Good Enough

Saturday nights were always hard when my daughter Olivia, Liv, as we usually called her was with her mom. Now that I was 28 and a father, nights out drinking didn’t interest me anymore. I’d had a long week and decided to stay in, have a quiet evening. Sometimes it got lonely, sure, but that was just how things were.

I had just finished dinner and was browsing for something to watch when a sharp knock sounded at the door. I wasn’t expecting anyone. When I opened it, I was surprised to see Sarah and Olivia standing there.

“Can we come in?” Sarah asked, her voice tight.

I stepped aside immediately, letting them in. I noticed three things right away: they both looked subdued, Sarah’s eyes were red like she’d been crying, and her left cheek was marked red, like someone had struck her.

She caught me staring and quickly said, “Liv, sweetheart, go to your room for a bit, okay?”

My little princess gave me a hug and scurried off without a word.

Sarah looked at me for a moment, then stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me. “I’m sorry for coming here like this,” she whispered. “Dante and I had a fight. Olivia saw some of it and got scared, she wanted to be with you. I didn’t want to be alone either, so... here we are.”

Her voice cracked, and she started crying again. I held her gently, whispering, “It’s okay. You’re safe here. You don’t have to go anywhere you can always count on me.”

She clung to me tighter, almost painfully. “Did he hit you, Sarah?” I asked softly, doing my best to stay calm.

She didn’t answer, but I felt her nod.

“And Olivia?”

Sarah pulled back just enough to look at me and shook her head firmly. “No. I swear. He never touched her. It started when she wanted to play a game and he told her to go to bed. He yelled at her, and I sent her to her room. We started arguing. I told him we were over and that’s when he slapped me. Next thing I know, Olivia was crying for me, and I grabbed her and came here.”

I hugged her again, trying to keep my own anger from boiling over.

“Alright,” I said gently. “Why don’t you both take a shower and get some rest? We’ll talk more in the morning, okay? Whatever you need, I’m here.”

She nodded, kissed my cheek, and squeezed my hand. “Thank you Mark. I knew I could count on you.”

She disappeared into Olivia’s room.

I poured myself a glass of water and leaned against the counter, trying to keep it together. Rage pulsed through me. How could anyone lay a hand on Sarah? She was everything! Beautiful, kind, strong. The kind of woman who lit up every room she walked into. And someone tried to dim that light? I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

Seeing her like that, tired, hurt, vulnerable and holding herself together for Olivia brought me back to the first time I met her.

I remember when I first saw her at a bar seven years ago. All 5’3” of her, standing confidently without trying. She had this effortless kind of beauty that drew people in without even trying. Long chestnut-brown hair fell past her shoulders, her skin sun-kissed and smooth. Wide, almond-shaped eyes framed by dark lashes made her look alert, sharp, but warm. Her arched brows gave just enough bite to her soft features.

When she smiled, it was the kind that lit up her eyes before it even reached her lips. She didn’t wear anything fancy just a white tank top, bare shoulders, and no need for glitter or flair. Funnily enough, her best friend was dating my best friend, and that’s how we met.

We hit it off surprisingly well, though I sometimes tripped over my words around her. She was still licking her wounds from a breakup, her first serious boyfriend cheated on her and she made it clear she wasn’t interested in dating. I still remember saying, half to her and half to myself, “How could anyone cheat on you?” She smiled and gave me a hug for that.

“There are a lot more interesting, prettier girls than me Mark, but thank you.”

I disagreed, vehemently, but I didn’t say it. I didn’t want her to think I was hitting on her.

Then one night changed everything.

We were out celebrating the end of the semester for Sarah, Mason and Michelle, me I just enjoyed the celebration after work. There was too much alcohol, way too much, and somewhere between laughter and haze, Sarah and I ended up in bed. For me, it was more than physical. I’d had a crush on her for what felt like forever, and that night she was every fantasy made real.

The morning was different. I woke up with her curled up against me and for one selfish second I let myself believe we’d crossed some invisible line and could stay there. But when I woke her up, her reaction pulled me right back down.

“God…” she muttered under her breath, waking slowly. She sat up, sheet clutched to her chest, her eyes scanning the room like she wasn’t sure where she was at first. Then they landed on me.

The shift in her face was quick, too quick for me to read it right. She looked away, pulling the sheet tighter around her. “What did we do?”

I was already halfway into my boxers, trying not to stare, trying not to hope. “I’m sorry,” I said, because what else was there to say? “We were drunk. I shouldn’t have let it happen. It’s my fault.”

She shook her head, not meeting my eyes. “It’s not… It’s not your fault. I let it happen too.”

There was something in her voice, soft, unsure but my brain was already running full speed toward all the worst conclusions. I stood there awkwardly, trying not to feel like I’d just been handed my walking papers.

“I just…” she hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s too soon. After everything, I don’t want to… complicate things.”

I nodded like I understood, even though it felt like my ribs were closing in on my lungs.

“I really like what we have, Mark,” she added quickly, eyes flicking up to mine for just a second. “Let’s just go back to being friends. Please?”

Friends. Of course.

“Yeah,” I said, forcing a smile that probably looked as fake as it felt. “Sure. Back to normal.”

But inside, all I heard was she regrets it. She doesn’t see you that way. Not really.

I gave her some space, told myself it was fine, that I was fine but that morning stayed lodged in the back of my throat for a long time.

Her voice now pulled me out of the memory.

“Can you lend me a shirt and some shorts, please? I didn’t bring anything with me.” She looked bashful asking, and I smiled.

“Let’s see if I’ve got anything that’ll fit your fun-size self.”

She smacked my arm playfully. “I am not fun-sized! I’m a perfectly reasonable height. You’re just… wide and muscly and kind of tall for my delicate self.”

We both laughed. It felt normal, easy even. I wasn’t tall by most standards, 5’9” on a good day, but my work kept me in shape, and I still pitched in on job sites when I could.

I brought her a loose T-shirt and a pair of my smaller gym shorts. She thanked me, then said she’d shower and sleep with Olivia tonight.

I had almost managed to shake off the anger until I saw her pull a cold compress from the freezer and press it to her cheek.

“Does it hurt?” I asked.

“Not too much, but it’s uncomfortable. I don’t want it to be too noticeable, so…”

“Has he ever done anything like this before?” I asked, even though I didn’t want to know the answer.

She didn’t meet my eyes. That was all the answer I needed.

I couldn’t keep the frustration from seeping through. She must have seen it on my face because she stepped closer, cupping my cheek gently with her hand.

“It’s okay. We’re safe now,” she whispered. “And I will never give him the opportunity to touch me again.”

I laid my hand over hers, trying to steady the storm building inside me. “Why didn’t you run after the first time?”

She shrugged and looked away, her silence louder than any answer she could’ve given.

“We don’t have to talk about it now.” I said quietly.

She nodded and left to check on Olivia.