by Carter Ashby
“I sure don’t mean to be, Maya. You have any questions or need anything, just ask, okay?”
She nodded and then stood. “Thank you.” She left and he watched, wishing for things he had no business wishing for.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Mom, are you done with my hair?” five-year-old Sophie asked.
Maya had been thinking about Jayce as she braided her daughter’s hair. Remembering things she’d once forgotten. Her life had been so absorbed by her father and her husband and her children, that she’d spent very little time thinking about her childhood. Now, after Jayce’s behavior towards her, she was thinking about him. Particularly about a night eight years ago. He’d taken her to a dance. It seemed so unreal that Jayce Gilmore had asked her to a dance and then into the back of his car. She didn’t care to remember the car part, but the dancing had been fun. Nothing intimidating about him while they were on the dance floor.
But then her father had kicked her out of the house and Damon had taken her in. The sweet memory of her date with Jayce had been swept under a heap of emotional baggage Maya was only just beginning to dig through.
Last night, Jayce had stood behind the bar, smiling and laughing with his customers. He’d even flirted lightly with female customers. The image of him in those tight jeans and that black t-shirt that hugged an extremely well-developed torso was hovering constantly in her mind’s eye. She kept going back to it. He’d acquired a full sleeve of tattoos on his left arm. There was some kind of abstract design up one side of his neck. It all made her wonder what he looked like under his shirt.
It also made her wary. Maybe even a little frightened. Jayce looked like all the bullies in her life. Her father, her husband, her husband’s crude and abusive friends—they all drank, smoked, were covered in tattoos. It terrified her to be working in such close proximity to someone who, by all appearances, was one of the bad guys. The only physical aspect that differed was Jayce’s physique. He was built and beautiful. No beer gut. No leathery, jaundiced skin. But there were scars on his knuckles, and whenever he turned to face her, his smile vanished and his expression went utterly cold. Maya wondered what it would be like to be hit by a man who was so cold and powerful. Damon had done so much damage. Imagine what a man of twice his strength could do.
At the sound of Sophie’s voice, Maya jolted back into the present. “Sorry, sweetie.” She tied a ribbon around the end of the braid. “Now go brush your teeth and put on your pretty shoes. Matthew!” she shouted.
“I’m brushing my teeth!” he shouted back.
Zoey’s hands were on her ears. “God, stop yelling!” she yelled. She was lounging on the couch with some coffee.
“You sure you don’t want to go to church with us?” Maya asked.
“As sure as I’ve been every Sunday since you started asking me. Stop trying to save my soul.”
“Not trying to save your soul. Trying to get an extra pair of hands to help me with the kids.”
“Stay home and I’m all yours.”
Maya shook her head and began buckling on her black dress shoes.
“So work? It went well?” Zoey asked.
“Yeah. I mean, it’s a late night, for sure, but it was good. I really liked Janice. She’s fun and easy to be around.”
“I hear she’s very…open-minded. So if you decide to give up men for good, she might be able to help you out.”
“Believe me, the thought has crossed my mind.”
Zoey laughed. “It won’t stay long, I’ll bet, working in close proximity to that man-candy.”
Maya’s good humor went cold. Man-candy had such an innocent, playful sound to it. Jayce didn’t seem innocent and playful. Of course the couple of times he’d come over to Zoey’s around Christmas he had, indeed, been playful. Only maybe it was the painkillers she’d been on. Because now she couldn’t seem to relax in his presence.
“Everything okay?” Zoey asked.
Maya nodded. “Yeah. It’s just, working with Jayce…it’ll take me a while to get used to it.”
“Does he hit on you all the time? You know, he does that to everyone.”
Maya frowned at her friend. “He’s never hit on me.”
“Oh.” Zoey looked puzzled. “Okay. Well. What’s wrong, then?”
“He’s just so—so—so big and scary.”
Zoey laughed all out at this. “Really? Honestly, Maya, you do not have to be afraid of Jayce. He’s okay.”
