but she later found out he was only using her to talk to another girl.

"The prom?" her mother said when she told her. "Oh, honey! I'm SO happy for you!"

It was like a dream come true, and the night of the prom was the most magical night of her life. Michael was shy and polite, and when he kissed her on her doorstep, she was so in love it hurt!

When he asked her to marry him just six months later she screamed, "YES!"

Her parents were poor but put together a modest wedding at a local church and even sent them to Las Vegas for a weekend. The first year together was nice. Not wonderful, but it was free of abuse, and Vikki often returned to those memories when things got bad, and lately they had gone from bad to worse as Michael's drinking went out of control. Drinking made getting a job difficult, and not working made him drink. The vicious cycle was now a firestorm, and Vikki felt trapped and afraid. All...the...time.

She pulled into the parking lot and found a spot near the entrance. She got out and shut the door which creaked loudly then walked inside. She went straight to the beer cooler and grabbed two cases of Coors in bottles. She checked twice to make sure it wasn't Coors Lite. She'd made that mistake once six months ago, a mistake she would never make again. That was the first time he hit her. He'd gotten more verbally abusive the previous three years or so but had never laid a hand on her until then.

She got in line then started to panic. She set the beer down and opened her purse and grabbed her wallet. The $35 he'd given her for booze was gone, and when she couldn't find it anywhere she started shaking. Michael had taken it and, as usual, didn't tell her. After all, it was HIS money, and he could do whatever the hell he wanted with it.

"Miss? Are you going to move up? Miss? Excuse me," a male voice behind her was saying.

"Oh. Sorry. Go ahead."

The man moved past her leaving Vikki standing there shaking and crying.

"Are you okay?" she heard another voice asking.

"I'm sorry?" she said without turning around as she blinked hard to try and clear her eyes.

"Are you all right?" the man asked again.

"I...I had the cash, and now...now it's gone. He's gonna be so angry."

The man had seen her looking through her purse and also saw her start crying.

It didn't take a PhD in psychology to figure out what was going on after hearing her say 'he'll be angry'.

He picked up the beer and set it on the counter.

Vikki panicked even more.

"No! That's mine! Please!"

She saw the man hand the clerk a credit card and grab a power bar and some water as she began sobbing. He took the receipt, grabbed the beer and the two items on top then turned around.

"Where are you parked, young lady?"

"What?" Vikki sobbed.

"I'll carry these out for you. Come on. It's okay."

She was so confused she had to ask him what he was doing.

"I'm hoping to prevent anything else from happening to you," he said quietly with a slight smile.

He was looking at her neck and told her she should tell someone or see a doctor.

"I...I can't. You don't understand."

"Okay," was all he said as she pointed to the beat up truck she drove.

He set it on the passenger side then asked her if she'd had anything to eat.

"I'm fine," Vikki told him, unable to even look at him.

He handed the power bar and the water to her. She initially didn't move, but when he urged her to take it she did.

"You might want to finish these before you get home," he said in a kind, caring voice.

"Thank you," she replied, as the sobbing stopped and she removed the lid from the bottle before tearing open the wrapper and taking a large bite.

"Miss? You really don't have to live like this," he said as nicely as he could.

"I'm sorry. I have to go."

"All right. Um...take care," he said with a sense of resignation as he shut the door.

He had no idea what else to say because he knew she wasn't going to 'have a nice day'. He thought about following her and calling the police, but he had a meeting to be at in five minutes and couldn't be late.

He watched her back out and said a silent prayer for her even though he wasn't much of a believer, but at this point it felt like the only one who could help was The Man Upstairs--if he was listening.

When she pulled out from the minimart he got in his own car and left, too, and tried not to think about her or what she would face when she got home.

A month passed since he saw her, and he had no expectation of ever seeing her again as men like the one she lived with kept their 'property' on a tight leash and used fear and intimidation to keep them in line.

He needed gas and pulled into the minimart/gas station where he'd helped her out, and was shocked when he saw her pull up behind him just as he stuck the nozzle in the tank. She was driving the same beat up truck and was wearing the same dirty, tattered clothes as before. Her hair was a stringy, greasy mess, and she didn't even notice him when she got out.

"Miss? Excuse me!" he called out.

She appeared to be counting some cash, and he rightly assumed she'd been sent to fill up the tank. Missing even a dollar would set him off, and she was rechecking the amount he gave her.

He walked up to her, and when he quietly said, "Hey there, Miss," she flinched so hard she dropped the cash.

She started screaming and chasing the money that a light breeze was blowing around. He helped gather it up and handed her the $10 bill he'd stepped on and grabbed.

"Here you go."

She mumbled thanks and went to go inside to pay for the gas when he asked, "Don't you remember me?"

She nervously looked around before looking at him.

"Sorry. Yes. You paid for the beer."

"That's right. And I've been worried about you. Do you need help?"

"No. I...I'm fine. I just have to buy gas and some more beer. Everything's okay," she told him as she strode inside, head down, and not looking at anyone.

