Hold Her Down

by Kathryn R. Biel

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN: June 20, 2012

  Wednesday brought slight relief for Elizabeth, as she did not have to go into school right away. She still had plenty more clean-up to do before closing her classroom up for the summer, but there was no need for her to be out of the house first thing. She did not shower before the children got up, instead donning sweat shorts and a tank top, much like the stay-at-home moms favored. Her hair was in a ponytail and she had no make-up on. And it felt great. She wished every day could be like this, where her focus could be on her children, and not on working. She leisurely made herself a cup of coffee while she got the kids their breakfasts. Because she had the time, she packed their snacks as well, even though she normally made the kids do it. When they were all trying to get out of the house in the morning, she needed the kids to be as self-sufficient as possible. Today, it didn't matter. She could take care of them. She could baby them for one day.

  Elizabeth had the TV in the living room on and wanted to watch one of the morning news programs. She heard them say that author J.P. Devaney would be on, talking about his latest bestseller, "Hold Her Down." Elizabeth wanted to see what this guy looked like. Would she be able to see what Nancy was attracted to? Did John look like him? Because she wanted to take the kids out to the bus stop and wait with them, she started recording the show and left the house. Outside, the morning was already hot and steamy. She didn't envy the teachers who had to go into school today, but it was the last day. The kids were being dismissed early as well.

  The peace and flow of the morning made Elizabeth forget all of the unpleasantness of the last few days. She took her coffee out on the front porch and sat there for a few minutes, just enjoying the sun shining and the birds chirping. It was a nice respite from the hustle and bustle that was her normal life. She took a few deep breaths and felt okay about the world. She was even in such a good mood that she called Agnes to check in, before Agnes could call her.

  "Elizabeth, what's wrong? You never call me."

  "Nothing, Mom. Just thought I'd check in. I just got the kids off to school for their last day."

  "Were they excited?"

  "Of course. I can't believe they'll be coming home a second and a fourth grader."

  "I know. It seems like just yesterday our kids were babies."

  Elizabeth tightened. This was why she didn't call her mother. Agnes always knew just how to step over the line and didn't even realize she was doing it. "Yes, my kids are growing up too fast."

  The emphasis was lost on Agnes, as it usually was. She prattled on for a minute, instructing Elizabeth on the importance of structure and routine over summer vacation. "You need to keep structure for your kids. That's why their behavior is so terrible. It's because there are no expectations placed on them. You need to have a specific chore time set up daily where all of you do your chores. Including you. Maybe you can get your house totally clean this summer for once."

  "Thanks, Mom." Elizabeth snapped.

  "What?" Agnes retorted. "I'm just stating a fact. You're too busy to keep a good house. Too involved." She said it like it was a dirty word. "Your grandmother would roll over in her grave if she knew how lackadaisical you are about cleaning. We cleaned our house top to bottom every week."

  "Yes, Mother. I'm aware that I'm a horrible housekeeper. I also understand that Mimi never worked outside the home a day in her life, so it's really not fair to compare my life to hers."

  "Well, you don't have to get so defensive," Agnes gibed.

  "Mother, you just insulted my parenting ability as well as my housekeeping ability. You also said that my grandmother would be very disappointed in me. What is not to get defensive about?"

  "Well, I don't need to hear this." And with that, she disconnected.

  Elizabeth stood up from her seat on the porch and walked inside. So much for her good mood. Leave it to Agnes to ruin things. Elizabeth reminded herself that this was why she did not call Agnes more. The TV was still on, which reminded Elizabeth that she had recorded the morning news program to watch. Her coffee cup was empty so she took it back out to the kitchen and deliberated getting another cup. Her stomach was starting to churn after the conversation with Agnes, so she decided to eat something first. She opened the fridge and looked at the offerings. She should have her Greek yogurt with fruit and granola, but she didn't feel like it today. She shut the door and turned to look at the counter. She took a paper towel and placed a powdered sugar doughnut on it. She felt rebellious, not only for her unhealthy and un-adult breakfast choice, but for using a paper towel simply so she didn't have to worry about cleaning the plate.

  She opened up the program in the DVR menu and started playing it. Because she had the luxury of time, she watched the national news snippets, as well as the weather forecast. She followed the gossip report, although she did not know half of the people they were talking about. Elizabeth sat happily munching on her doughnut, using her belly as the plate like she used to when she was pregnant. Sometimes she remembered that she could fast-forward through the commercials. Other times, she found herself watching them, just zoning out.

  Finally they got to the segment she had been waiting for. "Now, we talk with author J.P. Devaney. His fans know him from his best-selling tween series, 'The Adventure Chronicles.' His latest work is a significant departure from that and is aimed at a whole new audience." And as the perky blond news reporter turned to face her guest, the camera panned in. Elizabeth dropped her doughnut, leaving a trail of white down her front. Holy shit, it was Jack! What the hell was Jack doing there? What? No! How could this be?

  Elizabeth sat, rapt attention on the TV screen. Her mouth hung open, her heart in her throat. She didn't even make a move to pick up her doughnut. She could not look away.

