by Jade Eby
At least he has air conditioning there.
The sweltering heat and lack of A.C. Unit in my trailer means an abnormal amount of showers today. I turn the nozzle on cold and step in the shower, letting the water cool my scorching skin. I wince when the droplets hit my ribcage. I look down and the asymmetrical round bruise stares back at me.
I focus on doing tasks that will make me forget.
Forget that my skin is starting to look like Carter's did the night he came to see me. The ones that left me disgusted and angry and so sure he'd never do that to me.
There are days when I look at my body and wonder what I've done. What horrible sin I've committed to have to pay for Carter's love with my body. I've given him everything. All of me. Heart, body and soul.
Sometimes it just never feels like enough.
I pad down the hall to my room after my shower. Slide on underwear.
"Shit."
Jumping at the sound, I see my mother standing in my doorway, her hand at her mouth.
I rush to cover my body with the towel.
"What the hell, Mom? Ever heard of knocking?"
She comes in, wobbling on her feet. Why does it not surprise me that she's been drinking already?
"I didn't know you were home. Heard a noise. Thought someone was breaking in."
"Just me. Can you get out of my room, please?"
She points to my ribcage. "What happened?"
"I fell on the gravel path up by Winneshiek Park."
She raises her eyebrows. "That doesn't look like something you'd get falling."
Maybe she isn't as drunk as I thought.
"Well it is."
"He's hitting you, isn't he?"
I sneer at her. "No, he's not. And even if he was, why do you care? Have you fallen down and hit your head and decided to finally be a mother?"
She tries to stand stick-straight. As if to prove to me she doesn't have a drop of alcohol in her system. "Your father used to get mean when he was drunk. Wasn't anything I couldn't handle. But that's it isn't it? He gets a little loosey goosey on the bottle and knocks you around?"
"You are a real piece of work, Mom. You know that?"
"Acceptance is the first step, dear. Or so they say at AA."
I laugh meanly. "Oh, that's classic. You in AA. Since when?"
"I've gone to a few meetings lately. They're helping your father and I work through our… issues."
"Don't you mean your addictions? Issues is putting things lightly. You guys need more help than AA is gonna give you."
She stands up, wobbling. She raises a hand, like she's going to be the one to give me a slap, punch or hit herself.
"You can't even stand up on your own," I say. "Real good job they're doing at AA."
Her lips contort into a half sneer-scowl. Her sagging, gray skin trembling. She is an ugly woman now. I wish she could see what I do. How the drugs and alcohol have turned her into a wicked person.
"I raised such a fucking bitch. I don't know what he sees in you anyway."
"Raised? You can't even use that word," I say, getting up into her face, the towel still clutched against my chest. "I raised myself, mother."
She moves around me to the doorway. "You know, if you didn't piss him off, maybe he wouldn't punish you."
"He doesn't hit me."
"Keep telling yourself that lie long enough, maybe you'll believe it. I know you think I'm a stupid woman, but I've learned a few things in this life. And it's if you tell yourself something long and hard enough, it starts becoming true."
"Life lessons from the drunkard. Classic."
She narrows her eyes at me. "You think you're so smart, with a nice little ring on your finger. A handsome fiancé on your arm. He'll ruin your life. Bet you didn't know that his father likes to go to the Dew Drop on occasion. Big, broad man with a buzzed head. Military man," she says.
"This is just pathetic, Mom. You're life is so shitty that you have to make up lies."
She gives me a small, sad smile. "You're blind, daughter. You're so in love with that boy you can't see the writing on the wall. He doesn't love you. He likes to use you. For your pretty face. Your body. He'll throw you away the minute someone prettier, younger comes along."
"Fuck you, Mom. Get out of my room. Now." I say, walking toward the door.
She keeps rambling. "You know I'm right. You just don't want to admit it. You're better off getting out of it now, while you can."
I slam the door in her face and lock it. I scramble for the t-shirt I left on my bed and slide it on.
"Don't come crawling back to me when you realize I'm right. If I'm such a fucking terrible mother, you won't need me anyway."
"Go away!" I scream.
And she does, because there's nothing left to say. Nothing left to argue about.
She's a drunk. A drug-addict. What does she know?
I collapse on my bed. I've mastered the art of silent crying. It's the only way to do it anymore. I cry so hard, my body spasms. The bruise on my ribcage is nothing compared to the one covering my heart. It throbs with every tear. Every word from my mother that I replay back. Every time Carter's fist hit me this summer.
It throbs with every time he takes my hand in his. Every time his lips meet mine and the world falls away around us. Every time he tells me how much he loves me and I feel it down to my bones. I feel it soften every molten vein inside of me.
I want to believe that I have nothing to do with what Carter does to me. But the truth is - it's my fault. We're the same person inside. His anger is mine. His pain is mine.
When he pushes, I push back harder.
His fists become mine and I fight back.
I am as much Carter as he is me.
