by Dinah McLeod
The next morning I was awake before the sun, despite my late night. I trudged into the kitchen and made coffee and omelets. I even tidied up, clearing away the pizza box and wiping down the counter. I had to scrub pretty hard in some areas. I found it amazing how quickly filth could accumulate. When I finally heard footsteps on the stairs, it was all I could do to keep from running to meet him and throwing myself at his feet to beg forgiveness.
As it turned out, that wasn’t necessary. Ethan greeted me with a smile, and a warm, “Good morning.”
He didn’t mention the pizza, and as we chitchatted and ate our breakfast I realized that he wasn’t going to. I expected the lead balloon on my chest to lift, I expected to feel relieved, but instead I just felt confused. Had he changed his mind? Did he not care anymore? Maybe it had all been a fad, and he was over it, but I was too afraid to ask. Maybe he’d forgotten my faux pas, and if that was the case the last thing I wanted to do was remind him.
Or so I told myself. But that night, I ordered Chinese for dinner. I couldn’t say what made me do it, exactly. It wasn’t like I wanted to make him mad, and I certainly didn’t want him to spank me! Something inside me was curious, though, to see what he would say, to see if he would do anything. I wasn’t quite as tense as I waited for his reaction, which was the same smile and loving greeting he’d given me that morning. He even thanked me for remembering his favorite Chinese restaurant. Thus, a pattern emerged, and I stopped cooking altogether. Each night, dinner is takeout, and I alternated mainly between pizza and Chinese food.
My days as a domestic goddess were behind me. I didn’t even last three weeks, truth be told. Still, Ethan didn’t say anything. Sometimes, I wondered if he even noticed. If his reaction—or lack thereof—to how I’d been preparing dinner was anything to go by, he didn’t care anymore.
I knew I shouldn’t be so bothered by it, but I was. For some bizarre reason I couldn’t stop thinking about how sexy he was when he got that authoritative voice and that determined gleam in his eye. I couldn’t atop longing for the way he’d been so soft and sweet with me, like he was handling a delicate treasure. Now, we hardly talked to each other. We’re polite, nothing more. Maybe I didn’t like being punished, but I really missed making up. I missed the way he used to take care of me.
Try as I might, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I kept testing him in small ways. I made little purchases at the gas station, a Coke here, a newspaper there, and I didn’t write them down in the checkbook. I waited expectantly when I saw him balancing it, but he never said anything. I just couldn’t figure out what he was doing! The more I tried, the more confused and upset I became.
The agitation showed, especially when I was around him. I’d become jumpy and irritated. Once, I’d even called him a jerk, muttering it just loud enough for him to hear. When he ignored me, I had had it. I grabbed my keys and stormed out of the house, dialing a friend as I went.
I had been spending more time out of the house ever since. I mean, honestly, I didn’t think Ethan was a jerk. I felt pretty bad about saying it, too, but I was becoming concerned about where our relationship was heading. Why wasn’t he doing anything when I broke the rules? I’d thought he wanted to be the Head, or whatever. Didn’t he still want that? Had I finally become too much for him? Maybe he just didn’t care anymore. I became quite cool to him at times, but he didn’t even comment.
I was relieved to be able to get out of the house and vent to my friend Mona. I had a lot of fun when I was with her, the kind of fun I hadn’t had with Ethan in a few weeks now. A pattern started to develop, and slowly, bit by bit, I spent fewer of my evenings at home. Since he worked during the day I was not seeing as much of him as I used to, but I doubted he minded. If he did, he never said anything.
Part of me wished he would. I almost wanted him to call me and demand that I come home and put dinner on the table for him. While my girlfriends were laughing and joking, I was stealing glances at my cell phone, but it didn’t ring. I missed him. I missed his smile and having his arms around me, but since those were two things I hadn’t been getting much of lately I tried my best to push the thoughts away. I was getting a little lonely, even though I was rarely alone.
After telling all of this to my friend Mona over my second Cosmo, I started to feel my eyes well up with tears.
