by Marnie Cate
"The best part of him is here, Caitlyn. You," my mother said, releasing me.
To appease my mother, I agreed to have my beach wedding on land not sand. I relented to an ocean front lawn, instead of being by the waves. My mother went above and beyond to make the elegant and tasteful nuptials she always aspired for me.
With my mother on one arm and Thomas on the other, we walked through white petals leading to Jeremy. The golden man before me looked like a movie star in his black tuxedo and wavy styled hair. My heart flipped as he took my hand.
The day was a blur. My thoughts raced with both doubts and elated feelings of joy. Jeremy's declaration of love and adoration left few with dry eyes. As we stepped onto the dance floor, all of my questions were answered.
I am his.
My life had begun.
Caitlyn Whittaker was the answer to all my fears. I would be the perfect wife and, one day, the perfect mother. It was a dream wedding and it would be a dream life.
Faking
Caitlyn
Fifteen
In the first few years of our marriage, I often thought back to the days when we first met. Our first home was a quaint cottage on the beach. It was my style of home, not his, but he wanted to make me happy. How sweet and selfless he was only enforced my complete confidence that our love was real and would be eternal.
When Jeremy and I first discussed being parents, I was relieved he agreed to no children for the first five years of marriage. I forced my dark memories of the past deep and far down, but I was not foolish enough to think I was ready to nurture another life. Our commitment to each other was my focus.
The whole time, I had been so worried about my past that I didn't see my present. Looking back, I scolded myself for not realizing what our relationship really was – I had become his trophy. He was mildly interested in my brains, but not enough to keep me around forever.
Our relationship changed as we grew older.
My appearance made my job as Mrs. Jeremy Whittaker possible. No promotion for being witty or charming, but a demotion or even a dismissal always loomed. I was no longer the twenty-three-year-old bride.
He made sure to remind me my beauty would never fade as long as our love was strong enough. This meant as long as I limited my food consumption, and never missed a workout, our love would thrive. Jeremy was obsessed with bottling our youth.
Food became my obsession. Jeremy never told me I couldn't eat pasta or I shouldn't order dessert. However, if I felt defiant and did, he would stare at me until I said I was full. Of course, he polished off his dinner and my leftovers, being sure to tell me how delicious it was.
Instead of feeling bitter, I told myself he was right. I could easily gain weight if I ate like I wanted to. With this acceptance, I spent all my energy on being the perfect size, the perfect wife, and the perfect shell.
This became even more difficult when Jeremy's job changed again. His company added more work days in Los Angeles. He had a generous travel budget, allowing him to stay in hotels on long days instead of a community home.
In the beginning, I joined him for long weekends. I was there to charm the clients. When Jeremy suggested I not join him one weekend, because he had ‘so much work to get caught up on', I was relieved. I didn't think twice when it became more frequent.
My trips with him became few and far between. I felt guilty that I was secretly pleased by this. The club life and playing the perfect wife in public was exhausting.
One morning, I found Jeremy sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for me to make his breakfast. As usual, he was reading the paper and drinking his third glass of ice water with lemon. I stopped and stared at the photo of Christopher plastered across the front page.
"Are you not going to fix me breakfast?" Jeremy called, not realizing I was staring at him.
"The usual?" I quickly answered.
He grunted his approval, and I robotically prepared his avocado toast and protein oatmeal. Why is Christopher Ross on the cover of the newspaper? I wondered.
"Wear the red dress from prom tonight. Your ass looks hot in it," the voice of Christopher whispered from behind me.
I whipped around to face him. "What did you say?" I snapped.
"Wear the red dress I bought you for dinner tonight. It is flattering," Jeremy answered. "Did you see a guy from your high school died?" He held up the paper. "Did you know him?"
The bile rose in my throat as I stared at the image of my attacker. I vehemently shook my head. "No, no, I didn't know him," my voice a whisper.