  "How did this novel come about? What made you decide to make such a leap from tween fantasy to—a whole new type of fantasy?"

  "I was looking to challenge myself, to try something new. I've written seventeen books in 'The Adventure Chronicles,' and was getting burnt out. I wanted to try something that would make me work, so that I couldn't cruise through on auto-pilot."

  "How does one go about doing research for this type of—material?"

  Jack laughed. "You can say it, erotica. I initially didn't plan on it having so much detail but after I was inspired, I couldn't stop writing. My agent, Sally Bellows, kind of challenged me, saying that women would not want to read erotica written by a man."

  Elizabeth thought she was going to vomit, remembering the opening chapter of the book. House in the mountains, ice storm. Wounded, freezing high school girlfriend showing up on the doorstep.

  "And what exactly was your inspiration?"

  "I just liked the idea of a woman who was so at the end of her rope, so held down by everything, that she totally departed from the normalcy of her life."

  "And the main character, Nellie—"

  "She has a normal life, living the American dream. But is it? Is it what women really want? She has the education, the house, the job, the husband, the kids. But somewhere along the way, she lost her self. And Ben helps her find it again."

  The perky newscaster asked, "I guess I don't really need to ask where the title, 'Hold Her Down' came from?"

  "It was a play on words, of course. Obviously, there was the literal, physical interpretation. But more than that, this woman was held down, bound in so many ways. It wasn't until she explored that type of lifestyle that she was even able to see what was holding her down in the rest of her life."

  "Is there a Nellie in your life?"

  "Well, obviously, this is a work of fiction. I do, however, have a chocolate lab named Harold to keep me company. He's in every book I write."

  Elizabeth could feel the enthusiastic dog licking her hands, and curling up with her on the worn leather sofa as she sat before the fire.

  "Thank you, author J.P. Devaney. His new adult work, the steamy 'Hold Her Down' is available now in bookstores everywhere."

  Elizabeth turned
off the TV and robotically picked up the doughnut off the floor. In a trance-like state she walked into the kitchen to throw it out. She turned around and looked about. The first thing that caught her eye was the large block of knives of all sizes. Shaking that thought away, she ran upstairs and grabbed her e-reader. She needed to find out exactly what was in this book.

  She opened up the book, and moved back to the beginning. The very beginning. She always blew right by the dedication and acknowledgments. There it was, in black and white.

  To Liza—Many years, many miles, many missed chances. Many talks, many laughs, many tears. Many thanks, much love.

  Oh God. This was to her. Memories from that weekend started rushing back. They talked and talked and talked. They, well, she cried. He made her laugh. She laughed until she cried. If she had read this the first time around, would she have figured it out? She was such an idiot. How could she not have seen this? She re-read the opening scene, describing the mood and the mindset of Ben, and the appearance of Nellie. She was sure that must have been how she looked. Pale and alien, bleeding and cold. But he could not have actually gotten aroused, seeing her like that—could he? She kept reading. He described how he helped her down the hall and put her in the shower to warm up.

  The book goes on to describe her shower, and how Ben entered the bathroom while she was in the shower, watching her through the clouded glass. He took her clothing to wash it, and left his clothing for her. How turned on he was getting, knowing that she was in his clothes without any underwear. On and on it goes, describing what had actually happened when Elizabeth had arrived at Jack's house. And then, there it was, the thing Elizabeth had most feared people would find out:

  "Well, Ben, I really owe you one."

  "I’ll remember that," he said with a wink. "Do you need to call anyone?"

  Nellie shook her head. She didn’t want to sound pitiful, but here it was. "There’s no one I can call."

  "No one?" he asked looking pointedly at her left hand, which was folded across her body cradling her right arm.

  She continued shaking her head. "Nope, no one."

  He went into the kitchen, while she stared blankly at the fire. It was true. She would rather jump into that burning pit than call Terry. He probably wouldn’t come anyway. Her mother had the kids, and would not be able to help her. Nellie did not have the strength to calm her mother down and get her through this. So, there was really no one.

  "Here, this is for you," he said, returning from the kitchen and handing her a white ceramic mug. Nellie looked inside. Hot chocolate with marshmallows. Just like she made for her kids when they were outside in the snow. This guy who she had not seen in almost twenty years had shown Nellie more kindness and compassion, and had done more for her since she had knocked on the door, than her husband or children had shown her in the past decade.

  "Marshmallows." Nellie managed to say wistfully before her floodgates opened.

  She sank onto the couch behind her, desperately clutching the warm ceramic mug between her hands, trying not to spill the hot liquid as she shook, this time with tears. The enormity of her situation bore down on her with crushing force. She was so alone. Her husband was cheating on her. He would probably be going public in town with his swinger lifestyle. He was going to leave her. She was going to be financially destitute, unable to provide for her children. And she almost committed suicide over the whole damn mess.

  "Had I known that you felt that way about marshmallows, I would not have put them in. I didn’t know they were so offensive," Ben said quietly and seriously.

  Nellie’s crying hiccoughed to a stop abruptly and she looked at him. He looked back at her seriously. Then, she smiled. And started giggling. She continued to shake. Ben reached over and took the mug from her hands and set it on an end table.