“Oh, Sara!” she said, grabbing my hand and giving it a squeeze. “See, this is why I’m not married. All men are worthless, honey.”
“No, not Ethan,” I protested. “He’s the sweetest, most loving man. I just…”
“Oh, come on, he’s no fun!” she chided. “He’s doesn’t pay you any attention, or appreciate you! You deserve better than that, hon. You really do.”
I wanted to tell her how wrong she was, but I knew that she had no reason to believe me after listening to me complain about him day in and day out. I hadn’t exactly made my husband out to be a good man. In fact, I was sure after all the things I’d told my friends they probably thought that he was as cold as a fish.
“You know what I would do if I were you? I would give that man—” she spat the words out like they tasted bad in her mouth, “a piece of my mind, and then I would leave! That will show ‘em!”
Every fiber of my being tensed at her words. My heart said that I shouldn’t—no, I couldn’t leave Ethan. I loved him, even if I hadn’t been acting like it lately. I opened my mouth to tell her the truth, that I’d been unfair to Ethan and that I had painted him out to look like a bad guy when that was far from the truth. Instead, the words that came out were, “Where would I go?”
She leaned forward with a conspiring smile. “Well, I’d go to my parents. That will show him! Trust me, Sara, you’re a catch! He will change his act quick, fast and in a hurry.”
I kept mulling over her words long after she had changed the subject. I heard her suggestion over and over again, even as I listened to her go on about an article she’d read about the healing powers of grapefruit. I nodded and murmured “Mm-hmm” occasionally, but I couldn’t focus. She’d moved on to The Real Housewives by the time I finished my drink.
“Another?” she asked me as she signaled our waitress.
“Oh, no thanks, Mona. I appreciate it, but I should go.”
“Where are you going?” she asked, and even though she sounded conversational I knew what she wanted to hear. I didn’t disappoint her.
“I’m going home. I’m going to talk to my mom.”
“That’s the spirit! Woo! Good for you, Sara!”
I smiled at her enthusiasm, but it felt fake and wrong on my face. I felt like crying. How could I be doing this? I was tearing my marriage apart with two hands and inviting this vain, gossipy woman along for the ride. I just couldn’t seem to stop myself.
We chitchatted for another moment as I counted out money to pay for my drinks. We made promises to get in touch again soon, and I walked out. My legs felt a bit rubbery, and I couldn’t tell if that was from the alcohol or my nerves.
I briefly considered calling my mom to let her know that I was coming to see her, but I decided against it. The truth was, I hadn’t seen her since I found out Ethan had gone to my dad for marital advice. I knew it wasn’t fair to her, but I was embarrassed. I was positive that he had talked to my mom about it after Ethan left, so it made it hard for me to talk to her, too.
I felt like I didn’t have anyone else to turn to. Maybe that was why I’d started talking to Mona. I couldn’t tell her about the spanking agreement with Ethan—how abnormal and twisted was that? And I definitely couldn’t explain that, with his recent lack of follow through I actually wanted it! Who would ever understand? I hardly understood it all myself!
Chapter 6
The thought of seeing my dad put me more on edge than I already had been lately—if that was possible. But I needed my mom right now, I needed to talk to someone who loved me and if that meant I had to risk running into my dad for a minute, so be it. If I could avoid him, though, that would be even better.
When I pulled into the driveway, I was already feeling a little bit better. Seeing the familiar warm white paint and baby blue shutters of the place I’d called home for so long soothed me. Right now I wanted to go to my old room and inhale deeply, breathing in the Love Spell that I’d been obsessed with for two years. The scent had never quite left the room. I wanted to bury myself in my old, tattered quilt that I’d made in HomeEc six years ago, that I’d never let Mom throw out. I wanted my mom to hug me and tell me everything would be alright, over and over until I believed it.
I laughed as Lady and Butch ran up to me, bounding into me and nearly knocking me off my feet. “OK, OK,” I said to the German Shepherds. “It’s nice to see you, too. Come on, let’s go find Mom.”