"Good. He sounded like a real piece of work." Jeremy folded the paper and set it down. "What's going on with you today? You look horrible."
"I'm not feeling well. I woke up feeling like this," I lied.
"You aren't pregnant are you?" Jeremys scowled.
"I'm 100% sure that is not the case," I quickly answered.
"Good. Well, rest up today. I need you tonight." He placed the dirty dishes in the sink and wrapped his arms around me.
I flinched at his touch.
"Oh, babe, you are warm. Let's tuck you into bed." He scooped me up and carried me to our room. He kissed me on the forehead, covered me up, and then brought me a glass of water. Handing me a bottle of pain medicine, he said, "Get some rest and I'll check in later."
When he was gone, I returned to the kitchen. The newspaper was gone. I frantically dug through the recycling. Instead, I found it in the garbage covered in coffee grounds. Wiping off the slime, I stared at the image.
SON OF RENOWNED LAWYER FOUND DEAD shouted at me. I skimmed the article. Linked to sex and drug trafficking. The story claimed Christopher had been drugging women for years and selling them to the highest bidder.
Dozens of women had come forward with allegations. Two of his accusers were able to gather enough evidence for the district attorney to prosecute. One woman claimed she had been assaulted by Christopher and his friend, Travis Warner, her freshman year of high school. She insisted others would have been found, if the men hadn't died.
The deaths were determined to be suicide. The letters found indicated there had been a death pact.
The phone rang, startling me.
"Did you see the paper," Thomas said before I could say hello.
"I'm looking at it now. Is it finally over, T?" I cried.
"It is. I'll be there in twenty minutes."
Thomas comforted me while I processed my relief. I didn't have to watch over my shoulder, wondering if Christopher would appear. No one would find out what happened to me. I would let the number of women assaulted by that monster be one less.
By the time Jeremy showed up, I was composed to go to dinner. The man who supposedly cared and cherished me was too oblivious to see I was in pain. All he saw was the beautiful wife who charmed his clients.
Sixteen
Thomas burst into my office and sat down on the manuscript I was editing. "I met a boy in San Diego, and we are getting married."
"What are you talking about? You are going to make a mess," I scolded.
I grabbed my coffee before it was knocked over, and set it on the bookcase behind me. "You met a boy and you’re getting married?" I said the words out loud and instantly understood. I threw my arms around my friend. "You didn't? You can't be – he didn't! How wonderful," I gushed.
Thomas and I hugged and jumped around. When we calmed, Thomas sat down, crossing his legs, then his hands. He leaned in as if telling me a secret. He waved his wrist in front of me. I grabbed his hand for a closer inspection.
He was wearing a chronograph watch. The handsome timepiece had a grey band that held a deep brown dial case. It was stunning.
"He bought you a Movado? Do you even know how to use it?"
"Of course, I don't." Laughing, he took his arm back and admired it. "But it is pretty enough to be on my dainty wrist."
"You’re a fool." I joined in his laughter. "I am so happy, T. You are getting married!"
"Yes, Jacob Anderson and Thomas Mart
in will unite to be the powerhouse of Mr. & Mr. Martin-Anderson."
"How did you convince him to have your name first?”
"Well, I used my amazing reasoning skills."
I raised my eyebrows in disbelief.
"I told him he had three choices for our new names. He could choose the seductive and sexy, Martin-Anderson. Or, we could merge our names and try Manderson or Andertin. Thankfully, he didn't call my bluff." Thomas threw back his head and laughed. "Good thing we are getting married in two weeks. It won't give him time to think about my trickery."
"Oh, Thomas, he knows about your sneaky ways. It’s my mother you need to worry about. She's going to freak out. She won't be able to throw you the wedding she always dreamed of."
"Jacob has already handled sweet Hillary. They have been planning since this morning. He soothed her with a morning coffee splashed with Bailey's and a heavy helping of 'Only you can save us, Mother Hillary'.”
