by Jade Eby
Pouring the sugar, I'm deliberate in my slowness. "I've always been told that."
"My daughter was the exact opposite. She acted every bit her age. Wild, crazy girl."
Was? Maybe they're not close anymore.
"I was crazy once, too," I say.
Turning toward her, I set the measuring cup in front of her carefully.
"But not anymore?" she asks.
I shake my head.
"Why not?"
I shrug. "Life has a way of cutting out the crazy, I guess."
She lifts an eyebrow. "Ah. You're much wiser than your twenty three years, too."
Seeing her sweating glass of tea reminds me of my parched throat and I pour myself a glass too and sit across the table from her.
This is the first time someone other than Carter has sat across the table from me.
Rose takes a swig of her drink and looks at me, her expression like she's recognizing someone in me. "Angie, my daughter, died a few years ago."
And there it is.
"I'm so sorry."
She looks down into her glass. "Murdered by her boyfriend."
My mouth drops a little bit at her honesty. "That's… horrible. How old was she?"
"Twenty six."
"Wow. So so young."
She nods. "Yes, she was. A beautiful, vibrant young woman."
I want to ask the question. The one that would be intrusive, rude and inappropriate. Something about the way she looks at me. The way she brought up her daughter so easily, makes the goosebumps on my arm stand up.
"She lost her life in the most tragic way possible. One minute she was there, and the next she wasn't. Just gone. Her beautiful life just ripped right away from her."
"I'm so—"
"So you can understand why when I notice warning signs of history repeating itself, I can't stand by and say nothing."
I look at her confused. "I don't understand."
She cradles her glass and her hands shake. "Of course you do, dear. You think you can hide behind that hair, but I see that fresh bruise. Maybe a day or two old?"
A nervous laugh escapes from me. "God, I'm such a klutz. I swear I have two left feet. Running into doors. I'm so embarrassed."
The lies slip from me so easily, as if they're truth. That's the funny thing about lies. When you tell them long enough, you start to believe they're true.
She looks at me for a long moment. "That's what Angie used to say too. 'No, Ma. Jax didn't hit me. I tripped and fell. Of course he didn't punch me in the face, Ma. I slipped on the carpet and hit the side table. This bruise, here, Ma? Dumb me, I fell down the stairs.' I've heard it all, Tawny."
I avert my eyes. Look anywhere but at Rose's face. I think about Marissa falling down their giant staircase to her death. I know she used the same lies as Rose's daughter. The same lies that I've started to believe.
"I appreciate your concern. But honestly, that's not the case here."
She sighs. "You don't know me from Adam. I get that. But you don't have to do this alone. I've made mistakes in my life I can never reverse. Getting my daughter help when I still had the chance is one of them. Please, if there's one thing I can tell you, it's not to be my daughter. Don't stay because you think you don't have a place to go or money to do it."
I open my mouth to tell her I don't need help. I've made it this far without anyone giving a damn. Why should now be any different? The egg timer on the counter beeps incessantly.
Clearing my throat, I stand up. "I think it's time for you to go."
Rose stands up, hands over the glass of tea. When our hands brush, I shiver.
"If you ever need me, you know where I am. Anytime."
I turn away from her, look out the kitchen window at the quiet street. I stare at the yellow house across the street with the powerhouse couple who would never bother coming over asking for a cup of sugar.
When I turn around to see Rose out, she's gone. A shadow falls across the kitchen and she's walking back to her house.
It's so much easier to deal with things when no one confronts me. I justify and rationalize and put everything into compartments just the way I like them to make life easier. And then nosy people walk in and ruin it all.
Rose is a sweet woman, she really is.
But if she really understood her daughter - she'd know love comes before salvation. Before survival. Before saving ourselves.
That's the truth that sits in the pit of myself. I will always choose him over me.
September - 2005
There's a fury in my veins that's been brewing for months. I stare up at the ceiling fan, going around and around and around. My skin buzzes with anticipation. I look at the clock. One thirty.
This is the third night this week Carter hasn't come home until late. I've waited patiently every night, with dinner on the table growing cold. Placing chicken and roast and mashed potatoes in little containers for him to take to work the next day without a thank you or explanation.
There's only so much I can take before I demand answers.
Carter's truck rumbles into the driveway. I have ten seconds to decide how I want to play this. Inquisitive and worried? Angry and confrontational? How badly do I want to hurt tonight?
The thrumming in my heart gives me my answer. I'm too wired to not say anything. I've built-up every scenario in my head and I can't go to bed without getting some acknowledgment that Carter's being a fucking asshole.
I turn the lamp on and sit in bed. Waiting. And waiting.
The lock in the front door clicks. Door slams shut. Keys ping against the side table. Lights click on and off. Boots swoosh across carpet.
He stands in the doorway.
"Why are you still up?" He steps into the room, wobbling.
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because it's one thirty and you didn't come home for dinner or call and let me know where the hell you were."
"For fucks sake, Tawny. I didn't realize I needed to let you know my every move."
