by Jade Eby
"I want you so bad right now," he says, flipping me over.
He enters me from behind. He grips my hips and brings them closer to him. He pushes into me harder. Then faster. He groans as he increases speed. I turn my face away from him and into the pillow. I moan because it's what he likes to hear. As he gets closer, I pretend that I do as well.
"You like it when I give it to you."
"Uh-huh," I say. Then add another moan.
He's close and I bury my face into the pillow more as he pounds into me, the pleasure turning to slight pain. I don't care as long as he finishes soon.
"Fuck," he says, thrusting into me one last time. "That was amazing."
He pulls out of me and gets off the bed. I wait until I hear his footsteps going toward the bathroom before I lift my head out of the pillow. I look down and it's wet. I reach up to my face and touch my cheeks.
I'm crying.
I didn't think I was capable anymore. Maybe that's because of the drugs. Or because I'm broken.
May - 2008
I'm leaving Carter tomorrow. He won't know it until he's a hundred miles west, drinking beer with his crew members. Relishing in his promotion. Missing home. Missing me.
He told me he was taking the job. So, I stopped taking the drugs. I wanted to be clear-headed. Built back up by the hope only his leaving could fill me.
By this time tomorrow, I'll be on my way to Hattie McLean's house in Florida. I don't know Hattie. But Rose tells me she's nice. Understanding. Will help me get back on my feet. I tell her about the last two times I left Carter.
She says it's not about how many times you leave - it's about the last time you decide to stay gone.
We have it all planned. Tomorrow, I'll be gone and Carter won't be able to stop me. He won't know what hit him.
I brown the hamburger in the skillet and sauté onions and garlic in another pan. I'll make him his final meal. One last hurrah.
"I've got news," he says over the the sizzle of frying meat.
I turn to look at him. "Yeah?"
He nods. "I'm not going to California."
If words could freeze veins, I'd be nothing but pure ice. "What? Why not?"
His footsteps are heavy as he moves toward me.
"I thought it was what I wanted. To move up in the company but I couldn't leave you behind. I asked them to bring you with and they said no."
I swallow and take in his words.
He's. Not. Going.
"You don't need me there. I'm right here. Carter, this is the step you've always wanted to take. This could be the difference in a better life for us. Bigger house. Nicer truck. Savings for fertility treatments."
I expect him to be sorry, regretful. Sad, even.
But something dark falls over his face.
"I won't leave you alone to do God knows what. The more I think about it - the more I don't trust you."
I laugh. "Excuse me? After almost ten years together and you don't trust me? Are you kidding? I've been nothing but faithful to you. Loving. Given you everything you've always wanted."
"One, you haven't given me everything I've ever wanted and two, why are you getting defensive? Is it because you were planning something?"
The rage builds up inside of me. "Of course not, but it irritates me that after all this time, we're still having the same conversations over and over. It's exhausting."
He stares at me, his intensity causing my skin to crawl. What does he see? Does he know that I was this close to leaving him? That his decision to stay is like hammering down nails into my coffin?
"I'm not going. End of story. But we are going to celebrate. I'm not a heartless asshole."
"What do you mean?"
He smiles, his grin cockeyed. "You didn't think I'd forget our anniversary did you?"
Why not? I did.
I plaster on my best smile for him. "I wasn't going to say anything…"
"You were gonna see if I forgot and then hold it over my head."
"Something like that."
He walks out of the kitchen saying, "well you can't hold it against me this year. I have something planned."
I turn back to the forgotten dinner. Something planned?
"Close your eyes and then turn around."
Playing along, I close my eyes and turn around.
"Okay, open them."
A bottle of champagne. A bouquet of roses and an envelope.
I give him a confused look.
"Go ahead, open the envelope."
For once, I don't know what to expect from him. It could be anything.
The envelope isn't sealed so I slide the paper out.
Dear Mrs. Tawny Brooks,
On behalf of South Central Community College, we're pleased to inform you that you've been accepted to our Culinary Arts program. We're excited to see you on our campus in the fall. Enclosed in your welcome packet is:
Your basic course plan
A list of required items to start your first semester
A brief introduction from Dean Janet Schmalz
We're delighted to welcome you to our program!
Sincerely,
The entire admissions committee at South Central Community College
I read the letter over and over again until the words blur together. This can't be real. It has to be a trick. A nasty way for Carter to remind me that my dreams will never happen.
"Surprised, aren't you?"
I look into his eyes. "This is real? How?"
He looks pleased with himself. "I submitted an application for you. Had to forge your signature, but I figured this was worth it. To see your face."
He did all of this for me? He's actually going to let me take classes? He's got to be making up for something. Taking my mother away from me? Being his punching bag? Has he been cheating?
"This is… I don't even know…"
He pulls me into him and kisses my forehead. My cheeks. My lips. "I knew you'd be surprised. I wanted to do something to remind you how much I love you."
"It's incredible," I whisper. "Thank you."
