by Dinah McLeod
Sara must have known what I was thinking, because she shook her head. “It’s not what you think. He wasn’t mean to me, or anything like that. He just--” she lowered her voice and whispered something so low that I couldn’t understand her.
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
She glared at me and started tapping her foot, getting fidgety. “Ethan! I just told you!”
“I couldn’t hear you, Sara.”
She sighed and rolled her eyes, and it occurred to me that she looked a bit like a petulant child. I dismissed it instantly. “He spanked me,” she hissed. The words were barely out of her mouth when she began to power walk ahead of me.
For a moment, I stood rooted to the spot as the word reverberated in my head again and again. I felt a shock go through my body that was equal parts surprise and excitement. I snapped out of it when I realized that Sara was getting a good bit ahead of me. It took four long strides to catch up to her. When I was behind her, I grabbed her arm. She stiffened defensively under my touch.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, pressing my lips to the top of her head. The words seemed to have a soothing effect on her, and she relaxed.
“It’s alright. I just didn’t want anyone to know.”
“I can understand that. It’s um…does he do that often?” I increased my strides unconsciously and Sara was practically skipping to keep up.
“Um, no, not really.” She was still whispering, and I had to strain to hear. “Just when he thinks talking isn’t working.”
I nodded, deep in thought. “If I had a daughter, I don’t think I’d spank her past ten.”
“Shhh!” she commanded, looking around self-consciously.
“Sorry,” I said, trying to sound contrite while hiding a tiny smile. It was cute how paranoid she was about it. “I just think you’re a little old for that.”
“Well, you won’t get any argument from me!”
“Did it hurt?” I asked cautiously.
“Oh, yeah,” she groaned. “I probably won’t be sitting comfortably for a few days.”
“But you’re eating better?”
“Yeah, I’m trying to.”
“What made you stop in the first place?”
“I just…I’m heavy,” she said, and I could hear the tension in her voice.
“You are not,” I protested vehemently. “You are beautiful, Sara, and the perfect fit for me.”
“For you, maybe,” she said, unconvinced. “Most guys want thin girls, and—”
“I’m not most guys,” I interrupted. “And you don’t have to worry about them, anyway. I’m not going anywhere.”
She didn’t reply, but when I looked over at her I could see that she was glowing again with a happy smile on her lips.
“And another thing. I will be talking to your father. I intend to tell him that I don’t like what he did to you.”
“Oh, Ethan, please don’t—”
“I don’t like it,” I repeated, my jaw clenching. “I don’t want any other man touching you, and definitely not like that. You should be treasured, and that’s not the right way to help you,” I insisted, ignoring the fact that just a few weeks earlier I’d sought advice because I didn’t know to help Sara.
“My white knight,” she teased, bumping my side playfully.
I reached over and smacked the back of her jeans playfully, and when she gasped excitement shot coursed through me again. “Oh, sorry. I forgot.”
“It’s OK. And Ethan?”
“Yes, baby?”
“I love you, too.”
I’d fully intended to have a heart to heart with Mr. Cochran. I’d picked up the phone at least half a dozen times planning to call up to Sara’s house and ask to speak to the man himself. I’d managed it twice, but the first time I got the answering machine, and the second time, when I heard Mr. Cochran’s booming, self-assured voice come over the other line all the words caught in my throat.
What I wanted to tell him was that Sara was much too old to be subjected to such infantile punishments. What I wanted to get across was that it was his duty, as her father, to help her, not to harm her. Somehow I never managed to work up the courage to say it out loud. It crossed my mind more than once that the best thing to do would be to have the conversation face to face, but that required significantly more courage.
Mr. Cochran, who had once been at least polite and friendly, seemed to have chilled a bit toward me since our last talk. If I’d been awestruck when the man was friendly, I could barely find my voice with the cool reception I was getting from him at the moment. Mr. Cochran had always seemed to like me well enough, but now he barely seemed to tolerate me. Whether it was because I hadn’t known how to help his daughter or because he knew I didn’t like him spanking Sara I wasn’t sure.
