Sleeping Roses

by RaShelle Workman

  Chapter 2

  Lunch lasted a long time. The once friendly waiter became flat out rude by the time they paid their check. He'd kept coming back, asking if they needed anything else. Rina kept saying, "More water", until finally his looks of concern had become glares.

  Sophie was ready to leave immediately after she'd told Rina everything but Rina, in her motherly way, had taken over.

  "You know, we still have an open position as Art Director slash teacher at Sacred Heart. Why don't I call Dr. Jensen, the Principal and see if we can get you an interview?

  "I guess. Do you think I'm qualified?"

  "You know you are,” Rina responded pragmatically grabbing her cell phone and punching in the number.

  “You know what you’re talking about,” Sophie said, watching Rina amicably talk on the phone.

  Rina was the Vice Principal of the most prestigious private high school in Salt Lake City. She had told Sophie earlier in the week they'd been having a tough time trying to fill the position and she wished David would let her work. Rina also said she was perfect for the job. God does work in mysterious ways. Maybe this job has been waiting for me, she thought.

  "There you go," Rina clucked triumphantly, hanging up. "Dr. Jensen is excited to talk to you. The interview is set for nine-thirty tomorrow morning."

  "So soon?"

  "Yes, and he asked you to bring your portfolio. Do you want me to go with you to get it in the morning?"

  "No, I'll work it out," Sophie mumbled.

  "Are you sure?"

  "I'm sure." Sophie said firmly, but inside she was hollow. What am I doing? Is this really what I want? I need time to think. "I should go. I'm tired, Rina."

  "Sure sweetie. You've had a lousy day. Did you want to stay with me tonight?"

  "Oh. No. Thanks for the offer, but I'd like to be alone for a while. Clear my head. I’ll stay at the Hilton." she replied awkwardly.

  "Sure you want to stay there?" Rina asked, looking surprised and a little hurt.

  "It’s very nice, you know. The one on West Temple."

  "Right." Rina sounded reluctant. "At least let me follow you. I want to make sure you get there safely."

  "I’d appreciate it," Sophie agreed, glad her friend wasn't fighting her on this.

  #

  As Sophie drove to the hotel, she thought about David. She tried to stop, tried to concentrate instead on the beauty around her. Fall was in bloom and the Wasatch Mountains, especially, were a vision, covered in reds, oranges and purples from the maple trees, while the dark green of the pine trees contrasted vividly.

  A painting straight from Heaven, she thought, remembering when she met David . . .

  They’d both attended the University of Utah, and she'd gone hiking in the mountains behind the college at least once a week. She loved being alone but not feeling lonely up there close to nature. She seemed closer to her parents amongst the beautiful trees and the singing birds. She'd even camped in the mountains with some of her friends over spring break several summers ago. It was then she met David. A friend of a friend had brought him along. Sophie thought he was handsome with his thick black hair and tanned skin.

  She loved his eyes immediately. They were brown, surrounded with long, dark lashes. He had a quick smile and an ease about him, which made her feel comfortable right from the start. He was tall, over six feet, and a little skinny. She was glad he had at least one flaw. It made him seem more approachable. They were introduced and had talked around the campfire until the sun started to come up. They had a lot to talk about. He made her laugh and she needed to feel good.

  After their first meeting, they spent the rest of the camping trip together. Rina looked hurt at times, but Sophie knew she couldn't do anything about it. She was attracted to him.

  She found out he graduated from some fancy cooking school in New York a couple of years earlier and was in the process of opening his own restaurant in Salt Lake City. He said he was also part owner of a general contracting company, which was flourishing. She’d been excited about the prospect of having a man with his career path set. He seemed to know what he wanted out of life and by the end of the week she could tell David wanted her in his life as well. He treated her with such respect and made her feel like a queen. She told Rina all of this on the drive down the mountain. She also told Rina she knew she was going to marry him.

