by Mina Bennett
Oddly enough, I did.
"Well," she said. "Do you mind if I pass the news along? We started a prayer chain this morning, and everybody's going to be curious. I'm sure they'll be glad to hear about the latest."
"Sure," I said. "Thanks." Until now, I hadn't realized that it was Sunday morning. She was probably standing outside of the lobby while everyone else socialized.
"All right," she said. "I'll be praying for you guys."
"Thanks," I said.
It all came back to me in a rush - last night, the conversation, the breakup. The look on her face. It seemed ridiculously insignificant now, but there was still a sad feeling knotted up in my stomach.
And, as much as I hated to admit it, I wondered - when Lily went back inside and started sharing the good news, would Marissa be there?
I shook off my thoughts, and headed back into Sara's room.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Marissa
"So," Mark said, rinsing a knife off and drying it on one of his lint-free kitchen towels. "I heard Jacob's sister is doing better, they're thinking of letting her out of the hospital in a few days."
"Really?" I said, closing the fridge. "That's good news."
Things had been...chilly, to say the least, since our last argument. We hadn't discussed Sara's accident, but it was all the buzz at church. I felt sick with worry but I thought I'd hidden it well.
I could feel him watching me while I set down some vegetables on the counter. "You didn't know?" he asked, with a tone in his voice that made me clench my teeth a little.
"No," I said. "Guess I must have missed it."
"You haven't been talking to Jacob lately, then?"
"No," I said, again. "Is there any garlic?"
"Right behind you. Are you sure? I thought you guys were fast friends."
I went to fetch a few cloves - I did know exactly where they were, and clearly my diversion tactic hadn't worked in the least. "I thought you didn't like it when I talked to him."
"I never said that." He wasn't even pretending to be involved in the food preparation anymore. "But I won't say I'm unhappy, if you're decided to pull back a little bit."
"Well, he has a girlfriend now too. So everything's just great."
"Oh, you didn't hear?" He took a few steps closer to me. "No, she's going to Southwestern. So it's over between them."
My throat tightened. I set the big wooden cutting board down on the counter. "She said that? Or you just assume?"
"Oh, no." He was standing even closer now. "She broke up with him. Wants to get a fresh start, or at least that's what I heard."
"Well," I said. "She must not have been too attached to him, then."
There was a long silence. Finally, he spoke again.
"Must not have been," he said, very quietly. "So," he said, his tone suddenly louder and brighter. "Let's get that oven preheating, hmm?"
***
The next day, my mom called in the afternoon and asked if I wanted to come out shopping with her. I didn't feel like I could reasonably say no, so I texted Mark to let him know where I'd be, in case he got back from classes before we were finished. He never responded, but I could see from the notification that he'd opened it.
Mom was in a good mood - friendly and generous, buying me a few nice trinkets and treating me to a mid-afternoon snack at the pretzel stand. It reminded me of the trips we used to take to this same mall when I was little, how I always wanted to spend all day in the playspace that had a giant foam-rubber spaceship and a beautiful carousel. We passed by it, halfway between the figurine store and the food court. Everything looked so small now. I knew it was just a matter of perspective, but it was hard to believe they hadn't turned around and shrunk it down, when I wasn't looking.
When I got home, I didn't see Mark's car in the driveway, but the garage was closed, so he might be parked inside. I let myself in, wiping my feet on the mat inside.
"Mark?" I unwound my scarf and draped it over the coat rack. "You there?"
He had no reason not to be - that I knew of, anyway. Besides, the house had that warm, lived-in feeling that indicated somebody was home. But he wasn't in the kitchen or living room, so I shed the rest of my winter clothes and headed upstairs. "Mark? Are you..."
I froze in the upstairs hallway. He was sitting on the bed, staring me right in the face. Sitting on the comforter in front of him was something small, rectangular, and plastic.
Pink plastic.
My heart thudded in my throat.
"Marissa," he said, softly. "What are these pills?"