I walked around the house and stopped in front of the slightly rusted iron gate. I stood there for a few minutes, just drinking in the sight of my mother. Her head was bent over the flowerbed and her blond hair gleamed silver in the sunlight. Was it a trick of the light, or was her hair slowly turning gray? For a minute, I saw her the way a stranger would—small, and fragile. Aging. She was not the strong pillar of a woman I remembered.
“Mom?” I called out tentatively.
When she looked up the smile that lit up her face broke the spell, and she was the mother I’d always known. I opened the gate, hinges squealing as the door swung open, and rushed to her side. I had never helped her garden—I couldn’t stand to be anywhere near dirt. None of that seemed very important anymore, though, so I crouched beside her in the flowerbed and laid my head on her shoulder.
Before I knew what was happening, tears were falling down my cheeks. All the pain and problems of the past weeks came rushing out in half-intelligible cries. I wept on and on for what felt like an hour, and my mom just put her arms around me and stroked my hair.
“Shh,” she murmured. “It’ll be alright, baby. Come on, now. It’s OK, honey. It’s all OK.”
“It’s not,” I mumbled, sitting up and wiping my eyes. “It’s never going to be all right again, Mom. I’ve ruined everything. I’ve made him h-hate me. I don’t know what to do. Can I stay here? Please? Can I stay in my room, Mama?”
“Oh, honey…” she trailed off and I realized she wasn’t looking at me, but at something beyond me.
I turned around and my heart stopped for a second when I saw my father standing there, his arms crossed, his face impassive. I wondered how long he’d been there, listening to me.
“No, you cannot,” he said firmly when he saw my eyes on him.
I inhaled sharply, feeling like I’d been slapped. “Why not? It’s my room!”
“Your home is with Ethan, now, Sara. That’s the choice you made.”
“So this isn’t my home anymore? Is that what you’re saying, Dad?”
“Carl…” My mother intervened, her voice pleading. “I’m sure that her staying the night wouldn’t hurt anything.”
“It’s not about staying the night, Lauren. She is trying to use us to escape her problems, when what she needs to do is go face them. We’re not going to be her scapegoat. This is the real world, and that’s what she chose when she got married.” Even though he was talking to my mom, he was looking right at me.
“Maybe I wouldn’t have so many problems if you hadn’t decided to get in the middle of my marriage,” I said. My voice was quiet, but loud enough for him to hear. I waited for him to explode, for him to demand an apology, but he didn’t. His eyes met mine and we looked at each other for several long, unblinking moments.
“I’m sorry if I offended you, Sara. Your husband came to me asking for help, and I gave him the best advice I could think of. I’m not going to apologize for that. If things aren’t working for you two, then I’m truly sorry.”
“Things aren’t working because of the so-called advice you gave,” I gritted out through clenched teeth. “My marriage was fine before you decided to put in your two cents.”
My mother was staring at me with wide eyes, her mouth open slightly, agog. She had dropped her arms to her sides, but I barely felt the loss of them. I had never dared to speak to my dad like this before, but I was beyond angry.
“Ethan didn’t think so,” he replied evenly.
“Then he should have come to me!” I cried. “I’m his wife, he should have talked to me, and he should have trusted me. But I guess he didn’t, so he went to you. And look where we are now! Our marriage is over!”
I started crying all over again, and hot, angry tears fall down my cheeks. Neither of my parents said anything. I could feel them watching me, and while part of me wanted to run away and hide, the rest of me didn’t care anymore.
“I agree, Sara,” Dad said when my tears had subsided a little.
I looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “You do?”
“Yes, you’re right. He should have come to you. I never said he’s perfect.”
“But you’re taking his side! I’m your daughter and you think it’s OK…you think it’s all right for him to…” I trailed off because I just couldn’t bring myself to use the s word.
“I thought I knew what was best for you. You have always done better in a structured environment, and I thought that rules and guidance would help the both of you to build the kind of foundation you want for your marriage. Obviously, I was wrong. You’re clearly unhappy.”
I sniffled but I didn’t reply. I didn’t need to tell him I was unhappy—my tear stained face made that clear.
