She was ecstatic.”What a help! More than a help, a friend in times of trouble!” She smiled sweetly and tears flowed from her eyes as she recounted her story of distress and comfort.
She wandered down the stairs. As she reached the last step a hand grasped her thin arm. Driven to the ground, Jen’s mind carouselled. Who was it? She hit the ground dazed by the tile with no answers.
Not him! He would never hit her. He was very much a gentleman.
The blow to her face was firm. Why, how, where…? Jen’s eyes looked down the coffee brown couch. Streams of blurred light reflected off his face.
The rhythmic thump to her ear was dull against the floor. She thought it strange to have such a beat without melody. The adrenaline rush was a great anesthesia.
She remembered her son-in-law. Such a good man! Tears of empathy were his regular gift to intimate conversation. He was a true friend to Jen and her daughter. With every form of kindness he covered them like a blanket. Kyle’s lumber jack size and flannel lent to his generous smile. He always listened.
He felt her pain blow for blow. His face wincing. Another fist glanced off her brow as sweat burned her eyes. “Kyle,” she thought “I love you. I am so glad you are here.” “He is always present.” She whispered silently. She remembered the conversation and coffee of the previous nights palaver. Jen, Kyle, and his wife had a good visit.
Her head fell sideways to see behind the couch, the dim moon light exposed his face at a distance from her assailant.
In a fetal position, comforting his knees with an embrace, he anguished. Strangely this reassured her. Each cringe perfectly matched the bounce of her head off the tile. It was as if he was struck with each swing, it was calming like a drug. It strengthened her. Tears painted streaks down his cheeks. “What a friend; such a man!”
Lost in her thoughts she didn’t notice the departure of the weight or the absence of the pulsating thrust messing her hair.
She listened in wonder, staring Kyle in the face. But, he never moved; still, silent behind the couch.
The door shut, departing steps splashed outside of abuser.
But Kyle never moved as she crawled to his embrace.
It was good to suffer in the company of Kyle. He held her. He so cared, he meant so much to her.
He would never hurt them, he couldn’t, he loved them so deeply.
This is like a twilight zone episode, with an Aesop’s fable ending that mocks Modern Christian Love.
Mere emotional sentiment would never hurt you…this paralytic love couldn’t. It sure won’t help you either. You do not have to strike to kill, simply doing nothing is enough.