He’s okay. That was high praise coming from Zoey. Maya felt herself relaxing. “You think so?”
“Yeah, definitely. I’m actually relieved you’re working for him, because I know how safe you’ll be there.”
Maya let that sink in as she gathered her kids into their coats and ushered them out to her car. The church she attended stood on a hill. You could see the steeple from anywhere in town. The worship services were traditional with just a piano and an organ and old, red hymnals with tape on the spines to hold them together after decades of use.
Maya took her kids to Sunday school and then went to her ladies’ class in the basement. She lit up when she walked in the door and saw her other best friend, Addy. She came home from school as many weekends as she could to appease her overbearing mother, whom she was seated next to. Addy lit up, too. Going to church was a miserable affair for Addy. She didn’t believe in any of it, unlike Maya, who clung to it with desperate hope and faith.
Addy stood demurely and hugged her. Then Maya sat next to her, avoiding the sneer coming from Addy’s mother, who had never approved of Maya, even before she got knocked up in high school.
Class had yet to start. They all sat around the table with their Bibles and devotional books open—except for Addy. “I got to play with your precious angels yesterday,” Addy said.
“You came by and I missed it?”
“You were at work. Congratulations on the new job. How do you like it?”
Maya shrugged. “It was my first night. I’m exhausted, I’ll tell you that, but Jayce says he can get me full-time hours. And Saturday night tips make the whole job worth it.”
“I’m proud of you. And for you.”
“I really want to pay Zoey rent. Though that may be a moot point. Kellen’s bound to win this who’s-moving-in-with-whom battle of theirs. His place is twice the size of hers and way nicer.”
“She loves her house. He’s got a fight on his hands, for sure. Where will you go when they do move in together?”
Zoey sighed. “I don’t know. I guess I’d better start looking.”
“Good morning, ladies,” said Mrs. Kratz, their class teacher. She was a billowy woman in a billowy skirt and high-necked blouse. “Did everyone do the reading?”
The women murmured noncommittally, but Maya nodded. She always did the readings.
“Good,” Mrs. Kratz said, taking the noise for affirmation. “Then let’s start with the scripture. First Corinthians seven-four: ‘The wife does not have authority over her own body but yields it to her husband. In the same way, the husband does not have authority over his own body but yields it to his wife. Do not deprive each other, except perhaps by mutual consent and for a time, so that you may devote yourselves to prayer. Then come together again so that Satan will not tempt you because of your lack of self-control.’ So, what does this verse mean?”
Awkward silence. An older woman said, “Well, it means when we get married, our bodies exist in service to her husbands.”
Mrs. Kratz nodded. “Good. Anyone else?”
Another woman said, “It means that we aren’t to refuse him sex when he asks for it.”
“That’s right,” Mrs. Kratz said.
Addy put her hand up. “I just feel it relevant to point out that the same verse tells husbands the same thing. The husband isn’t to withhold sex from his wife. In fact, every verse in the New Testament that we use to define a wife’s duty in marriage, has equal and equivalent direction for the husband. Submission and self-sacrifice are virtues of all humans, not just wi
ves.”
Mrs. Kratz gave her a pressed-lip smile. “Yes, dear. But I have no authority to speak to men about their duties to their wives. All I can do is help myself and my fellow women better themselves as wives and mothers. You’ll understand, one day, assuming you plan to marry.”
Addy fell back in her chair. She shot Maya a shrug and an eye roll. Maya tried not to smile.
“Now, what about if you feel your husband is too demanding?” a woman asked. “I mean, I work full time and bear sole responsibility for the house and kids. The last thing on my mind when I fall into bed at night is pleasing my husband. Is it unreasonable for me to ask him to—forbear—at least until the weekend?”
“How about it, class?” Mrs. Kratz asked. “Anyone?”
Maya timidly raised her hand. Whenever these classes addressed the topic of marriage, which they almost always did, she tended to apply them to her fantasy marriage to her fantasy Prince Charming in her fantasy, two-story Colonial with a white picket fence. “I think as long as there’s respectful communication on both sides, it’s okay to let him know that you’re overburdened and need some space.”
