A Journey to Submission

by Laney Rogers

  “Okay, golden boy, here we go again.” I groaned miserably and got out of the car. “Look, even God realizes how much I don’t want to be here,” I exclaimed, pointing heavenwards. The sky was growing rapidly darker with heavy gray clouds gathering above us.

  Mat laughed. “Come on, and stop calling me golden boy or I’ll put you in a headlock.”

  “Oh yeah?” I replied.

  “Yeah, any time, little sis.”

  I punched him in the stomach and then ran up the path, yelling as he tried to catch me. The front door opened, and the fun and laughter died instantly.

  There she stood, tight lipped and disapproving. “Could you both at least attempt a little decorum? You’re not ten years old anymore, so there is no really need to behave like small children.”

  “Hello, Mom. Happy Easter,” I said, walking up to her and giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

  She stared at me and then turned to Mat, raising her cheek for a kiss when he reached her.

  Mat and I glanced at each other and then back at our mother, feeling exactly like small children after her speech.

  “Your aunt and uncle are in the drawing room, with your cousin Tom. He’s a qualified cardiac surgeon now,” she added, glaring pointedly at me.

  “Good for him,” I said loudly, walking to the front door with Mat, determined not to let her get to me with her obvious comparison of his career and mine.

  Mat pushed me to one side as I got to the door and I giggled and pushed him back, slamming the door deliberately when we got inside, which earned me another black look from mother.

  I hugged my dad, worried at how tired and old he seemed since the last time I’d seen him. Then I greeted my aunt and uncle, and Saint Tom, who at least had the manners to look embarrassed, having obviously heard my mother gushing about him through the open living room windows.

  The conversation was boring and stilted, and it wasn’t long before I figured out that my mother was on her fourth drink, compared to everyone else’s first or second.

  Before lunch, I took a walk with my dad around the large back garden. We strolled arm in arm as he showed me where he’d been working, planting some young conifer trees. He was such a gentle man, tall and slim, with gray hair and a wide, friendly smile. I had lost count of the times I’d tried to figure out why someone as nice as him could have married a person like my mother.

  He turned to me. “Liza, I think you have a right to know that your ex-boyfriend, Mike, has been calling here on a regular basis.”

  I stopped walking and swung around to face him. “How often, Dad?” I knew the douchebag called my mom, Mike had told me that himself, but this was ridiculous.

  “Well, I’m not always around when he calls, but he told your mother about the altercation the two of you had at work. He made out that you both got into a lover’s scuffle and he accidentally hit you during a struggle. He can’t believe you’re pressing charges and he’s lost his job. Unfortunately, your mother…”

  “Believes every damn word, right?” I finished, anger filling every part of me at the unfairness of her behavior. “Why, Dad, why does she hate me so much? What mother would take the ex-boyfriend’s side and not believe her own daughter?”

  My father shook his head, at a complete loss for words.

  Tears of frustration threatened to spill over and I took a deep breath. “Look, let’s just get through lunch with the relatives. Maybe after they leave, I’ll grab a cab and stay in a hotel for tonight. Mat can pick me up on his way back. I really don’t think I can stay here, Dad.”

  “Oh, Liza, I’m so sorry. I haven’t been much of a father, have I? I should have stood up for you more.”

  “It wouldn’t have made any difference. She is how she is, and that’s all there is to it,” I said with a sigh.

  We walked back inside, just as the first drops of rain began to fall. I hardly said a word during the meal. It was easier to eat, and smile if required, than try to carry on a conversation in the presence of my mother.

  By three o’clock, I was ready to scream with boredom as Tom regaled us with yet another story of medical heroism on his part.

  I was lost in thought, allowing myself to imagine Steve tying me naked, and spread-eagle, across his bed when I was dragged out of my daydream.

  “Liza, for goodness sake, Aunt Laura was asking you about work,” my mother snapped.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  I told my aunt briefly about my new job as assistant manager, but my eyes kept going back to my mother who sat, stiff backed, with a condescending scowl on her face, listening to what I was saying with distaste and managing to make me feel inferior.

  As I sat there, struggling to keep focused on what I was trying to say, something finally snapped inside me.

  “Don’t sit there with that scowl on your face, Mom. There’s nothing wrong with my job. It’s what I want to do and I’m good at it.”

  My words hung in the air, and all I heard was the heavy rainfall pounding against the now closed windows.

  After a tense silence, my mother finally found her voice. “How dare you speak to me like that in my own home? Your job is completely worthless. Assistant manager? You had a decent job at long last, thanks to Mike, and you had to throw that away to go and dogsbody for some thug, by all accounts.”

  “What?” My voice was barely more than a whisper.

  “Oh yes, Mike told me all about what happened. Who do you think you are, pressing charges against that poor young man? All he did was tell you that he loved you and try to help you get your life back on track.”

  Without saying a word, my aunt, uncle and cousin got up from their various seats and left the room, closing the door quietly behind them.

  “Linda, that’s enough,” my father said. “You’ve had too much to drink and you don’t know what you’re saying.” He stood up, his face pale. “This isn’t the time or place for a conversation—”

  “Oh, yes, take her side. I knew that was coming.” My mother was close to yelling. “You’ve always let her get away with everything. Whatever bad decisions she made, there you were, supporting every one of them.”

