by Dyanne Davis
***
When Gabi returned she’d sought refuge in their bedroom. She wasn’t ready to face her husband but now it was becoming downright silly. She’d made lunch and now was forced by hunger to sit in her husband’s presence. They sat across each other at the table barely speaking. Gabi could tell that Eric was trying not to look at her and it was breaking her heart. She didn’t know if it was because he was sorry or guilty. She couldn’t tell.
“Where were you?” Eric finally asked.
“Church.”
“Church?”
“Church,” Gabi answered. “Don’t look so surprised. I went a few times while you were gone.”
Eric’s eyes closed and he groaned, rubbing his head as if that would make the situation better. “What’s happening to us?” he asked finally. “Are we still in love?”
“I am,” Gabi said so softly that he had to strain to hear her. And Eric noticed that she said it as though she were afraid she was the only one in love. What had he done to her? He hated his actions. Though part of him wanted her to leave and find someone who could help her fulfill her dreams of a family, a larger part of him would never be able to bear it if she did.
She was watching him with the oddest expression on her face. Then he noticed the lone tear roll down her cheek. “Don’t do that, baby,” he whispered, going to her, falling on his knees and pressing his head against her chest. He felt the trembling of her body and looked at her. Instead of the one tear, there was now a flood.
“I love you, Gabi, forgive me, baby.”
“Are you sleeping with Jamilla?”
“No.”
“Are you cheating on me?”
“No.”
“What are you doing?”
“I don’t know.” He wiped the tears from her eyes, kissing her face, her nose, her eyes and finally her lips.
“Talk to me please. I feel so alone,” Gabi whispered.
“I know and I wish I could tell you everything. I feel so dirty, Gabi, so inhuman, I wonder how on this green earth I deserve to have you. I should have died in Iraq. I should have never come home. I’ve done nothing but hurt you since I returned.”
“Don’t ever say that. I would have died too if you had not come back.”
“But you’re dying now. You’re slowly dying a little every day. I can see it and I know I’m doing it to you. I want to stop. You have no idea the lectures I’ve given myself. Each time I leave this house with you in tears, I swear I’m going to stop it. Then I have to go to work, and I have to talk some kid into signing up.” His body jerked and a shudder made him close his eyes tight.
Eric ran his thumb over Gabi’s arm and felt her tremble beneath his touch. “You’re the only clean thing in my life. Sometimes I want you so bad to fill me, to take away all the dirty spots, to fill me with your goodness. I want to tell you every horror I’ve seen and have you kiss me and tell me it’s okay. I want you to make it all better for me. Then I come to my senses and think, ‘No, I can’t defile her like that.”
“But that’s not how I look at it. You’re my husband and you’re shutting me out. I want to help you.”
“Why are you still with me?”
“You’re my husband.”
Eric thought he saw a flash of pity and stood to walk away from her. He shook his head. I’m still a man, Gabi.”
She pulled on his sleeve. “I know you are, I never thought differently. If you’re thinking not being able to give me a baby makes you any less a man in my eyes, think again.”
Her words stabbed him and he flinched. “It seems you went to that conclusion awfully quick.”
“Don’t turn this around, we both know that’s what you meant. I’ve tried telling you I don’t care. All I want is for us to survive this.”
“If you don’t care, why do I always hear you crying when you think I’m asleep?”
“I’m not crying because I can’t have a baby; I’m crying because I’m losing you.”
The two of them stood staring at each other only inches apart. Eric wanted to reach for her to assure her that she wasn’t losing him, that he was the same as he’d always been but that was a lie. He’d never be the same after all the things he’d done. Right or wrong, what he’d done was etched on his soul and he didn’t know how to erase it. “Why did you go to church?” he asked, holding her gaze, swallowing his hurt when she came toward him.
“I went to pray for us,” Gabi answered softly, touching him, caressing him, the tears still streaming down her face.
“Do you think it’ll help?”
