Zoie

Tony had been distant all week. 

Short replies. Missed calls. Excuses about picking up extra shifts. Since Black Friday, he hadn’t made an effort to see her. His messages were short and dry. No emojis. No heart eyes. Just “Busy,” or “At work,” or “Can’t talk rn.” 

Zoie didn’t want to believe something was going on. They were supposed to be saving up for an apartment together. He said he’d picked up extra shifts at Urban Drape Studios to help. That’s what he always said: “I’m doing this for us.” 

They had a plan and a future. So she had no reason to believe he was lying. . . but she hadn’t seen him in person since the day after Thanksgiving, and on top of that, Ryin still hadn’t responded.  

Zoie had been texting her every day. At first, checking in gently, then just begging for any reply. She even tried calling. Nothing. A few days ago, she reached out to Dorian, hoping maybe Ryin had told him something. Maybe she’d opened up to someone else. He said he hadn’t heard from her since they broke up. His voice was clipped, maybe even angry. Zoie had thought about telling him then, about the bruises, the blood, what Ryin looked like that night. But something held her back. Maybe it was the tension in his voice. Maybe she didn’t want to say it out loud until she had answers. 

So she didn’t mention the assault. 

Now she wished she had. 

Something was wrong. 

The silence from Ryin, paired with Tony’s, left Zoie's stomach in knots.

***

Zoie’s day had already been long with clinical rotations, lab time, and trying to review scan imaging techniques on a barely-charged tablet. Her blue class scrubs felt stiff, and her high bun was starting to come undone.

She had been missing Tony and decided to do something sweet. After a long day of class, she picked up dinner for him since he’s been working so much. She thought it might cheer him up. Or, at the very least, get them in the same room again. She felt a flutter of excitement as she pulled into Happy Blaze Burgers and ordered his favorite: a double blaze combo with pepper jack cheese, Cajun fries, and a Pepsi. She then made her way to Urban Drape Studios at Westview Outlets.

She’d never actually been inside before. When they met for lunch, Tony always insisted on meeting her at the food court. She thought it was just because he wanted privacy.

But now, she wondered.

"Looking Out" by Suchitra Lata was playing as she walked in. The store had a fairly laid-back vibe. The lights were turned down low, and the powerful aroma of their signature cologne filled the store. Zoie took deep breaths as she moved around the mannequins and suit racks. She adored the scent; it was the same cologne Tony always wore.

Except. . . he wasn’t there.

A man with sharp cheekbones and a tailored pale mauve blazer was arranging a cologne display. Every inch of him was well-groomed: the waves, the brows, the Balbo beard. He noticed her immediately and gave a practiced, polished smile.

“Good afternoon. I’m Fabian. Welcome to Urban Drape Studios. How can I assist you today?” He sounded almost as if he were singing the greeting.

Zoie returned the smile. "I'm trying to drop dinner off for Antonio Ortega, but I don't see him.”

Fabian blinked. “Ooh. . . yeah. Um. He’s not here.”

“That’s okay. Is he in the back?”

Fabian frowned slightly. “It’s just me and the district manager, Emilie, today. There’s no Antonio scheduled to be in today.”

Then he looked around as he lowered his voice. “Actually. . .  he doesn’t work here anymore.”

Zoie’s heart skipped.“What? That’s not—he told me he’s working today.”

All professionalism left his voice, “Gworllll, he was fired Monday.”

"Huh, wha—what?" The fact that he had been lying just wasn't registering with her. Her hands trembled slightly. “Fired? For what?”

Fabian stepped closer, voice soft and gossipy. “Well. . . the district manager came in Monday to check the cameras, standard holiday procedure, you know? Just to make sure no employees snuck out the back with merchandise during the holiday weekend. Happens every year.”

Zoie felt like her breath had been knocked out of her. Her pulse thudded in her ears.

“What did she see?”

"Look, you didn't hear this from me." Fabian’s tone dropped to a near-hush whisper. “It showed Tony. . . behind the store. . . beating the hell out of his girlfriend Saturday night. The camera caught it all.”

The room went cold.

“I—what?” Zoie croaked. “Girlfriend? What do you mean, girlfriend?”

“I mean,” he said gently, “the girl has come in a few times. Pretty little thing. Petite with long dark hair. Real Megan Fox vibes. She’s even called up here asking for him. I’ve worked here for about a year and a half, and she’s definitely not new.”

Zoie could barely hold the burger bag anymore. Her grip loosened. She felt like she was about to pass out. "And the manager didn't call the police?"

"Nope. She told him he was lucky she didn't have him arrested, though. She said she didn't want the police to be seen here since it would reflect poorly on the business. He started throwing a little fit, too."

"Thank you. . ." Zoie said breathlessly as she slowly walked off.

Fabian didn't hear her since he was still ranting. "I thought to myself, 'yup, he's a woman-beater.' I know an abuser when I see one. It's generally the short guys."

Zoie was no longer listening at this point, and she didn’t remember leaving the store. Fabian could still be there, talking, for all she knows.

