Some female patrons are watching the scene, and others run out of the door with their children and husbands. David's standing at the bar with Judith at his arm, tugging his sleeve.

"Where's our waiter," he asks the woman with his voice raised. She grabs the phone in front of her, and when she dials the emergency number – nine eleven – he scoffs then mashes the button to end the call.

"David, let's just go," Judith begs him. So far, he's thrown three chairs in his fit of rage but only broke one. She looks at the dismantled leg lying near the half wall by the exit, then at him.

The woman gasps as he reaches across the bar and snatches the phone out of her hands, returning it to the hook switch. David glances at her name tag.

"Look, Debra, I'm trying to be a gentleman here. I don't usually hit women," he says, and Judith lowers her eyebrows at him. "but I can get pretty ugly if I'm annoyed, and right now – I'm getting there."

"Sir, we don't have anyone here that matches your description." Debra stands her ground, but her quivering voice informs them of her fear.

"You think I'm stupid? I saw him at our table!" She jumps and immediately hangs her head as tears fall. Judith feels her heart skip a beat, and all she can think about is the possibility of them dying for offending a white woman.

"Hey, actually, I think I made a mistake." They look at Judy when she speaks, and her voice is as unsteady as the bartender's.

She knows he's persistent – sometimes stubborn or prideful would be the best fit to explain his actions – and nothing she can say will snap him into reality, but her adrenaline and concern force her to intervene.

"I'll stand here for hours if I have to." Judith emits a defeated sigh, her shoulders falling when he turns his head to the terrified matron. A tall man with a beer belly stretching his flannel shirt approaches them from their left and grasps Judith's attention.

"Ma'am, is this boy bothering you," he asks the barkeep, and David veers toward him, scanning him up and down. His sandy red beard brightens his pale, freckled face and dark brown eyes.

"Boy? Do I look like a boy to you?" Judith darts her eyes between them, and Debra sprints past the black door into the back room.

"I think you best be going." David closes the gap between them and shoves his chest, pushing him a step back. Judith widens her eyes. She always knew him to be hot-headed, but to her, his choices lately seem out of the ordinary.

Before she can correct him, the bulky man lifts him off his feet with his meaty fingers tight around his neck. Judith clasps her hands over her open mouth as her ex claws the white man's hand, his face turning red from lack of oxygen.

"You put your hands on that woman," the man asks, and when David gasps for air, he only chokes himself more. His flailing legs remind her of those attached to a rag doll, but the man doesn't let up. "Answer me – boy!"

"He didn't," Judith hollers for him, and he glares at her. "Please let him go. We were just heading home."

"You better thank your African God that I'm a Christian man," he tells David before dropping him onto his feet. His knees buckle, and he falls onto them and his palms. Judith stands beside him, and she locks eyes with the lumberjack before he turns to his pudgy wife and son. "Let's get out of here, Paula. These two made me lose my appetite."

"Fuck you," David grumbles the last word to complete his obscenity against Judith's hand, and she sits the other behind his head to hold his lips shut. The man and his family glance at them, and when Judith gives a fake smile with her body trembling, they proceed out of the restaurant.

She exhales, but she's unable to relax, and he swats her hand away before pushing himself to his feet. He watches them through the windows walking to their beige pickup truck, and as he lifts his son into the flatbed, David faces Judith.

"Are you okay," she asks him in a soft, sympathetic tone. He raises his right hand, and she looks at it as it comes down on her cheek, turning her face to the side with a gasp.

"Next time you see someone grab me like that, either you help me or I'll kill you." She gazes into his cold eyes, and though her face stings, she refuses to touch where he hit her. "Come on. I'm driving you home."

"No." He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head, so his ear is aimed at her, waiting for her to repeat herself. "I'm not getting in the car with you. We're done."

"That's what I thought you said." He lifts his sleeves, and she takes a step back. Behind the bar, a short and chubby man clears his throat to get their attention. He's holding a wooden baseball bat with Jackie Robinson's signature in black ink, patting it in his left hand, and Debra's standing at the door.

"You're not welcome here anymore, boy. You best get on 'fore I call the law," he warns him, and without a protest, David walks toward the front door with Judith's eyes following him. Once he steps out of the building, the few people left jeer at him as he continues to his vehicle. "Girl, if you're not eating, you best be leaving too."

"Could I use your phone, please?" She flashes her doe eyes at the manager and softens her voice to show innocence.

She's aware that she doesn't look her age. Many have mistaken her for a child before John Lewis – the man who put a gun to her head – did, and in moments like the one she's in, she embraces it; taking advantage of their ignorance.

He sits the rotary phone on top of the bar facing her, and she pulls herself onto the chair with a faint smile to mask her discomfort.

"We only do local calls," he says, holding the bat at his side. Judith nods and lifts the handset to her cheek, listening to the dial tone.