When I did finally locate my courage, it materialized in the form of shoptalk. Mr. Cochran had mentioned that he’d taken his car into Auto Zone, seeking advice on how to fix the problem himself. I jumped in and asserted that he needed to take it to the shop for a professional opinion.
“I don’t have time for that,” he scoffed. “I have to get it up and running soon.”
“Just because the quick fix is the easiest doesn’t mean it will stop the problem from happening again,” I said. “You could risk doing more damage in the long run if you rush things. You may need the help of a professional in this case.”
Mr. Cochran narrowed his eyes. “It’s my car, and I think I know what’s best for it, Ethan. While I’m sorry if you don’t agree, you really don’t have a say in the matter.”
I ignored the barb. “It’s too old for you to be treating it like this. You need to be more careful, and realize that it’s not a little…I mean, new anymore.”
“Is that so? Well, maybe when you’ve been around the car for as long as I have, maybe you’ll become more aware of the problems I have seen and you might see why I handle things the way I do.”
“I doubt it,” I replied stiffly. “Your methods aren’t conventional, Mr. Cochran.”
“When convention fails you, you have to have something to fall back on.”
Sara and her mother were both staring at the scene in surprise. It was clear that things were getting heated. I’d been clenching and unclenching my fists throughout the conversation.
“If I had a car like yours, I’d take better care of it.”
Mr. Cochran offered a small smile. “I’m sure that you feel that way now, but I don’t think I’d ever let you take my car, Ethan. I’m not sure it’s the one for you.”
“I assure you that it is, Sir. And I will take very, very good care of her.”
Sara’s dad watched me speculatively for several long minutes. Sara wasn’t even trying to hide her interest—you could hear a pin drop from the silence. Finally, Mr. Cochran nodded and I felt like I could relax.
“We’ll see, son. You may be right. When the time is right, maybe I’ll let you give it a shot.”
“That’s all I can ask for, Mr. Cochran. I appreciate it.”
Sara crinkled her nose in distaste. “Ethan, my dad’s car is not my idea of a nice ride.”
Mrs. Cochran glanced at her daughter, and then back to her husband. “I don’t know much about mechanics, dear, but I believe the men have everything worked out now.”
We never mentioned the spanking again. Eventually, she was able to sit just fine, and since things went back to normal for the two of us, it faded to the back of my mind. Despite my protests, I couldn’t ignore the changes I saw in Sara since her dad had punished her. At least for a little while she was more careful choosing her words, and she certainly didn’t skip meals anymore. Her dad watched her carefully, and without her knowing it, I did, too. There were moments when Sara became belligerent or angered quickly, and I idly wondered if she needed a spanking. I never allowed it to be anything more than a thought, and anyway, her moods passed quickly. I was so deeply in love with her that I could forgive her anything.
Nobody’s perfect, I
would excuse her. I always found some way to dismiss her behavior. Four months later, I got down on one knee and proposed. When we went to tell Sara’s parents, I casually mentioned that I was looking into buying a car.
“Really?” Mr. Cochran asked, raising an eyebrow. “Brand new? Any mileage?”
“A little, but nothing I can’t handle.”
“Now, are you sure about that?” He asked mildly.
“I’m sure, Sir. I really love this model.”
“All you two ever talk about is cars!” Sara exclaimed in annoyance, anxious to share our big news.
“We don’t ever talk about cars,” Mr. Cochran replied, and when her mother was the first one to laugh I had to wonder if she’d understood all along.
***
I came out of my reverie as I was pulling into the police station. I steeled myself for what might be waiting for me, trying to rein in the anxiety and frustration I was feeling. I could just imagine my poor wife, locked in a cell and feeling terrified. Just the thought of her wide-eyed, anxious face made all my nerves stand on edge. I never could stand to see her in pain, but this time she’d done it to herself. Most of the messes she made for herself usually started out with the best intentions.
