The Dining Table

They talked well into the night, the sounds of cicadas singing outside the kitchen window, with the warm dining room lit up by the white of moonlight and the small yellow glow of the old brass standing lamp in the corner of the room standing tall atop the worn white carpet. The oval wooden dining table was big; too big for just Delilah and her mother. Its daunting size made it difficult to move houses each time they were evicted, and it filled dining rooms so much that the 8 chairs surrounding the table would almost always scrape the wall if you pulled out too far. Around the edges of the table was a carved weaving pattern, like a plat, where the wood entwined. A craftmanship masterpiece that Delilah's mother, Joanne, had bought on a whim when she was starting a family with Ian, her father. For the entirety of Delilah's childhood, Joanne had protected that table like she would a child, table cloths and place mats, coasters and boards were ever present on the table, so that nothing touched its surface. Severe punishment was served should Delilah or her brother bang cutlery or dig knives into the surface; which they learnt the hard way. Sometimes Delilah would feel phantom spasms in her hand from the wooden spoon that had slapped it so many times.

The table had remained near spotless until recent years, when Delilah's family went their separate ways. Her parents getting divorced, her brother moving to New York, Delilah off to university. The table slowly disintegrated just like her family. It wasn't rare to see the table without a tablecloth these days; her mother was always too tired to handwash the laundry or too short on funds or too low on petrol to take the laundry to the laundromat. So here the table sat, on this particular evening, in the too small dining room with two opposite figures hunching over the table and notebooks held up to their faces.

Their silhouette shadow cast along the carpet and against the cream peach coloured peeling wallpaper. They sat close together, but not too close that it was inappropriate, which Lucian had to consciously ensure. He would shuffle back deeper into his chair each time he noticed his body learning forwards over the table and hunching towards her. Delilah could smell a hint of Lucian's heavy, musky cologne whenever he would move his arm to his head and push away the thick black lock of straight hair that fell in front of his eyes. He would run his fingers along the top of his scalp, slicking the hair back away from the front of his face. A stray lock slightly longer than the rest would always escape and fall to the side, brushing the slight hint of a tattoo that climbed up the back of his neck into his scalp along the side of his head where regrowth had hidden it. She answered all of his questions calmly and precisely, her voice low but confident as she recounted the events of the evening and pretended to read the back of the coke can that had long been emptied. She crushed the can a little, making it pop and crinkle by squeezing it slightly while she spoke. Lucian noticed her squeeze extra hard when she recounted the first events of the day in the bathroom at Mikael's house. She would wince at some of the questions Lucian asked, "Has this happened before?" he said.

"Yes." She hissed through clenched teeth knowing what was coming next.

"Can you please elaborate?" he pressed. His hand clenched around the pen, his eyes darting from Delilah to his notepad. Lucian had become serious and all business. There were no more longing looks or playful smiles. Just a police officer and his notepad trying to do his best to protect an innocent young girl.
"Mikael would take his anger out on me sometimes. I tried to leave. A lot. But he would just threaten me."
"What do you mean by threaten?" He asked,
"Sometimes literally. He would hold me at knife point until I swore I wouldn't leave. He probably did that, maybe…3 times? Out of our 2 years relationship." Lucian nodded and waited for her to continue, trying but failing to cover the shock on his face to the mention of knives.

"But sometimes" Delilah's head tipped to the side as if she were trying very hard to understand something, "his threats were different. Sometimes he would threaten his own life?" her pitch peaked as if she were asking Lucian, but he knew she was just as confused as he was about this particular approach. "He'd stand on the ledge and roof of his home, on the red bridge down by the creek on Coster Lane, he'd hold knives to his own wrists until I begged him to stop. He's a bad person but he didn't deserve to die." She shrugged and her eyes dropped, and she stared at her hands in her lap folded on top of each other as she contemplated the possibility of him finally doing it tonight after everything that had happened, but she was sure he wouldn't. Not if no one were around to see it. Lucian's eyes widened in surprise to her unwavering kindness, even for a man that had treated her so terribly, she continued to protect him.