  "I fell hard for him," Sophie said out loud to herself. She remembered how furious Rina had been, telling her to take her time, to find out more about him. “I wouldn’t listen; I should’ve listened, but no, I was in love.”

  #

  Sophie checked into the hotel, said good-bye to Rina, and went to her room. It was quaint, but suitable. She didn't need much. The bed looks comfortable, she thought, glancing longingly at it, but first she wanted a shower to get some of the days grime off her.

  What she'd seen and done today left a mental mark as well as a physical one. She looked in the bathroom mirror, noticing her green eyes were puffy and mascara was streaked down her face.

  What a mess, she thought.

  More than the physical signs of her horrible day was her reflection showing the ache in her soul. Why David, she thought, willing herself not to cry again. The tears came anyway, though. Frustrated with herself, she wiped them away quickly as she undressed.

  After checking the temperature of the water, she was about to step into the shower when she remembered she wanted a razor, some shaving cream and a bottle of lotion. Drained, she turned off the water and put on a robe hanging in the closet before calling housekeeping. After putting in her request, she decided to give in to the lure of the big bed and fell wearily onto it.

  Although she was tired, sleep wouldn't come. In its place were continued images of when she’d first met David . . .

  “I know we’ve only been dating for a short time, a whirlwind romance,” she’d told Rina starry-eyed. Sophie and David were together almost every day. There were times, looking back, when she wouldn't hear from David. Once it had been a whole week, but he'd always call, apologize profusely and ask her to meet him at their favorite restaurant, his restaurant, which he named Sophie's. She was honored. She let some of his questionable qualities slip by because of his lavishness in other ways, like naming the restaurant after her. He also had a special table set aside for the two of them. Sitting grandly atop it would always be two-dozen red roses.

  He thought they were her favorite because on the night they met, he asked her what her full name was and she told him it was Sophia Rose Barton.

  “No one calls me Sophia, though. I like Sophie.”

  “Sophia is a beautiful name but I’ll call you Sophie, if you like.” He smiled, caressing her hand with his thumb.

  She explained her mother gave her the middle name because of her love for roses. She also explained she almost had been named Ruby Rose because her mother's favorite color was red but luckily her father had talked her mom out of it. Sophia had been his great grandmother's name, which was how her first name was picked . . .

  Funny, she thought, as she grabbed a tissue from the box on the nightstand and blew her nose, he just assumed red roses were my favorite flower too. He never asked, but then, I guess I never corrected him either. Rolling over, she pounded the pillow, trying to force the images to go away. Still, they flooded through her . . .

  David seemed perfect, well, almost perfect. Once, at the restaurant, she watched David lose his temper with one of his employees and fire her in front of everyone. She was embarrassed by his behavior, confronting him about it later. David waved it aside saying, "Sometimes you have to be rough to get your point across. I have to let everyone know who's the boss. Besides, without me telling them what to do, these people wouldn't have a clue."

  She'd accepted his answer because of the gleam in his eyes; not wanting to rock the boat but, oh how she wished she would have understood.

  An abrupt knock at her door brought Sophie back to the present. Looking through the peephole
she opened the door to a kindly looking older woman.

  "Hello. Here are the items you requested," the small, stocky woman said professionally.

  "Thank you." Taking the bag, Sophie closed the door. In the bathroom, she removed her robe. She noticed her figure in the large bathroom mirror.

  Skin, and bones, she thought, walking over to the shower. She turned it on, checked it for temperature, and stepped in. As she bent to pick up the soap, she noticed her hand shook.

  “Great,” she whimpered, the shaking enveloping her whole body. With nothing else to do, she sat on the tub floor, putting her knees to her chest, trying to calm herself. How did I allow myself to become like this, she wondered? I feel violated; used. Maybe I'm dying, she thought. Maybe this is what happens to your body when your heart breaks.

  After a while, the water turned cold. Cautiously, she climbed out. Wrapping herself in one of the big, white hotel towels, she walked over to the bed and lied down. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on going to sleep. It wouldn't come. Instead were more memories of David . . .