"Why's that? You certainly keep track of mine. And when you don't come home for dinner three nights in a row, I think I deserve an explanation. Where have you been?"
He slides off his shoes, removes his dirty shirt, and sits on the edge of the bed working on his jeans. "It's none of your goddamn business."
I push the covers off of me and stand up. "I'm your wife. Yes it is my goddamn business."
The stink of liquor and stale cigarettes and beer waft from him. He takes his time pulling the legs of his jeans off. He moves slowly, deliberately and he's so quiet.
Calm before the storm.
When he's done, he folds his clothes up, puts them on the dresser and turns toward me. "I have a throbbing headache and I'm exhausted. I'm going to bed."
Oh no, he doesn't get to do this to me. Pick and choose when we fight. He thinks only he has the right to anger.
"No, you're not. You're going to answer me."
When he walks toward me, he smiles. "Feisty, tonight. I guess I could go for a quick fuck. You're so hot when you get riled up."
"I don't want to look at you, let alone fuck you right now."
His smile slips into a scowl. "What did you say to me?"
"You heard me."
His movements are staggered. He's drunker than I thought. I keep the bedroom door in my sights and move closer to it.
This is a dance we've done a lot. He strikes fast, but tonight, I'll have the advantage.
"Why do you talk to me like that? You know how much I hate it."
"Don't you think I hate not knowing where you are? Worrying that you've been in an accident or worse - laying in a ditch dead somewhere. Or how about wondering if you're with another woman, fucking her the way you used to do me."
He walks closer. "You're lying. You don't worry about me anymore."
"How can you think that?"
His lips curl into a sneer. "You hate me."
"You're drunk and stupid right now. Maybe you should go to bed."
We're so
close now I can smell all of him. The sweat and alcohol oozing from his skin. I'm surprised he hasn't made a move to strike me. Instead his hand comes up to my face gently. He traces my lip with his thumb.
"I'm not fucking some other chick, if that's what you're worried about. I'm only ever interested in you. My wife."
"Then maybe you should show it," I whisper.
His hand snakes around to the back of my head and he pulls me to him hard. His lips smash into mine. He kisses me and it's the hungry kind. Like he has a need to be sated and if he only kisses me harder, it will be satisfied. He bites into my lip and I taste copper.
No. He's not getting away with this by seducing me.
I push him off of me. "Stop. I told you I'm not in the mood right now. I just want you to tell me where the hell you were. Jesus. Why is that so hard for you?"
His fist comes up and I turn my head right as it meets with my jaw. The pain is swift. At least it wasn't my eye this time.
I take steps back, feeling for the door, but he grabs my arm and pulls me forward and pushes me onto the bed.
"Don't," I say, scrambling like a crab toward the headboard. He grabs my foot and pulls me back down to him, reversing the distance between us. He holds my leg down as he struggles to get out of his boxers. I kick my legs, knowing what's coming next, but I'm not strong enough.
I should have kept my mouth shut. I'm such a stupid, stupid woman.
Carter gets on top of me. Switches from holding my legs to holding my arms. I'm worthless under his grasp. I should give in, make him feel like this is warranted. He'll get excited, come and be done with me. But what I should do and what I'm going to do are completely different. Maybe I'm a glutton for punishment tonight. I just don't feel like giving into his power.
"Look at me," he says.
I keep my cheek pressed against the covers, stare at the windows covered with cheap dingy blinds now.
"I said, look at me."
One second. Two seconds. Three —
The pressure on my right arm lessens and he grabs my chin and pulls it toward him. It's the half second I need to knock my arm into him. He doesn't even budge. It's like trying to get through a brick wall.
"Cute. But you know you're no match for me, sweetheart."
"Get off of me. Now."
He smiles. "Kiss me. Like you used to."
"No."
"Do it, Tawny. I don't want to hurt you anymore."
"I. Said. No."
He smacks me across the face. Smashes his fist into my ribs. The air comes out like a choke and the room spins around me. "You're going to do what I fucking tell you to do from now on. Do you understand? You're my wife. You do what I tell you to do. And I want you to fucking kiss me."
There's four of him and even if I wanted to comply I can't find his mouth.
"I'm… not your play toy."
He laughs and runs his hand through my hair. "Don't you know by now that you are? You're anything and everything I want you to be. That's why I love you so damn much."
Chapter 5
March - 2006
One bag is enough to carry everything that's important to me. A few items of clothes, my grandmother's gold locket and the folded up dollar bills I've been pilching from Carter the last few months. Everything I am fits inside of a small bag and it's almost time to go.
I pull the covers up over my side of the bed carefully and examine my work. If he looks hard enough, he'll be able to tell it's not a real body. But if he's drunk when he comes home, he won't notice until late. He may not even notice until morning. If he even makes it home tonight.
Looking around the room, I whisper a "goodbye" and close it.
Today is the day I'm leaving Carter and he knows nothing about it.
Rose stands at the front door, her smile as nervous as I feel. Her white hair is blown around by the wind but she doesn't care. She's concerned about me.
"Are you ready, dear?"
I nod. "I guess as much as I ever can be."
