by Dinah McLeod
More’s the pity, I thought. Because honestly, how could we learn to solve anything for ourselves if we kept running from our problems? But I was not sure if Mona would even hear my advice. She was already convinced that I’d made the stupidest mistake possible, so I’d say she was pretty biased against anything I had to say.
“Did you wreck your car?”
“Oh, gosh no. It’s fine.”
“I just wondered. Natalie, from the office, mentioned that you’ve come in early every day for the last two weeks, and then I realized I hadn’t seen your car in the parking lot. When you mentioned being pulled over I just assumed that your car was in the shop…” She trailed off, obviously wanting me to fill in the blanks.
“Um, no. Actually…” I took a deep breath. Was I ever going to be able to have a conversation with this woman again without blushing? I doubted it. Especially after what I was about to tell her. “I’ve been riding with Ethan.”
She raised an eyebrow. “OK? But I thought he went to work before you.”
“He does.”
“So…?”
Oh, my Lord, she wasn’t going to let this die until she got an answer, was she? It wasn’t a question I had to ponder for long—I knew she wasn’t. Mona was notorious for spreading gossip, so I might as well save myself some time correcting rumors and just tell her the truth. Although how she would have been able to come up with anything worse than the truth was beyond me. “Ethan took my keys away.”
It took a full seventy seconds for her to register a response. Until then, her face was blank and she was blinking rapidly, looking like a robot on information overload. “What?” she asked, her voice only slightly higher than a screech.
“Shh!” I hissed at her. I glanced out the window quickly and saw that Ethan was turning the potatoes on the grill. “OK, look, I know it sounds—”
“Insane? Barbaric? Did you tell your dad that he treats you like this?”
“It’s deserved,” I answered with as much dignity as I could manage. “I broke the law, Mona. Sure, it wasn’t intentional, but I still did. Ethan hopes that this will help me avoid making the same mistake in the future.”
Mona was staring at me like I had two heads, and she had just now noticed. “OK. Whatever you say, Sara. For how long?”
“Four more weeks.” It sounded like an incredibly long time, but I was actually kind of proud of myself. I’d written Ethan an apology letter, outlining all of the things that I’d done wrong and throwing myself at his mercy. I had been very nervous when I’d given it to him, but it was well worth it—he’d reduced my sentence by two weeks. “But depending on what the court says…” I shrugged.
“Maybe you should tell the judge that your husband already grounded you,” she suggested. I relaxed when I realized she was teasing. “Geez, Sara, you only had two drinks!”
“Hey! Extra vodka!” I defended myself.
“Lightweight,” she scoffed, and soon we were giggling together like old times.
When Ethan came in the door, hands full of grilled chicken, roasted corn, and potatoes, we both jumped up to help him. Mona still seemed skeptical, but is both polite and social to my husband throughout dinner. She was even laughing at his jokes by dessert.
“So, Ethan,” I heard her say as I’m stacking plates in the sink. “Sara told me about her…situation. I was thinking about it, and I believe she goes to work much later than you do.”
My entire body froze. I wanted to protest, but my lips felt glued together. I could only wait to see how this conversation was going to unfold.
“That’s right,” he replied, his voice even.
“Well, it just seems to me that there are other things Sara could be doing with those two hours. She can’t log in early, so she’s not getting paid sitting around the office.” I was surprised at the reasonable voice Mona was using. I never knew she had it in her.
“That may be true, but this is the solution we’ve worked out right now.”
“I absolutely respect that, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to make a suggestion.”
“I’m open to hearing you out, Mona” my husband replied, eyeing our houseguest with a mixture of wariness and curiosity.
“Well, I was just thinking that Sara and I work the same shift, and your house isn’t far from mine. I’d be happy to pick her up and take her with me. I mean, if it’s OK with you. It sure would leave her a lot more time for crocheting, or canning apples. You know, whatever is on her chore list for the week.”
I winced. Mona didn’t have any clue how close to the nail she’d come—or maybe she did—but she sounded gently teasing, not impertinent. Ethan actually chuckled.
“Uh, well…” Ethan glanced over at me, but I still couldn’t speak. I was holding a dishrag and staring at the pair of them with wide, apprehensive eyes. “If it’s OK with Sara.”
I released the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. I wanted to jump into the air and click my feet together, Flintstone-style. I was not a morning person, and getting up to get ready and go to work with Ethan had been a challenge. I’d done it, and been careful not to complain—not within hearing range, anyway—but being able to sleep in and take my time in the mornings would be the answer to a dream that, until two weeks ago, I hadn’t even known I had.
Mona smiled warmly at me, and I realized with surprise that maybe she really did care about me. Funny, I’d never thought of myself as anything other than a gossip buddy where she was concerned. “It’s settled, then. I’ll come by tomorrow morning to pick you up, Sara. Thank you, Ethan,” she added sweetly, and I wondered if she was more cut out for this submissive woman thing than she thought.
After one more cup of coffee we said goodbye to Mona, and I thanked her for her offer. She just squeezed my hand in return. I’d barely gotten the dishwasher loaded when Ethan pulled me into the bedroom with him. I didn’t need an excuse to cuddle with him, so I joined him eagerly.