  They married after nine months together. He proposed after five. It seemed fast, but they were in love and neither of them wanted to wait. She didn't have any close family, and David told her he didn't either. They’d decided on a small ceremony with Rina as her maid of honor and David's business partner as his best man.

  Afterward, they took a limousine to the airport, consummating their marriage in the back seat. The experience left her disappointed to say the least. It was soon forgotten when they arrived in Hawaii. Her honeymoon had been anything but disappointing. It was magical, spending their days lying on the white, sandy beaches, eating in fine restaurants and taking in the sights. Nighttime had been filled with dancing, taking moonlit walks and making love.

  Sophie rolled over, looking at the clock. It was eight-fifteen. She sat up and dialed the gift shop hoping it was still open.

  "Hello?" A woman answered.

  "Yes, hello, um, I wondered if you're still open?" she asked meekly, feeling silly as she said it. Obviously they were still open if they're answering the phone.

  "We’re open until nine o'clock," the woman answered flatly.

  "Great. Thank you." Hanging up, she went into the bathroom where she'd left her clothes, put them on, picked up her pocketbook and went down to the gift shop. After a few minutes, she found what she was looking for.

  At the counter, she smiled limply while the woman rang up her sleeping pills.

  Once back in her room, she undressed, took two of the pills, climbed into bed and turned on the television. Law and Order: Special Victims Unit was on. How appropriate, she thought, remembering the day after she and David came back from their honeymoon . . .

  The movers were bringing in some of her things. She didn't have much; the hope chest which had been her mother’s, her clothes and a couple of lamps. Sophie asked the movers to take the chest upstairs to the master suite. She wanted the chest at the foot of their bed because she wanted to have the treasures within close by, but as the movers were headed up the stairs, David yelled, "No way. It looks trashy and it will not be in our house."

  Sophie pleaded, explaining how important it was to her.

  He finally relented, saying, "Fine, you can keep it, but only in the basement." Without further discussion, he walked away. She put it down there reluctantly, covering it with an old sheet, hoping at some point he’d change his mind.

  He hadn't.

  She tried to talk to him about it one other time, but he left her so upset, she knew she'd never bring it up again. From then on, she became a prisoner to David, to the house he owned; to what he wanted.

  The next day he sat her down, explaining exactly how trapped she was.

  "Sophie," he began, "no wife of mine will have a job. In fact, you won’t do anything unless I tell you to do it or say you can. Do you understand?" His voice sounded calm, but she saw the muscles in his jaws tightening as he talked and the ugliness in his eyes.

  She nodded, terrified, too shocked to do anything else.

  He continued, "You’ll keep this house clean. You’ll have dinner on the table by five o'clock, even if I'm not here. You’ll always look your best. No getting fat. In fact, I've been meaning to tell you, you seem a little hippy now so start losing weight. You can keep your car, but I'll be checking the mileage daily. I want a list of the things you’ll be doing each day. I want the address and phone number of each place you go. I'll be checking up on you. Keep your cell phone with you at all times.” Then his face had become furious, twisted with rage. "If you aren't where you say you'll be, there will be trouble. I promise you." He reached over and squeezed her hand with such force, she wanted to cry out, but didn’t dare to.

  Then he grabbed her face under the chin, pulling it toward him. She had no choice but to look at him.

  "Are we clear?"

  She nodded again, agony churning her insides. It was clear.

  David looked suspiciously at her, but let go of her face, saying softly, "Listen, Sophie, I know this must seem strange to you, maybe even scary, but it's going to be great. You'll see." He smiled then. She remembered his mouth seemed distorted, almost too delighted.