  “Mom, for God’s sake stop.” Mat stood up and left the room, angrily slamming the door.

  My mother glared straight at me and gave me a look of pure hatred. “When I took you on, I thought you’d be my little girl. But you always wanted your father, didn’t you?”

  “Linda!” My father gave her a warning glance, but she ignored him.

  “You didn’t want to do ballet, you wanted to play soccer. You didn’t want a doll house, you wanted a tree house. You—”

  “What do you mean, took me on?” I stared at the woman before me, flushed with drink, pouring out these words in front of my family, and a horrified feeling began to build inside me.

  I looked to my father, but he just sat there in shocked silence.

  My mother stood and walked calmly around the coffee table until she loomed over me. She studied my face for a few seconds and spoke in a loud, clear voice.

  “You are not our biological child. You’re adopted. We took you when you were just a few weeks old. Quite frankly, for me, it was a mistake from the start.”

  I got up from my armchair, right into her personal space, and she instinctively took a step back. “So you decided that, now, just when you could see that I was getting my life where I wanted it, would be a good time to bring my world crashing down on top of me? Well, fuck that. Because all you are is a first prize bitch from hell.”

  I had no control, whatsoever, over the words that spilled from my mouth. Over twenty years of pent-up emotional damage was finally finding its way out, and my so-called mother was just staring at me. Apart from a frown, not a flicker of emotion showed on her face.

  “So tell me, Mother, how does it feel to be personally responsible for wrecking the entire childhood of another person? Shit, just look at you. Standing there, like some old lush, making everyone around you as equally fucking mise
rable as you are.”

  She raised her hand and drew it back, but I didn’t back down.

  “Yeah, go on, do it. I dare you. Hit me as hard as you can; then you can stop worrying about darling Mike’s trial and start worrying about your own.”

  Her hand slowly came back down and rested at her side.

  We stared at each other for a few moments in a battle of wills when my father spoke. “Liza?”

  My dad moved toward me, but I put my hand up to stop him. I walked slowly out of the sitting room and straight out the front door into the pouring rain. I simply left the house and set off up the street, not knowing where I was going, the cold rain beating against my skin, soaking me within seconds.

  After I got to the end of the road, I turned left and ran, as fast as I could, blindly tearing down street after street until I couldn’t go any further. Chest heaving and gasping for breath, I sank down on the edge of the sidewalk.

  Then the tears came.

  I sat in the pouring rain, sobs racking my body. All I wanted was to collapse into the arms of the only man who could make everything okay.

  I’d been so stupid, leaving the house without my coat, bag, or anything. The temperature had dropped rapidly in the last couple of hours, but I couldn’t go back there. I didn’t want to see any of them; I was totally lost. I didn’t even know who I was anymore.

  I jumped when a gentle hand touched my shoulder.

  “Can I help you, miss?” It was an elderly man.

  I stood up shakily, unable to push words past the large lump in my throat.

  “It’s all right, my name is James Freeland, and I live right here, with my wife, Rosemary.” He gestured toward the house I’d been sitting in front of. “Please let me help you out of this rain; you’re soaked to the skin.”

  I looked into a pair of gentle, brown eyes, and nodded.

  “I have a granddaughter about your age, and I’d hate to think of her sitting at the side of the road like this. Can I call someone for you?”

  “Thank you,” I managed, my voice hoarse with crying.

  He took my arm and led me up to his front door and into the hallway of his house. A lady, about the same age as him, was waiting when we got inside.

  “My goodness, whatever has happened here?” she exclaimed, putting a comforting arm around me as she led me into their sitting room. “You’ve had a big shock, dear. Who can we call for you? Try and think now.”

  She sounded soft and encouraging and I knew there was only one person I needed.

  “Could you call Steve Harper for me, please? I’m sorry. I don’t have my bag or my cell phone. I left them at my parents’ house.” Hearing myself say the fated “parent” word, I burst into fresh tears.

  The two of them exchanged a look, and when James left the room, Rosemary came over and gave me a big hug.

  “Come and sit down. What’s your name dear?”

  “Liza,” I answered, sitting in the armchair she had led me to. “I’m so sorry. I don’t usually fall to pieces like this.”

  James returned with a thick blanket and a towel while his wife got the phone. I wrote Steve’s cell number down with a shaking hand. Rosemary gave both the phone and number to her husband, then wrapped me in the blanket and proceeded to gently rub my hair with the towel.

  I heard James start to talk as Rosemary dried my hair. He explained who he was and how he’d found me on the side of the road, then he handed me the phone.

  “H…Hello,” I said, my body shaking with cold.

  “Liza, what’s happened? I’m in the car right now. It’s okay, sweetheart, I’m already in Troy. I’ll be there in less than an hour.”

  At his words, the tears fell again, thick and fast, but with relief this time. I was so overcome with emotion I couldn’t even speak. Steve seemed to understand.

  “It’s all right, sweetheart, you can tell me everything when I get there. Whatever it is, I’ll take care of it, baby. Hand the phone back to Mr. Freeland and I’ll get directions from him.”

