One Day Soon (One Day Soon, #1)(32)

I stared down at the paper in my hands. I should take notes. But I couldn’t.

“The guy was weird. I knew that the minute he approached me. Twitchy. His eyes were all over the place. I had a bad feeling. But I didn’t listen to my instincts. You get used to ignoring them after a while,” Yoss went on.

I looked up at him and he was staring out the window.

“He hurt you,” I finished for him.

Yoss nodded. “He told me to unbuckle my pants and to turn around. It wasn’t an unusual request, so I did as he told me to.”

My stomach clenched and I tried not to picture what he was telling me.

“The first blow hit me in the back of the head. I fell to my knees. I remember trying to look up, to see what the hell was going on. But he pushed my face into the gravel and started kicking me. I blacked out after that. But not before he took what he wanted and sure as hell didn’t pay for it.” He was unapologetic. Cold. As if the fact that he had gotten raped and beaten was no big deal.

“Why didn’t you tell the police any of this?” I asked, putting my pencil down.

Yoss shrugged. “What would be the point? I’m just another homeless guy hustling to get by. I can’t imagine they’d put a whole lot of effort into finding the dude who raped and beat me. To them it’s not worth the hassle. I don’t need them all up in my business anyway.”

“But this man needs to be put behind bars for what he did to you!” I exclaimed, though I knew he was right. I wouldn’t tell him about the conversation I had with Detective Preston. Because Yoss was right, the police had no plans to look for his attacker.

Yoss glanced at me, his eyes tired. His face sad. “He wasn’t the first or the worst, Imi. Just let it be.”

His resignation broke my heart.

“You said it was a one off. So you hadn’t been—”

“No. Not for years. I got out of that lifestyle. I had to. I made a promise.” His face was flushed and his breathing was a little labored.

He had made a promise. To me. Had he really tried to keep it? Even though he had left me? After what I had seen?

“Look, I’m tired. Do you mind if we finish this later?” he asked, closing his eyes.

I wanted to ask him more questions, but I could tell he didn’t have the energy for it.

“Of course. That’s fine. You should rest anyway.” I started to gather my things.

“Do you think—” Yoss began, but then stopped, his throat working as he swallowed. I paused what I was doing.

“What?”

He kept his eyes closed and I could sense his hesitance. “What?” I asked again.

“Do you think you could stay for a while? Not to ask me a bunch of questions. Just to keep me company.” He sounded embarrassed to be asking.

“You want me to keep you company?”

“If you’ve got other stuff to do, I understand. Forget I asked,” he said defensively.

“No. Of course I don’t mind. I’d love to,” I cut in.

Yoss relaxed and settled back into his pillows. He let out a long, deep breath that he seemed to have been holding for a while.

“Thanks,” he grimaced.

“Of course.” Haltingly, I leaned over and took his hand. I wanted to touch him. Just for a minute. I couldn’t help myself.

Yoss tensed, but then his fingers laced with mine.

Like he had done a hundred times before.

But we weren’t young and in love anymore.

We were older. We had developed thick, impenetrable walls. Time had changed the both of us.

And looking at his battered body and feeling the beat of my wounded heart, it didn’t seem to be for the better.

Yoss fell asleep holding my hand. And I continued to sit there, watching the rise and fall of his chest.

I stayed much longer than I should have.

Because I couldn’t bear letting him go again.





Fifteen Years Ago

“Oh my god, Imi! There you are!” Amanda squealed running towards me, almost tripping over the rocks in her hurry to get to me.

I was hanging out underneath the bridge waiting for Yoss. He had disappeared a few hours ago when Manny had come looking for him.

He had changed his shirt, brushed out his hair, and had left with a kid that looked to be about thirteen.

I had stopped asking where he went.

We never talked about it.

He tried to hide the bruises. The cigarette burns on his legs and arms. The black eye and busted lip were never mentioned.

I didn’t ask him about the handful of dollar bills he’d use to buy us milkshakes and hamburgers.

But I hated it when he was gone. I spent the time worrying about him. Wondering if that was the day he wouldn’t come back. I wasn’t completely na?ve. I knew the dangers of what he was doing. The risk of being badly hurt, or worse.

Yoss tried to conceal his shame. But I saw it. Each and every time he came back to me, it was painted on him. Mixed with the smell of sex and cigarette smoke that coated his skin like a stain.

In those hours after he crawled under the covers beside me, he would touch my hand, run his fingers through my hair, press himself against me, as though I were the only thing that could make him feel clean again.

Sometimes Yoss would have nightmares that left him tossing and turning and crying out in his sleep. It was only when I put my arms around him that he settled down and fell into some semblance of rest.