He again correctly assumed that was because so much as looking at another man was grounds for another beating. His blood boiled but he stayed calm when he spoke.

"I'm Tim Galloway. I know you don't know me and you're not supposed to talk to anyone, but I want to help. Will you let me?"

"You can't help," she said as she quickly scanned the area for any signs of a certain someone who might see her committing the mortal sin of speaking to him.

He tried to gently take her arm to get her to listen, but when he did she screamed, "DON'T TOUCH ME!"

He let go, apologized, and raised his hands as people turned to look.

"Miss? I'm not going to hurt you. I really do just want to help."

She finally looked at him but only for a fraction of a second.

"Listen. Let me fill your tank, okay? Then we'll go in and get whatever he needs. And I'll get us something to eat. To go. Please?"

"I don't know. If he finds out...."

"One thing at a time. Gas then beer and then food. What do you say?"

She didn't say anything, but she did nod, and when she did he nodded toward the gas pump and got her to go with him. He got out his credit card and used it for her pump and started filling it up making sure to stop at exactly $20 worth. As he began filling the tank he asked if she would tell him her name.

"Vikki. Vikki Kennedy," she said as she did another danger check.

"It's nice to meet you, Vikki."

"You, too," she said quietly as she took another 360-degree look.

"Vikki, you can leave this man and I can protect you. Along with the police."

She tensed up and said in no uncertain terms, "No police! Please!"

"Okay. One thing at a time," he said again as the pump clicked off.

He asked her to pull her truck to the front and park it while he filled his tank where the nozzle was still in it.

"I...I can't be too long," she told him as she looked left and right.

"It'll only take a minute. I promise."

She did as he asked and waited for him to pull in next to her. They went inside and Vikki went straight for the beer.

"Hold on. Let's get some coffee and a little food first."

He waited for her to look at him then said, "Okay?"

"We have to hurry."

He poured two cups of coffee and handed one to her then grabbed two chicken sandwiches and set them on the table before handing a clerk a $20.

It was obvious she hadn't eaten, and as thin as she was he wondered how often she went without food altogether. She nearly devoured the sandwich before he sat down then burned her mouth drinking too much hot coffee too fast.

"Slow down, Vikki," Tim urged.

"You don't understand," she told him again. "If I'm late he'll...."

He went to put his hand on hers, but she pulled it away so fast it startled him.

He put his hands in his lap and tried again.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have done that, but I do want to help. Will you please let me?"

The imploring look had no effect on her.

"I have to go. Now," She said as she swallowed the last bite and took a smaller sip of coffee. "And I have to buy more beer."

"Vikki. Wait. Please."

She stood up and looked toward the beer locker but didn't move.

Tim also stood up and said he'd pay for the beer again, too.

"I have to spend the money," she told him.

"No. No, you don't. Why don't you keep the money and save some up. For yourself?"

"If he finds out...."

He didn't push the issue. He walked with her to get a case of Coors and paid for it as he'd done before. He also grabbed two power bars and another bottle of water.

When they got to the truck, he fished out a $50 bill he'd been carrying on the off chance he might see her again.

"Take this, please. You're a smart woman. You can find a safe place. And...I'll be here around this time a week from now. If you can get away, I'd love to see you again."

"I...I don't know. That's not easy, and if he finds out...."

"I can't make you leave him, but I can help you. All you have to do is ask. That's all."

"You're really sweet, Tim. But even if I leave he'll find me. And he said when he finds me I'll be...."

He saw tears welling up in her eyes again. Against his better judgment, he put his arms around her so fast she couldn't move and held her close. She made a weak attempt to stop him but gave in and put her head on his shoulder and started crying.

"I'm here for you, Vikki. Whenever you're ready."

He heard her cry and ran his hand up and down her back. His heart was breaking for her, but he didn't know what else to do without betraying her trust. He let go then took a pen from his shirt pocket and pulled an old business card out of his wallet some contractor had given him and scribbled his number on it.

"This is my number. Hide it with the money in a place he'll never look. If you can call me, do so. Anytime, Vikki. Day or night."

He pushed that into her hand as he had the fifty then wished her well.

"Thank you," she sobbed as she got in the truck.

"You're welcome."

"That bastard is a monster," he hissed after she drove off.

A week later he was there and waited for two hours but Vikki didn't show. Worried, he thought about going to the police but decided to hold off even though he couldn't stop thinking she could be seriously hurt of even dead. It tore him up not to walk into a police station, but he reminded himself it really wasn't his business.

The following week, the truck was there when he pulled up, and he could see the top of Vikki's head through the back window. He jumped out of the car and ran to her, quietly calling her name.

"I've been worried sick about you!" he told her as he opened the squeaky door.

He held out a hand and helped her as she slid out of the cab.

"He's out cold, so I can stay a little while," she explained.

"Drunk?"

"Shitfaced" she replied, a tiny, nervous smile showing on her face.

Vikki looked horrible and yet he could see beyond the exterior and realized she had several positive attributes, physically speaking. She wasn't beautiful, but she had pretty eyes, high cheekbones, and soft, full lips. On the other hand her nose was a little crooked, possibly due to having had it broken, and it looked as if she hadn't had any dental care in years, but all that could be easily remedied.

