Wall of Silence

by Dorey Whittaker

  Officer Bailey, stepping out onto the porch, said regretfully, “I’m sorry. We need to get a statement from her. We’ll do everything possible to spare her more trauma.”

  Tilting his head toward the house, he whispered, “It’s pretty bad in there. If you could keep the child distracted while they bring the mother out, I would be grateful.”

  With a motherly smile, Mrs. Reiner went over to Susan and suggested, “Sweetheart, let’s move over to the far end of the porch so we’ll be out of the policeman’s way.”

  Susan didn’t even look up. Mrs. Reiner placed her arm around the child’s shoulder and nudged her in the direction she wanted her to go and thought. It’s strange, but she’s like a little rag doll. It’s as if there’s nothing inside but sawdust.

  The two sat in silence for a few minutes. Mrs. Reiner kept her arm around the child, pondering her lack of emotions, and whispered lovingly, “You sweet little baby. You’ve seen so much in your short life, haven’t you? There ought to be better laws protecting you from people like your parents.”

  Hearing the screen door swing open, Mrs. Reiner watched as they rolled Mrs. Miller out onto the porch. Susan didn’t so much as move. She stared at the ground without expression, without emotion. Mrs. Reiner’s head throbbed with pent-up emotion, and she wanted to yell, Cry, child! Scream! Get angry! Something! Anything!

  Steve, Mrs. Reiner’s son, came over as the ambulance pulled away. Approaching the porch, he could see Mr. Miller sitting on the living room couch being questioned by the police. No one in the neighborhood liked Chuck Miller, and with the laws being what they were, the neighbors knew he might never have to pay for his behavior. Taking this into account, no one wanted to attract his attention by speaking against him in his presence, so Steve quietly stood beside his mother and watched. When Officer Bailey asked Mrs. Reiner what she knew about this family, Steve quickly stepped over to the officer and, with a look of deep concern, whispered, “Sir, could you please wait until Mr. Miller isn’t around? I really don’t want him mad at my mom.”

  Officer Bailey nodded, agreeing to wait with the questioning. Moments later, Chuck Miller was led out the front door in handcuffs. Finally, he was going to jail. Passing his daughter on the porch, he didn’t ask or even seem to care what was going to happen to her. He simply looked straight-ahead and glared. When the police car was out of sight, several neighbors came out of their houses to find out what had happened. Steve walked around his mom and sat down next to Susan. He tried to make small talk to divert her attention from the neighbors’ discussion. As he was talking to Susan, one of the other officers asked loudly, “Which one of you called the police?”

  Steve heard his mother say, without any hesitation, “I did. I couldn’t stand the sound of him beating them one more time. I still have doubts as to whether or not Lisa is still alive. I believe it’s only a matter of time until one of them dies over here. So, yes, I called.”

  Steve didn’t like the neighbors knowing his mother had done this. She had finally taken her stand, and no one was going to keep her silent now. Mr. Miller had bullied their neighborhood long enough! It was time they stood up to him; however, everyone knew that just because Chuck Miller had been taken away in a police car, it did not mean they shouldn’t still be careful.

  Steve despised Mr. Miller but he liked Susan and her sister, Lisa. Susan was just a little kid and not very talkative, but she was sweet. Never having been in this type of situation before, he felt unsure about putting his arm around her—like his mother had done—but he wanted to do something to reassure her. While feebly attempting to make conversation, he began to feel overwhelming compassion for her and thought, This must be how big brothers feel toward their little sisters. I want to hug her, but not like a girl, and not like my mom. If only I could stop the hurt in her eyes and get her away from all this ugliness. He continued jabbering about anything that came to his mind, hoping Susan would respond. Then, to his great relief, she smiled at something ridiculous he had said. Yahoo she’s coming back. Keep coming, Susan. I’ll be as silly as I have to be to get a smile out of you.

  Within a few minutes, Susan was responding to Steve’s silly stories. Almost forgetting there were other people around, she began talking with him. He had lived next door for as long as she could remember. Everyone liked him and his mom.