"Hey, could I buy that bat off you?" The manager glances at it, and Debra steps through the door she was leaning on. "My brother loves baseball more than anything, and Jackie Robinson is his favorite player. He has his baseball card and everything."

"It's two-fifty." She emits a flat whistle, surprised by the amount, and he makes his eyebrow jump nonchalantly. "Yeah, it's not cheap. Also, that buck of yours didn't pay for your food before he left, so I hope you do before you go."

He walks toward the door to leave the bar, and she drops her eyes onto the number plate. With her index in the top hole, she spins it and dials Jerome.

***

Judith's sitting on the edge of Jerome's bed, and he's in his chair in front of her.

"Thanks for coming to get me and paying for my food," she says in a whisper, and he nods with his lips pursed. "I would've called my sister, but she's probably busy with her new baby."

He's holding a rag of ice to her cheek with his other hand cupping her jaw, and when she sees the disappointment in his eyes, she stares at his left leg.

"How much longer," he asks after a deep sigh, and they meet each other's gaze. "How much longer does he have to beat you before you decide enough is enough."

"He and I aren't dating," she says, and he slightly scrunches his face, shrugging his shoulders.

"So? Is that supposed to mean something? Because so far, you two have been on and off more times than I can count but either way, he's putting his hands on you." Judith licks her lips as she rolls her eyes onto his open door. He sighs and stares at her with low eyes, emotionally drained from witnessing her abuse. "I'm just worried about you."

"Yeah, right," she mumbles, tears welling in her eyes. When David led her to believe that Jerome didn't care about her, what little bit of hope she had left was gone after that. Looking at the confusion plastered on his face only worsens her state of distrustfulness.

"You know why my mom is single?" When she shrugs, he says, "Because my stepdad was abusive. She can talk to you if you need someone who understands, Judy, and she'll tell it like it is. You need to have him arrested."

"I'm scared, Jerome. It's not as easy as you make it sound." He shakes his head at her response, beginning to give up. He turns his head to his desk and sits the rag in an empty bowl. "I mean, if I go to the police right now, what if he finds out and tries to kill me."

"He won't." Jerome lifts his half-emptied bottle of water and twists the cap. He brings it to his mouth, and she gives him an incredulous stare as he takes a sip.

"You're not psychic. You don't know," she says as he shuts the cap. He sits it down and leans forward with his elbows on his knees.

"If you're serious about getting the police involved, I'm going with you, and if he shows up, I'll handle him." Judith scoffs, almost chuckling.

"You? Please, I haven't seen you fight, and frankly, I don't believe," she stops herself from saying another word, and after a moment of silence, he stands up with his drink and the bowl. She watches him head toward the door, and she drops her head with a sigh from her nose.

He glances at her over his shoulder, parting his lips to speak, but nothing comes out. He wants to convince her to do something, but he knows she has to decide for herself. That fact bothers him, knowing she may never report David.

"Good night, Judy." She lifts her chin to look at him, but he steps into the hall.

***

Judith's sitting on a tire swing with the sun on her back and grass up to the bottom of her bare feet. She kicks her legs, the air rushing through her twists and ruffling her peasant dress. The rope creaks as if at any moment it would snap, and she leans back with her eyes shut to catch the breeze against her face.

"Now, if you fall on your head, I'm'a laugh." She darts her eyes open when she hears her father. He's towering over her in a black suit, and she sits up, turning at the hip to stare at his smile.

"You're alive," she says monotonously, and he nods, unsure if she's asking or telling him. He sits his hand on her left shoulder, and chills race down her spine, feeling how cold he is.

She follows his gaze onto her body, her eyes widening at her mother's wedding gown replacing her peasant dress. When she looks up, she's standing at the doors in a church, its bells chiming to signal the townspeople to attend the event.

"Are you ready?" She looks at her father when he asks, but before she can answer, he gently nudges her veil over her face. The double doors across the hall slowly open, and he guides her to them.

Her heart skips a beat, and she gasps, clutching her breath in her lungs with tears pricking her dark brown eyes. She scans the large room of people – her family and friends – standing and staring with smiles.

Down the aisle, she sees Jerome waiting for her with his hands clasped in front of him, his brothers behind him, and her professor standing next to him with a Bible in hand.

Walter walks her down the aisle, and each breath she takes feels like a chore. Her sadness and shock trail down her cheeks and into her agape mouth as she watches the crowd follow her to the altar with their eyes.

Kacey and Ja'liyah linger across her groom with her cousin in the front. Walter stops Judith in front of her, and she takes her gaze off her cousin to look at her father when he tugs her hand.

He takes her face in his palms and pulls her closer, planting a kiss on her forehead as if he knows he's losing her.

He stands beside Sheryl and his children in the first row. Michael whistles the song Me and You by Brenton Wood.

***

Jerome stands over her, shaking her arm until her eyes dart open. When they do, he says, "Hey, I gotta walk you home before I head to work."