A Stalker From My Past

My tireless effort to stay away from Lester goes down the drain as I stare at him. His hands are still on my waist, his red gaze searches for explanations beyond my knowledge.

“Counsel.”

The bailiff’s call ignites my sanity, and I quickly flinch from his grip, gathering the disseminated documents on the marble floor.

He's still standing, lost in his thoughts, when I hurry back to the courthouse. There's no point in hiding after colliding with Lester.

I settle down on my bench while the judge explains his findings with the jury. I try to pay attention, but the embarrassment and shocking moment in the hallway keeps replaying in my mind.

Lester walks in, disorganizing my thoughts all over. He's sitting across from me, next to Becky, his lawyer. His stares straight ahead, his gaze rivets on me.

My client hurries out of the court room immediately the judge’s final verdict favors the defendant, Lester.

Maybe Felicia was right. Maybe he was scared of Lester. Maybe Lester threatened him to hide information from me.

Sounds of laughter, murmurs, chitchat, scrapping of chairs as people leave, footsteps, eclipse the courthouse once more.

Everyone's attention is on Lester, most of them women. They try to get him to sign autographs.

I take that as a vantage to leave the hall. His eyes are on me as I make my way towards the doors. I refuse to regard him, but my reflex strains towards disobeying.

“Hillary,” Becky calls at the parking lot. She scurries to where I'm standing close to my white Jeep Grand Wagoneer.

She stops three inches from me, a smirk of defeat plays on her face.

“Tell me,” she says, inspecting her press-on nails as she crosses her arms, still smirking. Then she looks back at me. “How does it feel to lose for the first time?”

“That's cheap coming from you.” I scoff, shaking my head in dismay. “You lost to me in every case, over…” I enunciate the words as I close the gap between us. My voice reduces to a whisper. “and over again. I didn't ask you how it felt, I didn't ask you anything. Now you want to know how I feel?”

I scowl at the sight of Becky that irks me. She used to be an angel back in the university, before I lost everything.

Now, she shows up in almost every case I take, acting aloof and hostile.

She presses her lips together, then releases them. “Your confidence stinks, and that's why everyone hates you. You're a submissive. Act like one.”

“Thanks for reminding me I don't act submissive. I'll keep that in mind.” I pivot and stomp off, entering the jeep.

Edward closes the door, and slides behind the wheel. The engine steams to life.

He's driving out of the parking lot when I say, “Take me home.”

Long after the drive, I'm in my room, sitting on the hard floor. My hands are weaved around my curled up legs. My chin rests on my knees. I can't shake off Lester's image in my head. The shameful and regretful moment keeps replaying in my head.

The light, warmth of the piano drifts to my room, lifting my mood completely.

I smile, sobbing softly, impressed by Hayden's attempt to cheer me up. 

 He hasn't played for a while, but he chose today, when I needed his tune the most, to play. Edward must have told him about the case.

I leave my room and head downstairs, patting my face dry.

At the landing of the stairs, I stand by, watching him play, his fingers move effortlessly. His head nods to the sound.

Tears streak my face at the joyous sight. There's no joy greater than this.

Drenched in delight, I scurry to my wonderful goddess-given son, hugging him from behind, my hands loose around him.

He stops and holds my forearms.

“Thanks a lot.” I peck him on the cheek. “It means a lot to me.”

“I'm glad you liked it.” He smiles.

“Oh, I loved it.” I hold his wig, gently removing it. “You’re home now. You don't need it.”

Outside, Hayden has to wear a black wig to cover his dark red hair, same color with Lester's. No one knows his real hair color, except the people living under this roof and the hospital where he was born. 

“No.” He stresses the word and tips his head back, looking at me.

“Why?” I'm arranging his hair, adjusting it so it fits again.

He rises to his feet. “Allow me.” His palm flattens on his chest. “Hayden Benjamin to take…” he motions at me. “you on an ice cream date.”

The tips of my fingers are on my lips. Happiness bubbles up in my lungs, urging me to squeal ‘yes’, like a teenager who has been asked on a date.

“Mmm.” I take his hand. “That sounds so right.”