“Sara?”
“Hmm?” I mumbled. He was stroking my hair, which always made me want to fall asleep.
“Why was your friend so cool toward me tonight?”
My eyes popped open. Uh-oh. I’d been hoping that he hadn’t noticed. Or that he’d at least forget, since she ended up being so nice to him. “Well…ah…”
“Yes?” He prompted. He didn’t sound very patient tonight.
“The thing is, Ethan, we…you and I…weren’t doing so well.”
“Right?”
“And Mona and I were going out for drinks, and I might have…well, I might have told her some things about us…”
His weight shifted under me as he sat up, forcing me to sit up too. “What sort of things, Sara?”
I took a deep breath, and sighed heavily. “Some things that might not have been exactly true.”
“Really? And what kind of things would they be, exactly?”
“Ah, nothing major.” I hedged.
“Given your behavior as of late, I’d wager that our definitions of ‘major’ are very different.”
“Why do you have to sound so mean and mad all the time?” I huffed, very aware that I sounded every inch the brat.
“Please answer the question, Sara.”
“OK, OK! Since you want to know so badly, she may think you sort of…ignore me.”
“Ignore you?” He repeated, sounding confused.
“And I might have said that you yell at me a lot. Oh, and that you were sort of demanding when it came to housework and …rules.” I sneaked a glance at him. His lips were pursed and the muscles in his jaw were twitching.
“Let me see if I understand you.” When he spoke, his voice was as calm as I’d ever heard it. Another not-so-good sign. “What you’re telling me is that Mona thinks I’m a neglectful, verbally abusive husband who makes you do enormous amounts of chores after a hard days’ work?” He was being so quiet by the time that he finished that I had to strain to hear him. This was definitely not good.
“I never used the words verb
ally abusive,” I replied, but I knew that nothing short of an absolute denial would save my hide now.
“I see. I would love to continue this conversation with you, and I fully intend to—” I didn’t like how he said that at all—“But right now, I need some fresh air. I want you to go to the corner, and we’ll finish this when I get back.”
“When you get back? But how long am I supposed to—” I stopped my whining in mid-sentence. I’d never seen him look so mad, and the look he was giving me right now could bring cold water to a boil in five seconds flat. I rushed to the corner without another word. I didn’t even hear him leave the room, but I didn’t dare turn around to see if he had.
What had I done? What had I even been thinking? Just remembering the hurt I’d seen etched in his face made me want to cry. I wanted to tell him how sorry I was, and beg for his forgiveness, but I believed him when he’d said he needed some time to think. I could only hope that while he was thinking, he remembered that he loved me, and that I’d been doing better lately. I vowed to be the sweetest, most submissive wife ever—if I could get out of this corner!
It took a long time for him to cool off. It was funny, the other times I’d been standing here I’d usually felt angry with him over whatever we had fighting about, or mad that he was subjecting me to such a juvenile punishment, but this time there was no doubt in my mind that I deserved it. I found myself torn between wanting to see him so that I could plead my case, and being afraid of facing his anger.
I heard him before I saw him. I’d been standing in the corner for so long that I was starting to feel a little stiff. I could tell he was in the closet, and I began praying fervently that he wasn’t going to get his belt out again. I just didn’t think I could take that again.
The bed creaked, and I heard him sigh, sounding like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. I wanted so badly to turn around so that I could comfort him. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him, and assure him that it would never, ever happen again. I was hoping I would see love for me and forgiveness in his eyes. Still, he didn’t say anything and the suspense was almost killing me. At this rate, I was going to have to bite my own tongue off to keep from saying something.
“Sara,” he called me at last. He sounded so tired and defeated; it gave me pause, but only for a second.
When I turned around, I shrunk back at the sight of him. His hair was standing up on end—from his habit of running his fingers through it whenever he got upset, I’d guess, and he looked haggard. I tried offering a tentative smile, but he didn’t show any sort of reaction—it was almost like he was staring at me without seeing.
I went to him and dropped my knees, squeezing myself between his knees. I leaned my head against his stomach and took his hand in both of mine. I squeezed it, hard, but it stayed lifeless in my grip. “I am so, so, so sorry. Please believe me.”
“I believe you.” His tone didn’t exactly inspire relief.
“I will never, ever do it again. Please, tell me you forgive me, Ethan.” I begged.
“Of course I forgive you,” he replied, but his tone was wooden. He sounded like he was talking to a stranger, not the wife that he loved.
I turned to face him, and forced myself to look into his eyes. They were clouded with hurt and anger. “I know you’re still mad at me,” I said in my most repentant voice, “but I feel terrible, I really do. I’m never going to do anything like that again, I promise. I don’t ever want to feel this awful again.”
Ethan laughed drily. “You feel terrible. You don’t want to feel this awful. Have you ever noticed how everything is always about how you feel, Sara?”
“No, that’s not what I—”
“It may not be what you meant, but it’s what you said. You’re only thinking about yourself. I wish I could say that was unusual for you.”
I drew back, stunned by the barb. “Is that really how you feel?”
Ethan pulled his fingers through his hair again. I didn’t think it could stand on end any more than it was already. “Yeah, baby, I do.”