"You won't regret this, Tawny. It's going to be the best decision you've ever made."
I lock the door behind me and follow her to her car. I don't think she understands what I'm giving up making this decision. How every minute since I made it, I've gone back and forth wondering if it was the right one. I left Carter once and it was the worst thing I could have done. I wasn't any happier. Any better off. And neither was he.
But that time apart… it made him change. This time… I can't take that chance.
Rose's hand covers mine. "You're going to be fine, dear. Sally at the shelter will take care of you and your… situation. She'll make sure everything is handled and you're safe."
I swallow but it's thick like cotton balls. "What's going to happen when he finds out?"
"About you leaving?"
I shake my head. "The baby."
She sucks in. I know she's thought about it. Gone over it in her head the way I have.
"There's nothing you can do but get the system involved, I'm afraid. But with your… background, I doubt very much they would side with that monster."
I start to cry. I'd blame it on the pregnancy hormones but I know it's because it's what I do. Crying is as natural to me now as breathing is.
The women's shelter is on the other side of town. A small, beige building that seems to melt into it's surroundings. Really, it does exactly what it's trying to help it's clients do: be invisible.
Rose grabs my bag from the back seat and walks me in. We're greeted by a middle aged woman with short salt and pepper hair and a patient smile on her face.
"Rose. Good to see you again."
She shrugs. "Wish it was under different circumstances, Sal."
Sally pats Rose on the shoulder. "You did good. I'm proud of you. It couldn't have been easy."
Rose sets down the bag and chokes up. "That's where you're wrong. After Angie, doing the right thing will always be easy."
Sally nods and turns toward me. "You must be Tawny. I've heard so much about you."
I smile nervously.
"Don't worry, I won't bite. That hard."
I chuckle, just a little.
"Ha! That one always works. Come on, darling. Follow me back to the office. We'll get your paperwork all filled out and then you can rest."
I turn toward Rose and there's no words that can be said to extend my gratitude toward her. There's nothing I can say that will match up to the swelling I have in my heart for her.
She opens her arms and I go right into them. I hold on tight to her. I never want to let go.
"Thank you," I whisper.
She looks in my eyes and I see tears forming there. "No. Thank you for doing the right thing. I have to go, don't want anything to look suspicious."
I nod and let her go.
* * *
I should have known he'd find me. This town isn't big enough to completely escape and there's only so many shelters I could be hiding at. If I had to guess, he went to every single one before he figured out which one I've been staying at.
He corners me as I'm coming out of the library. I scream and drop my stack of books. Books on being a single parent. On how to raise a child alone. Books he notices immediately.
"What is all of this?" he demands.
"Nice to see you too," I say, picking up the books and stacking them back in my arms. I walk back through the front entrance of the library. Carter doesn't hit me in public. He's always been very, very careful about that.
"Are you pregnant?"
I can't look at him right this second. If I do, everything will fall apart. I walk toward the main hub of the library where everyone else tends to congregate and find an empty cubicle near by. I will talk to him and that's it.
"Keep your voice down," I say. "And yes, I'm pregnant."
"Is that why you left?" he whispers.
I give him a raised eyebrow. "Among many reasons you are well aware of."
He picks at the cuticles of his nails. "I miss you, Tawny.
I miss us. And that baby? You can't raise it alone. How are you going to do that?"
I look him in the eyes. "I don't know. But I'll figure it out and raising it alone is better than raising it with someone who may hurt it."
He recoils like I've slapped him. "I would never hurt our child. Ever. I can't believe…"
"Really? You can't believe it and yet you can slap and punch and hit me over and over again. Why would I believe you?"
He inhales deeply and then exhales. "You don't have any reason to believe me, I guess." He takes one of my hands in his. "But I can promise you that things will change if you come home. We'll do marriage counseling and I'll go back to anger management. We'll go to birthing classes and doctors appointments together. I will be the man I know I should be. I know I can do that for you, Tawny."
I sigh. His promises sound so sincere. Heartfelt. I don't know if I fully believe that Carter will be a good dad. Even though he's hurt me, there's this passion in his eyes when talks about our baby. Like there's nothing in this world more precious to him. Even me. His father never looked like that. His father didn't give two shits about his children. But Carter is different. I have to believe Carter will be a good dad.
I have to believe it because I want it to be true so damn bad.
I just don't know that he can be a good husband.
"I don't know Carter. I've been doing a lot of thinking these last two weeks and I don't think…"
He presses his forehead onto my hand. "Baby. Don't think. Just listen. I promise you, I will never hit you again. I've been thinking a lot these two weeks too and I realize how much I've fucked up. I'm a worthless piece of shit, okay? I'm so sorry. I don't… I can't be like my father. I won't. I refuse to be him."
I look into his eyes and I know he's telling me the truth. At least as far as the truth goes for Carter. He doesn't want to be like his father at all.
And that's why I take him back. Why I hold his face in my hands and kiss the tears streaming down his face. I don't bother going back to the shelter for my things. My grandmother's gold locket will be looted, but someone else probably needs it more than I do.
