by Ju Ephraime
I was perplexed as to how John got to the floor. I do not know if he was placed there gently, thrown off the bed roughly or if he got out of the bed sleepwalking and took to the floor in his sleep. All I knew was that in the morning he had always been back in the bed next to me and showed no signs of a disturbed sleep.
I had put off taking the tub the previous day, but today, I could no longer put it off. I had to work up the courage to take this much-needed bath. I tried telling myself that it was too early for whoever visited my home in the night to still be around, as it was early afternoon. So I ran the bath and sprinkled it liberally with the Epsom salts. When I stepped into the water, I breathed a big sigh of relief.
It felt so good, I relaxed and soon dozed off. The radio next to my tub jarred me awake when it suddenly turned on, blaring Beethoven’s “Für Elise” on a classical musical station that was unfamiliar to me. How had the radio turned on? And to a station I had never tuned in to before. I was too scared to touch it. I was also too afraid to leave the tub. I was scared in my own home, and I did not know the source of my fear. The thought of someone trying to scare me from my home made me snap, and I began to yell.
“What do you want? Leave me alone. This is my home. Get the hell out.” The radio went off just as suddenly as it had come on. I looked at it, dashed out of the tub and into my room to get dressed. In my haste, I had forgotten to take a towel to dry off, so I used an old shirt. Nothing could have made me go back into the bathroom.
I was determined to show whomever or whatever was trying to scare me from my home that I would not run away like some hysterical teenager. I ignored my discomfort and went downstairs to prepare dinner for my family. I did a pretty decent job of it, but by the time it was done, I crawled back into bed, pooped.
While I lay in bed trying to relax, Johanna, who gave me strange looks all through dinner, came into my room to ask me who I had yelled at in the bathroom. I ignored the question and pretended to have no idea what she was talking about.
I should have known I was not going to get rid of her so easily. She was a lot like me. When she had an idea in her head, “she was like a dog with a bone.” She stood in my room refusing to leave, much as I tried to ignore her. I finally decided to answer her question with a question of my own to throw her off.
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“I heard you talking to someone in your bathroom when I was walking to my room,” Johanna insisted. “No one left your bathroom but you. Kelsey’s in her room and Dad’s not yet home from work. So who were you yelling at?”
“Will you please stop giving me the third degree? If I said I didn’t yell, then I didn’t yell. I’m asking you to leave this alone. Drop it! I don’t feel like discussing this. Don’t you have some homework?”
“Yes, Mama, I do.”
“Then, I believe you ought to get busy.”
“Okay.” She acquiesced in a disagreeable manner, giving me one of her strange looks, as if to ask: What have you done with my sane, sensible mother?
I hoped she’d leave well enough alone. I was not up to continuing this discussion now or possibly ever. I just wanted some time to myself, to sort out the changes taking place under my very nose, changes I was helpless to stop.
CHAPTER SIX
After Johanna left, I lay in my room, too miserable to move. I needed to return to the kitchen to tidy up and make certain John’s dinner was on the warmer. I just could not work up the energy for the task. I sat on my bed, my thoughts all chaotic, going in every direction, trying to find a way out of my dilemma, without involving my family. I thought of having an exorcist, but I could not do this without revealing all the gory details. I thought of moving my bedroom into the family room downstairs, but I could not leave the girls upstairs alone. I even contemplated, for a minute, taking a vacation, but even that was not an option. Not one of the solutions I came up with was possible without the help of my family, especially John.
I was so engrossed in my thoughts that it was soon dusk and I had still not come up with a solution. Neither had I gone back downstairs. I was ashamed of my recent outburst with my daughter. This had to be confusing to her. I did not even dare harbor a guess as to what John must think of my behavior, especially the fact that I had not been to work for several weeks now. I did have a job with some flexibility, but staying out of work this long without an explanation was just not done. Much as I tried to ignore it, I had an obligation to my job, even though I had yet to call them.
I was more concerned with my home and family than my job – I could always find another position as an agent. But I could not continue lying to my family. I had been avoiding my parents, and made an effort to leave my room when they were coming over. I believe my mother suspected something was wrong with me. She had been calling much more frequently than she used to, and on more than one occasion, I barely made it out of bed in time.
***
I had to return downstairs; I had put it off as long as I could. About 8:30 p.m., I finally made my way down to the kitchen. I dreaded my own kitchen like my bedroom and bathroom, strange occurrences seemed to take place there.
I was happy to see my daughters had tidied up, left John’s dinner on the warmer, and left a plate for me alongside his. I had not been able to eat any food. I existed on only black coffee. If anything could have made me feel worse, this did it. I felt bad for putting my girls through these changes. I missed the time we used to spend together, talking while we prepared dinner and cleaned up the kitchen. It was something we had done since the girls were little. Now I had left them alone to fend for themselves, and that was not good enough. I had to reclaim my life.
I tried very hard to eat some of the plate they’d fixed for me, but my stomach rebelled. I could not swallow. I chewed and chewed, but in the end, I had to spit it out.
“Don’t you like the food,” Kelsey asked when she saw I had a difficult time swallowing.
“I’m just not very hungry, sweetheart.”