And that's why I know no matter how purple and black my skin turns, I'll never leave him. He needs me to be the person no one else can be for him.
He's never needed anyone the way he needs me.
I love him and that's the only reason I need to stay with him.
Chapter 3
January - 2002
When you grow up with next to nothing - it's so much easier to pack all your shit up. I manage to get my three suitcases and six boxes to the living room by myself. The house is empty - my mother refused to be here when I left. Even if she would've been here - it's not like she would have been of any help.
It's been a tense year with her. After I got my waitressing job at Sherry's Diner, I started paying her rent, even though she didn't ask. She said she wasn't going to take hand-outs from her daughter.
How motherly of her.
But even our strained relationship can't dampen what the day holds for me.
Carter and I are finally moving into an apartment. We saved up enough for the deposit and he got a lucky break with some construction at the end of last summer.
This past winter though - that's what saved us. To say I'm tired of the snow is an understatement. Even for Minnesota, we've been dumped on. Carter has loved it because of the snow plowing job he's working with Grayson. They've been swamped. He was even able to buy a used truck.
I look out the frosted kitchen window. It sucks moving in this weather but I'm ready.
I've been waiting for this moment for way too long. The day I would be free of my parents. Of this cramped trailer. Of this shitty neighborhood.
I've been graduated for almost two years and it's like I haven't moved an inch. My life has stayed still while everyone around me seems to move forward.
This is the next step in my life. Carter and I's life.
His truck rumbles over the snow packed path and he parks it close to the trailer. He's shivering when he gets to the door.
"Sorry I'm late. Getting the bed and dresser up three flights of stairs was a pain in the ass. We should have waited for the first floor one to open."
I kiss him on the cheek, the chill of it sending shivers down my spine. "No more waiting. I'm so ready to go. I don't have much anyway."
He looks at the boxes
and suitcases.
"Don't think this is an excuse for you to go shopping," he teases.
"Shut up and help me load this shit."
It takes us about ten minutes and he asks if I need a few minutes to say goodbye.
"Why would I do that? Leaving here is the best thing that can happen to me. I won't miss a second of this place," I say.
He shrugs. "I thought maybe it's like closure or some shit like that."
I wrap my arm in his. "You're sweet. But you're the only closure I need. Let's go home."
We drive off and I do exactly what I told myself I wouldn't. I look back at my trailer and watch as it gets smaller the further away we drive.
I'm never going back there again and I revel in the fact that I have never been more relieved.
* * *
"What do we do now?" I ask once all my stuff has been moved in and put away. It's strange being with someone for years but never actually having lived with them. I don't know what to do with myself.
"Anything we want," Carter says, laughing.
"Hungry? I could make dinner?"
He opens the cupboard and fridge - both of which are empty.
"I guess that's a no. We need to go grocery shopping, apparently."
He comes over and picks me up, setting me on the kitchen counter. He runs his hands through my hair. "I could think of a few things we could do before then."
I raise my eyebrows. "Oh yeah? Like deep cleaning the bathroom? Hanging all your work clothes up? Watching a movie?"
He shakes his head. "I was thinking something a little more… fun."
I lean down to kiss him. "More fun than… cleaning. This has to be good."
He takes my bottom lip between his teeth and sucks in lightly. Jesus. We've done this so many times and yet, being here?
It feels brand new. Like the first time we're actually kissing. The first time we're about to make love.
He picks me up off the counter and takes me to the bedroom. He strips off my shirt, gently, like he's scared I may break. Doesn't he know that I'm simply putty beneath his hands? I'm clay in his hands and I offer myself to him to be molded. Shaped.
I am his canvas and he is my God.
He kisses the exposed flesh of my neck and he busies his hands by cupping my breasts. I'm not well endowed, but it's enough for him.
Somedays, I think I'll never be enough and then Carter reminds me that I'm always enough for him.
His mouth moves south, kissing every inch of pale skin he can see. He flicks my erect nipple with his tongue and I moan.
"Someone's getting horny," he says, landing kisses on the valley between my breasts.
I put a finger to my lips. "Shh. Less talking. More kissing."
He laughs and continues his kisses downward. God, I love when he does this. His mouth becomes a bomb against my skin. Building, slowly, surely to a point where it will explode and destroy everything in it's war path.
He's always preferred the slow burn rather than the quick flame. He says, it makes me work for it. That orgasms are always better when they're deserved. And it's torturous, waiting for that fleeting moment where the world falls away and it's only Carter and me. Our mouths. Our bodies dancing to a rhythm only the two of us can hear.
His lips reach my inner thigh and the torture will begin. The painstaking care that he takes with placing his mouth in all the right places at the right moment for the perfect length of time. It's like a game for him.
See how long I can rile Tawny up until she begs for release.
His tongue delves into me and the first pulse of pleasure hits me. I pull my legs to my chest so he has me at the best angle. So he can explore all of me uninterrupted by dangling, twisted limbs.