I recalled the desperation in her voice when she told me that she had been rushing home to see me when she’d gotten pulled over. I could tell that she had something to talk to about, and it was a welcome change of pace. We hadn’t been talking much lately, ever since she started preferring going out with friends to staying at home with me. I hadn’t said anything, but by God, that was about to change, starting today. I was done playing nice.
As I was walking in I stopped short and opened the door for a female officer bringing in a skinny girl in handcuffs. The sight knocked some of the wind out of me. Had they brought my wife in wearing handcuffs? I could almost feel the cold, steel cuffs, and how they must have chaffed angrily against her skin. My heart ached for her, but at the same time, I wondered if a scare might knock some sense into her.
When I walked in behind the officer I noticed the lights seemed a little too bright. I felt momentarily blinded, and was still blinking when an officer in uniform approached me.
“Can I help you?” he asked gruffly.
“I hope so. I’m looking for my wife. Sara. Sara Harris.”
“The DUI?”
My mouth felt dry just hearing the words. What had she been thinking? I wondered again. “Yes, sir.”
“You here to bail her out?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Follow me.”
It took fifteen minutes to fill out the paperwork and for the officer to walk me through the charges. I wrote a check for six hundred dollars and was finally led to a holding cell. Seeing Sara inside made my heart clench. She looked so lost and frightened. God, I wanted to hold her. I wanted to get her out of here and take her home where she would be safe. And then I wanted to light her rear on fire!
“Ethan,” she said, the word a hoarse whisper. Her mascara was smudged under her eyes.
“Time to go home,” I replied, trying to give her a reassuring smile.
A petite officer had followed me to the cell and was opening the door. When she slid it open, Sara stood just inside the door, hesitating.
“Come here,” I said, and the words came out sounding harsher than I’d intended. I could see her shoulders tense, but she dutifully walked toward me.
“I am so sorry—”
“Not here.” I put my arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “We’ll talk at home.”
“Ethan, please—”
“I’m not going to discuss it right now, Sara.” I was trying to stay calm, but it was not lost on me that we were arguing in front of a cop who was still hanging around, watching us. “Thank you, Ms…?”
“Lawrence,” she chirped, stepping forward and offering a hand, which I took.
“Nice to meet you, Officer Lawrence. Thank you for taking care of Sara.”
“Oh, um, not a problem. Just doing my job.”
I’m not sure, but I think she’s blushing slightly. With a final nod to her, I turned away and began walking with my wife toward the door.
“When we get home,” I warned her, “I am going to spank you. No more Mr. Nice Guy, do you understand? You are not going to be able to sit comfortably for a week! And if I do see you sitting too comfortably, I will spank you again!”
“Ethan!” she gasped. “Baby, people are staring.”
I glanced to my left and saw that Officer Lawrence was only a few feet from us, a file dangling in her hand as she stared at us with her mouth slightly ajar. “I don’t care who hears, Sara. I’m tired of doing things your way. It doesn’t work for me, and if that makes you unhappy, then I’m truly sorry.”
We walked the rest of the way in silence. Sara didn’t seem to be in the mood for chitchat, and I’d said all I cared to on the matter. I knew she’d heard me loud and clear, because she kept wincing as though the spanking had already taking place. It was kind of cute. I noticed that she wasn’t protesting or insisting on her women’s rights being recognized. What had brought about this change in my dear wife? Of course, she could just be waiting to make sure I was really going to follow through. I would be sure not to disappoint her.
“After you,” I murmured, opening the car door for her. Sara smiled her thanks before climbing into the car. I watched her pointedly until she put on her seatbelt before I closed the door and walked over to the driver side.
I climbed in and put on my own seatbelt before starting the ignition and putting the car into drive. “Where is your car, babe?”
“Not far from Mom and Dad’s. Right off Shelle Street.”