I hugged myself tightly. "They're birth control," I said. "When I was a kid, I got sick..."
He raised his hand, eyes closed for a moment. "Marissa, please stop."
For a while, I stood there in silence, just listening to the sound of my own breathing.
"I don't think I even need to tell you how disappointed I am," he said, his voice cold and even. "That you'd do this without even discussing it with me."
"But we didn't," I said, my voice sounding faint in my own ears. "We didn't talk about it ever. I'm not lying, I've been on the pill since I was thirteen. I got sick, it was...it wasn't for that. But then you never said you wanted kids, so I just..." I swallowed thickly. "I didn't stop taking them."
With a sudden burst of movement, Mark jumped off the bed, snatching up the pills and throwing them into the floor so hard they bounced. I winced as he came towards me, pushing forward until he had me backed against the wall. "I can't believe," he said, his voice trembling with barely-restrained fury, "that you'd even try to make excuses to me. This is a partnership, Mari. We make decisions as a team. As a single unit. You didn't even give me a chance to tell you what I wanted. You knew I wouldn't be okay with this, or you would have said something. You were being secretive, and sneaky, and everything that a good wife would never be."
Hot tears were sliding down my cheeks. He was right. I'd been secretive. I hadn't told him on purpose, because...because...
"Who the hell would want to have kids with you?" I heard someone shriek, realizing only a moment later that it was me. I felt my face grow bright red, and Mark actually stepped back a few paces, shock written across his features.
"How..." he breathed. "Mari, how could you say something like that to me?"
He looked wounded. A barb of guilt went through my heart, but then I remembered. No. No. I had to stop letting him do this to me.
"You don't care about anyone but yourself," I shouted, through my sobs. "That poor little kid at VBS. That used to be me, but you don't even care. You only cared about me because you saw me and you...you wanted me. You lusted after me and that made you act like you cared, but now I know you didn't mean it. You...you..."
He was frowning at me, backed up against the opposite wall now, like a hurt animal. "You're not making any sense," he said. "We can talk about this again when you calm down."
"No!" I advanced on him, and he actually flinched a little. "We're going to talk about it now. We're going to talk about how you pretend to be so righteous, then you turn around and criticize me for the way I dress...make me feel bad...make me feel like a whore...all so you can get me to take those clothes off and..."
He was just looking at me with a hint of a smile on his face, and it chilled me to the bone.
"That's right," he said, softly. "You were such a little firecracker before we were married. I could barely keep you off of me. One night you insisted I give you wine, and we both got a little tipsy...you started getting undressed...I never should have taken those pictures, Mari, you know. That was wrong. I should have let you forget about that particular transgression. After all, we all make mistakes. And the pictures were mine. But I'm sure you don't want anyone else to see those, do you, Mari?"
"Are you..." My voice shook. I didn't know what the hell was happening anymore. "Are you threatening me?"
"Threatening?" he repeated, like he'd never heard the word before. "Mari, I just want to have a family with you. I
want you to stop taking those pills." He smiled slightly. "And now, I know you've been hiding from me. I'll know to keep an eye on you. And if you try to keep them a secret from me again, you won't just feel like a whore anymore." There was a cold glint in his eyes, though his mouth kept on smiling. "The whole town will know you are."
I almost wanted to pinch myself because a part of me couldn't believe this was real. But on the other hand, my head was startlingly clear. I saw Mark in sharp relief for the first time since we'd met, and I suddenly knew that everything he presented - everything he pretend to be - was nothing more than a lie.
I'd wanted to believe in him, because of the way he looked at me. Because he bothered to talk to me, when everyone else had given up on the sad, strange little girl. In spite of everything, in spite of the way he treated me, I wanted to believe he was a good man.
How could I have been so stupid?
I turned and hurried towards the stairs. Before I even reached the top step, he reached out and grabbed my arm, yanking me back.
"Where on earth do you think you're going?" he asked, with a hint of laughter in his voice. Like the idea that I was going to leave was just a big, stupid joke.