I chuckled at the image. How well the boys knew my mother.
"The wedding will be at your mother's house. She already has the backyard lined with soft twinkling lights and seating for our intimate group. It will be simple, sweet, and cheap," Thomas bragged. "Of course, the money we saved will be blown on a fantastic two-week honeymoon in Europe."
Just three years before, we had been devastated when Proposition 8 passed in California and took away my gay best friends' right to marry. When 'Prop Hate' was ruled as unconstitutional, I was surprised they hadn't run out that day and celebrated by getting a marriage license. I was thrilled love finally prevailed.
With marriage on the brain, the manuscript I was editing was neglected for the rest of the afternoon. We decided we would not get anything done, so we took the rest of the day off to join my mother and Jacob. We really weren't needed. Thomas was right. My mother had everything handled, including the dress I was going to wear. I knew my mother would make sure my best friends had a beautiful wedding.
That evening, over dinner, I told Jeremy the great news. I described the plans my mother came up with on short notice to create a magical wedding. He pushed his plate away and glared at me.
"You really expect me to be there on this short of notice for a fairy wedding?" Jeremy scowled.
I cringed at his insult. Jeremy made comments before that made me wonder if he was supportive of their relationship, but they were so flippant I wrote it down to being insensitive.
"They are our best friends," I argued.
"Your friends," he snapped.
"You met me because of those friends." I picked up the uneaten plates and tossed both in the sink. "I ask very little from you, Jeremy. Anytime you demand I join you in Los Angeles, I am there. No questions asked. If you need me to leave work and deliver something to you, I do it. When do I ask you for anything?"
Burning tears filled my eyes as I pushed the pasta into the disposal. I am married to the most selfish man in the entire world, I thought bitterly.
"I'll reschedule my appointments." Jeremy wrapped his arms around my waist. "I'm sorry. It will be awesome to see them finally settle down."
He slipped his hand under my shirt and squeezed my nipple. My anger was still there, but my traitor of a body responded. I let out a soft moan.
"You've been very naughty tonight by wasting your dinner, Caitlyn," his voice husky. "I think I will send you to your room."
"I'm not tired," I rasped as he began to kiss my neck.
"We will have to talk about this defiance," he teased, pulling down my pants and panties.
Smack. His hand playfully slapped my ass.
"Are you ready to behave or would you like another spanking?" Before I could answer, he slapped my bare bottom again. This time harder, and it stung.
Shock filled me. Is Jeremy into this kind of sex games? I trembled at the thought. A light slap I could handle, but anything more might frighten me. I turned around and wrapped my arms around his neck.
"I will behave," I purred in his ear.
Growling, he picked me up and sprawled me on the dining table. His attention was no longer on punishing me. His focus was dedicated to pleasure.
My mind raced. I tried pushing back the bottled feelings of fear from my senior year of high school. However, they came rushing forward, reminding me of the devastating assault.
He doesn't know what happened to you. Jeremy loves you. He would never hurt you.
It was too late. My mind over powered my body and I did not feel any pleasure from our intimacy. I closed my eyes and allowed him to use his skillful tongue between my legs. I played the satisfied wife. After a reasonable amount of time passed, I let out fake screams of pleasure and writhed.
Another award-worthy performance.
Jeremy slid me down the table and picked me up. He kissed me deeply as we moved to our bedroom. Setting me down on our bed, he finally entered me, completely focused on his own pleasure.
Pressing his mouth to my ear, he said, "My little spanking seemed to get you hot."
I closed my eyes to hold in the tears I knew would flood my cheeks. He was oblivious to the fact I was not here.
Jerking in release, Jeremy clung to me. "We should fight more often, babe. You were on fire."
The man I fell in love with should have noticed the disconnect. This new person thought I was just a toy to dress up and show off. Now, he wants to strike me? How simple it was for him to believe we had both experienced the fuck of our life. In that instance, I felt truly alone.