  "You'll be taken care of. You’ll have a place to live, food to eat. You can buy whatever you want, whenever you want. Also, I know you love to paint. Do it. I've turned a room upstairs into an art studio for you." David's face had darkened again, his voice steely, "Women are always saying they wished they knew what their husbands want from them. Well, I'm doing you a favor and letting you know up front, this is what I want and this it the way it’ll be." He stood suddenly, as if to leave, then turned back to her and said, "Don't try to leave, either, or you'll regret it. An ungrateful wife won’t embarrass me. I promise you’ll wish you hadn’t." His voice changed again, full of elation. "You'll love it. You'll see. I've given you a ring as a token of my promise to take care of you, but I wanted to give you something more. I know how much you love red roses, so I promise there will always be red roses on the foyer table."

  He pulled her into his arms, saying into her hair, "It's my special promise to you. You're mine now, Sophie. Mine." He pushed her away, looking intently into her eyes. "You understand, don't you? You're mine." Not waiting for a response, he continued, "Like it or not. Enjoy it or not, this is the way it's going to be." Leaning down, he kissed her lightly on the cheek and walked out, leaving her alone to cry bitterly, unable to believe what had happened.

  Of course, she thought immediately about calling Rina, to ask for her help, but she hadn't wanted to hear the I told you so she was sure she get. She was also afraid of what David would do.

  Around two o’clock, as promised, two-dozen red roses arrived with a note saying,

  Sophia Rose, my darling,

  You know what to do with these.

  I'll love you forever.

  David.

  She wanted to bash them against the foyer table and run, but realized she had nowhere to go and no money to get her there. Besides, she thought fearfully, he'd find me. Again she’d debated calling Rina, but was too ashamed to tell her.

  "What a proud fool I was," she whispered to herself, glancing at the clock. Midnight, usually the time David arrived home from the restaurant.

  I wonder what he'll do when he finds out I'm not there, she thought, a pang of fear running through her body. In a way, she was relieved, too, because every night David expected her to be intimate with him in the bedroom. A shiver of disgust ran through her body. Knowing him, he'd probably still expect it, even after what he'd done today. The idea sickened her. He tried to be gentle but it would still, sometimes hurt. She’d come to know, though, it would be over faster if she pretended to enjoy herself. It was difficult, having sex with a man who treated her like property rather than an equal. Emotionally she found it impossible to get in the mood.

  For tonight I'm safe, she thought, finally allowing herself to fall asleep.

  She dreamt her mom and dad wer
e there, standing over her, telling her tenderly they loved her. They seemed to be protecting her. This was one of her favorite dreams. Peace enfolded her with them there. The last thing she remembered was her mom telling her to wake up because her phone rang.

  Bewildered, she opened her eyes, answering her ringing cell phone,

  "Hello?"

  "Sophie, where are you? It's three in the morning."

  She sat up nervously, all peace vanishing. It was David. Why didn't I check my caller ID?

  "Let me come and get you. What happened earlier today was a mistake. I promise to make it up to you if you'll tell me where you are." His voice sounded soft, full of remorse, but she’d heard those words before, fallen for his kind voice before; many times, in fact. She wasn’t going to do it this time.

  He’s so awful, she thought, anger at him forming in her soul. She wanted to shout at the top of her voice, or slam her phone shut, but instead said, as calmly as she possible, "David, I'm not coming home tonight. Did you think you could bring a woman into our house, into our bed, and I wouldn't care? What did you expect me to do?"

  "Are you at Rina's?" He asked, obviously ignoring her questions.

  "No, I'm not. Leave her out of this and leave me alone."

  "I'll expect to see you tomorrow. You have an obligation to me, as my wife. You know you're mine and you always will be. One way or the other. Do you hear me," he yelled, before hanging up.

  Chapter 3

  Sophie cautiously turned off her phone, set it on the bedside table, and lay back down. She knew he'd threatened her; knew if she didn't do what he said, he’d kill her. She didn’t doubt it. Three months ago, she might’ve wondered if he was serious but ‘the incident’ had proven to her he was capable of anything.

  An obligation to him, she thought, as she slid back under the safety of the covers. He’s arrogant and crazy. A bad combination. Her hand absently located the long thin scar on her neck. . .