"Jeez, was it that obvious?"
"Yes, yes it was. Oh, God and I loved it. Everything about you. How you would hesitate coming into a room and then cross the room like you owned it. How your hair had that wild look that was polar opposite to your neat clothing."
"Damn perm."
"I was a boy with only a brother, so I knew nothing of perms. I thought those curls were real until I saw you in college. Even at the prom, I wished you had left your hair down. I wanted to run my fingers through it. But no, it was all shellacked into place. I've never gotten over that one."
"Sorry to disappoint you. And boy was it shellacked. It didn't move for like three days."
They fell silent for a minute. Then, in a small voice, slowly meeting his gaze she said, "What else?"
"You kept your eyes downcast a lot, but when you would finally meet my gaze, it gave me such a rush. Your eyes were so bright and full of life. That's how I knew when you came to my door that something was terribly wrong. There was no light left in your eyes. And when I saw you dressed in your own clothes—it was pitiful. You had given up on yourself."
"You said that to me. You said I needed to take better care of myself and stop dressing so frumpy. It was funny, you know? After that weekend, even when I still didn't know what I was doing, I started taking better care of myself. I started caring about myself again."
"I know. I could see it in the pictures."
"Yeah, about that. I think that was the most disturbing part of the book."
"The most disturbing? I had you pegged wrong." He was amused.
She blushed a deep scarlet and was silent. "A-ha. I knew the graphic nature would be too much for you." Jack had a smug look on his face.
"I, um, well," she stammered. She cleared her throat and tried again. "It's not that I've never read that kind of stuff before, but it is different knowing someone wants to do that to you. But I don't like how Ben treats Nellie. She's weak and spineless, and basically lets him boss her around. It borders on abusive."
"Hits a little too close to home, huh?"
That ruffled her feathers. "No, I, uh, I mean—shit."
"But you failed to see her growth. Yes, Ben was her dom and ordered her to perform on demand and to his exact specifications. But didn't you see how she blossomed. Some people need that kind of relationship to allow them to take control in other ways. I was completely and totally thinking of you when I wrote the book, no doubt about it. But not in the way most people, including you, are thinking. I saw Nellie as a lost soul, who has lost total control over everything, so she grasps at straws, controlling all the minutia instead. But the worst part is even though she's running the show at home, she has so little control over her husband that she has to make him think he's running it."
"Isn't that what you'd call topping from the bottom?"
"Exactly. You're a quick learner." He winked at her and continued, "She has to be responsible and organized and in charge, but her husband neither sees it nor appreciates it. But that's not what she wants. She wants someone to take the responsibility, to ease her burden. To share her load, not add to it. When she gives in and lets Ben take charge, she is much happier. Outside of the bedroom ..."
"It seems like it all happened outside the bedroom," Elizabeth said snidely. "Seriously, who has sex that often and in public like that?"
"Well, I have to sell books too, you know. It is fiction. Anyway, outside of the physical part, Nellie is able to grow and figure out what she needs from her partner. Yes, she was sexually dominated. But that's all right. It allowed her to let go, and become a more well rounded person, instead of being a martyr."
"And you think that's how I am."
"I know that's how you are. You are lost and adrift. I'm not saying that you're looking for a BDSM relationship, but I think you need someone who sees your strengths and fosters them, instead of undermining them. Your partner also needs to see your weaknesses and bolster you, instead of cutting you down. Can you honestly say Peter does that for you?"
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: September 2, 2012
On the drive home from Jack's, Elizabeth had been even more confused. She never did make it to Susan's house. She turned around and headed home. The home she had shared with Peter for more than ten years now. It was hard to be mad at Jack. It was hard not to be mad at him. She was still livid that he invaded her privacy. No doubt about it, she felt violated by the intrusion. The community's reaction was a further violation. No one believed her. Or in her. She felt like she was the victim of a sexual assault who had to defend herself for wearing a short skirt.
Sexual assault. Jack's confidence that he had been abused was a big one. She was almost sure that was not something he talked about often or openly. She wondered if Nancy knew. It had obviously damaged him. How could it not? That, in combination with a shitty father, had left Jack a little more screwed up than the average teenage male. He claimed to have made poor choices, but he really felt he was doing right by Elizabeth back then. He had not pursued a relationship when she was sixteen, not because he didn't want to, but because he did. A teenager often lacks the insight to think about how his or her actions might affect someone else, but Jack stopped and thought about what it would do to her. His intent was noble. The results, not so much.
Elizabeth had always lacked self-confidence. Agnes saw to that. When she thought that Jack might possibly be interested in her, her confidence soared. She felt better about herself. Jack's rejection and betrayal deflated that. It caused Elizabeth to accept whatever guy came her way, whether he was worthy or not. Most of the time, not. She had slept with the next guy she became serious with, determined never to be too innocent again. The fact that she always held Jack at arm's length was her pitiful attempt to prove how much his rejection didn’t matter to her. Looking back, she was sure she was obviously transparent.