“I thought Ethan was a man who could make you feel loved,” he continued, “while maintaining order. I guess I was wrong.”
“What?” I asked, surprised.
“He must have hurt you,” Dad said. “He must have taken it too far. Some men don’t know how to treat their wives with love and kindness. He must have let the power go to his head.”
Slowly, I began to shake my head as his words sank in. “No, it’s not like that.”
“Oh? Well, then he must have been making unreasonable demands. Insisting on you doing a ton of housework, and cooking elaborate meals after a long day at work?”
Still feeling mystified, I shook my head again. “No, not exactly.”
“Oh. He must have been bragging to his buddies that his little wife is a kept woman, who does whatever he tells her. That would upset anybody, honey. I understand.”
I lowered my eyes. I couldn’t bear to look at him as I shook my head again. “No, Dad. He doesn’t do that.” My voice, which had been so strong with anger and defiance only minutes ago, was now barely a whisper.
“Ah. Well, then, what does he do, Sara?”
“He…he makes me breakfast, and brings me flowers, and fixes anything I ask him to. It’s just…”
“What?” My father arched an eyebrow at me. “Why exactly is your marriage failing?”
Even though his voice was soft and concerned, I winced hearing the words coming from someone else’s mouth. “It’s not any of that. It’s just…I don’t know, things were going good. And then he talked to you and it felt like I wasn’t good enough anymore.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” my dad said mildly, despite the daggers I was glaring at him.
“Oh, it’s true,” I sighed. “And I sort of made this agreement with him…” I took a deep breath and glanced at my mom, who was rubbing her hand in circles on my back. “We agreed that I would follow these rules and I messed up.”
“And he spanked you?”
“Not exactly,” I said begrudgingly. Why was I having this conversation with my dad? I wanted to kick myself, but I didn’t know what else to do. I had no one else to discuss these things with, and Ethan had been less than conversational lately. “He didn’t do anything. He acted like everything was fine. So then I kept messing up, kind of on purpose.” I felt my cheeks heat up as I admitted it, but if my dad was surprised by my admission he didn’t let on.
“And?”
“And nothing. He hadn’t done anything, he hasn’t even said anything. I wonder if he even cares
anymore.”
“Have you asked him?”
I rolled my eyes at his silly, simple question. “It’s not that easy, Dad!”
“Well, I don’t see why not, Sara.”
“Because,” I huffed. “I told him I didn’t want him to spank me. What is he going to think if I start complaining that he hasn’t?”
Dad contemplated me for a moment before nodding seriously. “I see. Well, this is quite a problem. Obviously, you can’t just tell him. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
I knew he was making fun of me, but I was too worn out to care. “Don’t you see? This is all your fault!”
He seemed taken back by the accusation. “My fault?”
“Yes! Your fault! Because of what told him to do!” I declared, feeling my fire ignite again. “How could you do that to me, Dad? Why would you tell my husband to…to s-spank me?” I said it like it was a curse word. “If you hadn’t said anything to him in the first place then things would still be good for us. Now I don’t know what it is.”
He shrugged. “It’s what always worked with you, Sara. So, I thought that it might work now. You never minded a well-deserved spanking at home, and it helped keep you in line. At least for a little while.”
“But I’m married now!” I exclaimed. “It’s different,” I insisted hotly, ignoring his chuckle.
“Really? I spanked you the same day you got married, Sara. You’re not even a year older. Why is it so different when Ethan does it?”
“Because I never expected…I never thought I’d…” I trailed off helplessly, unsure how to finish.
“You thought you’d be in control? You thought you’d be able to do whatever you wanted once you left home?” He prodded gently.
“Well, yes. Is that such a bad thing?” I demanded.
“No, Sara, it’s not a bad thing,” my mom spoke up, moving her hand to my shoulder. “And really, you can do anything you want, honey. But there are consequences for every action we take. You can choose not to pay your phone bill, if you want, but your phone will be cut off. You can choose to stay home instead of going grocery shopping, but then you won’t have anything to eat.”