“I hope so. All I can do is have faith.” She glanced upward at him. “I’m not sure if I know what that means. I’m thinking it’s the same as patience, but I’m not sure. And… I’m running out of patience. Is the therapy helping?” she asked, switching the subject.
“No,” Eric answered truthfully, because it wasn’t, because he wasn’t going and when he’d gone he hadn’t talked. He couldn’t tell anyone the things that weighed on his soul, not ever.
“Maybe if you try talking to me, tell me what’s bothering you. You never know, just talking to me might help.” Gabi looked down, her shoulders trembling. “You treat me like the enemy. I love you, Eric, I swore to love you for always, to have your back as you had mine. But you no longer have my back. You’re hurting me and I can’t take much more.”
“Another threat?”
“No, baby.” Gabi stared at him and shook her head slowly. “You can’t or won’t talk to me but I know one of us needs to talk. You’re pushing me away and one day I’m going to believe you no longer love me. One day when you push, I’m going to push back. All I ask is that you be honest with me, give me a reason to believe you love me, give me a reason to even want to have faith. Talk to me.”
Eric rubbed at Gabi’s ever increasing tears with his thumb. “You never used to cry.”
“I never had a reason to cry before.”
With her words Eric crumbled, pulling Gabi hard against him. He held on to the one good thing in his life that he was pushing away. “I love you, Gabi, you have to believe that. I’m trying to find my way back to you. Just hang in for a little while.”
Her shoulders shook. “And baby,” he added, “I do have your back, I’ve always had your back. Even this, my hurting you, has been because I had your back.”
He saw the doubt creep into her eyes and slipped a finger under her chin, raising it to meet his lips. He’d kiss away her doubts. He’d make love to her until she would know with every fiber of her being that he could not stop loving her, that even if he died, he would be thinking of her, sending her his love.
As Gabi’s arms wrapped around him, it wasn’t lust that fueled his desire but love. He lifted his wife into his arms and carried her to their bed. Then he kissed her slowly, going over every inch of her again and again, using his tongue, his mouth and his kips to tell her what he couldn’t say with words. He wanted his lovemaking to soothe her wounded spirit, to lift the burden she carried.
And he would do it even as he added another pebble to the mountain of guilt he carried in his soul. He’d be damned if Gabi thought he didn’t love her. Sure, almost on a daily basis he thought that she would be better off without him but still he didn’t want her to stop loving him.
***
For the next few weeks Gabrielle had renewed hope. Things were not as they had been between her and Eric, but the decay had at least ceased. She treasured each moment they were together. But still there was something eating away at Eric, something that he wouldn’t share with her. Gabrielle had almost tired of changing the channel when Eric became lost in news of the war. She didn’t want to be his warden, only his wife.
When he’d wake up in the middle of the night drenched with sweat, his eyes wild, she’d hold him, pleading with him to let her in. There were times he’d seemed on the verge, then he’d look at her, shake his head and tell her that he’d work it out in therapy.
Therapy had been Gabi’s idea but it
didn’t seem to be helping. As much as she didn’t want the irrational tinge of jealousy it ate at her anyway. Knowing that Eric could sit in an office and tell things to someone else that he couldn’t tell her burned at her pride.
Gradually Eric began staying out again. Only now he’d kiss her on the forehead when he returned home. And he’d hold her, his way of assuring her of his love, she supposed, but it was no longer enough.
Blind and stupid were not roles Gabi had ever expected to play and she couldn’t do it now. Not when more and more often Jamilla would comment at work about having seen Eric, having danced with him. Gabi had promised Eric she’d give him more time to find his way back to her. But she’d also made a promise to herself that she wouldn’t be dogged. She’d broken that promised to herself. It wasn’t that Gabrielle doubted Eric’s love, but dogged was still dogged no matter how you looked at it.
***
Gabrielle chopped garlic, onions, tomatoes and green peppers to top the frozen pizza. Eric was watching her. His eyes held a question but there was no answer Gabi could give. She no longer knew what he wanted.