Right now, the only thing that mattered was getting her away from the threat.

"You want something to eat?" he asked with a smile of his own.

"I'd like that. Yes. Thank you. Very much."

This time she ate more slowly, and over a 30-minute period, she put away a huge amount of food and finished two cups of coffee.

"Do you need to buy beer?"

"No. Not this time. I'm not going back," she told him. "And I wanted to thank you for...everything. No one's been that kind to me in so long I can't remember."

"I'm happy to help, Vikki."

She was looking at her coffee cup then slowly looked up.

"Can you really help me?"

The look on her face moved him. He wanted to try putting his hand on hers again but didn't.

"Yes. I can help you. Are you sure you're ready to leave him? Once you do, you can never go back."

"Yes. I'm ready."

"Good. Let's get you out of here."

"What about the truck?" she said as the familiar feeling of panic welled up in her.

"Just leave it. Maybe it'll get towed before he sobers up."

"But he'll be angry, and he'll blame...."

Vikki realized that no longer mattered and told him she understood.

"Is there anything you absolutely have to have back at the house?" Tim asked her.

"I brought a few things and a change of clothes in an old gym bag, and that's the only stuff that matters to me."

Tim stood up and smiled at her.

"Don't worry about anything else. Now let's get you out of her and start your new life. What do you say?"

Vikki stood up and put her arms around him and held him as hard as she could. He could feel her ribs as he held her back when he gently ran his hands down her sides.

They grabbed her bag then walked to Tim's car. She went to open her door when he quietly said, "Uh-uh. Let me get that for you."

He saw her kind of look at him and thought he nearly saw a smile. It warmed his heart to know she'd be safe, and he also realized she was now his responsibility.

"Buckle up," he told her when he got in.

"Sorry. I haven't had a seatbelt that works in years," she told him as she clicked it.

"Are you from here?" he asked once they were on the road.

"No. Michael and...my husband and I moved here four years ago. He got a job working construction with some guy's dad he knew who moved here and we've been here ever since."

"Do your parents know where you are?"

Vikki stared out the front window, and without emotion said, "They died three years ago. The road was icy. The car spun and they ended up in the other lane. A semi hit their car, and my dad died instantly. My mom lived a few hours but she died, too."

"Vikki. I'm so very sorry."

"He wouldn't even let me go home for their funeral."

When he didn't say anything it surprised her, so she looked over at him and saw him trying not to cry nor could she know that the story she'd just told him struck so close to home that it tore him up inside. His friendship and compassion moved her greatly, and she put her hand on his which was on top of the gear shift.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked in a childlike way.

"Sorry," he said. "The pollen is terrible today."

There was no pollen, but he didn't want her to know he'd teared up. It was too late, though, as she'd not only seen it happen but knew it was because he was a kind man. She looked at him for the first time, and guessed him to be around 45 or so. Were her father still alive he'd be 48 now, and like her father, Tim made her feel safe.

"You didn't answer my question," she reminded him.

He would eventually tell her, but right now he didn't feel like talking about how his wife and daughter had also been killed with the difference being that a drunk driver was the reason they were dead. His blood alcohol had been four times the legal limit, and he'd had five DUI's in the past 10 years. How he was not in jail before that dumbfounded him when he learned the details.

Even after being convicted of two counts of manslaughter he'd only served five years of an 11-year sentence and had been out on parole the last three years. Tim had never remarried and felt sure he never would.

"I've been very blessed, Vikki. I believe in 'paying it forward'."

"I saw that movie! It was wonderful."

Tim had seen it, too, with his wife, Ann, when it came out in 2000. They were in college and had been dating a few months when they went to see it, and both of them teared up. Seeing him willing to be vulnerable made Ann fall in love with him, and when they graduated two years later, they were married in a church just a half mile from where they were driving that fateful night.

When he learned of the accident and that both his wife and little girl were still alive he went straight to the hospital. They were both in critical condition, and the doctor warned them it didn't look good for either of them. A man of faith, Tim went to the little chapel in the hospital and prayed. He prayed 'without ceasing' until the hospital chaplain came and told him they were gone.

"Both of them?" he asked, too stunned to think.

"Within minutes of each other," he was told. "Would you like me to pray with you?'

Tim shook his head, and when he left the chapel and the hospital, and he left his faith there, too, and had never set foot in a church again. Now he believed in doing rather than praying, and currently, he was doing the right thing in helping Vikki escape a man who had no right being married to her or anywhere near her ever again.

Ann was the more practical of them, and she'd insisted on life insurance policies. Large policies. They both had good jobs, so Tim didn't bat an eye when she told him it would cost $18 a month for a half million dollar policy. Each. When Arial was turned 14, Ann took out another policy on her. Tim thought that was somewhere between unnecessary and foolish, but with them earning over $150k a year, it was peanuts for another $100k on her. They had a very nice home, drove new-model cars, and after their daughter came, they were happier than they could have ever imagined.