I felt sick.
"Let me go!" I shouted, trying to jerk my arm out of his iron grip.
"Mari, Mari, Mari," he said, soothingly, his fingers digging so hard into my skin I was sure they'd leave bruises. "Come on, sweetheart, be reasonable."
"I am being reasonable," I said. "I'm being very reasonable. Let me go."
His grip was unflinching.
"I'll scream for help," I said.
"I'll give you something to scream about." His grip tightened even further. I could feel my own pulse pounding under his fingers.
"If you don't let me go," I said, "I'm going to tell them everything." I let that sink in for a moment. "Everything."
"I'm not afraid of you," he said, but his eyes told a different story.
"You think you can hold those pictures over my head forever?" I jerked my arm one more time, and I thought I felt his grip loosen, just a tiny bit. "You think you can keep me quiet? Everybody's got a breaking point. You can't control me. I won't let you. Not anymore."
His nostrils were flaring with every breath. When he spoke, it was through clenched teeth. "When I came here," he said, "you had nothing. A dysfunctional family, no friends, no future. I gave you everything. Do you have any idea what kind of debt you owe me? And here you are, threatening me. I wish I could go back in time and erase the first day I ever talked to you - you selfish, vindictive little ingrate."
"I wish you could, too," I heard myself say, very calmly. "But here we are."
He was staring at me - angry, yes, but astonished too. Like he couldn't believe that I wasn't throwing myself at his feet, begging for forgiveness. After everything he'd done.
He didn't expect this.
So much for "the gift of discernment."
Finally, slowly, he let me go. I ran down the stairs and didn't turn back, not even once.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Jacob
Sara had been completely stable for a few days now, doing so much better that they wanted to release her tomorrow, as long as her scans all came back clear. It was my last night taking care of the house alone, and I was celebrating by wasting time on point-and-click shooters and not thinking about loans, or Lily, or anything or anyone else.
The pounding on the door shook me out of my half-stupor. I was parked in front of the computer, as usual, but I wasn't really looking at the screen. I should have gone to bed hours ago, but that would be admitting defeat.
I groaned, dragging myself up out of the chair. Who on earth could it be? I didn't know why, but I had a feeling it was going to be something ridiculous that I'd regret even standing up for.
More knocking. "All right, all right!" I shouted, as I pulled the door open. "What?"
Marissa was standing there.
I blinked, and briefly considered pinching myself.
"I'm sorry," were the first words out of her mouth. "I didn't know where else to go."
"I..." I stepped back. "You...what's..."
"Can I come in?"
"Of course. Of course you can come in." I shut the door behind her, still reeling. "Is...are you...is everything okay?"
She bit her lip, and I could see it begin to quiver. She'd obviously been crying, from the look of her eyes. "No," she admitted, finally. "Nothing's okay. Are your parents home?"
I shook my head, and she sagged with relief. "I just need to...I just need to think, you know? I can't go home right now. Mom and Dad...I just can't face them."
"Why? What happened? I mean - if you want to talk about it."
"I don't even know, really." She looked shell-shocked. "Can I - do you mind if I just get a drink of water? I ran most of the way here."
"Of course, yeah. I'm sorry. I should've..." I hurried to the fridge and fetched her a bottle. "Here. You want something to eat?"
She shook her head, taking a long drink and wiping her mouth before she continued. "I think...I don't know. Mark just..." She sat down on the sofa, hunching forward with her arms around her knees. She looked miserable. "I don't even know where to start. There's just so much...stuff."
I shrugged. "Start wherever you want," I said. "I'm happy to listen."
She took a long, shaky breath. "I've been...okay. I don't know if you remember a couple years ago when I was in the hospital. They asked for prayer for me in the service, I think."
"Yeah, no, I remember." How could I forget? "They said it was, you know, female trouble." I felt my ears grow slightly pink.