  Susan studied his friendly face. She had often sat up in her tree secretly watching him and his mother working in their yard. She would listen to them banter back and forth, always being kind and friendly to one another. Steve was one of those boys who usually had a sweet smile on his face and a kind word for her and her sister. Many a night she and Lisa had talked about how different their home was from his. They tried to imagine what it must be like to have a mother as nice as Mrs. Reiner. Though they both liked her, they knew better than to get chummy with the neighbors. If their parents ever caught them talking with anyone in the neighborhood, they would be severely punished. What they did or did not say was irrelevant. Just talking was reason enough to bring down the reign of terror, so they carefully avoided everyone. Everyone except Steve. Lisa had always trusted him, and as long as they sat on his lawn and watched for her parent’s car coming up the street, Lisa took her chances because she loved to talk to Steve. And tonight Susan felt the same way. Talking with Steve like this made it feel as if Lisa was not so far away.

  Officer Bailey stepped over and sat next to Susan. “Do you have any family we can call?”

  Keeping her head lowered, Susan simply shook her head.

  “You do understand,” the officer explained, “we cannot allow you to stay home alone at your age? We’ll find a safe place for you to stay until your mother is strong enough to take care of you.”

  Fatigued beyond measure, Susan grimaced at this innocent statement, and momentarily letting her guard down, replied, “When has my mother ever been strong enough to take care of me?” Without looking up or expecting a reply, Susan followed him and climbed into the police car. They could take her anywhere. She didn’t care. This had been a long night and she was tired. She wanted to go to sleep and make this day end. It had always been Susan’s only escape from the pain and sorrow of her life. When the tension in the house became overwhelming, she would go into her room and fall asleep. There was no better way of being invisible. She had discovered this technique when she was three or four years old and had perfected the ability to fall asleep at any time. Her sister could be in their room talking to her and she could still simply lay her head down on the pillow and “disappear.” After all, she reasoned, you couldn’t say the wrong thing while sleeping. More than once her father had come into their room looking for trouble and, seeing Susan was sleeping, ordered Lisa to the kitchen to fix him a snack, which usually resulted in a fight. She was always amazed that Lisa didn’t seem to catch on to her trick. At least she never mentioned it. Right now, though, Susan really was tired and sleep was all she wanted.

  Chapter 4

  Marjorie’s raspy voice jolted Susan back to the present. “Susan! Susan, answer me!”

  She brought the phone up to her ear and said, “Mother, I have nothing more to say. I’m tired, and tomorrow’s going to be a grueling day. The attorney intends to review the final witness list and the two remaining depositions. We need to be fully prepared for the trial by the end of the day.”

  Hearing her mother take a deep breath, Susan felt a sense of dread that another argument was about to ensue, so she quickly added, “I’m hanging up and going to bed. I suggest you do the same.” Not allowing her mother a chance to protest, she quickly ended the call. She then laid the receiver on the table to ensure this would be the last call of the night.

  Quietly making her way toward her children’s room, she thought about the past eleven years of silence from her mother—not a call, not a card, or gifts for any of her three children. Slowly pushing the bedroom door open to peek in on them, she thought, Mother hasn’t changed a bit. She assumes she can ignore my children and m
e, and then she expects to pick up the phone after eleven years and bully me into doing what she wants. She may not have changed after all this time, but I certainly have. Her power over me is gone; she just doesn’t know it yet.

  Susan carefully removed the books and toys the children had fallen asleep playing with, and then she kissed each one gently on the forehead. Now standing in the center of their room, Susan’s gaze rested in turn upon each child. This was a cherished ritual for her these past six years, starting the first night they brought their little Lisa Anne home from the hospital. Studying their precious, innocent faces in such sweet, peaceful sleep and listening to their rhythmic breathing was always a bittersweet experience. Tonight, as on many other nights, she tried to imagine how they must feel.