“OK. I’ll take you over there to get it later this week.”
“Later this week?” she echoed in disbelief. “Can’t we just go now?”
“No, we can’t. We have other things to tend to right now, Sara. I have to work during the week, so you’re going to have to wait until it’s convenient for me to go over there.”
“I can call my mom, she’ll drive it over for me.”
I gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter. The woman could be so stubborn! When was she going to learn to listen? “Sara,” I replied calmly, “you are going to have to wait, and that’s all there is to it. You should have thought about the consequences before breaking the law.”
“What about my job, Ethan? I have to get to work, too.”
“On those days you’ll just have to ride in with me.”
“You?” she gasped. “But you go in to work hours before I do!”
“Oh, you know what, you’re right. I guess I could call my boss and let him know that for three days a week I need to come in two hours late. Would that be more convenient for you?” I looked at her out of the corner of my eye, waiting for her reaction, and I could see that she was stung by the rebuke.
“I’m not trying to inconvenience you, Ethan. It’s only a few minutes out of the way.”
“I know, sweetie. And I’m not going to let your car sit there for much longer, I promise. But you won’t be driving for the next few weeks regardless of when we get the car back.”
My announcement seemed to rob her of her voice. When she opened her mouth to speak, all that comes out is a long sigh. “What?”
While I was surprised by the meekness of the question, I remained firm. “You heard me.” I could tell by the way that she bit her lip that she was thinking quite a bit, but she remained silent. “What is it, honey?” I prompted.
“You’re being unfair,” she replied in an even voice. “I was just trying to get home to see you. If you understood, you wouldn’t be treating me like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like…like a child on driving probation! I can explain everything.”
“There will be time for that later,” I tell her gently, and am surprised to see her nod in agreement and go quiet. I expected to hear a long, seasoned plea railing at the injust
ice of it all. After glancing over at her a few times I find myself equally surprised that she isn’t tense and poised for a fight. “Where were you, Sara? Where had you gone? What were you doing?”
“I went to talk to my dad.”
“Oh?”
“About us.”
I groaned inwardly. I couldn’t help but wonder what she’d told him, and what kind of light it had painted me in. I’d let Mr. Cochran down before, and at this rate it wouldn’t surprise me if he was to show up on our doorstep, take back the permission he’d given me to marry his daughter and help her pack her bags.
“I…I’ve been stupid, Ethan.”
Wait a minute, what? Since when did Sara admit mistakes so freely? I usually had to warm her butt nicely first.
“Really, baby? How’s that?”
“I’ve been childish,” she burst out. “I understand that’s why you’re treating me like a child. I deserve it. I’ve been bratty and spoiled, and I’m so sorry, honey. Please say you forgive me!”
“Of course I do, baby,” I replied, caught off guard by the desperation in her voice. “Don’t worry, I’m always going to forgive you.”
“Is that why you spank me? So you can forgive me?”
“It helps me be less angry with you, yeah, but it’s also so that you can learn from your mistakes, and help us move past whatever problem we’re dealing with. Does that make sense?”
“Yes, sir.”
As soon as I pulled into the driveway I turned to look at her and contemplate the situation for a little bit. Sara certainly looked the same, but she was acting so submissive and sweet. Where had my fiery little minx disappeared? Had being in a holding cell for forty minutes made her have some sort of spiritual epiphany? Or was she hoping that this about-face would keep me from punishing her?
“Come on, baby.” I pocketed the keys and walked around to open her car door for her. I leaned over to brush my lips over her ear. “Upstairs,” I whispered.
Chapter 8
Sara
My legs were trembling as I walked toward the bedroom. I was wishing for a grand staircase to dramatically pitch myself off of. Not that I wanted to end up on a hospital bed or anything. I just needed a broken arm, or even a sprained ankle to delay this spanking. My mind raced frantically searching for last-ditch efforts, but I couldn’t come up with anything passable. The only logical conclusion was that I was doomed.