It's not real though. It can't be. He will find a way to mess this up for me. I swear he can read my thoughts and knew I was going to leave him so he pulled this stunt. That had to be what happened. Maybe, this isn't so bad. I'll use it to my advantage. Hunker down with school work and when I get the degree, leave. The other part of me - the louder part of my brain screams that I can't leave him. Look what he's done. Look how much he's going to sacrifice. It's a huge deal for him to do this for you. It shows change. Progress.
"I'm not sure how much better you can get at cooking, but I guess we'll find out," he says.
I shake my head. "I thought you said going back was stupid."
"I changed my mind. Don't question it… I might change it again."
I smile and hug the acceptance letter to my chest. "No. I love it."
He goes to the drawer and gets a corkscrew. "Now, it's time to pop this open. Celebrate. And then I'm going to make love to my beautiful wife."
Everything is happening like it should. I want to be happy, and I am. But there's something… some inkling that this is all a ruse. That something bigger is going to happen.
The champagne bottle pops open and liquid spills out the side. I get two glasses and let him fill them to the top. He downs his glass and pours another. And another. I sip mine.
When half the bottle is gone, he grabs my hand and guides me to the bedroom.
I don't have time to tell Rose that the plan is off. That once again, I'm choosing my husband over my freedom. That I'm choosing to believe things will change.
Things will get better.
July - 2008
The two pink lines stare back at me like a question mark. I wasn't planning on getting pregnant again. Thought all the drugs and medications I'd been taking had all but prevented it from happening again. But here I am, holding the truth in my hand. I should be elated, thankful I get another chance to have the baby I've always wanted. But other e
motions root deep down in me and take over the happiness.
Giving up the culinary arts program in the fall. Losing the baby. Carter hating it. Carter hurting it.
I remember the first time I told him I was pregnant - that single moment of fear before blurting it out. And he was so damn happy. Defied all of the expectations I had. This time has to be like that, too.
I throw the pregnancy test in the bathroom garbage and look at myself in the mirror. I don't know how I missed the signs earlier. The clearing skin. Puffiness in my cheeks. The constant bloating feeling.
Even my breasts look bigger. How had he missed that?
Splashing water over my face, the coolness settles into my pores. It calms the aching nerves rushing through me.
I know what I need to do. Make Carter see that this is exactly what we need to be stronger. Be better people.
I have to make him believe the baby will fix the breaks and cracks in our fragile relationship. He won't have any choice but to see how good this will be for us.
And the best way to my husband's heart is through his stomach. And dressing the part of a happy wife. I open up the closet and finger all the dresses until I find the cotton fabric of one in particular. Carter's favorite.
I slip it on and tie up my hair, so the peachy skin of my shoulders shows through.
In the kitchen, I bring out all the makings for roast and set out to make him the best damn dinner I've made him in a while. Then I wait.
* * *
"Smells good in here," Carter says, throwing his keys on the counter. "What's the occasion?"
I turn and smile at him. "You'll see." Picking up the dirty dish from the counter, I move to the sink and wash it. Hands close around my hips and I flinch.
"It's just me," he whispers in my ear.
I swat him away playfully, "Not now, I need to get these dishes done."
"But you look so sexy right now. The dishes can wait."
No, he can wait. I have something more important to tell him. I pull him into me, and part his lips with my tongue. I bite his lip, knowing it drives him crazy. I want him to feel like I still want him. But first…
"We'll pick this up later. I'm not feeling well, and dinner is getting cold," I say, pushing him away from me.
"Fine." He sits down at the table.
I set the meat and vegetables on the table, the smell wafting between us. It didn't bother me earlier, but the smell is nauseating now. He digs in before I have a chance to even sit down. He shovels it in so fast, it's like he never gets fed.
"Slow down, Killer."
"I'm starving. Didn't have time for lunch," he says between bites.
I pile my entire plate with salad with a tiny side of meat. I should be eating for two now, but I feel as if I might throw up what little I've eaten today.
"I thought you liked roast?"
I love roast. Except for when I'm pregnant. But I don't want to give it away now. He was complaining about me gaining weight so I use it to my advantage.
"Don't you remember our conversation the other night?"
"No."
"Oh, you don't remember telling me I was getting pudgy and maybe I should lay off the food?"
He nearly chokes on the bite of meat. "I never said that."
"Seriously? Well, you were pretty wasted, so I guess it doesn't surprise me that you don't remember."
Shit. Why did I just say that? My mouth is working faster than my brain. This isn't going like I wanted it to.
He sets his fork on the right side of his plate calmly. "What did you just say?"
"You heard me."
The minute it leaves my lips, I regret it. I want to blame it on the hormones. Or maybe deep down, I really do want to piss him off. Or maybe I'm just crazy.
He slams his fist on the table, and the plates jump. He stands up, pulling the tablecloth with him. The plates crash to the ground.
"Look what you did!" He shouts.
Here it goes. I've ruined the perfect dinner I had planned but something bubbles inside of me.
Rage. Strength. Fight.
"Me? You're the one who sent it flying to the ground. After I spent the last four hours cooking it, too." I say, rushing to the floor to pick up the shattered glass. As soon as I reach for the biggest piece his foot smashes into my ribs. The force knocks the wind out of me and I stare at the grimy once-cream linoleum, waiting for my breaths to catch up with the beat of my heart.
