Life on Wheels

Chapter 21: Verbal Abuse

Chapter 21: Verbal Abuse

   When I wake up the next morning, I have a text message on my phone, along with three missed calls, all from Samara. I call her to find out what’s going on.

   “Samara is everything OK?”

   “Not really. It’s Taylor. We’re done. He didn’t give a reason. To make things worse, he did it over text. I got home late, like 12:30, from being out with some other friends, and I had a message and a missed call from him. He left a pretty nasty message. Can you meet me at Quick Bite in 20 minutes?”

   She sounds frantic, and I never back down from helping a friend in need.

   “I’ll talk to the therapists and get back to you. I’ll just shoot you a text with the answer.”

   “OK thanks Melissa.”

   “Not a problem Samara.”

    I hang up and set my cell down.

   “What was that about?” Matthew asks, just waking up.

   “Sorry I woke you. That was Samara. Boy troubles,” I explain.

    I slip into my prosthetics and stand. I take Otis out into the hall and close the door. I make my way towards the front desk.

   “Can I go to Quick Bite?” I ask.

   “Do you want a ride?” the receptionist asks.

   “No I’ll be OK walking. It shouldn’t take long.” I say.

   “Sure, but just be back before lunch. Have breakfast out if you like,” she says, smiling.

I haven’t seen this woman before. Maybe they’re training someone new. They could do with some help behind the desk, that’s for sure. I sign out and walk out the double doors.

I arrive at the cafe a few minutes later and search for Samara. She waves. I pull out a seat. I take a seat. Otis lies down beside me. A waitress comes over to take our order.

“I’ll have the ham, egg and cheese wrap with a side of shredded hashbrowns and a glass of ice water,” I order.

“Alright sounds good,” the waitress says. “And for you?” she asks Samara.

“Can I have the breakfast skillet with scrambled eggs and rye toast?”

“And do you want shredded or cubed hashbrowns?”

“Cubed please, and I’ll have a hot chocolate please,” Samara asks politely.

“Sure thing I’ll get those orders in for you girls,” the waitress smiles.

She walks away.

“So what’s this about Taylor?” I ask.

“Listen,” she says, handing me her phone. I raise it to my ear.

“SAMARA YOU ARE A NO-GOOD WORTHLESS IDIOT! I CAN’T BELIEVE I WASTED MY TIME WITH YOU! I HOPE YOU NEVER FIND LOVE AGAIN! I HATE YOU!”

“You know Samara that’s verbal assault!” I say angrily.

“Yeah I know but I just don’t think that fair to-”

“Samara he’s being abusive!”

“Yeah I guess you’re right. What do I do about it?” she asks.

“Report him to the police,” I say.

Just then, the waitress returns with our drinks, followed by another with our meals.

“Thank you,” we say in unison.

“So you really think I should tell the police?”

“Yes. Samara he can’t get away with this.”

Samara’s phone rings.

“It’s him,” she says, cancelling the call.

Less than a minute later, he calls again. This time Samara ignores it all together.

We finish our meals. I call the rehab to let them know that I’m going to the police station with Samara. They agree. Otis and I follow Samara’s chair to the police station. We go straight to the counter.

“Can I help you?” asks a blonde woman.

“I need to report verbal assault.” Samara explains.

The cop hands Samara a clipboard stacked with paper.

“Fill this out,” she says, pointing to a row of chairs. She realizes that we can’t fit in the area without being in the way, so she comes around to move chairs around.

“Thanks,” I say.

“Not a problem,” she says sympathetically.

As Samara fills out the form, tears form in her eyes.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this to him,” she weeps.

“Well what he’s done is not right, Samara. You can’t be happy with a person that does this.” I explain.

“Well I feel kind of bad because I didn’t respond to any of the messages.” she says.

We sit in silence as Samara finishes the form. She takes it up to the counter. Samara goes into an interview room with another officer to explain exactly what happened and to give Taylor’s name, number and home address.