Elizabeth had always wondered why guys didn't often seem attracted to her. Perhaps it was this lack of faith in herself that was repelling to members of the opposite sex. Thinking back, Elizabeth wondered if she had been attracted to Peter, or to the attention he paid her. That his consideration validated her. If he noticed her, then she must be worthwhile. If Elizabeth had only known that the attention would wane once they were married, perhaps she would not have let Agnes convince her that no one better was likely to come along.
If this was the case, did she and Peter actually have any basis on which to re-build their marriage? Was there a foundation to be salvaged underneath all the rubble? Did she want that? What did Peter have to offer her anymore? But that was the one question she knew the answer to. He was her children's father. He provided a two-parent home and stability for the kids. Could she really deprive her children of that, just to meet her own needs? Elizabeth didn't think that she could. No one could ever replace Peter in that sense. If he was willing to work on their marriage, then perhaps she should be as well.
Her week alone went quickly. She was alone with her thoughts, which could be her best friend and worst enemy at the same time. Elizabeth tried to bury herself into getting her classroom ready so she would not have to think about her marriage, or lack thereof, or about Jack. She still didn't know how to feel. She only knew that Jack made her feel. But feeling let in the good and the bad.
He made her angry. He made her nostalgic. He made her cry. He made her laugh. He hurt her. He made her feel happiness. He made her feel beautiful and sensual and desired. She knew she should not feel those things. Then Elizabeth pondered if she was feeling the attraction because Jack was actually giving her the attention that she so desired. Perhaps it was a repeat of Peter all over again. Mistaking attraction to the attention for attraction to the person giving the attention.
Elizabeth was so lost and confused, she even went to church, looking for answers. She had drifted away from her staunch Catholic upbringing while in college. It was hard to participate in drinking and debauchery on Saturday night, and then attend church on Sunday morning. It was the one area in which Elizab
eth openly defied Agnes, and it was a source of never-ending grief and ridicule as far as Elizabeth was concerned. Even if she wanted to resume participation in the Church, she simply could not give her mother that satisfaction. Elizabeth certainly did not tell Agnes she was going, and she went to a church that Agnes specifically did not care for and did not attend.
Sitting there, listening to the reading, Elizabeth prayed for strength and guidance. She didn't believe that religion, that God, worked on a bartering system. The Catholic Church often extolled the virtue of the saints, and Agnes had a saint for every cause. But Elizabeth didn't believe that simply praying to one saint or another was enough to grant her every desire. She remembered that St. Jude was the patron saint of lost causes, and that St. Rita was the patron saint of the impossible. Should she pray to them? She certainly felt lost, and that getting her life back on track would be nothing short of impossible. But she was fairly certain a prayer or two would neither be enough, nor could it hurt, not that she believed that it worked like that.
Elizabeth tried to make her mind focus on what the lector was saying. It was a reading from the Book of Hebrews. The first line struck a chord, resonating with Elizabeth. "Faith is the realization of what is hoped for and evidence of things not seen." Throughout the rest of the day, she could not stop thinking about that statement. Elizabeth knew she should feel terrible that she had broken her marriage vows with another man. She was unfaithful in a tangible way. And not that this was a tit-for-tat or a keeping score, but she realized that Peter had been unfaithful first. No, he had not cheated on her. Instead, he had not fostered a relationship that was the realization of what Elizabeth had hoped for. She was never able to trust that he loved her without some kind of demonstration of it. And since he was not demonstrative, she did not believe that it existed. She could not trust that he loved her without him proving it to her. His actions and words indicated something other than love. In fact, when the going got tough, he left, which proved that there was nothing there.
Elizabeth did not have faith in Peter. But more, she realized she did not have faith in herself. She worked hard to prove her worthiness in tangible ways. In making the right friends. In cooking the right food. In dressing the right way. In volunteering for the right activities. She let the others in her environment dictate how she acted and thought. The need for constant affirmation. God, she was no better than when she was a teenager. Peer pressure preyed upon those without faith in self. Elizabeth was a primary victim. She wanted to change but had not been able to. But now, she was at a crossroads in her life.
Needing some guidance, Elizabeth called her parents. Still on her own, with Peter and the kids not due back until the next day, Elizabeth sought out a dinner invitation. She needed to return home, to a place where she was loved and accepted, and felt safe. Of course, it never occurred to Elizabeth that her parents' home had never provided these things to her when she was growing up. Perhaps, if they had, she would not be in her current predicament.
As Elizabeth sat down at her parent's dining room table, she was unprepared for the onslaught that awaited her. Her mother's cooking had seemed proficient when Elizabeth was growing up. However, it had somehow turned abysmal as the years passed. Elizabeth was trying to choke down the over-cooked chicken without appearing impolite, lest her own mother think her rude and uncouth. She was mid-way through a piece—which was taking much longer to chew than it should have—when the attack began.
"Are you getting divorced?" Without waiting for an answer, Agnes continued, "How could you do this? What did you do to drive Peter away? What are people going to say? I won't be able to show my face in the grocery store."