  Having had her mother’s bitter voice shatter eleven years of silence, Susan struggled to control her emotions. That loathsome voice pierced her soul like a dagger, breaking through the emotional fortress Susan had erected between her childhood and her adulthood, bringing back to life all her old childhood feelings. She tried to compare her feelings as a child with those of her children. They never worried about their father blasting into their bedroom with anything but smiles and hugs for them. They would play for hours and never feel the need to cautiously assess their surroundings for trouble. What must it feel like, Susan wondered, to be able to play without anxiety, never fearing or having to prepare for an attack that comes without any warning?

  Hers were such busy little girls, always making pretend dinners and then waiting anxiously for their daddy to come home so they could serve him the “delicious meal” they had prepared. He would make such a fuss over these wonderful make-believe dinners. The thought that daddy might not want to join them in play never crossed their minds. It never occurred to them because their daddy could not wait to get home every night and see his beloved little girls.

  A favorite game involved them piling on top of him, everyone giggling and wrestling. They refused to stop until mommy agreed to join them for a family hug, and then everyone would get kissed.

  Susan loved to watch this family ritual but, while it brought intense pleasure, it also brought intense pain. A deep ache welled up in the very core of her being. These sweet, precious moments with her husband and girls brought an acute awareness of all she had missed as a child. She could not shake the feeling that this intimate, tender moment was not meant for her. Part of her wanted to turn and leave the room because she felt like an intruder.

  Susan was a good mother. She knew this to be true, but she was keenly aware she could be somewhat reserved and slightly aloof with her children. She did wonderful things for them, but how she longed to feel free to shower them with affection as her husband did. She lived so carefully, so cautiously, always fearing a little bit of Marjorie might one day show itself in her. Of course, when her family demanded she join in their revelry, she always would. Susan realized, though, that she never initiated affection, and that realization troubled her.

  Tonight, having received these phone calls from her mother, Susan was extremely emotional. This trial was resurrecting her old feelings, feelings she hated. She found solace in spending extra time watching her children sleep. But they missed their daddy. She wondered if it would have been better for them to have remained with him in Atlanta. The pretrial phase had lasted three long months, and the idea of not having them with her was intolerable for Susan, and after all, their daddy did come down every weekend. Megan, now three, kept busy with play all week and was fine just seeing her daddy on the weekend. Of course Matthew, being the baby, was so smothered with love from Aunt Gladys that he was perfectly happy. Six-year-old Lisa Anne, however, knew something wasn’t right. She had her daddy’s grin and her mother’s jet-black hair. Although she was usually grinning and giggling and finding the fun in any task her mother gave her to do, Susan could see that Lisa Anne sensed her mother struggling. Though always cooperative, Lisa Anne was the one who worried Susan. It was going to be impossible to keep her from being affected by the trial.

  In the beginning, Susan wanted to shield the children from any knowledge of the trial. She had her husband promise that whenever he came for a visit, they would play and have fun with the children. The trial was to be non-existent during these family times. But Lisa Anne wasn’t a baby anymore, and she asked so many questions. She didn’t understand why they’d had to leave home for the summer and come here. She could sense the tension and sadness in her mother, and she couldn’t understand why her daddy couldn’t be with them all the time. When he did come to visit, she dreaded the moment he would have to kiss her goodbye and leave again. Susan longed for this nightmare to end so she could pack up the children and go home.

  ***

  Gladys arrived early the next morning so Susan could get to the meeting at the attorney’s office by eight. Gladys never pried, but she always took time to listen if Susan wanted to talk. This morning, as usual, she went to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee before getting the children up and moving. As she was dressing Matthew, she called to Susan, “Would you like something more than your usual dry toast and coffee today?”

  Susan was not one for eating breakfast, and lately it had been especially hard to get anything down. If she did eat, it just sat in her stomach. Dry toast was as much as her stomach could handle. “Thank you for the thought, Aunt Gladys, but I think toast and coffee is all I want.”