“But you haven’t eaten anything all day, Mama.”
It’s okay, I’ll just have some coffee.”
I washed out the dish, took my usual cup of coffee and made my way into the living room.
I sat in my favorite spot on the couch with a view of the stairs and the kitchen while I waited for John to get home. Unfortunately, I fell asleep on the couch and did not hear when he got home. He must have thought I was too exhausted and did not wake me to accompany him to bed. I awoke with a start from a deep sleep. I glanced at the living room clock – 1:30 A.M. I felt stiff and uncomfortable. I didn’t know what had woken me, but I got up and made my way upstairs. John was in bed, asleep. I got into bed still wearing my old sweats and T-shirt.
His not waking me brought home how far we had drifted. This was out of character for our relationship. I missed our time together, so I cuddled up to him and tried to fall back asleep, but it took me a while. My mind was too active. I did not know what time I eventually dozed off, but I heard when John got out of bed to prepare for work. It had been more than a month since I’d heard him leave for work. I missed those times.
I remained in bed and watched him get ready for his day. He must have felt me watching him because he turned to me with a questioning look. I greeted him with a soft, “Hi, hon.”
“Hi, yourself,” he replied. “What are your plans for the weekend?”
“Which weekend?”
“This weekend. Today’s Friday, in case you hadn’t noticed. Are you going to work today? You haven’t gone to work in weeks. It’s a wonder your boss hasn’t fired you or at least suspended you.”
“It’s funny you should say that. He called yesterday, asking about my intent to return to work. Work was getting backed up at the office, and he wanted to know if he had to bring someone in to replace me.”
“What’s going on with you, Syria?” he asked. “It’s so unlike you to behave so irresponsibly. Are you tired of working in real estate?”
�
�Of course not,” I replied. “I haven’t been feeling myself lately. I’ve told you before.”
“I know you mentioned not feeling well, but this has been going on for weeks. I thought you said you’d seen your doctor a couple weeks ago.”
“I did, and he couldn’t see anything wrong with me. He did a whole bunch of blood work, and still nothing.”
“Why don’t you go to another doctor for a second opinion? You know how those doctors are. Sometimes it takes several visits and different opinions before they can figure out what’s wrong.”
“I will. For one thing, I don’t think they’ll accept me back at work without a doctor’s note. So I’ll have to go to the doctor for a clean bill of health. Anyway, getting back to your original question … I’m absolutely open for something fun this weekend. As you can see, whatever ails me comes and goes, so I’ll make the most of any good days.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. What do you have in mind?” I asked.
“I haven’t thought that far ahead,” he replied, “but I’ll think of something by this evening.”
“Okay, I’ll talk with you later. Bye, Hon.”
He gave me a light peck on the cheek. It was nothing like our usual kiss; it was chaste and brotherly, but it was a start. I missed my husband’s calm approach to life.
I had been wearing long-sleeved tops and sweat pants because I did not want John to see the bruises on my body. So far, because of his hectic schedule and my fatigue illness, it had worked. But if he became amorous, I was fucked. I did not know what I would do, how to explain these bruises. Thank God John did not have half the sexual appetite of my nightly visitor.
***
That day was no different from my usual fatigued days. It would soon be almost three months into my new life, which had started at end of the spring. Now the summer was rapidly coming to an end, and we had not done anything fun. The girls spent all day at summer camp and came home just in time to prepare dinner. Kelsey was in Art Camp and Johanna was in Foreign Language Camp. This was their third year in summer camp, and I was thankful for the day I made the decision to enroll them. Initially, it was meant to keep them occupied so they would not spend all day moping around the house during the summer school break, but it had turned out to be a blessing.
This did not take away from the reality of the situation. I had not spent any time with my family, and neither had I done anything for myself. I had not spoken to Marta, even though she had called several times. I had not returned her calls because I knew she would sense something was wrong, and I would blab the entire thing to her over the phone. I did not believe this was something I should discuss over the phone with anyone, especially not with Marta. I desperately needed someone to believe me when I recounted my experience over the past three months to them. I would find this entire thing unbelievable if I were on the receiving end of the story.
Marta and I did not call each other often since she had moved to North Carolina, but we usually talked at least once a month. I thought it was time I took matters back in hand. However, this was easier said than done. It took a super-human effort to get myself out of bed and down the stairs, but I did it. After the third cup of coffee, I began to feel a little better—not great, just better.
I spent some time in the yard, cleaning and picking up the brush. I still tired very easily and had to stop and rest frequently, but I was determined to get a semblance of my old life back.
I brought out the outdoor grill so John could clean it for me. We had not done much barbecuing this summer. Maybe we could do that on Sunday. I decided to run the idea by the girls.
After my exhausting day of work, I went upstairs to my bathroom with a lot of trepidation, but I was determined to be strong. I did not, however, take a bath. My show of strength had not grown to that point. I took a quick shower instead and was in and out of the bathroom in record time.
A part of me resented that I could no longer enjoy my bathroom. It used to be my favorite place in the house. I would spend quite a bit of time relaxing in my tub and doing all the fun things a woman does in her bathroom. Now that was denied me. I could hardly wait to get out.