"Is that as far as it went?"
"Mm. There's this other thing he would do. It's what made me too scared to leave."
Lucians eyes flickered with curiosity; this is what he had been wondering in the car. Why a woman as seemingly intelligent as Delilah would voluntarily stay in such a horrible situation. He didn't press her, he knew from experience that she would eventually tell him but his mind started going a million miles a second as he quickly ran through the possibilities of what threat could be so bad it would be the reason she stayed in such a toxic and abusive relationship. His grip on his pen tightened and his knuckles went white as his thoughts started heading in a darker direction. He hoped it was nothing compared to some of the cases he had been too lately. Lucian had just begun taking lead on a few cases again, after his down time and break had come to an end, and the crimes were just as bad as he remembered if not worse. Most recently, Lucian had taken lead on a case of dog fighting. He knew it would be difficult as an animal lover himself, but he assured himself that animals were a good place to start – they weren't humans after all. He had no idea how horrific some of the things these dogs were being made to do or having done to them. He vomited after he watched the livestream of bestiality for the first time and he cursed his career choice when he watched the second time having to analyse the background of the video closely for any clues that gave him an idea of where the filming had taken place. When he had taken on the case, he had pictured cages, chains, abused dogs and at worst bait dogs and carcasses. But some of the sick and vile things these dog fighting rinks also ran on the side made him nauseous each time they crossed his mind. He remembered he still had the paperwork to complete on that case sitting on his desk before Delilah spoke up once again.
She wiggled in her seat from side to side; her butt had gone numb from sitting still for so long before continuing.
"He would threaten other girls. Say stuff like, if I left him then he would just do it to other girls, ones younger and weaker than me. I worried that they wouldn't be able to take it like I could, and maybe he would go too far with them and they wouldn't make it." Only silence followed after her bold admission. Lucian stared at her long and hard, searching in her eyes for any traces of doubt or guilt. He couldn't fathom the idea that this situation had been so twisted in her head that she thought she was doing it to protect these theoretical women that Mikael had threatened.
"That's…- "Lucian started but trailed off not knowing where he was going with the sentence and worried, he might insult her for being so stupidly selfless.

"Insane I know." She let out a puff of breath which blew the lock of hair falling in front of her eyes to the side. Lucian looked at her a little longer before asking the age-old question, the long-awaited finale of their conversation,
"Did you want to press charges?"
Her eyes widened as she looked up from her folded hands on her lap. She readjusted in her seat and Lucian knew what was coming next before she said anything; they always blow it off and the lad almost always gets away with it. But he double took at her. Watched her square her shoulders, take in a shallow breath, put her clenched fists and long forearms on the table before looking Lucian directly in the eyes,
"If you think that's what's best. I don't want him to do this to any other girls like he said he would. I want people to know that he's horrid. Then maybe they'll be more likely to stay away from him. But mostly I just want a real restraining order on him. One he can't breach without a real punishment."
Lucian's eyes momentarily bulged before he coughed to regain what little composure was left only to follow it up with this pathetic statement, "Great. Good. That's an amazing idea. Well not amazing. Obviously not ideal. That you have to make this choice. But amazing that you are willing to do that. What you said. That's good. Good." He let out an even more pathetic breath before beginning to pack up his things to cover the redness that was creeping up the back of his neck and the deep seeded embarrassed frown lines starting to form on his temple. A small smile grew slowly onto Delilah's full lips as she nodded back; lost for words and stumped at watching the six-foot, bulky, tattooed police officer squirm.
"Is it really that uncommon? For women to press charges." She asked quietly while staring at her hands.
Lucian sighed and paused his hasty packing. Obviously, what little cover he managed to compose had been blown.

"That obvious huh?" His voice was gruff, and he shoved his hands through his hair out of habit before plonking straight back down on his chair.
She giggled in response. The sound was a shock to Lucians ears. After all they had just discussed and everything she had been through that day she still found a way to laugh. She was either completely ridiculous and had absolutely no self-preservation which Lucian suspected was true or she was genuinely happy which Lucian had no idea what to think of. Often being a police officer had one of two effects – either people were tense and stressed whenever they were around police contemplating all their past petty crimes and wondering what they're about to be caught out for. Or they're overly relaxed and comfortable because who safer to be around when the shit hits the fan that a six-foot tattooed weapon wielding trained servant of the law? It seemed Delilah was leaning towards the latter and Lucian was glad of it.