  Looking through her closet, Susan was having trouble choosing an outfit. As she checked out the navy-blue suit in the mirror, she was surprised at the weight she had lost since coming to Jefferson. She had always been slim, but now she looked gaunt. As she closely studied her face, she saw the beginnings of dark circles under her eyes and ever-so-faint lines around her eyes where none had been before. She had always been careful about cleansing and moisturizing her face, but these days, she was lucky if she managed to change clothes before dropping into bed. She vowed that tonight she would give her face special attention. Right now, though, she needed to decide what to wear.

  She settled on a sleeveless light-tan dress with matching jacket trimmed in white, white heels and a string of pearls. The necklace was Scott’s wedding gift to her, and she wanted something of him with her today. She poured herself a cup of coffee, grabbed her toast, and then went in to phone Scott. She had promised to call him every morning because he was so worried about her. At first she had asked him not to come to the trial. Though he was aware of some incidents from her childhood, she preferred he not be there while she and others shared the vivid details with strangers. She wasn’t sure if that was for his sake or hers. He reluctantly agreed to remain in Atlanta during the pre-trial discovery, reminding her he was only a phone call and a two-hour drive away. They both knew he was needed in Atlanta, but the entire family planned to be at the trial to support Susan and her sister.

  Scott picked up the phone on its first ring, and before she could even say hello, she heard, “I love you, Suz. How’s my girl this morning?”

  With a touch of forced laughter, Susan responded, “I’m fine. I miss you, honey. I’m sorry I didn’t call last night, but yesterday was pretty rough. Then my mother called me two times last night.” Susan paused and then said, “Scott, I couldn’t imagine getting through this without you. You always seem to know exactly when I need your words of reassurance, and this is one of those times.”

  “You know I love you, Susan,” he said. “This will all be over soon. We’ll have our lives back and you can put this behind you.”

  With a sigh, Susan responded, “I’m ready. I want to wake up in our bed, fix breakfast in my kitchen, and watch our children play in our yard.”

  Scott asked, “I notice you aren’t volunteering any additional information about your mother’s phone calls. Susan, why did your mother call two times?”

  “Oh, she seems to think I have some control over whether or not the attorney calls her to testify. No matter how many different ways I told her I couldn’t help, she persisted in ord
ering me to do something.”

  The lightheartedness was now absent in Scott’s voice. “I don’t like her bothering you. Eleven years of silence hasn’t been so bad, has it?”

  With a hostility that surprised even Susan, she snapped, “As a matter of fact, no! You know, Scott, she never even asked about the children. It’s as if they don’t exist. She’s really a piece of work, my mother. Eleven years of silence, and then she picks up the phone and starts ordering me around as if nothing has changed. I’m convinced she still thinks I’ll still jump when she threatens me.”

  “Did she threaten you? Are you sure you don’t want me to be there today?”

  The concern in his voice made Susan realize she needed to pick her words more carefully. “No, Scott, she didn’t actually threaten me. Her entire manner is threatening. She doesn’t know any other way of communicating. I’m all right. You don’t need to drop everything and come down here.” She knew he wasn’t pressuring her and would do what she felt was best. He was simply letting her know he was there for her and wanted to help. Scott had always been good to her, and she was especially thankful he never pushed her for ugly details about her childhood. Besides, he had met her mother enough times to have some understanding of how terrible her life at home had actually been.

  “Susan, you would tell me if that wasn’t so, wouldn’t you?”

  Forcing a lilt back in her voice, Susan did her best to reassure him she was fine. As she hung up, she sat by the window and thought about his constant care for her. She had decided Scott did not need to know of her frequent strolls down memory lane, nor was she sure that even his presence last night would have stopped them. Convinced she was protecting him, she argued with herself. What purpose would it serve to tell him? His knowing won’t change a thing; it would only cause him pain.

  Enjoying the warmth of the morning sun, Susan pondered all that had transpired in her life to bring her and Scott together. It still amazed her every time she thought about it. How had she been so fortunate? At times like this, she wondered if she might wake up one day and find all this was really just a dream and she would be back in that house with her parents. Eleven years of marriage to Scott, being happy, blessed with wonderful children wasn’t really meant for her. Susan always wondered when this dream was going to end.