by WC Child
When the doorbell rang, the butterflies in my stomach all took flight at once in anticipation of my mother’s reaction to meeting my new beau. Ben did not disappoint. There were kisses for me, flowers for the both of us and a bottle of wine for dinner. While I put the final touches on the meal, Ben and my mother began to get acquainted. Initially, the mood between the two of them was light, but it changed. From the kitchen, I heard portions of their conversation. I could have sworn I heard Big Mama’s voice and intent. He was being examined like the grasshoppers we caught and put in jars during the summers at Big Mama’s house. My mother asked questions that seemed a bit too personal for the occasion. If she was trying to make things awkward for him, she succeeded. Relief washed over his face when I announced dinner was served.
Much to my chagrin, the grilling didn’t stop when the meal was served. Eventually, all the joy evaporated from the room as quickly as the heat abandoned our meal. All the probing questions and her suspicious demeanor made me think we were in the middle of a Columbo episode. After the relentless detective work continued, I couldn’t decide what I wanted to do most; kick her under the table or crawl under the table. My mother wanted to know about his family, his friends, his last relationship, his best friend, and whether or not he owned his own home. I hadn’t even asked Ben some of those things and we were dating. I could read his body language and he had been quite uncomfortable most of the evening. But through it all, he kept a smile on his face and endured. Relief washed over his face when he said his good-byes. I mouthed to him “I’m sorry” after he kissed me good night.
When I closed the door and turned around, my expression changed. Resentment was evident on my face. After preparing such a savory meal, I could not believe the highlight of the evening had been her expression of doubts about Ben. I was forced to sit silently and endure her insults over dinner, but I refused to stay quiet any longer. All the pent-up anger I had choked down for far too many years breached my soul. It rushed forward with unrealized intentions. It brought with it all the frustrations, disappointments, hatred and fears that had festered inside for what seemed like an eternity.
“What makes you think you’ve earned the right to criticize me or any choices I’ve made? You abandoned me at Big Mama’s. When you left, you took those rights with you. I’m a grown woman now. I don’t need your approval or your comments about any decision I make.”
Even though my voice had been elevated, my mother’s voice was calm. “Prison taught me how to read people. This one didn't feel right to me. There’s something artificial about him. I’ve seen his kind before. He’s trouble.”
“What are you talking about? He’s not artificial, he’s real. Why can’t you just be happy for me? After everything I’ve been through, don’t you think I am entitled to some happiness? Why are you trying to ruin this for me?”
“How much do you really know about him? Have you met his friends? His family? Been to his workplace? Been to his home? Ridden in his car?”
I had to admit I couldn’t answer most of those questions in the affirmative.
“You shouldn't trust him as far as you can throw him. Slow down daughter. Take your time before you get too deep with this man. You may live to regret it.”
“So, you want to give me advice about men now. Like you have a good track record. Look at what you let happen to me with the last one you picked.”
I surprised myself when I realized what I said. Those words had been stuck in my throat for years and now that they had been verbalized, they couldn't be taken back. The universe had captured their sound and had tucked them away in both of our minds until the opportunity to inflict their hurt again presented itself.
She stood quietly and patiently through my cathartic tirade. Her expression never changed. I had wanted to say those words for a long time. Now that they were all out, she finally knew how I felt. I was prepared for her futile attempt to deflect her role in the mess that crippled my life. But there was nothing but silence. She continued to look at me with eyes filled with guilt and pain. Her defeated eyes reminded me of the hollowness that existed when my father passed and she became an empty shell of a woman. I couldn’t tell if the pain I observed was about our past or our future.
“Thank you, daughter, for giving me my freedom,” was all she said before she turned and exited my apartment.
What had I done, and furthermore, was it worth it? I asked myself those questions as I sat there in the new apartment exhibiting old behavior. Just like Big Mama, her motives were to protect me, but I didn’t appreciate her efforts. I refused to allow her to insult my decision about a man. I unburdened my soul by trampling on hers. What was wrong with me? I had not been the only one who had suffered. She had offered her freedom for mine, without the requirement of reciprocation. I couldn’t imagine the degradation and humiliation she endured in a place where she had not belonged, just for me. We both had been injured by that experience and it would be impossible to tell whose wound had been the deepest. I was so confused by my actions and her response.
I had unmercifully lashed out at her a short time ago and I quickly regretted my actions. I couldn’t let the next day begin without talking to my mother. I learned that lesson well with the passing of Big Mama and became a great student of the instructor called life. The pop quizzes could be brutal. There were no re-tests or assignments graded on a curve and no one ever got to skip the final exams. The wiser version of me waited until I thought she was home and called her. We both apologized for how the evening ended and promised to get together again soon. Maybe by then, I would be able to show her how wrong her assessment had been about Ben.
Chapter 40
Back in Love Again
Ben planned a special night and I was anxious to be surprised. He stopped by the office earlier in the day and expressed a desire to plan an unforgettable evening for us. He arrived with a big smile and an even bigger bouquet of flowers, neither of which would be easily forgotten. Envy abounded in my workplace when I handed over my spare key. For the rest of the day, I found it hard to concentrate on work. The anticipation kept me distracted.