  "Over here you go, you offensive lumps of processed sugar."

  Nellie continued giggling until the giggles morphed into full-throated laughter. She held her sides until the tears started streaming down from laughing so hard.

  "That’s better, right?" He said as he sat down next to her on the couch. She angled her body to face him and wiped her cheeks.

  "Much," Nellie said, pausing for breath. "Thanks for that. I think I was about to head over the edge for a minute there."

  "That’s what I was afraid of."

  "Typical man, can’t handle tears," Nellie muttered before she could stop herself. She looked up with a shocked expression. "Oh, God. I’m so sorry for that. I mean, um, you’ve been nothing but, well, um, you—" she stammered.

  Ben put up his hands to stop her. "No worries. You’re absolutely right. Can’t handle tears. Makes me want to run for the hills."

  "Aren’t you already in the hills?"

  "Yeah, that’s how I ended up here— my ex was a bit of a drama queen."

  "I doubt it, but it’s a better story than how I ended up here."

  "Speaking of which, how did you? What happened out there?"

  Nellie looked at her hands, knotted in her lap. She took a deep breath in and slowly exhaled. "I went off the road. Got a flat and tried to fix it. Left the lights on, and drained the battery. Then, asshole that I am dropped, the lug nuts. I ran out of options, so I had to walk."

  "How long did you walk?"

  "Um," Nellie started, "Not sure. I kind of sat down for a while."

  "Sat down? Where?"

  "Well, it was more like laid down. I tripped and fell and didn’t get up for a little bit."

  He knotted his brows together and stared at her like she had two heads. "You know you could have died doing that, right?"

  Nellie looked up and met Ben’s eyes. She didn’t have to say anything. The look on her face betrayed her.

  "Oh," he said softly, a look of panic crossing his face.

  She shook her head quickly. "I’m okay, really. It was a momentary thing. You don’t have to confiscate my shoe laces or anything. Really."

  "Really?"

  "Yes, really. I, um, just lost it for a minute, but I got it back together."

  "Why?"

  "What do you mean why?" She didn’t know if he was talking about why she wanted to kill herself, or why she didn’t.

  He looked at his hands. He seemed angry. "What could be so bad?"

  Nellie met his gaze and took a deep breath in. "Honestly, I had never thought of it before today. It was a momentary thing. Really. It’s just," she faltered and exhaled. "My life kind of sucks right now."

  "So why didn’t you?"

  "It’s too selfish. I couldn’t do that to my kids."

  "Good."

  "Good?"

  "If you had enough clarity to think about someone other than yourself, then you are probably not truly suicidal."

  Nellie winced at the word. She said quietly, "I told you I’m not. It seemed like a good idea. It was a moment of weakness."

  "A good idea? A moment of weakness? Really? You think that it is a workable solution? Do you know what that would have done to your kids?" Ben’s voice was rising and she could tell he was angry. It made her defensive.

  "Don’t yell at me. I’ve had a crappy enough day. I thank you for all your help, but I really, really can’t handle anything else right now." She had been looking down. She raised her gaze to once again meet his eyes. "Please," she said with a pleading note to her voice.

  "Oh, God, I’m sorry Nellie. I just, well, it makes me angry, such waste. I have some baggage that makes its appearance every so often. Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to take it out on you." And he reached out, and embraced her, hugging her tightly to him. The swiftness of his embrace took her by surprise. After a moment, she exhaled and put her arms around his back and rested her head on his shoulder.

  "Ben, I think I’m all sorts of screwed up right now. I am a complete and total mess."

  Still holding her he said, "Don’t worry. Admitting you have a problem is the first step."

  She pulled back a little to look him in the face. "I thought the first
step was admitting that you are powerless over your addiction?"

  He smiled. "I have no idea; it just sounds good."

  Nellie laughed, and pulled back, flopping back and resting her head against the couch. She put the heels of her hands over her eyes. "Oh God. What a day. What a week. What a month."

  "Is it really that bad?"

  "I’m just a hot mess and I don’t know what to do about it."

  "What can I do?"

  "You can pass me that hot chocolate," she said, gesturing to the end table behind him.

  "With its offensive marshmallows and all?"

  "Offensive marshmallows and all," she smiled. She accepted the mug and took a sip. She sank back into the couch and drew her knees up. "Thanks."

  "No, seriously, what can I do to help?"

  "You’ve done so much already. I just need to call a tow trunk, I guess, so I can get home."

  He shook his head. "No."

  "What do you mean no?"

  "I mean no; no one is getting up the mountain tonight while it’s still snowing. You’re figuratively and literally stuck here."

  "Oh."

  "Why were you heading up the mountain in a snow storm anyway?"

  "I was headed to a friend's house."

  "By yourself?" he asked suspiciously.

  Nellie stared at her hands. "Yes."

  "Why?"

  "Because I needed a break and was trying to get away from—"she broke off, unable to continue. After a minute, she came up with the right word. "Everything."

  "Everything?"

  She took a deep breath in and slowly exhaled. She felt the familiar burning coming back to her chest, just thinking about her life. "Yes, everything." She closed her eyes.