I prepared a simple casserole for dinner because I was able to throw everything into one dish. As I went to put the dish into the oven, the door to the oven opened for me, similar to the previous incident. I stood there with the dish in my hand, undecided what to do. I did not know if I should run and hide, or ignore it and pretend nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. I chose the latter. I placed the casserole into the oven, trying as best as I could to ignore the conveniently opened oven door.
I could not remain in the kitchen, and walked into the living room, where I sat down on a chair, too upset to do much else. While I sat there, pondering the strange happenings in my home, it occurred to me. I had realized earlier on that whoever was in my home had made me the target of his attention, but now he was becoming more overt, as if he wanted me to know he was in my home with me and there was nothing I could do about it.
I remained in the living room for the entire forty-five minutes it took to cook the casserole. When the timer went off, I removed the dish and placed it on the cooling rack while I set three place settings for the girls and me.
“Girls, dinner is ready.”
“We’ll be right down, Mama,” Kelsey answered.
“Mama, did you want me to put your hat away for you?” I heard Kelsey ask from the top of the stairs.
“What hat, Kelsey?”
“Your black top hat.”
My heart rate immediately accelerated. “Where is it?” I asked, walking up the stairs. I got to the top of the stairs as she turned to show me the hat, but there was nothing there.
“It was right here a minute ago,” she responded, perplexed.
“Johanna, did you move Mama’s hat?”
“No, Kelsey, I didn’t move it. I didn’t even see a hat. Where was it?”
“It was right here.”
The three of us stood there looking around, but there was nothing out of place, so I told Kelsey she must have imagined seeing the hat. We walked downstairs where I dished out some casserole onto my plate, but it was only for show. I was still only able to drink black coffee, and the occasional dry crackers. Every time I thought of food, I immediately became nauseated. I did not want to throw up on top of everything else, so I left well enough alone. It amazed me how long a body could function on the barest of sustenance.
I remained in the living room while the girls tidied up the kitchen. When they were done, they returned to their rooms, laughing and joking as if it was a normal day for them. It was anything but a normal day for me. I hadn’t had a normal day for quite some time now. My line between normalcy and imaginary blurred.
I lingered in the living room not because I waited for my husband; I had stopped doing so for some time now. I no longer had any sexual contact with John. Whoever was in my home did not like it when I was intimate with John, and he showed his displeasure by being more aggressive with me after I’d spent any time with John. He, or it, did not touch me right after I had been with John. I quickly realized if I wanted to keep him or it away, I had to sleep with John every night. But the vicious assaults on my body afterwards had me rethinking that thought. John and I had never had sex every night, so to contemplate doing so now, without any explanation to him, was damn near impossible.
I was still sitting in the living room when he came home, a bit earlier than usual. He came up and gave me a kiss, as had been his custom. I responded with all the love I had in my heart for him, and soon we were engaged in a passionate make-out session on the living room couch. He carried me upstairs and onto our bed without breaking our make-out session. We only stopped long enough for John to turn off the lights at the top of the stairs. As soon as we entered the bedroom, he placed me on the bed and started to remove my shirt. He began massaging my breast, making me whimper with need. I was soon only in my panties with my bra off. I d
ecided I wanted to take charge, and took the dominant position on top. I had gotten most of his clothes off before he flipped me over and took the reins. When he took my breasts in his hands, my breathing became very accelerated. He paid homage to my breasts, moving from one to the next, kissing them from the base to the nipple, not taking the nipple into his mouth until I began to arch my back, whimpering and begging, please. When he finally took my left nipple into his hot mouth, I almost had an orgasm. Being familiar with my body, he did not linger on one nipple, but moved to the right, rolling the erect nipples between his teeth. I was lost, and could not stop begging him. “Please, please, now, John, take me now.”
“Wait. Not yet.”
I thrashed my head from side to side, my need was so great. I reached between our bodies and found his erect penis. I ran my finger over the opening, spreading the pre-cum over the smooth head. He responded with a groan. I moved my hands to cup his balls, and his groan was more animalistic as his grip on my breasts tightened, and the pull on my nipple became stronger. He ran his tongue from the pulse beating erratically in my neck down to my mouth, which he took in a deep kiss. I opened up to him, indicating my readiness. When he went back to my breast, I gave him a nip on his shoulder, he raised his head and looked at me, then responded by kissing my mouth as he positioned himself at my opening and entered with one powerful thrust of his hip. He then proceeded to make slow, sweet love to me. I was so overjoyed to have my husband back that I was practically weeping as I achieved my second orgasm of the night. After it was over, we fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Whoever said you never missed the water until the well ran dry knew what they were talking about. I had always taken John’s lovemaking for granted, but now after the vigorous assaults I had experienced, his gentle approach had me in tears. I had missed him so.
The next morning, Saturday, I slept through John’s departure for work. He left around 7:30 a.m. He only worked part of his shift on Saturdays, so he’d be home early. I didn’t wake up until around 8:30 in the morning. I no longer had any set time for waking up, but when I awoke that morning, I was freezing. It was so cold in the room I could see my breath, even though it was a summer day.