Walking through the door of my apartment was like stepping through a portal into the middle of a living fairy tale. The room was filled with too many flowers to count and their aroma was fresh and alluring to the senses. The trail of detached petals scattered throughout reminded me of spring blossoms that had fallen victim to gentle breezes. The endless amounts of flickering candles and the absence of ambient light produced a glowing effect throughout the room. The mood was further set by music that needed no words. Our harmony and cadence helped block out everything except the two of us. With all the beauty that had been created for this specific moment, the most beautiful thing in the room was Ben.
I could not have planned a more romantic rendezvous. For the entire evening, I was pampered to the nth degree. Everything was perfect; the food, the wine, the ambience and my companion. I knew I was being willingly seduced and loved every minute of the game. The evening was capped by the physical consummation of our bond. It fit seamlessly into the natural progression of our relationship. I hadn’t been in the company of a man for a while and it became apparent I was hungry for some affection. I was comfortable with Ben and wanted to give my total self to him. Without hesitation, I took off my reserved façade and became the passionate person I had learned to express with Adam. Our skin melted together as our bodies shared common secrets and eliminated pent-up desires. Neither of us was disappointed with the outcome of our first union.
As much as we both wanted our time together to continue, the weekend ended. We were forced to face the conclusion of our enchanted encounter. As I reflected on the events of the past few days, I was encouraged by the possibility of this evolving into something special. I considered myself fortunate to have been selected by this man. Maybe I could be the one to entice him to take a desk job.
Chapter 41
Trouble in Paradise
Th
e next few months were magical. I enjoyed where this relationship train was headed and I had no intention of getting off any time soon. When Ben was not on a business trip, he spent the bulk of his time at my house. I was thrilled each time I came home and he was there. He always soothed away the rough edges of the day and made me feel special. I enjoyed that. I missed what it felt like to be part of a couple. When the weekend was over, I yearned to spend more time with him.
Knowing that he had a work trip planned provided the perfect opportunity for us to spend more quality time together. He could work all day and we could play at night. When I mentioned my idea to him, he rejected my suggestion.
He insulted me when he said, “Why would I ever do something like that? Didn’t I tell you this was a work trip?”
“Yes, but you won’t be working every hour of every day. I’m sure you get time off.” I pushed my body up against his and cooed, “I’ll be lonely while you’re away.”
Ben maintained the closeness of our bodies and caressed my back. His tone never changed when he replied, “I have clients to entertain and it is essential I make a good impression. What would I look like bringing you?”
Those words were unexpected. I waited for the punch line and the laughter at the end of the pregnant pause, but there was nothing. The silence confirmed the finality of his remarks. I couldn’t believe his coldness. As much as I invited him to my work-related activities and into my social circle, he seemed uninterested in doing the same. I was confused.
Not many more words were spoken between us before it was time for bed. I remained on the couch until the snoring indicated I wouldn’t have to face him again that night. I would not have to show the embarrassment I felt from possibly over-estimating the significance of this relationship. I was glad he would leave again tomorrow. I needed time to think without being distracted by his presence.
For the next few nights, I was restless. I lay awake and questioned if we were both headed in the same direction. I didn’t understand the motives behind Ben’s words. I thought they were unkind. I was humiliated. I feared my eagerness for love may have outpaced my common sense. Even when he called, our exchanges were not as they once were. They felt forced and habitual. Although I wanted to chalk it up to the normal ebb and flow of a new relationship, I sensed something more profound was taking place. I questioned if I had moved too fast. I didn’t want to consider that my mother’s words may have been prophetic. Big Daddy once associated Adam and his family with dead flies. Different family, more flies.
Things didn’t get better when he arrived at my apartment that weekend. The divide that existed between us advanced gradually, like a crack in the windshield. It started slowly but raced toward its full potential right in front of my eyes. I watched intently, but was powerless to impede its progress. We talked and even laughed about meaningless quips and news items, but avoided the elephant in the room.
Even the bedroom was under duress because of our differences. Unity and togetherness had become distant cousins as we lay there together, yet apart. The coldness of the physical and mental distance between us prevented our connection, even though I could feel the heat emanating from him. I wanted so badly to reach out and connect with any part of his body as confirmation of what we shared. I needed his touch to soothe my aching places and to possibly resuscitate our relationship. I struggled to remain calm and convey some semblance of control. As if he sensed my cravings, Ben shifted his body further away from me and buried himself deeper into the covers. Each unreciprocated acknowledgement of my presence brought another crack in my resolve. Defeated, I spent the night agitated and confused about the person on the other side of the bed. He was so different from the man I allowed to enter into my life a few short months ago.
Chapter 42
Speechless
Ben never explained why he had harshly refused my idea of combining work with a mini-vacation. My goal was to extract that information in a non-confrontational manner. I thought about the limited things we’d done and the places we’d been. I wondered why I was not good enough to be associated with him outside the local boundaries of this county. It felt like he was hiding me from his friends and family. I needed answers and I was hell bent on getting them when he returned from picking up dinner.