At least he was speaking gentler to me. That was something, I guessed. “Look, I know I’ve upset you.”
“That’s putting it lightly.”
“I know! But Ethan, I will make it up to you.”
“Really? How’s that?” He seemed curious about my answer, and suddenly I felt tongue-tied. He normally didn’t give me a say in how we resolved our differences. I had assumed he’d take care of it the same way he always did.
“I’m not sure,” I said meekly. “I thought…you sent me to the corner, so I assumed that you’d…you know.”
“Ah.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I see. The thing is, honey, I don’t think that’s enough to fix things this time.”
“What?” I asked, shocked. What did he mean? What was I supposed to do? “What will, then?”
He shook his head at me and shrugged. “I don’t know, Sara. Time, maybe.”
“How much time?” I asked, whining again.
“Until I know that you’re really committed to this relationship.” He held up a hand when I opened my mouth to speak. “I feel like I’ve been trying my best to help us build a stronger foundation, but you don’t seem to want that. Or at the very least, you don’t care much about my feelings.”
“That’s not true!” I burst out hotly. “Mona told me to leave, but I came back, Ethan.”
“You just don’t get it. You made up things about me, and our relationship so that you could have someone to invite to your pity party. How could you, Sara?” He stood up abruptly, and I had to scoot back quickly to avoid being knocked over.
I watched him pace around the room with growing apprehension. This was bad, even worse than I’d thought. I was starting to wonder if I was going to be able to fix this. “That’s not what happened! I was upset, and I had to talk to somebody! I couldn’t exactly tell her you spanked me!”
Ethan looked at me without sympathy. “So you just let her make assumptions about our life, and kept quiet when she guessed that I was an angry brute you needed to be protected from?”
“Not exactly.”
“Right, but it is close enough to the truth, isn’t it?”
I blinked rapidly to keep from crying. I didn’t know what to say. In fact, I just seemed to be making it worse every time I opened my mouth.
“And you know what the worst part is, Sara? It’s not even that you didn’t bother to tell me any of this before she came over, or the fact that you didn’t bother to correct any of these assumptions before having her over. It’s that you only care about how it affects you. Did you ever stop to think about how I would feel?”
“I didn’t think you’d find out,” I mumbled, with tears sliding down my cheeks.
“Of course you didn’t. That makes it all better.” He laughed without humor.
“I really am sorry, Ethan. If I could take it all back, I would.”
He stared at me for several long moments before nodding. “I believe you.”
I wanted to feel relieved by his words, but they just made me cry harder, because his voice was flat, like it didn’t even matter. “Baby, I never meant to hurt you.”
“I know, Sara. I don’t want to talk about this anymore, OK? I’m going out for awhile.” He grinned, a pale shadow of his real smile. “Maybe while I’m gone I’ll find some of my own friends to complain to.”
I leapt up and threw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He let me, but he didn’t make a move to hold me. “What about us? Don’t you love me anymore?”
He put his hand on my waist briefly, just to peel me off of him. “You can be such a child sometimes, Sara. Of course you’re loved—I’m just not sure I can say the same for myself right now. You know, no matter what you did, the yelling, or calling names, I never doubted you loved me. Now I’m not so sure.”
“Just let me make it better!” I pleaded, starting to cry again.
“OK, honey. Just tell me, wh
at’s going to make it better? How do you propose to fix it?”
I buried my face into his chest. I couldn’t believe he was going to make me say it. “Can’t you just…you know….do what always do?”
“What’s that? Spank you?”
“Well, yes.”
“It’s ironic, isn’t it? Just a month ago, you were begging me not to and now you want me to spank you. I can’t keep up sometimes.”
“Please,” I said softly, looking up at him with pleading in my eyes.
“I’ll think about it,” he promised, and after giving me a brief kiss on the forehead he walked out of the room. I wanted to call after him, I wanted to plead with him and make him see how awful I felt, but I’d run out of words. Instead, I dropped to the floor and started to sob in earnest.
I couldn’t believe what a mess I’d made of my marriage. Now I wished I’d never said a word to anyone. He was right—it was ironic. I was in this situation because I had been complaining about my husband spanking me—although I hadn’t used those words—and now I’d give anything for him to do just that, as long as he meant he forgave me. He had to spank me; he just had to, because I didn’t think I could make things right on my own.
Chapter 11
Ethan
I kept trying to focus on the game playing on TV, but my mind kept wandering back to Sara. I was so upset with her right now that I couldn’t even find the words to articulate it. I wanted to just let go and enjoy myself, but I couldn’t. Not when I knew I’d left her at home crying.
“Hey, what’s up, man?” My best friend, Jackson asked.
“Huh? Oh, nothing,” I mumbled.
“Sure, if you say so. But you know, McCoy just ran forty yards to score a touchdown.”
“Really?” I looked dubiously at the TV.
“Yeah, like fifteen minutes ago! Every guy in this place was on his feet, and I look over at you, and you’re moping in your beer.”
I shrugged. “It’s nothing to worry about, dude. Just got a lot on my mind.”
“You don’t say. Something up with Sara?”