***

She barely remembered getting into her Jeep. Her palms were sticky on the steering wheel as she drove aimlessly until she somehow ended up at a small, empty waterfront park. She pulled into a far corner of the lot, shut off the car, and opened the food bag.

At first, she nibbled. Then she bit harder. She shoved fries into her mouth before swallowing the first bite. Then more. And more. 

Stuff it down. Don’t think. Just eat. Just breathe.

Sauce dripped onto her scrubs. Grease clung to her fingers. She didn’t care. Her mind wasn’t in her body anymore. It was replaying everything, trying to figure out what was a lie and what was actually real. 

How long? How long has he been lying? How long have they BOTH been lying to me?

When she finally looked down at the bits of fries and sauce all over her lap, something snapped within her. She stepped out of the car and frantically tried to wipe herself clean, but it wasn’t working, so she hit her thighs, fists pounding faster and harder until she couldn’t hold the tears in anymore.

Everything hit her all at once.

The vision of Ryin’s crumpled body on the bus stop bench. The scratches and bruises.

The way Tony had pulled away. Never being available to see or talk to her.

She thought back on her conversation with Fabian. “Beating the hell out of his girlfriend.” His words reverberated repeatedly in her mind. Girlfriend? What in the hell was he talking about? Why was Ryin there? Why would Tony hurt her like that? Had they been fooling around behind my back? The thoughts were sending her into a panic. 

She doubled over and vomited behind the front tire, her stomach emptying out the Happy Blaze combo she’d just inhaled.

She slid to the ground, pressing her back to the door. 

Hot tears blurred her vision. Her whole chest ached.

Eventually, her body went still. She crawled back into the car and laid the seat back. Her phone buzzed with a text from Harold, a sweet guy from class, but she didn’t look at it. She powered the phone off and drifted into an exhausted, anxiety-riddled nap.

***

When she woke, it was dark. 7:37 p.m.

She drove back to Urban Drape Studios.

Then parked and waited. 

At 9:30, Emilie, the district manager, emerged with her purse slung over one shoulder and a set of keys jingling in her hand. She was trying to lock up the store when Zoie walked up. 

“Excuse me,” she called out.

“We’re closed,” Emilie said without turning around.

“Emilie,” This time, Zoie was sterner, stepping closer.

Emilie turned around, letting out a frustrated groan. "What?!" She was taken aback when she first set eyes on Zoie, who had red eyes from crying. Her scrubs were messy and stained with sauce and tiny splatters of vomit. Smudged mascara and tears streaked her face.

“…Can I help you?”

“I need to see that footage.”

Emilie furrowed her brow. “Excuse me?”

“The camera footage from behind the store. From Black Friday weekend. I know what happened.”

Emilie’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Zoie’s voice sharpened. “You do! You saw him attack her! You fired him for it!”

“I think it’s time for you to leave,” Emilie snapped. “Or I’ll report you for harassment.”

Zoie didn’t flinch. “Call them. Please. I’d love to tell the police what you’re covering up.”

Emelie became irritated. “If such an incident occurred, which it didn’t, I can guarantee that the individual would no longer be employed here and the authorities would have been notified, per our company policy.” She looked Zoie up and down. “Now, is there someone I can call for you? You don’t look well.” Her tone was very condescending. 

Zoie was horrified. How can she act like nothing happened? “Are you serious? A girl was assaulted by one of your employees, and you’re not even going to do anything about it!” 

That made Emilie pause for half a second, then she shoved past Zoie, shoulder bumping hers hard. “Get out of my way,” she hissed and stormed off into the night.

Zoie stood there in the parking lot, tears brimming in her eyes.

Feeling defeated, she slowly walked to her Jeep, climbed in, and drove home.

***

When she made it in, she quietly placed the car keys on the hook by the front door. She snuck inside quietly, avoiding her mother. She couldn’t explain the state she was in and didn’t want to try. She tiptoed past the living room and headed straight to her room.

She sat on the edge of her bed and turned her phone back on. Dozens of notifications. None from Ryin or Tony. She typed a message to Ryin with shaking fingers:

Call me. I know it was Tony.

She hit send.

Then she sat and waited, staring at the screen.

Minutes passed. Nothing.

Her eyes drifted to the folded clothes in the hamper. Her thoughts returned to Ryin’s clothes from that night. The rips, the blood, and something else. . . 

The scent.

It had been so familiar.

She hadn’t placed it then.

But now she knew.

It was Tony’s cologne.

Zoie’s face crumpled. She grabbed a pillow, pressed it to her face, and screamed.

Smelling like fries and sweat, she slowly dragged herself into the bathroom. Avoiding her reflection, she turned off the light, undressed, and got in the shower. The steam rose around her while she stood in the darkness. Suddenly feeling weak, she curled into a ball on the shower floor and sobbed until the water ran cold. She laid there wishing the water could wash away the events of the day and the heartbreak she was feeling that left her stomach churning.

And still. . . no message reply came.