“You’re looking tired,” He said.
She popped the pizza into the oven, opened the fridge and took out a bag of salad. She was waiting before she answered him, not wanting to snap. As soon as the salad was rinsed she dried her hands and turned to face him. “Why do you say that, because I’m only making frozen pizza and salad for dinner?” She opened the cabinet and took down two cans of broccoli cheese soup, opened them and dumped them in a sauce pan. “Is that better?”
“No, it has nothing to do with the food.”
“Then what? I don’t understand what you’re asking me.” Gabi bit her lips, trying to remain calm, not wanting to lash out at him and say, “Hell yes, I’m tired.’ She waited.
“Your soul seems tired.”
She blinked. Her soul was tired. “How can you know my soul is tired? You’re not here often enough to know that.” God, if only she could have bitten back the words. Gabi waited, she didn’t feel like fighting any more.
“Do you still love me, Gabi?”
Immediately tears flooded her eyes but she refused to allow them to fall. “I’ve done nothing to make you think I don’t love you.”
“You’ve given up.”
She began to tremble. If he was deliberately pushing her buttons he was doing a damn good job. She slid into the chair at the kitchen table across from him. “Given up on what exactly?” she asked, narrowing her gaze and staring at him.
“On me.”
“What is it that you want me to do?”
“Fight for us.”
Pain flooded Gabi’s body, radiating to every cell and membrane. She’d done this once too often. Her eyelids shuttered close and she clenched her teeth together, determined to regain control.
“Why don’t you call me on my bull anymore, demand that I stay home?”
“You’re not a little kid and I’m not your mother.” She rubbed her face, then opened her eyes. “Do you really think I want you home with me if I have to beg you?”
“I didn’t say beg, I said demand.”
“I’m also not a marine officer. Eric, you know right from wrong. You know if I decided to take to the streets you would have a fit.”
“So why haven’t you?”
“Is that what you want me to do?”
He shrugged. “I’m just curious, that’s all. You say I’m not me anymore but you’re not you anymore. You would have never allowed me to get away with any of this before.”
“Your behavior is now my fault? You come home three to four nights a week late from chasing tail and it’s my fault?”
“Do you really believe I’m doing that?”
Gabi could only glare.
“That’s what I mean. You think I’m stepping out and you’ve resigned yourself to it. I don’t want a martyr, Gabi.”
“Why don’t you try telling me what it is you do want? You’ve been home long enough to get over whatever happened. You’ve asked me to be patient, to have your back. I’ve done that, and now you’re complaining.”
“Having my back is not giving up on us.” His head tilted. “I have a question for you.”
“What?”
“Tell me, what is the prescribed time for getting over things you thought you would never do? What is the time frame for getting over taking someone’s life?”
“It was war.”
“What is the time frame for feeling guilty about recruiting kids to send them into this madness?”
“It’s your job.”
“That wasn’t the question. I want to know how long you think it’s proper to feel the way I do.”
“I have no idea. Why don’t you talk it over with your therapist?”
“Right now are you hurt or angry, Gabi?”
“I’m pissed.”
“Then why don’t you go with that? The long-suffering wife is not a role you wear well and it’s not one I want to see.”
Gabi stood to check the pizza. “So, you want me to go stone ghetto on your ass? Let me repeat, I’m not your mother and I’m not your commanding officer. If that’s what it takes to have your back, then I guess I no longer have your back.” She slid the pizza on the platter, cut wedges, placed the plates on the table and proceeded to eat.
So that was what he wanted, Gabi fumed. Her husband had no idea. She resisted the urge to smash the pizza into her husband’s face. He was making her tired. Pick a mood, any mood, she thought, and stay with it.
“Are you still praying for us, Gabi?”
“No,” she answered and continued eating.
“What happened to having faith?”