Another tight-lipped smile from Mrs. Kratz. “That may be what you think, Maya, but we concern ourselves with what the scripture says. What does this scripture tell us?”
“To roll over and take it for the team,” Addy said.
“Addison!” her mother gasped from the other side of her.
Maya bit her lip. “It says to submit to our husband’s needs.”
“That’s right. Lesley, if you’re feeling overburdened, just remember: God first, then husband, then children. Your housework and career come in a distant fourth and fifth. If you don’t have time for your husband, then your life is too filled with ungodly interests.”
Seemed a little harsh. But Maya wasn’t one to judge. After all, Mrs. Kratz was in her thirty-fifth year of happy and stable marriage.
“What about in situations of abuse?” another woman asked. Maya barely knew her, and there was no indication she was targeting her question towards Maya. In fact, she might not even know of Maya’s history, but the question still hit Maya hard.
“Class?” Mrs. Kratz asked.
“If you’re in an abusive relationship, you need to get out. If he’s unfaithful, you can divorce him and remarry, but if he’s not, you just have to stay single,” said a woman.
This was one of those rules Maya intended to break and then hope God’s grace covered her. She didn’t want to be alone forever. Sure, now was not the time for romance with kids to raise and a life to get together, but she was still a young woman. She still had hopes and dreams and one of those dreams was to fall in love with a nice guy and have him love her in return.
“Right,” Mrs. Kratz said. “Of course, political correctness and pop psychology would never allow the world to accept the idea of a woman staying with her abusive husband. But there are situations wherein women have remained in abusive marriages. By continually submitting to their husbands as Christ’s church is to submit to Christ, these women have won their husbands over to the path of righteousness and are now in loving, gentle relationships.”
Maya blushed to her hairline. It felt like a judgment on her own actions. It wasn’t as though she didn’t have enough self-doubt. Now to hear this, from a respected lady of the church, it weighed her down.
She felt like slinking under the table and hiding for the rest of the class. She thought about the ways she might have been able to save her marriage. She imagined Damon coming home drunk. What if she’d just lain down when he lifted his hand to her? What if she’d offered him everything including her soul just to make him happy? Well, wasn’t that precisely what she’d done?
And then she thought of Jayce. Friday night nearly breaking that guy’s finger. Standing up to the bouncer. Jayce, who had once been a frightened, abused boy. He hadn’t become the confident man he was today by continuing to cower. By submitting to those more powerful than him.
“Something wrong, Maya?” Mrs. Kratz asked.
Out of nowhere, laughter bubbled out of her. She covered her mouth and shook her head. She gulped in a breath and said, “I’m sorry. I’m not sure why I’m laughing.”
“This is hardly a funny topic. You of all people should understand that.”
Maya’s humor vanished replaced with a sudden and shocking flood of anger. Not just any anger. Righteous anger. Whatever had happened to allow this emotion to break through, she was grateful. She clung to it and said, “You know, you’re right. I do understand. I understood it when I was six months pregnant with Mattie, and Damon came home drunk and hit me the first time. He works hard, I said to myself. He has a lot of responsibility. If I take care of him, he’ll calm down.
“I understood it when he rampaged through the living room, throwing and destroying lamps and the television; when I hid the children in their closet so he could throw me to the floor and demand I clean up what he destroyed. A submissive wife gives her husband what he needs, even when he needs her to crawl through broken glass while he curses at her.
“I understood it when he came home after getting fired, punched me so hard I fell on my back, dragged me back to our room by my hair, and then raped and sodomized me. Of course, I suppose since I consented to marry him, that meant that I consented to everything that happened within the marriage. So I can’t justifiably call it rape, can I? After all, if I was fighting against him, then I wasn’t being a submissive wife. Was I?”
Addy had tears streaming down her cheeks. Everyone was staring at Maya in various postures of shock and occasional sympathy.