He parts me with this fingers and does a combination of licking and sucking. I close my eyes and let the fire build in my belly.
I am usually good at containing my pleasure. Letting it ride out until I'm sure I'm ready to give in to Carter. But tonight, the emotions of the day are too high. There are too many feelings inside of me fighting for control. I don't want to play Carter's game tonight.
I just want to come and have it leave my body achy and weightless.
"Deeper," I whisper to Carter.
His tongue speeds up, licking, roving and sucking. I'm almost there. Too quickly. I could hold back, keep it subsided but why?
We have the rest of our lives for prolonged orgasms.
I hang my legs off his shoulders and push into him. His tongue reaches a place deep inside of me - a place that tips me over the precarious edge.
"I'm coming. Oh! Fuck!" The wave of pleasure and desire rips through my entire body until I'm quivering in the aftermath. Carter moves from between my legs and wipes his mouth.
"That was quick," he says, pulling off his pants. It's his turn and I'm going to be much harder on him than he was on me.
I want to draw this out so he knows how much his pleasure means to me. I want him to work harder for it simply because he can.
Because we're finally where we want to be. Together.
I sit up, the perspiration drips from my forehead. Having an orgasm is hard work.
"Your turn," I say.
"I'm ready," he says back.
"Not for this one…" I say, cupping his balls in my hand.
March - 2002
I smell like fried chicken and mashed potatoes. Sherry's Diner is famous for it and it's all I've served tonight.
"Think we'll get a freaking break?" Austin whispers to me as I clean off the table next to his.
The restaurant is still packed full of hungry patrons and the host is still directing people to their seats.
"I don't think so. At least we'll have pockets full of tips," I say.
He sighs. "One can hope."
Austin's worked here for a few years, working his way through college. He has this surfer boy look about him. The customers eat it up. He could have climbed right out of one of those damn fashion magazines. I joke that he should be modeling instead of being a waiter at a small diner. He just laughs and says he wasn't built for sultry poses.
"How're things at the new place?" he asks, wiping down the table over and over, though it's clean as it's going to get.
"Oh you know… fine."
He raises his eyebrows. "Just fine?"
"What else were you expecting?"
He grins. "Enthusiasm. Excitement. Jubilance."
I shake my head and laugh. "When have I ever been one of those things?"
He thinks on this for a minute. "Touché. I don't know how you get away with being so morose around the customers. You never get complaints."
I shrug again. "I'm a mysterious kind of gal, Austin. Either that, or they're afraid of me."
"You are pretty scary," he says, throwing me the wet washcloth.
"Go do something useful." I laugh and it's real and genuine and yet my ribcage aches against the latest round of bruises I got from Carter the other night.
Washing off the table, I let my mind wander. What would it feel like to laugh like that all the time? Without pain? Without restriction?
"Having a good night?" The voice of my fiancé roots me in place.
I turn around and am face to face with Carter.
"It's been busy," I say and gesture around me, "as you can see."
He narrows his eyes. "Apparently not busy enough to keep you from chattering with your little friend over there."
I follow his glance to Austin. Shit. I do not need this right now.
"He was asking me about our tips, Carter. Nothing more. Why are you even here?"
He steps closer to me and the table closest to us turns their eyes our way. "Tips must be pretty funny then, huh?"
I side-step him and smile at him. "I need to get back to work. Thanks for checking in though."
"You're not gonna ask me what I'd like to eat? Am I not good enough to be one of your customers?"
I clench my teeth together. Why is he doing this to me? Why now?<
br />
"Sure, sir, you can sit right here. I'll get you a menu."
Walking away, I don't look back. Just don't cry. Just don't cry. Jesus, I cry at the drop of a dime these days. It takes all my strength to keep it on lock down.
I grab a menu from an empty table and hand it over to Carter.
"You know what I want, already."
"Mushroom burger with bacon fries and a beer?"
He smiles at me and for the slightest of seconds, it disarms me. I haven't seen a smile from him in a few days. Or weeks. "You got it."
"I'll put the order in and have it out to you right away."
"Thanks so much, miss," he says.
When I get to the kitchen, Austin is already back there.
"You okay?"
I nod. "Of course. Why?"
He gives me one of his worried looks. "He looked pissed or something."
"That's just his look. He's fine. Hard day at work I think."
Austin stares at me for a few seconds, trying to decode my expression. "Okay. Just… let me know if you need anything."
I laugh. "Thanks, but I'm good."
Lying has become my superpower. I can do it in my sleep, now. If he could read me as well as he thinks he can - he'd know that I'm not good. I'm far from good, lately.
I've learned that people don't want to look further than what meets the eye. And that's fine with me. I don't want them to see the truth anyway.
* * *
I get home later than usual. The diner didn't slow down until almost closing and some kid at one of my tables dropped his glass of milk and entire platter of Mac and Cheese. It was a pain in the ass to clean up.
The apartment door opens up before I even touch the handle.