“Fairy tales, Eric. I’ve stopped believing in them. I count it lucky that the one prayer I prayed was answered. You came home…alive. Perhaps I should have prayed for more.”
Eric didn’t have an answer for Gabi’s statement. He wondered if that was the reason that his life had been spared. Was it because of Gabi’s prayers, because of the prayers of his mother? He shuddered. That couldn’t be the reason. The entire United States was in constant prayer over the safety of the troops, or so he’d been told on many occasions.
“I do love you, Gabi.” Eric gazed at his wife, somehow knowing this time she would not return the endearment. They ate in silence.
“Want to watch television with me?” Gabi asked at last, unable to bear the deafening silence. Her breath hitched and she swallowed. “I mean, if you’re staying home.”
“What’s on?” Eric’s eyes held hers. He’d seen her swallow, saw the quiver as her breath became trapped in her chest. He wanted to tell her again how sorry he was that he was no longer the man she’d married and loved.
But how many times could you tell a person that you were sorry, especially when he didn’t know if he would stop hurting her. She was watching him. It made his heart hurt and he ached for them. For a moment he wanted to ask her to continue praying for them. He wanted to pray for them himself but he didn’t know how.
“Gabi, what do you want to watch?” he asked again.
“I taped a few episodes of Spouses Cheating,” she said, spooning the broccoli cheese soup into her mouth. Gabi watched as Eric’s eyes lifted and he stared at her.
“Sure, why not? I’ll make popcorn.”
***
Gabi could feel Eric’s eyes on her as they watched the taped shows of spouses catching their partners in the act of cheating. “Hey,” she said, turning toward him, “would you like to go dancing this weekend at that club in Joliet you’ve been going to?”
“I didn’t tell you I’d been to Joliet.”
“No,” Gabi said, reaching for a handful of popcorn, then turning deliberately toward the television. Eric turned also.
“Are you having me followed, Gabi?”
She frowned, looked at Howard Deeds, the host of the show, and smiled. She stared for a long moment at the couple hitting each other, screaming and generally making fools of thems
elves in front of the millions of people watching the show.
“I would never do what those people are doing,” Gabi said, not quite answering her husband’s question. “I can’t imagine wanting the entire world to know I’d been played for a fool.” She reached for more popcorn. “So, do you want to go dancing?”
“How did you know I’d been to Joliet?”
“Tracie and Jamilla were there. Jamilla said you danced with her.”
“And?”
“And nothing.” Gabi looked at him as though he were nuts, pretending that she wasn’t dying inside. “I just wanted to know if you wanted to go dancing with me. We haven’t been out in a while. I’d like to go.”
“Why the club in Joliet?”
“No special reason. I just figured if you liked it, it must be good. If you don’t want to go there we can go some place else.”
She was playing it cool, but not cool enough. Eric saw the tiny quiver around her lips. He stared at her throat, saw her swallow several times and knew what she was asking him: Have you cheated?
Well, it depended on how one looked at it. He remembered Jimmy Carter saying once that he’d cheated in his heart. Eric understood now exactly what the ex-president meant. He’d also cheated in his heart. He ran his tongue over his lips, thinking Gabi would be better off without him. He was not doing anything but hurting her but somehow he couldn’t seem to release her.
“I don’t want to go dancing,” he answered at last. He saw the way Gabi bit her lip and hated himself for hurting her deliberately. “Maybe we can catch a movie, maybe a comedy.” She smiled and it was all that he could do not to go to her and gather her in his arms. He’d only thrown her a crumb. Eric was ashamed of himself, but the spiraling was happening so quickly that he didn’t have the momentum to stop it. He was afraid now to touch her, afraid that he’d not be able to complete the act.
“Do we have anything for an upset stomach?” he asked as the acid churned in his belly from the guilt that was eating him up. Nothing had lessened since he returned home. Instead it was increasing—his guilt over the war and his guilt over the hurt he was heaping on his wife. Eric didn’t know how much more he could take.