The anticipation of our impending conversation filled me with mixed emotions. I had learned from previous lessons how the things that were swept under the rug often tripped you up. Because we were in the early stages of this relationship, there was no point of reference for the conflict resolution skills of my partner. I didn’t know when the proverbial line had been crossed or when I had ventured too far into dangerous territory.
Our conversation started calmly and escalated quickly as insults and accusations were hurled at each other from places of hurt and confusion. I was in the middle of an expletive-filled rant, fueled by disappointment and outrage, when sound followed fury. The intense demonstration of anger that erupted from his hands spilled over to my face with precision and purpose. The sound that pierced the room reminded me of a high-pitched firecracker. The force of his actions caused my balance to betray me. The remaining words in my mouth retreated and each letter assumed the natural position in the alphabet. None wanted to be close enough to each other to convey a legitimate thought. They had no desire to follow the aborted path of the first few words that had been swallowed up during the initial slap. I had to literally eat my own words and pretend the meal was satisfying. Their only hope of freedom would have been thru regurgitation. They stayed put.
Somewhere in the midst of the commotion, he declared I had brought all this on myself. I was too aggressive and disrespectful and no one was allowed to talk to him like that. While I recoiled in disbelief, his face never registered anything other than normality. He didn’t seem bothered by the trickle of blood that wandered from my nose or the leftover outline of his handprint that masqueraded as blush on the side of my face. With all the dignity I could muster, I steadied myself and gingerly walked toward the bathroom, assisted by the random pieces of furniture I encountered along the way.
I stood in the bathroom and looked in the mirror at my battered face. I saw the reflection of a person I swore years ago I would never be again, a victim. Yet there I stood with both my body and my ego bruised, trying to figure out what went wrong. I had become a member of the group of women I once categorized as pathetic and weak fools. It appeared I had assumed the same identity by default. Ben’s actions were my initiation into the club.
My intellectual reasoning skills were no match for my current reality. No man had ever put his hands on me in anger. I didn’t know how to manage my emotions after such an abrupt end to our discussion. I was an innocent battered woman. I was not delusional. I was not uneducated. I was not in poverty. I was in love, but I didn’t deserve to be assaulted. I wasn’t sure how his actions would change me. I asked myself what woman in her right mind allowed a man to beat on her and he not wake up with parts of himself missing the next day. Maybe I was about to find out since it was not beyond the realm of possibility for me to respond in that manner. After all, I was my mother’s daughter. We both had a thing for knives.
The door slammed hard behind him and I flinched at the sharpness of that sound contrasted against the violating sound from moments ago. I was relieved I didn't have to look at Ben’s face any time soon. I didn't want him to see the weakness and shame that polluted my eyes. Both my ego and my face were bruised. Time and space were required for me to figure out if I wanted to invest any more of my time in Ben. He displayed a frightening portion of himself that I vowed to never experience again. He called a couple of days later, but I wasn’t ready to talk to him. The extra layer of make-up I was forced to apply continued to remind me of his actions. I needed more time.
As much as I wanted to confide in my mother, I couldn’t, especially after she had expressed her concerns about his character. I didn’t want to face the “I told you so” look she would surely give me
after the verbal tongue-lashing I blessed her with. I was forced to singularly carry this burden and find my own solution. I didn’t want to acknowledge the possibility of my being alone again. Being alone would represent another example of my failure as a woman. I had never been able to carry a baby to term and I couldn’t keep a man. What element of substance did I have to offer the world as a contributing member of the female population?
I felt so unbalanced. I was standing on the shore of my own life watching the sands shift uncontrollably beneath me. I had not seen or spoken to Ben in weeks and I wondered if I would welcome his presence again. I used that time to decide whether or not he was the man for me. Each night that I didn’t hear from him made me lean further toward the “not”. Nevertheless, I still watched the door like a lovesick puppy waiting on its master to come home. Each night I pretended to be engrossed in the chatter from the television and often fell asleep on the sofa. I spent too many ordinary nights alone. I didn’t want to admit how much I missed having Ben around. I didn’t condone his actions, but was determined not to send the wrong message. Eventually, I would be forced to make a decision and it had to be sooner, rather than later.
A hot bath had been just what I needed. I appreciated the relaxation that always accompanied one of my favorite childhood rituals. I drifted off to sleep with the television serving as my companion. The shadows it cast gave the appearance of movement on the other side of the bed. For a moment I thought my desires were playing tricks on me as the familiar smell of Ben’s cologne invaded my senses. I felt the covers move and his body sliding close to mine with familiarity. His hands and arms made contact with my body and his skilled touch lured me into him. “Baby I’m so sorry” was the hook and he reeled me in with heartfelt confessions of regret. The soothing words in my ear washed away any thoughts of terminating our relationship. I knew in my heart that he was sorry; I just needed to hear him say it.