She half-smiled. "Yeah, that's one way to describe it. Anyway, they - the treatment they chose for me was to go on the pill. You know, birth control. It's not just for that. It changes the hormones in your body, you know, it helps...like...regulate everything. So they thought it would help me not get sick again."
I nodded. I had a bad feeling that I knew where this was going, but I kept my mouth shut and let her talk.
"I've been on it forever, it was just sort of...a part of my routine. And Mark, when we got married, he never said anything about kids. I guess around here, you just assume. Somebody's getting married, they start a family. But he never brought it up, so I didn't either. I guess that was wrong. I should have said something. Things would be different if I had, that's for sure." She let out another unsteady breath. "So he found out that I was taking it, and he got really mad."
A very unpleasant feeling was growing inside my chest. "What do you mean, really mad?"
"He..." her eyes darted from side to side. Oh, no. It couldn't be. Could it? She didn't have any bruises on her that I could see, but that didn't mean...
She swallowed, and finally finished her sentence. "He threatened me," she said, at last.
That just left more unanswered questions in my mind. "Threatened to do...what?"
She looked up at me like a cornered animal. "I can't tell you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I did...I did a bad thing."
My forehead creased. "You did - what do you mean, you did a bad thing?"
Tears were starting to form in her eyes again. I quickly backed off.
"Mari, look, you don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to. I just...it seems like you really want to get it off your chest. You know I won't...judge you, or anything."
The tears were flowing freely now, and she talked through barely-restrained sobs. "You don't know, Jacob. You don't know what happened. What he...he made me...no, he didn't make me do anything. But I, you know, I just wanted him to be happy. He wouldn't stop. He wouldn't leave me alone. I knew we weren't married yet, but we were going to be soon, so what difference did it make, right?" Her eyes were pleading. I tasted bile in my mouth.
"Mari," I said. "What did he make you do?"
She must have heard something in my voice, because her eyes grew even wider. "Oh no, no, no!" she insisted. "Nothing like that, I swear. He
's not..." She stopped, taking a deep breath. "He's not that kind of...well..."
I was slightly relieved, but confused. What had he coerced her into? Did I even want to know?
"It's too embarrassing," she whimpered, staring at the floor. "It's...you're never going to think about me the same way, if I tell you."
"I seriously doubt that." I sat down next to her, wanting very badly to take her hands in mine. But I didn't. "You can tell me. You know you can tell me."
She was silent for such a long time that I thought she might be angry with me. Then, finally, she looked right at me and said it:
"He took pictures."
The words settled in the bottom of my stomach like lead. "Pictures?" I repeated, as if I didn't know exactly what she meant.
"Nothing...it's not..." She was scrambling to clarify, now. "He didn't touch me. We didn't do anything. But he took pictures of me. He..." She stopped with a pained sound, and then finally continued, very softly. "...asked me to undress."
"Mari." I looked at her, forcing myself to stay calm. To stay grounded. She needed that right now; she needed that from me. If there was anything I was good at, it was being the solid rock in the midst of chaos. "Mari, it wasn't your fault."
She started sobbing outright, unable to hold it back anymore. "But I...but he...but...I could have said no," she managed. "I should have been strong, why couldn't I..." The rest of her sentence was lost in her tears.
I couldn't even begin to rationally process what I was hearing. I'd dismissed most of my odd feelings about Mark to jealousy, whether consciously or not, and now it was hitting me like a ton of bricks. I'd been right all along. He was preying on Mari's innocence, convincing her to put herself in a compromising position, and then making her feel responsible...
"I should've..." She had finally calmed down enough to speak. "He kept telling me the way I dressed was making it hard for him to...to think straight...I should've..."
"What?" I snapped so loud that she started. "I'm sorry," I said, more quietly. "But did you - he said something about the way you dress?"
"He said it was..." She sniffled. "Immodest. I don't know...I tried to wear stuff that was baggy, and plenty long. But I guess I didn't do a good enough job. I wish I'd, I don't know. I wish I'd tried harder."
