I arrive at the Village, Justin says, "I'd like to have drinks in the lounge after dinner, with only the coaches." We go our separate ways except for Scott who follows me to the only camera-free room, which is mine.
“Explain,” he orders. “Explain what?”.
“Your testimony, Isabella! What he said to you in the hallway!”
“I told the truth, for that, I have nothing to be sorry for. In the hallway, he was telling me how sorry he was and that he loves me. He asked me not to throw in the towel over the one incident.”
Scott is enraged, “You shouldn’t be giving him the time of day. Just standing there listening to him is sending mixed signals, or maybe I’m the one getting them.” He starts backing away from me as I’ve slapped him.
“I will never forget what he did to me or go back to him, but there’s a chance I might find it within myself to forgive him.”
“You also violated me by watching the assault without my consent and I’m still trying to get over that too. Then you force me into the public eye when I can barely manage to cope with what’s happening. You say if it can help someone else then it's worth it but that doesn’t explain you watching, doesn’t explain you not getting my consent. Both of you have let me down time and time again.”
“I pushed you to help you get strong.”
“I’m not so sure all of your intentions were good or fair,” I say suspiciously. Scott starts walking towards the door, "We’re going to be late for the get-together in the lounge."
My vision is blurred with tears as I throw my belongings into my suitcase. I placed my bag near the door and leave to join the coaches. I even pack my skates, in case I don’t want to come back. I rinse my splotchy face and reapply makeup to hide any sign that I’ve been crying before going to the lounge where the coaches are meeting.
I text MICHAEL:
ISABELLA: Michael?
MICHAEL: Yes?
ISABELLA: I need 2 take a leave of absence. I can’t B here any longer.
MICHAEL: Take all the time U need. It’ll be paid.
ISABELLA: That’s not necessary.
MICHAEL: It’s the least I can do. Your job will B waiting 4 U.
ISABELLA: Thank you.
MICHAEL: Come back, Isabella, & please, forgive me.
ISABELLA: Please don’t contact me while I’m away.
MICHAEL: Sure.
All the coaches are present in the lounge. I place my phone down on the table where I’m planning to sit and go to the bar to help myself to a glass of pre-poured wine. My phone vibrates on the table and from the corner of my eye, I see Scott reach for it. His eyes look at the screen and then back up to me, “You’re texting him?” he asks incredulously across the room, “He rapes you, and you text him?”
“Let’s announce it on a p.a. no better yet, how about on national television?” I snatched the phone from his hand, “I requested a leave of absence if you must know, should we televise that too?”
All eyes land on me yet again, “I’m sorry, I was going to tell all of you.
Scott will be in charge while I’m gone.”
Coach asks, “How long are you planning on taking?”
“I’m not sure. Michael said I could take all the time I need.”
“Well, isn’t that lovely of him,” Scott says hatefully
I storm out of the room. I hear Coach Tammy say, “Go after her,” faintly. He never does come after me. I return to my room to get my luggage and passport, and when I reached for it, I feel material instead. I gasp. My hand finds the light. Standing before me is Michael.
“Don’t be scared. I have to see you before you leave.”
“What are you doing here? There are cameras they’ll see you here! Don’t touch me!”
“There’s no camera in this room,”
“Where are you going? To the airport? I’ll take you there, let me drive you to where you need to go, I just want a few minutes.”
“How do I know you’re not going to hurt me?”
“Because if anything happens to you, I’ll be the first person everyone suspects. Once they catch me they’ll send me to jail and throw away the key.”
“How do I know you aren’t going to kill me and then yourself?” “That’s just stupid, I never understood why people do that.”
“Okay, I will let you take me to the airport. Let’s just go,” I say impatiently.
We take the stairwell down to the garage where Michael's car is parked. Once seated, the car roars to life. He looks at me and asked, “Where to?”
“The airport, Michael.”
“Do you have a destination?”
“No fishing for information!”
“Sorry.”
His eyes remain on the road while he drives, “Listen, I know I can say sorry a million times, and it will never be enough. Nothing I will ever do can fix this. I need you to know, Isabella, that I love you and I want to spend my life giving you a happily ever after together.”