“Class?” Maya asked. “What do we think? Should I have submitted more? Would you, if this was being done to you in front of your children? Or, perhaps, I deserved it for fornicating when I was sixteen and getting pregnant. I should have stayed in my home with my abusive father until Damon proposed to me properly, right? Would my life have been different then?”
Addy’s hand on her back made her feel stronger. For once in her life, she didn’t feel scared or shaken. For once in her life, she believed something. She believed her own truth. Maybe it didn’t gel with what these ladies were telling her the scriptures said, but it was definitely truth. She could feel it down in her marrow.
There was silence in the room. Maya heard a couple of sniffles. Mrs. Kratz seemed to be organizing her notes as though she was preparing to move on.
“My sister is in an abusive relationship.”
Everyone turned to listen to Kylie Reed at the end of the table. She’d graduated with Jayce and Kellen. Maya didn’t know her very well.
“It’s a difficult situation to be sure,” Mrs. Kratz conceded.
“It’s an abomination,” Kylie said, her unwavering eyes meeting Mrs. Kratz’s. “And I want to thank Maya for telling her story because it’s something we all need to open our eyes about. My sister won’t leave her husband and a lot of the reason for that is right here in this room. These teachings—”
“If your sister has chosen to stay with her husband, that responsibility is her own,” Mrs. Kratz said. “And perhaps God will bless her decision.”
“I think you share in the responsibility, you and people like you who take on the mantle of responsibility for teaching God’s word.”
“I teach from the scripture, Kylie. Are you questioning scripture?”
“I’m questioning any doctrine that makes women feel that their needs are secondary to a man’s.”
“Amen,” Addy said, sharing a sisterly nod with Kylie.
“The Bible is very clear about a woman’s place in the church and in the home,” Mrs. Kratz said.
“The Bible is a collection of ancient manuscripts,” Addy said, “that were not intended to be used as a list of rules for our lives. Jesus’ teachings are all about the heart, and since Jesus himself treated women with extreme respect for the times, I have to believe he wouldn’t be opposed to us, in this class, offering support to the struggling women around us. Li
ke Maya or Kylie’s sister. Wouldn’t our time be better spent praying and working towards practical solutions for these women rather than sitting around and judging them?”
“I’m not judging anyone, Addison, the Bible is,” Mrs. Kratz replied.
“I agree with Addy,” Lesley said. “I mean, I do believe the Bible gives us guidelines for our behavior, but I don’t believe we’re to turn a blind eye to atrocities like domestic abuse because of our own beliefs about these guidelines. I mean, if I’m wrong to encourage an abused woman to leave her husband, I think God will forgive that because my heart is definitely in the right place.”
Mrs. Kratz opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
Maya leaned forward. “Kylie, is there anything I can do to help your sister? I mean, I’m still getting on my feet, but I can help her find resources. There’s a Monday night support group I’m just starting attending. I have a wonderful therapist. And the kids and I have been taken in by the local women’s shelter on several occasions, so I can tell her all about that.”
Kylie slid her phone down the table toward Maya. “If you don’t mind, I’ll take your phone number. I’d like to arrange a lunch, or something, so you and I can talk to her.”
Maya programmed her number into Kylie’s phone and slid it back to her. “Anytime,” Maya said.
“Thank you.”
The buzzer signaling the end of class buzzed. Everyone rose and milled toward the exit. Maya noticed that Mrs. Kratz remained seated, her shoulders slumped. Once the room was cleared, Maya took a breath to bolster her nerves, and took a seat to Mrs. Kratz’s right. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to hijack your class. I just wanted to be heard, you know?”
Mrs. Kratz raised her eyes to Maya, and there wasn’t an ounce of understanding in them. “You endangered these women’s souls today,” she said.
Maya swallowed down a lump of nerves. She was feeling a little shaky. Confrontation like this was no easy thing. “I really don’t believe that’s the case.”
“I don’t really care what you believe, Mrs. Bradley, it’s what the Lord believes that matters.” She stood and gathered her books to her chest. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t attend my class anymore.” With that, she spun on her heel and left the room.