  “Thank you,” I gulped. “Thank you for coming.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  I handed the phone back to James. He gave directions to Steve and then put the phone down. Rosemary had gone out of the room, and when she returned, she had a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

  “This should help to warm you up,” she said with a smile. “And it sounds like your nice young man is on his way.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Less than an hour later, a car pulled up outside with a screech of tires. James immediately got up and went to let Steve in, and a few seconds later, he appeared in the doorway.

  Steve walked to my chair, knelt down and pulled me straight into his arms.

  Fresh tears fell, but I felt only warmth and safety with his arms wound tight around me.

  After a while he released me, staying right beside my chair, and James offered me a bunch of tissues. I accepted them with a watery smile. After I had wiped my eyes and blown my nose, I sat there and told all three of them what had happened as calmly as I could.

  “Jesus Christ,” Steve said angrily, getting up and pacing the room. “I’m sorry,” he added, glancing over at the elderly couple.

  “No, no, don’t apologize; my sentiments exactly,” James said.

  Steve came to a standstill in front of my chair. “Is there a hotel close by? I need to get Liza warm and dry, and then I can drive her back home tomorrow.”

  “Yes, there’s one just five or six minutes away. I’ll get you the number.” He gestured for Steve to follow him, and the two men walked out of the room together.

  Rosemary turned to me. “My goodness, he’s quite a dish, isn’t he?”

  I laughed for the first time since I’d arrived with Mat that morning. “Yes, he certainly is, Rosemary.”

  She took my hand. “Why don’t I show you where the bathroom is, and you can freshen up, dear.”

  I went with her, and was horrified when I saw the state of my face, streaked with make-up. I washed as much of it off as I could, and then went back to the sitting room.

  When the two men returned, Steve helped me up and put his arm around me.

  “Thank you so much for all your help,” I said to the couple. Then I shook James’s hand and gave Rosemary a kiss on her cheek.

  Rosemary pressed the post-it into my hand and gave it a squeeze. “Here’s our number, you two. Please keep in touch and let us know how you’re doing.”

  We said our goodbyes, the two men shaking hands, then Steve drove us away in the Mercedes. At least the rain had stopped.

  “Do you know how to get back to your parents’ house from here, sweetheart?” he asked. “It can’t be far from here, right?”

  I nodded and told him the address. After a few minutes, he located the street and pulled up outside the house.

  Mat was getting out of his car. He turned when we pulled up.

  “Liza, we were searching for you,” he called out.

  “Stay here, Liza,” Steve instructed.

  My stomach was in knots and my hands were trembling, but I nodded and watched Steve get out and walk up to my brother.

  Steve towered over Mat as they stood there, talking, and then both men went into the house. I sat there, wondering what was happening, and then I saw my mother peering out of the door, staring at the car. Our eyes met and I turned away, not ever wanting to see that face again.

  Thankfully, Steve reappeared with my bag, and Mat followed soon after, going to his car and getting my carryall from the back seat. Both men came over to Steve’s car and I opened my door.

  Just at that moment, the front door opened again, and my mother appeared on the doorstep. She walked down the footpath toward the car, and Steve stood in front of me, blocking her view. I sat frozen to my seat. All my anger had dissipated, and now, I felt nothing but a great, big emptiness.

  I had to admit, though, the woman had balls. Even with Steve standing by the side of the car, probably with a l
ook of fury still on his face, wasn’t enough to stop her in her tracks.

  She stopped right in front of him. “I have no idea who you are, and I care even less; just move aside so I can talk to my daughter.”

  Her words had a slight slur to them; it was obvious she had continued drinking after I’d left.

  “It’s all right, Steve,” I said, swinging my legs out of the car. “I’ll have one more conversation with her, and then I’m done.”

  Steve moved aside and reached out his hand to me. I took it gratefully and stood up, his hand continuing to hold mine firmly.

  My mother and I stood there, facing each other, our mutual dislike apparent.

  “Well?” I asked coldly.

  I wanted her to get on with it, because I knew that at some point, the tears would probably return, and the only person I wanted around when they did, was Steve.

  A car pulled up behind Steve’s, and everyone turned. My father got out, assessing the scene, and slammed the car door, making me jump. He strode over to my mother, a look of disgust on his face, which was not an expression I had ever seen there before.

  “What are you doing now, Linda?” he demanded. “Haven’t you done enough?”

  “Oh, shut up, you fool. I don’t want to hear you defend her anymore. Twenty-four years is more than enough.”

  “Well, you needn’t worry about having to hear anything from me after today. In fact, this is the last conversation I ever want to have with you.” My father straightened his spine. “Liza isn’t the only one who never wants to lay eyes on you again.”

  Steve, Mat and I all glanced at each other, and then back at my father. I had never heard him talk this way, but I guess everybody had their limit, and it was apparent that my father had reached his.

  My mother turned to me. “See the destruction you’ve caused. If it wasn’t for you, the three of us could have been happy. My God, you are—”

  “Enough!”

  My dad’s voice echoed around the street, and my mother stood there, stunned.

  “Go back in the house,” he snapped, glaring at her. “Now!” he yelled.