Determined to hold on to his hand, I had Edward bring me some sneakers and phone from my room.

I'm looking at the stack of flavors of ice cream in a paper cup, surprised. Hayden had the ice cream attendant scoop out every pink-colored ice cream into my paper cup.

According to him, girls love everything pink.

I take the wooden spoon, scooping out the ice cream and having a taste. It melts quickly in my mouth. The sweet strawberry ice cream tastes divine.

“Mmm.” I take another spoon. “Not bad.”

“I know, right,” he says across from me in the booth. His face brightens with a smile. “I heard ice cream lifts the spirit.”

He continues to enjoy his vanilla ice cream that's piled up like mine. He barely takes a break after spooning his mouth.

I end up watching my son enjoy his ice cream, feeling accomplished I gave him the luxurious life he deserves. I can't stop being happy each time I think about it.

I sigh softly and look around. The ice cream is big and posh. Many booths are taken by friends, families and people on a date like Hayden and I.

I look back at Hayden, then at my ice cream. Poking the ice cream with the wooden spoon, I say, “Edward really has eyes for good spots. This place is beautiful.”

“Yeah.” He quickly licks a scoop of ice cream from his wooden spoon and takes a quick glance of the shop. “But, Edward didn't tell me about the place. My friends did.”

“Friends?” I ask, adjusting back in the booth, surprised. Hayden isn't the type that makes friends. 

“Actually, they're twins.”

I stretch my hand, thumbing his cheek. “I’m proud of you.”

My phone vibrates, and I look at the screen. It's an unknown number. I ignore the call and resume licking the ice cream, regretting why I brought the phone with me. Enjoying this moment with Hayden is my utmost goal.

The call comes again, and I decide to take it.

“Who's it?” I lick a scoop of ice cream.

“Hello, Attorney—”

Tensed, I quickly cut the call after recognizing the caller’s voice. I try to block the line, but his incoming call interrupts. I reject the call and block the number quickly.

“Who is it?” Hayden asks, concerned.

I shake my head, dropping the phone. “Nobody.”

My phone rings again.

“Well, nobody is calling.” He carries on with his ice cream.

“Is not…” I pause, my breath hitches. It's a different unknown number. He might be the one calling with this number.

He must be a psycho for calling with different lines.

I switch my phone off, the best way to solve the problem.

Restless, I tuck my bobbed hair behind my ear, carefully examining the perimeters of the ice cream shop.

“Mrs. Benjamin,” Edward calls in his manly voice, striding towards the booth. “A prospective client is trying to get to you on the phone. He called and asked—”

“Edward!” I hit my forearms on the booth. Everyone's attention shits towards me, including Hayden's. I reduce my voice. “I’m busy.”

Edward’s phone is ringing. The thought of Lester being the caller ripples my nerves. I clench my hands, battling with the urge to smash his phone so that it stops ringing.

“It's a client, Mom,” Hayden whispers.

I manage a smile. “It’s beyond work time.”

I tilt my head, looking at Edward. “Tell him to find another lawyer, and I highly recommend Becky.”

“I will.” He scurries out, picking the call on his way out.

“Let me settle the bill.” Hayden is quick to leave the booth before I could protest.

I sigh softly. My head is switching sides, ensuring that Lester is spotted quickly on arrival.

I'm already out of the booth when Hayden comes back with a receipt. He puts it in his wallet as we leave the ice cream shop.

Hayden and I are in the backseat as Edward drives us home. I'm cuddling him as we bring our palms together, sizing them.

He snorts, and I laugh.

I try to focus on what we're doing rather than let my fragile heart lead my thoughts. I don't want to think of the reasons he's calling. Not as if he has one.

“Goddess!” Edward exclaims.

Edward jerks the wheel to the left, trying to dodge a pedestrian who's crossing the road. The tires screech furiously.

Hayden and I lurch forward, but the seatbelts pull us back. We hit the leather seat hard.

Frantically, I tighten my grip on Hayden to shield him. 

The jeep rams into a metal.

The impact deprives me of air, an

d Hayden cries out.

I struggle to open my eyes, scared something is gravely wrong.