Seventeen
On our fourth anniversary, Jeremy showed up at our home with a set of keys.
"These keys represent our new life." He grinned as he placed them in my hand. "James offered me the Regional Marketing job. Our hard work has paid off. You can quit your job. Best news, I sold that old car of yours and used the cash towards our new home in Los Angeles."
"You did what?" I forced my voice to stay calm. "The old car you got rid of was from my father. You had no right."
His face changed. A darkness filled his eyes as he ripped the keys out of my hand. "Maybe I wasn't clear enough. I invested in our future, not your past. I'll get your precious car back, and you can ride off in it…out of my life."
Like telling me to go buy groceries. Cold. No feeling. Our marriage was that easy to dispose of. Fear filled me. I was Jeremy's wife. What would I be without that title?
"I'm sorry. It's just the last part of my father that I had left," I said, trying to take his hand.
He shoved me away. The force of his push knocked me onto the arm of the couch. The heavy wood sent a sharp pain through my body. I crumpled to the floor as he walked out the door.
Stunned, I stared at the door, waiting for him to return. Hours passed and I was afraid to move. I rehearsed my apology. Practiced my congratulations for his success and hard work. He needed to know how sorry I was.
I woke to the sound of the door unlocking.
"Thanks, man," Jeremy slurred. He shoved a wad of crumpled money into the taxi driver's hand. "See, I told you I had the hottest piece of ass in town waiting for me."
The driver's eyes caught mine, but he quickly looked away. "Well, you're safe and sound now. Have a good evening, sir."
Jeremy swayed as he struggled to shut and lock the door. I jumped to help him. I just latched the door when he had his arms around me, and he was kissing my neck. The stench of cigarettes, beer, and cheap perfume washed over me.
You forced him to leave. You drove him away, I chastised myself.
"Let me get you to bed, Jeremy. You must be tired." I twisted out of his hold and slipped my arm around his waist.
"You're so hot, babe," Jeremy slurred. He pulled on my sweater, exposing my bra.
I pulled him along as he continued his attempt at undressing me. Frustrated, he chose to begin removing his own clothes. He stumbled as he fought to remove his leg from his pants. Like a toddler, he threw himself to the ground and frantically wriggled out of his clothing. Lying naked in the narrow hallway, he grinned up at
me.
"Your turn, babe," he teased, thrusting his erect penis at me.
"Jeremy, it’s…"
"Never mind," he growled, banging the wall as he struggled to stand.
I reached out to help him, but he slapped my hands away. When I finally caught his arms, I held onto him tightly.
He let me guide him. He flopped down on the bed when we reached it, but on his way down he grabbed me, pulling me onto him.
"Why did you drive me away? You know it's all your fault. How could I say no? I mean you wouldn't," he slurred as he clung to me. "You shoulda been happy."
"I'm sorry, Jeremy. You’re right. I did ruin your surprise. Just close your eyes and we can talk in the morning."
Slowly, his grip lessened, and soon, he was heavily snoring. I slipped off of him and wrapped the blankets around him. I checked to make sure the front door was locked and along the way I gathered his discarded clothing. I took the pile to the washer and threw them in.
His phone, I suddenly remembered.
I pulled his pants out and fished out his wallet, keys, and an empty condom wrapper. Bile rose in my throat. You know it's all your fault. How could I say no? echoed in my mind.
It was my fault. I'd driven him away. He was excited to share his good news. He impulsively sold the car I complained about so often. How did he know what the car symbolized? I never told him. I never told him anything.
I shoved the wrapper deep in the trash, burying it like my feelings.
I had a choice to make. My mind played, over and over, all the scenarios as I watched the sunrise from the kitchen window. I would stay with him or leave him based on the facts at hand.
As the sky turned blue, I made my decision. I would forgive and forget his indiscretion. He never gave me any signs he was a cheater before, and I would be a better wife. One thing I knew for sure…I couldn't tell Thomas what happened.