He pulls me up by the hair. I groan and whimper and struggle to get out of his grasp.
"Don't fight me, Tawny. It's no use. You're not stronger than I am."
He's right, but that doesn't mean I won't try. My cheek stings and blood drips to the floor. "Let go of me."
He brushes my hair back and picks at my cheek. His fingers run up and down the flesh. He grips my jaw and brings my face to his. He kisses me even though I try to turn my head beneath his grip. He picks me up like I weigh nothing. Lays me on the table, even though it's a mess of food and shattered glass.
No. This is not what I wanted at all. I plead with my eyes. Please, don't do this. Please. Please.
He doesn't notice or doesn't care. He rips my dress open and the rush of cold air against my flesh tickles. He touches the skin between my breasts. Buries his head in my neck. I'm frozen in place. I can fight or give in.
He's ruined the good news. Or I did. It doesn't matter because it was never going to happen like I wanted it to. It never does anymore.
He takes my hands and moves them to the waistband of his jeans. "Take them off for me."
I don't want to, but my hands are working independently of my head right now. I'm shaking as I undo his belt buckle. Then his button.
He cups my chin with one hand and runs his hand down my taut but soon-to be blossoming stomach. Trails his fingers down lower until their inside of me. Brings his lips to mine. I can't help the tears that silently fall. One lands on his arm.
"Don't cry. You like it when I do this."
I shake my head. If he knew me at all, he'd know I hate this. I unzip his jeans. He steps out of them. I'm preparing myself for what comes next. What I so desperately don't want to do right now. He pushes me back down, so I'm level to his dick. He pushes inside of me. I'm not wet. I'm not ready. And the pinch of him filling me is painful. He thrusts harder and it's as if he's trying to stab my insides with his dick. Cut me to pieces from the inside out. I turn my head toward the window so he can't see the pain and hatred filling every part of me. He grabs my jaw so I'm looking right at him.
"You look at me when I'm fucking you, dammit. This is the best sex you're ever gonna get."
I push his hand from my jaw. "Stop. You're hurting me."
He responds by thrusting harder. Faster. "Good."
"Stop it, Carter. Please."
"I can't stop, you haven't come yet."
I don't give a shit. I arch my back and twist. He slips out of me, his dick ramming against the table.
Oh fuck. Shit. I know what's going to happen before it does. His hand rears back and makes contact with the side of my head. Blackness descends.
* * *
I come to in my bed, with a blurry Carter staring right at me. The tears instantly spring free. He puts his finger to my lips.
"Shh. Quiet, Tawny. Calm down."
I try to sit up but the world spins around me and I lay back down. Even though Carter's face spins, he oozes fury.
"That was the last time, Carter. The last time," I whisper.
"It is if you can find a way to behave yourself."
"I'm not a child."
"Then quit acting like one," he says. He slides me under the covers. Brings them up to my neck, plants a kiss on my forehead. "Go to sleep, Tawny. I'm sorry I had to hit you."
"I just wanted to do something nice for you," I whisper.
"Well you have a really shitty way of showing it."
"I… tried to show you. I made your favorite dinner. And put on the dress you liked."
"The
n why did you have to put up such a fight? You wouldn't have worn that dress if you didn't want to be fucked like that."
I can only open one eye, the other one is swelling shut. "All I wanted was to tell you the good news."
"What good news?"
Here goes nothing. "I'm pregnant."
"You're lying." His voice shakes.
I sit up, even with the throbbing against my skull. "It's true, Carter. I just found out this morning."
"Who is he?"
"What do you mean?"
"You know exactly what I mean. Who is he? Because when I find out his name, he's going to wish he never fucked my wife. Better yet—he's going to wish he never knew you existed."
How can he even think that? I've been on his tight leash for so many years, where would I even have the chance to be with someone else? I have to fix this quickly.
"I didn't sleep with another man. This is your baby. Yours. This is the baby we've always wanted, Carter. Things will be different, honey. They'll be–"
"No!" He says, pulling me from the bed and pinning me against the wall. "You wanted the fucking baby, not me. And you're either lying about the baby or who you've been with. So quit being a sneaky bitch and tell me who you fucked."
He's too far gone. There's nothing I can say to calm him down. Make him believe this is his baby. That one of the many nights he forced himself onto me is what got me pregnant. Not another man. I let the tears slide down my face.
I don't expect his fist until it slams into my stomach. I double over, clutching my stomach. No, no, no. He can't do this now. He can't ruin the only good thing I have left. He lands a blow to my ribs and kicks me in the stomach. There's no way I can protect everything that needs to be kept from his angry fists. I can't do it all myself.
"Look what you made me do, you stupid, stupid girl."
I bring my head up, look at him and spit. It's nothing that can hurt him, but he's stunned and it gives me the half second I need to run.
I reach the bathroom before he does. Lock the door. I slide down the wood until my ass hits the tile. I let myself fall apart right there on the bathroom floor.