"We can sort out the restraining order relatively quick, pressing charges will take longer but it'll be worth it in the end. For closure for yourself and like you say, it'll be a good reality check for both him, his parents, anyone close to him really. And word spreads fast in close communities like this. But what's usually best about pressing charges is making sure you have no regrets. You don't want to let him off now and later down the track realise you should've pressed charges. And by then, the bruises and evidence has faded. That reminds me, "Lucian stood up again, packing his wallet and phone away, jamming his notebook and pen into his back pocket and patting his car keys in his other jeans pocket to make sure they're still there. "You should come down to the station tomorrow or as soon as possible so they can take photos of any marks and bruises he gave you and add it to your file for evidence." Delilah nodded in response and made the small sound of confirmation she liked using, a tiny deep "Mhm." Barely audible escaping her closed lips as she stood to see him out. Delilah's chair knocked the wall as she pulled out from the monstrous table, she walked around the edge of the dining table following the plait pattern before she stood beside Lucian and shuffled past him as she led the way back to the front door. This time they took a different route, through the living room where Lucian took note of the small but well stocked fireplace, a worn-out lounge suite and one of the tiniest television's he had ever laid eyes on. Lucian wasn't even sure it was from this century, it was still a box, a literal three-dimensional cube. The only tell of shock he showed was a slow blink as he was well trained in the art of hiding shock at such materialistic inequalities but Lucian had been in all sorts of poverty ridden homes in much worse shape and neighbourhoods than this one and even they had televisions made at least in the last 50 years – this thing in front of his was practically an antique, a fossil. He looked at the stained cream coloured carpet and torn wallpaper and realised the amount of decay the home was truly undergoing when one looked close enough, but the TV seemed to be another story. It wasn't wearing out or broken – it was just old, and no one had bothered to replace it. He wondered if this is because Delilah and her family never felt the need too, if it just wasn't used much and therefore not a priority and even if they would welcome or make use of a larger modern TV. Lucian shook his head slightly, flicking the tiny annoying slightly too long piece of dead straight black hair that fell in front of his eyes constantly reminding him when it was time for a haircut. His eyes fell on the curve of Delilah's lower back, her cargo pants that clung to her hips and strained ever so slightly at the thighs as they brushed together at each step. She led him down the short hallway and opened the door for him as he stepped through.
"Do you not watch much T.V?" Lucian asked before he could stop himself.
A strange question, Delilah thought but wondered if he wanted to ask about a TV show he had missed tonight or something. That's when she realised how selfish she had been not offering to put it on for him or at least had it on for background noise. It may have been a comfortable quiet night for her, but it was probably an eternity of awkward silence or boring night of work for him.
She tipped her head curiously worried, "Not really, my family and I don't watch much TV. We like movies though?" She said it as if it were a question and Lucian just nodded as if this were acceptable. He had just realised that was why her home was so quiet, there was no TV, no radio or music playing in their home to fill the silence as he had worked scribbling down her answers and notes.
"And no radio?" he insisted despite himself. He wasn't sure why it mattered but supposed he was just curious is all.

"No. I don't listen to music, not anymore." Delilah's tone hardened and her eyebrows dipped in a small frown. Lucian noticed how emotive her eyebrows were – dark and full, they move and responded fluidly with the rest her face.

It was Lucian's turn to nod, dropping the obviously sensitive subject as he stepped out onto the porch and turned to face her to say goodbye. He forgot how small she was, though her figure was full, she was still at least half a foot shorter than him, an entire head shorter than him as she only just reached to his neck. He ducked his head to see her better in the light as he said goodbye.
"Thank you for coming tonight. Seriously." Delilah's eyes were firm and genuine as she beat him too it. She had lost the hardness in her eyes from the previous questioning.
"Of course. My duty and all that." Lucian waved to the side flippantly and gripped at his hair, keeping it out of his face and clearing his view so he could meet Delilah's eyes.
"I don't have any classes tomorrow, so I'll probably come down to the station for those pictures if that's ok?" She said.
Lucian nodded, "I'll be there. My shift starts at 1." He promised.
Delilah smiled at nodded cementing their plans, "I'll see you tomorrow then."
Lucian tried again, he wasn't sure why or what possessed him to do it again, but he needed to see. So, he dropped his hand from his hair a head lower and slowly, much slower than the last time, raised it to her cheek. His thumb brushed her cheek and she stood very still, holding her breath it seemed. He tucked the loose strand of curly dark hair behind her ear and gave her one of his biggest, goofiest lopsided smiles he could muster up trying to make light of the act and secretly absolutely stoked that she hadn't flinched away this time.
"Till tomorrow then." He promised before dropping his hand and turning away before he could do something really stupid like many of the completely ridiculous things he had pretended not to think about while he walked behind her. He was just a male, and it was probably instinct, he told himself. Protecting the doe-eye innocent and all that. Delilah didn't take a breath until Lucian had turned away grateful that she hadn't flinched and shocked by the boyish grin he had given and the promise he had made of tomorrow. The roar of his car brought her back down to earth as she folded her arms and leant against the threshold seeing him off and giving him a small smile before he pulled out the driveway and sped off down the hill.
She turned back into her home and, for once, rushed to bed looking forward to the day to come.