Elizabeth just stared at her mother, mouth agape. The partially masticated chicken threatened to fall out and choke her at the same time. Elizabeth calmly reached into her lap, delicately grasped her napkin and brought it to her mouth, where she proceeded to spit out the virtually inedible poultry.
"Excuse me, Mother?"
"You heard me. How could you do this to your father and me? Can you beg Peter to take you back? What are you going to do? Who knows about this? Please tell me that the whole town does not yet know. I may still be able to save face if Peter takes you back."
Elizabeth held up her hand, signaling her mother to be quiet. It took Agnes a moment to realize what Elizabeth meant. This time Agnes stared. No one ever dared silence her.
Elizabeth had had enough. She was done being the victim. She was done being in the wrong. She was done being wronged. It was time for her to reclaim her life. "Mother, I refuse to discuss this issue when you take that position."
"What position?" Agnes asked indignantly. She was still miffed at being silenced. No one silenced her.
"I will tell you what you need to know. It is between us. It is not for you to tell your friends, your co-workers, your customers or some random person you see in the store. I will tell you what the problem is, and then we are done discussing the issue."
Agnes sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. Thomas just continued shoveling food into his face, as if a major confrontation had not just occurred at the other end of the table. He was oblivious to what was going on in his family. Just as he had been throughout her lonely childhood and her difficult adolescence, Thomas sat on the sidelines, watching the battle, but never taking sides. Never participating. Never wanting to support his daughter at the risk of enraging his wife.
"Dad, you need to listen, too. This is important."
"Humm?"
"Dad, for once, stop stuffing your face and open your eyes to what is going on in your house. In case you haven't noticed, my life has fallen apart."
"And whose fault is that? You make your bed, you sleep in it," Agnes interjected, always having to get in the last word.
"Jesus Mother! Just shut up for once in your Goddamn life and let me speak!"
Agnes’ mouth snapped shut. She was not pleased. Oh boy. When this was done, Elizabeth was in for it.
"As of right now, Peter and I are separated. He wants to talk when he gets back with the kids, but I'm not sure what will happen."
"Of course you need to stay together. Beg him to forgive you for whatever you did."
"What part of 'shut up' are you not understanding, Mother? I don't know that I'm taking him back. I would like to say that I did nothing wrong, but that's not true."
Agnes muttered under her breath, but loud enough so Elizabeth could hear, "I knew it."
Elizabeth shot her a dirty look and continued. "I have no faith in our marriage. I do not trust Peter to be there for me. When problems arose, I did not immediately turn to him because I did not think he could handle it. And I was right. And he does not trust me."
"Did you cheat on him? How could you? Didn't I raise you better than that?"
"Right, Mother, because this all comes back to you." Elizabeth paused. "But, in a way, it does. I could say this is all your fault."
"How could this possibly be all my fault? Tell her, Thomas, that I cannot be held responsible for her terrible behavior."
Thomas shifted in his seat, uncomfortable.
"Don't worry, Daddy. You don't have to speak up. You never have before now; no need to change that. Nevertheless, you are to blame, too, for letting her ride roughshod over me my whole life. What I was trying to say before you interrupted me, yet again, Mother, was that our marriage is failing because of a lack of faith. I have no faith in Peter. Peter has no faith in me. But worse, I have no faith in me. I have no belief that I am worth more, that I am deserving of better, that I can accomplish whatever I set my mind to. No, I don't think that. I only define myself in terms of what I do for my husband and children. I think that I personally have no worth; that I do not deserve more; that I am not meant to have happiness for myself. Why would anyone want to love me when I don't love myself? When I'm not worthy of love and respect? I serve the people in my family. I take care of them, but no one takes care of me. No one thinks that I have needs that should be met, be
cause I've never taken the time to meet my own needs before anyone else's."
"But that's part of being a mother ... putting your children and husband before yourself."
"When you are flying on an airplane, and they are going through all the safety crap at the beginning, they always tell you to put the oxygen mask on yourself before your child. Why do you think that is? You have to meet your basic survival needs in order to actually be of some use to anyone else."
"So how is this my fault, exactly?"
"Really, Mother? Throughout all of this, you've asked, 'What did you do wrong?' and 'How could you do this to me?' You've never asked if I was okay, or if I needed anything. It's never even occurred to you to take my side. You just assumed that I messed up and that I needed to beg Peter to take me back. And why would I need to do that?"
"Well, it's not like a divorced, middle-aged mother of two would get too many decent prospects."
"Right. Because you assume that I need a man to take care of me. Because you assume that I could never make it on my own. Because you assume that I am not attractive to anyone else. Because you think so little of me that you think I could never do any better. Isn't that true?"
"Well," Agnes snuffed. "It's not like the boys were exactly beating down your door when you lived here."
Elizabeth laughed bitterly. "Yeah, because I'm exactly how I was twenty years ago. Scratch that. You still think of me as a shy, awkward twelve-year-old who is incapable of crossing the street without being run over. And why do you think the boys never came around? Maybe it was because I wasn't allowed out. Maybe it was because you scared the shit out of everyone, Daddy included."
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